#considered just not going to bed cause then i would certainly be tired enough to fall asleep

[rothinnpanna]

i think my problem is that when the ADD medication is doing it's thing, i have trouble sleeping

but then when it wears off, i have trouble getting myself into bed

i should be sleeping

[edosianorchids901]

Maybe A Bad Idea

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "maybe one more"

Cw: alcohol abuse

Crowley toyed with the jug of wine on the table. He’d had a lot already, more than a lot. His vision had gone blurry a while ago, and he couldn’t quite feel his fingers. It was probably a bad idea to drink any more right now.

But he was sore everywhere. Sore, and tired of seeing people do horrible things to each other, and deeply tired of consciousness. Consciousness was overrated.

Conflicted, he poured another cup and stared at it. Sure, a demon could drink a lot without it being an issue. But past a certain point… bazzam. He’d be out cold. And although he wasn’t sure if he’d hit that point yet, he had to be getting close.

And he was in a tavern. Not his own bed. If he was gonna pass out, he preferred to do it in his own bed. Or, at least, the bed he’d rented.

He turned the cup in circles a few times, mouth watering at the thought of the sweet wine. The wine was one of the best things about Florence. Loads of options.

He liked this wine a lot. But it probably wasn’t a good idea to finish off the jug, no matter how much he liked it.

“Nnnh.” He picked up the cup. “Maybe one more.”

He was just gulping it down when a voice behind him said, “Maybe one more what?”

Startled, Crowley choked on the wine. “Hrgnk?”

Aziraphale, moving up next to him, patted him on the back while he coughed. “Oh dear. Are you all right?”

“Don’t… sneak up on me like that.” Crowley coughed again. “You’rennnangel. Shouldn’t sneak.”

“I didn’t sneak. I walked up right next to you.”

“Sneaking,” Crowley muttered again anyway. “N’ I’m only having one more. Gotta be respons’ble.”

“One more what?” Aziraphale asked.

“Drink.”

“I think you’ve had more than enough drinks, Crowley.”

“No such thing. Not when… thingy.” Crowley frowned, trying to remember what he’d been thinking about. He was pretty sure he’d been thinking about ducks at some point. “Ducks?”

Aziraphale’s expression wrenched with confusion. “You… you’re drinking because of ducks?”

“Nuh. Ducks are cool. S’ humans. I just meant, uh.” Crowley stared vaguely at the angel. “Can we go feed ducks?”

“It is one in the morning.”

“So, yes?”

“No.” Gently, Aziraphale took his arm. “Come along. It’s my angelic duty to make sure that silly old serpents make it home safety after overindulging.”

“S’ not,” Crowley protested. “S’posed to smite me, probably.”

“Well, do you want me to smite you?”

Crowley considered it. “Nuh. Sounds like it would hurt. And I hurt enough, right?”

“Ah, I see. That does explain the drinking, at least a bit.” Undeterred, Aziraphale tugged him out of the chair and dragged him towards the door. “Did anything cause the pain?”

“You’re not exactly helping it, are you?”

“Before that, I mean. Before you started drinking.”

Everything before Crowley started drinking was a total blur, which was just the way he liked it. “Dunno. I guess… stress? Was writing my report n’ stuff.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale said softly. “Yes, I suppose that would be stressful.”

It was always stressful, but this century had been even worse than others. Crowley was expected to report on anything and everything horrible happening in the area where he’d been assigned.

Unfortunately, there were a lot of horrible things happening. Right now, he was mostly bothered by all the war and murder and torture and everything.

“Think I tensed up a lot.” Woozy, he leaned on Aziraphale as they went down the narrow cobbled street. “Sort of just overloaded, didn’t I? Can you blame me?”

“No. No, I certainly cannot blame you.” Sighing, Aziraphale steered him into an inn, then took him to an unfamiliar room. “You smell rather a lot of wine, my dear.”

“Spilled it on myself earlier,” Crowley said helpfully.

“Yes, well. Why don’t you change into some clean clothes?”

“Don’t have any.”

“I shall lend you some, then.”

Crowley yielded, too tired to argue that a demon couldn’t be caught wearing white. But the clothes smelled like Aziraphale, and they weren’t soaked in wine and Satan knew what else, so that was a definite bonus.

His head spun, and he groaned as Aziraphale dressed him and then pulled him into bed. He crumpled against the soft side, his head landing on Aziraphale’s well-padded shoulder. “M’ tired.”

“I imagine so.” Gently, Aziraphale stroked hair out of his face and pressed a careful kiss to his brow. “Are you too hot or too cold?”

Crowley tried to think. He wasn’t having much luck thinking.

“Think last drink was too many,” he finally said. He was pretty sure he was supposed to be answering a question. Couldn’t actually remember what Aziraphale asked. “Right? Maybe a bad idea.”

“Maybe a bad idea,” Aziraphale agreed, spreading a blanket across him. Arms settles loosely around him, like they were insulating him from the rest of the world. “But it’s a very good idea for you to stay with me, hmm? You did get yourself into this, but I am quite content to watch over you.”

“Hn. Yeah.” Crowley closed his eyes, sinking deeper into Aziraphale’s embrace. “S’ good idea.”

He was still sore everywhere, not to mention miserable over the things that people did to each other, and he was pretty sure he was about to pass out from that last cup of wine. At least here, in Aziraphale’s arms, he could enjoy unconsciousness in total safety.

[dickmedowndc]

Sour - Jaime Reyes x Reader

Word Count: 1,686

Summary: Of all the things Jaime expects to find in his partner's fridge, a whole bag of seedless lemons certainly is not one of them. At first, he thinks it’s for food and drinks as a garnish or ingredient, but then he never sees them used for such things. It isn’t until one afternoon when he stays over to study that he finally finds out how his chaotic partner eats them. 

Notes: Requested by @pink-lemonadae-san. Okay, so this is partially based on me as a heathen; my roommate bought seedless lemons for her water, she then offered me one and I just scarfed it down, flesh and all, which concerned her.

…★…

“Did you already get the keys? I can’t find mine!” The voice of his partner rings down from whichever room they’re scrounging around in, and Jaime snaps up at the sound. A moment of patting down his own pockets confirms he has picked up the keys already and he yells back as much before opening the fridge, like he had been going to do only moments before. 

He just needs a quick snack. They’re running late for the show already and won’t have time to eat until later. But Jaime knows that if he doesn’t get something in his body now then he will either be forced to endure Khaji Da’s lecture or his stomach singing the song of its people. Whichever unfortunate outcome would make itself known first. 

All he does is grab a quick snack; one he knows that his partner sets aside for him. That should be the end of it. And it is. At least until he is closing the fridge door when a large splash of yellow catches his eyes. 

At the bottom of the fridge sits a large, open bag of seedless whole lemons. 

It’s a strange enough sight, but Jaime has no time to consider it further when you round the corner in a huff and usher him out the door, assuring him that he can eat on the way there. 

By the end of the night, the unnatural resident fruit of the fridge is forgotten by Jaime as he enjoys the show that they just barely make it in time for. 

And it remains forgotten until a week later when he makes his way back to their place after a long and grueling fight had cancelled date night. At almost 1 in the morning, he’s knocking on the door, only for his very tired and sleep deprived partner to open up, confusion on their face until they see his weary state and move to let him inside. 

He can’t even manage to make it to the bedroom to collapse on the comfortable mattress, instead barely making it to the couch before falling over its arm and laying face first into the cushions. He has class in the morning, and his partner’s home is closer to his school as is – so with Khaji Da already sending off a notice to his family that he was okay, Jaime has little to worry about. 

Before sleep can overtake him however, his partner has jostled him, moving to lay his head in their lap and he complies. He flips over to look up at them blearily. They offer a small smile before running their fingers through his hair, leaving him to close his eyes and enjoy the soothing sensation. 

Khaji Da will wake him with enough time to take a shower and get ready, and for the moment, Jaime relaxes enough to go to sleep, lulled by the quiet humming of his partner. 

When Khaji Da finally rouses him, he finds himself curled around his partner in their bed – how they managed to pull him there was beyond him, but he’s thankful for it. The scarab gives one more warning for him to get up that Jaime ignores, arms wrapped around his significant other as he curls tighter against them. He’ll enjoy this for a moment longer. At least he will until he squeezes a bit too tight, causing them to stir. 

Needing to get ready for class, and not wanting to wake them, he pulls himself from under the covers after giving the top of their head a quick kiss and moves to get ready. Silently thankful for the spare clothes he leaves behind and the hot water of the shower against his sore body. 

It’s in the act of grabbing a quick breakfast that has him pausing and jarringly reminded of the bag of lemons – sitting at the bottom of the fridge still, more than half of them gone. But once again, he has no time to think about them, prompted to move by the sentient technology attached to his spine. 

He really needs to pry about it – from what he knew, there had been no food and no desserts you had made requiring that many lemons. In fact, he had yet to see you use them at all. 

It’s something he can ask about later, he reasons once more. 

But the opportunity never arises, because three days later he gets his answer without asking. 

You’re curled against his back. Doing what? He isn’t sure, eyes too busy scanning the page of his textbook as he studies. He needs to use whatever time he can to stay as far ahead of his course work as possible, his busy lifestyle leaving too many opportunities to fall behind. 

So that was the plan for their day. Jaime would stay over for the evening until he was satisfied with how much work he had completed, or he had met his study goal, and afterwards, the pair would order out pizza and enjoy a movie or maybe just cuddle. 

Cuddling sounded better, if Jaime was being honest. Life had been even more hectic recently, and the chance to just relax, and maybe catch up on the affection the universe had stopped him from receiving would be the best course of action. 

And that plan would have gone just as well, if not for your next choices. 

“Hey, do you want a snack?” 

The current Blue Beetle gives a little hum of no, too focused on his reading. But it doesn’t stop him from seeing you roll off the bed and make your way to the kitchen. 

In fact, he doesn’t even notice what you bring back to eat until Khaji Da speaks up after you have already made yourself comfortable again. 

“Your partner has just taken a bite out of a lemon.” 

That causes him to pause. 

Khaji Da was just messing with him. Right? 

Slowly he turns so he can see you from the corner of his eye. And sure enough, you’ve dug your nail into the lemon and peeled some of the skin away, taking a bite of the yellow flesh and letting the excess juice drip onto the plate in your lap. 

It has him reeling, and Jaime forgets to hide that he’s spying, closing his book before turning to face you. 

“Are you just... eating a whole lemon?” 

It has you making eye contact, lemon in hand and bewildered expression on your face – like somehow, he’s the weird one for asking. 

You glance between him and the lemon before nodding your head. “Yeah? I’m having a snack.” 

Jaime furrows his brows, lips pursed as he studies you for a moment. “That’s a lemon.” 

“It is.” 

“Just a whole lemon.” 

You say nothing, only nodding once more before turning back and taking another bite of the flesh. 

Jaime can only struggle to find the words he wants before he gives up, shoulders dropping. “At least you don’t eat the skin,” he comments, before he sees the look that crosses your face. 

You say nothing, but make direct eye contact, and he can already imagine what is about to happen – he just prays to be wrong. 

But no, it seems that his comment had been taken to heart, and without breaking eye contact or changing from that same serious expression, you take a bite out of the lemon, skin, flesh and all, before chewing and swallowing. 

Jaime looks horrified, and if you didn’t feel so defensive over your snack, maybe it would be funny. 

Okay, it’s still a little funny. You can just laugh later. 

He takes one deep breath, eyes closed, then turns towards the ceiling for a moment before adjusting to face you. 

“Did you eat the skin just because I said that” is the first question out of his mouth when he finally looks back at you. 

“No, sometimes I just like eating the skin last, but you started this.” 

“Is this what you’ve been doing with that bag of lemons in the fridge?” 

“Actually, this is from a new bag, I finished off the others.” 

The look on his face is too good – so concerned, and so distraught at the same time, that stopping the laugh bubbling up from you is almost impossible. An action that makes his indignation all the funnier, causing you to laugh even louder. 

“It’s good, I promise.” 

He grimaces at that, “I’ll take your word for it.” 

“Do you want some?” 

Before Jaime can even respond, an aggressive clicking is sounding out. Looks like Khaji Da has already cast a vote for no. 

It has you laughing all over again. 

“Even Khaji agrees this is unnatural.” 

“You come into my home, on the day of my eating a snack, and insult my choice of food?” 

“Don’t misquote 'The Godfather' at me! Who does this?” 

“Me!” You chime, letting yourself fall forward until you’re almost face to face with him. “But I'll let you off easy if I can have a kiss.” 

Jaime really has to think about it, and you can see the gears turning before he resigns himself. “I'll kiss you, even if it tastes like lemons.” 

“Forgiveness has a price, mi héroe.” 

Jaime rolls his eyes at that before leaning forward and stealing a kiss, until he pulls back, betrayal and utter defeat on his face. 

You’re cackling too hard, almost wheezing out your question: “what’s wrong?” 

“It’s more sour than I thought.” 

The sheer disapointment in his voice has you cooing at him, pushing his book aside – which has him only mildly complaining as you pull him towards you. “Oh, poor baby, let me make it up to you.” 

“You’re laughing at my pain.” 

“Hmm, only a bit, I’ll make it up to you.” 

“Well, forgiveness has a price.” He turns your own words back on you with an amused grin, looking like the cat that ate the canary. 

His smile is wiped clean when you pick your plate and half-eaten lemon back up. 

“It does, and I'll pay you back in full,” you purr, “after I finish my snack.”

[yanderes-galore]

I know how much you love this man so here you go! Could you do Overwatch Junkrat concept?

YES. HIM! Here's the pure brainrot :) Not entirely edited so I am sorry about spelling errors!

Yandere! Junkrat/Jamison FawkesConcept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Kidnapping, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Jealousy, Isolation, Violence/Murder, Forced relationship.

Junkrat is such a chaotic fellow.

Jamison is very passionate and clingy when it comes to you.

There's times the Junker even gets out of hand.

He's a dangerous yandere due to his unpredictability and affinity with destruction.

He can set up traps and even has Roadhog to help him out if he can't obtain you on his own.

I'm on the edge when it comes to his obsession speed.

I want to say overall it's moderate -> fast.

He quickly fixates on you yet also can't quite figure out the feeling at first.

When he sees you/is around you he feels something similar to an adrenaline kick.

It's a similar excitement to heist or trying a new bomb.

He can't quite pin point why he feels this way around you.

Yet eventually he figures it out.

Jamison is certainly one to be overbearing and clingy.

When he realizes he feels fantastic around you he never wants to leave.

Roadhog/Mako no doubt has to hear Jamison ramble dreamily about you.

He can tell his friend/partner in crime is in love even if he doesn't know it.

It's obvious when only praise comes from his mouth about you.

Jamison would follow you around just to recreate the excited feeling inside him.

You may question it but he simply says he admires you.

That or he does it in secret and out of sight.

Junkrat is rather problematic when jealous.

If he doesn't like someone around you, he'll make that known.

He'll groan and grumble around you, often trying to wrap his arms around you.

He'll insert himself into conversations just so the attention is no longer directed away from him.

He'll only be calmer when you're away from others.

In terms of if he'd kill for you... I can see it.

It's easy for him to construct a bomb small enough to kill yet cause minor destruction.

He'd rather their death be flashy and eye-catching though... he can do both.

That or he calls Roadhog for help.

Junkrat can only be sneaky for so long.

Stealth hasn't ever been his strongest skill.

So Jamison will quickly go from 0 to 60 when it comes to his obsession.

Soon he's going to get tired of watching and waiting, much quicker than most yanderes.

Even Roadhog's obsession is slower than Junkrat when it comes to when they'll take action.

Give Junkrat a month or two, he quickly wants you and him to be beside one another.

When he wants you he's rather... flashy with abduction.

If Roadhog doesn't help him, Junkrat would want to use a couple small explosives while abducting you.

He adores any sort of attention.

If Mako helped him then Jamison is much quieter with abduction.

You could probably consider Roadhog supportive of Junkrat's obsession.

If catching you makes Junkrat happy then anything after that isn't his business.

Say this takes place after Jamison does all his heists with Roadhog.

Maybe the two of them have a base of some sorts.

Once Jamison has you he is adamant in keeping you with him and Roadhog.

Roadhog acts like some sort of guard at times.

Meanwhile Jamison gets to work on traps to keep you in.

You'll have a room that's for the most part safe... outside of that is bear traps and similar things.

One step outside and you could get seriously hurt.

You may be scared and isolated, but Jamison is over the moon.

In terms of affection Junkrat is passionate and intense.

He will drag you to a bed and curl around you, arms tightly wrapped around you.

He'd probably be the type to nuzzle into you, be it your neck, chest, hair, etc.

Even when you're no laying down he'll pull you into his lap or hug you while standing.

He seems like if he loved someone he'd be such a love bug.

Which would normally be cute... if not for the situation.

His affectionate and passionate hold on you, along with the kisses he peppers you with, make you uneasy.

He means well when he kisses your lips and mutters ramblings about you.

Yet you're still scared.

Especially with Roadhog... the constant threat of his friend harming you if you don't give in looms over you.

I said this in my Junkenstein concept but Junkrat may also be the type to building gifts for you.

He's skilled in tinkering, he could bend a piece of metal in a certain way to give to you.

He prefers to make bombs... but giving you that is just a horrible idea.

Jamison would definitely ramble about stories and experiences he's had to impress you.

In fact he does a lot of rambling.

He just loves to talk to you and hold you.

He just wants to love you forever and ever.

Jamison overall is incredibly passionate, clingy, overbearing, and unpredictable as a yandere.

He loves you so much and would do anything to have you...

What's wrong with stealing one more treasure, especially if it's the person he loves?

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Personally, as a dom, I've never experienced what I would consider a full-blown drop. I've had some close calls, but my (unfortunately) extensive experience with depression and other mental health problems has enabled me to be on top of knowing the symptoms of drop. I recognize them, and I can usually take care of myself if I don't still have access to the partner that I had a scene with.

So, if you're looking for something where I incorporate lots and lots of own experience into a fictional scenario in the same way that I did with this post concerning what it feels like to get hard (which, if I'm assuming correctly, was something you would've been interested in based on your wording here, lol) that isn't what this is.

BUT

I certainly have ideas for Chris experiencing it, and I couldn't get them out of my head. Even if I'm not currently taking writing prompts

Chris doesn't even notice there's anything going on with him until Sebastian calls him. Okay, well, truthfully, he doesn't let himself notice that's there's anything going on until Seb goes full decective on him. Then, his boyfriend pulls the emotions up in a big tangled ball from deep in his chest, somewhere behind his lungs and heart, through his mouth. Bringing them to his attention, better than letting them fester, but still painful.

"Chris?" Sebastian speaks first, voice just a touch tinny over the phone.

"Hey, babe," Chris mumbles. He's tired. It's the middle of the day in Massachusetts. He's on vacation. He didn't stay up last night. He has no idea why he's tired or why his back hurts.

"Hi!" Seb shakes him from his thoughts.

"...did you call for somethin'?" Chris replies, licking his lips, when Sebastian says nothing else, "it's, what, 12 there? Shouldn't you be in bed? What time is call in the mornin'?"

"Don't worry about it," Sebastian tells him, his voice smooth and easy, "I called 'cause I miss you."

Chris wants to huff and roll his eyes, but it won't come out. Instead, he weakly offers, "it's been three days?" Has it been three? Already?

"What, I'm not allowed to miss you yet?" Sebastian teases lightly.

Chris shrugs, forgetting that Sebastian can't see him. Dodger plops his head into his lap with a doggy sigh. It feels like he misses Sebastian, too.

"Besides," Sebastian's voice is softer now, "you've barely texted."

A big, fat question mark hangs over his head suddenly, "huh?"

"You haven't texted me. I mean, you have. You text back, but I've been texting you first."

"Oh?" Chris hasn't really... is he doing that? He hasn't meant to!

"Mmm-hmm, I'm missing all my Dodger-and-boyfriend selfies. Usually, I get at least one every day. Or if it's not both of my boys, it's just Dodger, or a tree or flower or the sky or your breakfast or something."

"Oh," Chris feels bad. There's a knot in his chest, and it's tightening. Has he been ignoring him? He's been... what has he been doing? He's been scrolling. He kept sitting down to read and not being able to focus. So, he gets his phone out instead and... disappears into it until Dodger noses him for walks or dinner or it's time to sleep, and he lays down and thinks about Sebastian and gets stuck in anxiety spirals. Not because of Seb but. Adjacent?

"Then when you do text back, I dunno," Chris can practically hear him scratching his head, "you respond to what I'm saying, but it's not... not the same," Sebastian finishes lamely.

"I'm sorry, baby," Chris says with his whole chest. He is. There's guilt knawing at him now. He's been absent. He doesn't--didn't mean to.

"It's okay, I just want to know what's up. Are you okay?"

Chris swallows.

Is he okay?

He thought, he doesn't know, but he thought he was having a good old anxiety spiral, missing Sebastian after his recent departure, and that ache for his boyfriend had just dug up some older wounds about not being enough. And thinking about not being enough came with friends. Unwanted friends. Friends that add to not being enough by telling him, actually, he's kind of disgusting. How can he control Sebastian like he does? If he loves him, how can he do such things to him? He's too extreme, isn't he? He's too controlling, isn't he? Is he even a good man at all? Why is he like that? Why does he want the things he wants? He shouldn't want them. Does Sebastian like it? Does Sebastian even like being dominated? Is he just taking advantage?

"Chris, honey?" Sebastian's voice sounds like honey. Sweet and smooth.

"Yeah?" Chris rasps, voice hoarse despite how Seb has been doing the bulk of the talking.

"Are you okay?"

"I--" Chris has a false start. He doesn't know what to say, or how to end that thought.

Now he's thinking about the last time he saw Sebastian. Before he left for the airport. They couldn't help themselves, transitioning from innocent to R-rated goodbyes. However, Chris did put his foot down, gently, over one thing; they couldn't have too intense of a scene when they were already running the risk of making Seb miss his flight. Chris would feel awful if they didn't have enough time for at least a little aftercare. If he floated too high, scene-ing too hard, Chris didn't want him dropping on the plane ride. The moment they had was satisfying regardless, with Sebastian on his knees and--

Chris misses that.

He misses Sebastian.

He misses the clarity of being with Sebastian. Touching him. Feeling him. Breathing him in.

So. He's thinking of what happened right before he left. He's thinking about what it's like to share a scene with Sebastian, not a scene on a film set, (although any of those scenes are magic), too. Because it's Sebastian. He's a fucking world class actor and a world class submissive. Of course, acting opposite of him is incredible. Of course, dominating him is incredible. Clarity and peace and focus. His submissive. Collaring. Protecting. Caring. Providing. Strength for his submissive but weakness, too.

An insatiable urge for him.

Only him.

Sebastian.

He would do anything for his submissive.

His partner.

"I don't know," Chris finally murmurs his answer.

Sebastian hums, "alright."

"Alright?" Is... is he supposed to add something here? He doesn't know what to say.

"Yeah, that's okay. It's alright. However you are, whatever it is, I want to know about it. Even if you don't know, y'know?"

A lightning strike of feeling strikes through Chris' chest. Raw and breaking. He tries to swallow around the weight piling up at the back of his throat, but all he ends up doing is choking for a moment.

Palms clammy, eventually, Chris manages, "h-how's the set?" he's clinging to his boyfriend's voice.

Sebastian rattles off one detail in answer, then another and another and another when Chris just keeps asking questions. Questions that pour over his lips and don't always make a ton of sense. That doesn't even matter. Why is he asking that? Chris can feel his battery, his energy, depleting--draining down to nothing, and yet his mouth is running a mile a minute. His thoughts are dragging on, slogging awkward and slow through mud, but his questions only keep coming. Paradoxical.

How are you? Are you okay? You're not too cold, right? It's winter there, isn't it? Are you having a good time with the cast? Do you like them? They better like you, do they even realize how fucking great you are? Are you eating? Are you sleeping? Do you miss me? Do you miss fu--

Chris is in the middle of his spiral, wanting, desperately to know everything that's going on in Sebastian's head when, suddenly, Sebastian says his name. He doesn't yell. Just the opposite, he whispers it.

Chris hears it.

Chris hears, more than feels, his mouth snap shut.

"Chris, baby, if you want to fly out and come see me, you can just say it."

"No, I don't. I," his voice comes out small, nothing like the rambling, louder, and louder mess he was just making, "I, I..." There's a heavy rock in his throat that he has to swallow dry and scraping, then, "y-yeah. Can I? You're not too busy?"

"'M never too busy," he reassures him.

Chris makes an aching sort of sound. Wounded. He can't help it. He knows that, and he's stupid for thinking otherwise, but he just... hearing it is good. He wants to curl up in those words, he wants to curl himself into a ball and bundle up in Sebastian's side and have him stroke his back. He's so tired. He misses him so much.

It's only been a few days.

At the same time that he misses him so fucking bad and he wants to be embraced and held, he missing him so fucking bad and he wants to take care of him like he should. But also like he shouldn't. Sebastian is grown. He can care for himself, and he doesn't need Chris to impose, bleeding his controlling longing all over him. Chris has always needed to be needed.

"That sound good, baby?" Sebastian asks once they have the details in place, when and where.

Chris nods. He forgets, again, that his boyfriend can't see him. Running in ceaseless circles. But Sebastian, magic, understands nevertheless.

Then, Seb signs off, letting him go with reassuring reminders to sleep and eat and take care of himself. He'll text him later, once they've both gotten some sleep.

In a few days time, the only way Chris can drag himself out of bed--one limb at a time, peeling the sheets back, and struggling his way into sweats, dropping Dodger off at his Ma's house--and make it to the airport is by knowing that all that stands between him and Sebastian is a few hours. He just has to make it through the plane ride.

A plane ride that he mostly sleeps through, despite having just crashed all night.

When Chris finally, finally fucking lands, he's moping through baggage claim and the, just, whole fucking airport with his baseball cap tugged low and his sunglasses, the largest, darkest pair he owns, hoping no one recognizes him and deeply wishing that he insisted on having Sebastian meet him at the airport. The passing thought entered his head but he was thinking less about himself and more about public appearances then. He's thinking more of himself now. And he wants Seb. So badly. He misses the way he smells and how he laughs and his eyes and--

He could've gotten a later flight that would've worked. Right? So Sebastian would be done filming for the day and he could've been here. Now?

Chris is vibrating out of his skin, fingers curled into fists around his backpack's straps and suitcase's handle. He can't wait to be alone with his boyfriend. He's closer to him now yet he just misses him more.

However, maybe it's a good thing that Seb isn't there. Because. The moment he is there... the paparazzi would have a field day.

The moment Seb lets himself into the rented apartment he's staying at for filming, the door isn't even closed! Yet, Chris is already collapsing into him.

His hands immediately land on his hips but they quickly wrap around his waist--wrapping him tightly, securely up in his arms while he buries his face in his neck. He's warm and he smells like coffee and sweat and Sebastian. Chris knows because he's pressing his nose as hard into the junction between his neck and shoulder and breathing him in as he can. He needs him. He's probably stretching Seb's shirt with how hard he's grabbing him, but he can't find it in himself to care--he'll pay costuming whatever they ask himself. His eyeslashes sweep shut. He already feels better. More centered. Steady. Like he's standing on two feet again, finding purchase on a softly carpeted floor of a familiar, warm home.

"Seb," Chris whispers into his skin like it's a prayer. He doesn't realize he's crying until he feels the wetness from his own eyes on Sebastian's body. He clings harder.

Sebastian squeezes him back, whispering too, "hi, baby."

They stand, hugging--cuddling, really, in the entryway for enough time that Chris' silent tears turn into sniffles and dry eyes. The feeling of Sebastian's heat against him echoes through his bones. He relishes in it. He doesn't stop clinging, though. He can't. All he can do is hold him and breath. Hold him and breathe as Seb heards him over toward the living room, bringing him with him and settling their bodies together on the couch, legs and fingers tangled, Chris on top of him, blanketing him.

Their hearts were racing, exilerated by the chance to be close enough to touch once more--in the same timezone--but now they slow. Steady and deep, chest to chest. Pumping blood and love through their veins, dissolving into their muscles. Lying lump and heavy, slumped into each other.

Chris tries hard to breathe out every drop of tension in his body under the soothing swirls of Sebastian's palms over his shoulders and back. It isn't hard to relax like this, when he's here, but the last dregs of emotion are especially deep seated, heavy, and hard to drain away. He shivers.

"Cold?" Sebastian asks.

Chris shakes his head. No.

Never.

Seb knows exactly what he wants. Seb knows what he needs. Seb knows what he feels somehow, even though Chris feels like a walking, unidentified swirl of anxiety. Seb knows what he wants to hear. Chris doesn't have to say a damn thing, Seb is just in his head, answering every silent question--rattling on in a soothing tone, I missed you so much. I miss everything that we do. I miss kissing you. I miss touching you. I miss sleeping next to you. I miss the things you do to me. I miss the things you make me feel. I love you.

They fall asleep.

Then, when they're awake again, late into the evening, and they've peeled themselves apart just enough to stand hip to hip, waiting for water to boil, mugs poised to happily hold their tea and honey, steaming away--Sebastian is back in his head, wandering around his skull, sight-seeing.

"Hey," Seb finds something that takes his fancy--that ugly insecurity that he's not what Sebastian wants or that he takes too much, he controls too much. He sees and he tugs him close.

Chris smiles.

"Remember when we first got together--"

"Yeah?" He already feels lighter.

"We were just barely hooking up and I told you, you could go harder on me. Then, when you didn't get what I meant," his grin is sly, his sparkling eyes shifty, "I explained it to you, and you..." he chuckles conspiratorially, "didn't spank me that hard at all."

"Hey!" Chris laughs softly.

"And I had to talk you up to doing anything more than hitting me on the ass sometimes." Sebastian kisses him on the cheek, "now look at you! Now you regularly blow my mind with how kinky we get."

Chris opens his mouth to say something, he's already chuckling, but Seb is there--

"You give me more than I knew how to ask for. I like it. I love it. And I have more than a lifetime's worth of evidence that you do, too."

Chris sighs, swaying into him, "I love you."

"Love you, too."

"Thanks for getting me outta my head, Seb."

"Anytime."

[sulky-valkyrie]

I am a completionist so how about "things you said with clenched fists" for Alistair/Carver?

Happy Friday Mel! It's a bit completely pre-relationship for the pairing, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! for @dadrunkwriting

It was the first full night’s sleep Carver had managed to get in… weeks, probably.  The bed was too small now, but it was still a bed, and therefore an improvement over cold hard ground or no sleep at all.

And now it was getting interrupted by bullshit. 

“Those damn Wardens lived!”  his brother shouted, slamming the door open.  “They’re fucking here right fucking now.”

“Language, Garrett!” his mother yelled back.  “Carver is trying to sleep!”

This is why I left.  He rolled over and covered his ears with the pillow.  It didn’t help at all.  Garrett and Leandra just kept harping and sniping at each other, getting louder and louder as they told each other to shut up.

“She’s not so bad when he’s not home,” Bethy said apologetically as she slipped inside.  “Too much of Father in him, I think.  Makes her sad and mad all over again that he’s gone.”

“I’m sleeping,” he grumbled.

She snorted.  “Liar.”

"Fine, I was sleeping," Carver sighed as he sat up.  "Now I'm up. And going out."  To see these damn Wardens for myself.

"Mother's making breakfast."

"Not hungry," he lied.  He pulled his boots on, dropped a quick kiss on her forehead, and ruffled her hair.  "Be good."

She frowned.  "What're you up to this time?"

“Just want to see if Garrett’s shouting is true.”  I’ll figure out the rest later.  Leandra and Garrett were still arguing in the kitchen as he crept past.  Same shit, different day.  A war with the bloody darkspawn was practically on their doorstep, but Maker forbid either of them ever let the other have the last word.

Once he was in the yard, he took a deep relieved breath.  If the Wardens were alive, maybe things weren’t so grim.  Ostagar had been a nightmare, and Loghain’s orders to retreat still baffled him, but he was just a soldier, not a tactician, and he hadn’t been on that hill.  Maybe there had been a legitimate reason to leave the vanguard to be slaughtered, but he doubted it.  And he certainly didn’t believe they’d killed the damn king.

Now, if I were a Warden, where would I be?  Carver wandered the edge of the village aimlessly and tried to figure out if he was happy to be back at all.  It was nice to see Bethy again, but it had barely been a day and he was already tired of everyone else here.  Peaches especially.   The girl doesn’t know when to quit.  

A shout caught his attention.  Darkspawn here already?  He rushed around the windmill and grabbed the first thing that might pass for a weapon that he saw: a rusty pitchfork.

“No, you’ve got it all wrong, we’re -”

“Nah, we done heard what they said in the tavern: you’re Wardens.”

Carver came around the corner just in time to see some of the people from the refugee camp forming up into what he could only consider a mob.  The big blond human he’d seen talking to the Warden Commander in Ostagar before everything was holding his hands out placatingly, and the dwarf next to him pursed his lips sourly and flexed his fingers.

“And if we are?”  he asked, pushing the bigger man back.

“I dunno if you killed the King or not, but, Maker forgive me, I don’t care; that bounty could feed the lot of us and get us enough horses to actually get away from this blighted place.”

The blond shook his head.  “You don’t understand, we’ve got to -”

“Cut the shit, Alistair,” the dwarf said.  “They can’t hear us over the clink of gold.”  He cocked his head.  “Innit that right?  Bet you’d let us go if we paid you, right?”

The leader of the group tilted his head.  “You got money?”

The dwarf spat at the ground.  “Nah, just a fuckin’ duster.  Don’t have nothing.  But you don’t either, and you ain’t gonna get your hands on my nothing, cause it’s mine.”

“Nughumping piece of - oof!”  He collapsed in a heap at the dwarf’s feet, clutching at his belly and wheezing.

Everyone went still for a full ten seconds, then chaos broke out.  Wardens or not, there was no way they could handle twenty people by themselves.  Carver waded into the melee, knocking heads together, tripping them with the end of a pitchfork, and occasionally, kicking someone in the balls.  If they had any sense, they’d say down, but if they didn’t, that was their stupid-ass choice to make.

Knuckles connected with his cheek, spinning him around in nearly a full circle, and it was only the pitchfork that kept him from going completely ass over tea kettle: he slammed the prongs into the ground and hung on for dear life as he waited - prayed - for his vision to clear.

“Hold it, Alistair!  He’s on our side, the dumbass.”

Carver managed to blink his eyes back into focus just in time to see the blond man freeze, fist pulled back and ready to possibly knock his head right off his shoulders.  “Oh.”  He unclenched his hand and offered it sheepishly.  “Sorry about that.  Hard to see who’s on what team when no one’s wearing a uniform, y’know?  Tourney’s are much better for this sort of thing.”  

“Let me come with you.”  The words were out of his mouth before his fingers even touched Alistair’s palm.  The suddenness of it should’ve surprised him, but wasn’t that the whole reason he’d been out here in the first place?  The army was gone, routed and scattered, and the darkspawn were coming.  

“Um.”  Alistair glanced back at Nati.  “This is a bit complicated.”

“Shards, the fuck it ain’t.”  Nati pointed at Carver almost accusingly.  “You was at Ostagar, yeah?  Got that look.  Like you seen some shit.  Like you know what we done.  What the Teryn says we done.” 

He shook his head.  “The fire was lit.  You didn’t do shit.  I mean, you did.  You did what you were supposed to.  The flanking charge just never came and we were left to die in the valley.”  He swallowed.  “There’s… there were hundreds of them.  Thousands.  And if they’re coming north, Lothering is as good as gone already, even if it’s still standing.  I can’t stop that.  I can’t even convince my family to run.”

Nati tugged at his hair thoughtfully.  “You think we’re gonna save ya?  Save this?”  He waved his hand at the village.

“No,” he answered firmly.  “I don’t expect anyone to save me from shit.  But I can do more as Warden even if I die tomorrow than I can waiting here for the darkspawn to burn us out.”

“I can’t promise nothing,” Nati warned him.  “I can call you a Warden all you want, but that don’t make you one without the Joining; Duncan’s dead and we don’t have the shit to do it.  Can’t  promise nothing but shitty food -”

“Hey!” Alistair complained.

Nati ignored him and kept going. “- shitty food, shitty sleep, and probably shitty death.”

Carver grinned with a strange fatalistic relief.  “I said I was in the army, right?  Feels like home already.”

[jurassicsickfics]

I've been thinking again about a stoic sickie who wants to keep it together so badly and keep working but it's so obvious they're not doing okay. They're feverish, coughing, sniffling, shaking, pale, the whole nine yards.

Eventually their caretaker confronts them and sickie just completely breaks down, all that shoved down pain coming right back up. They start crying and become super clingy, constantly wanting to be held and comforted.

I thought you might like that scenario, feel free to use any characters you'd like

Awww I love this! So cute. I'd like to start by saying I hope this isn't gonna be weird for you because the characters I chose are related. In no way whatsoever do I ship these two nor am I trying to ship them with this fic. I just like their relationship and I think a nice sickfic comfort between them would be cute. Enjoy!

(This is based somewhere in time between Halloween Kills and Halloween Ends)

As October rapidly approached, Laurie had been relentlessly training, target practicing, gun cleaning and knife sharpening for weeks. She rarely ever took a moment to sit down and certainly wasn't eating enough. Allyson had been trying to convince her to take it easy but, as usual, she wouldn't listen. In all her stubborn glory, Laurie was determined to keep on preparing.

One night, however, Allyson felt that she shouldn't hold her tongue this time. She'd been watching Laurie all day because her grandmother seemed...off. She'd noticed her trembling and shaking, which truthfully wasn't all that unusual, but there wasn't a clear cause like a nightmare or a startling noise like usual. She'd also taken note of just how pale and tired she looked. Which, again, not too unusual. Laurie wasn't exactly known for her good sleeping habits thanks to nightmares. Allyson considered brushing it off as Laurie's usual problems, until she heard a noise from the livingroom...

"Achoo!"

Allyson's gaze immediately flew to Laurie. "Bless you." She said, her expression one of worry and mild confusion. Laurie never sneezed unless she inhaled dust or pepper or something, and...it didn't seem that anything like that had happened. Laurie plucked a tissue from the box on the side table and blew her nose into it with an aggravated groan. "Thanks." Came the short, soft reply. Her voice was softer than usual, and she sounded stuffy.

A couple more sneezes and several phlegmy coughs later, Allyson decided to say something.

"Hey, grandma, are you feeling ok? You seem like you're maybe, um...sick or something."

Laurie glanced up from cleaning her gun. "Yeah, I'm fine. Must've just got into some dust cleaning yesterday." The older woman replied, brushing off her granddaughter's concern with a wave of her hand. Allyson sighed. She should've known. Laurie would never admit weakness unless she was on her death bed. Heck, probably not even then if she could get away with it.

Later in the afternoon, after the sun had warmed the autumn air, Laurie was in the woods, laying into a punching bag tied to a tree while Allyson watched from her seat on a fallen tree.

The final girl's punches and kicks were weaker than usual, and she was breathing heavier, and through her mouth. She took more frequent breaks and flinched on impact as if her body was sore. Allyson hated seeing her grandmother suffer this way; it was more than obvious that Laurie was sick. The teenager had initially planned on letting her eventually admit it herself, but seeing Laurie nearly fall on her butt in a moment of dizziness and coughing was the last straw.

"Hey um...I think maybe we should go back up to the house and relax for a while. You're really not looking too well now. " Allyson stated, her tone firm, but gentle.

Laurie stared at her for what seemed like forever, her eyes wide, clearly shocked that anyone would point out her weakness that way.

Allyson was kicking herself inwardly, convinced she was about to get her butt kicked for that.

But then she saw Laurie's eyes well up with tears, and her expression crumpled into a fit of loud, unrestrained sobbing. Now it was Allyson's turn to stare in shock. She'd seen Laurie cry before, but never like this. Never openly and loudly like that.

"Oh- Oh I'm so sorry, it's ok, don't cry, pleas-" the teenager stammered, being cut off by a wail from the older woman.

Laurie coughed through her sobs and managed to choke out, "I-I...you're right...you're r-right...I-I'm sick...I've been sick...all day..I feel awful..."

Allyson's expression softened. "Hey, it's ok...why didn't you say anything?"

Laurie sniffed a few times as her nose ran like a faucet. She wiped her nose on her own shirt and tried to catch her breath before answering, "I...I can't show weakness..he'll...he'll get me.."

Allyson felt her heart break a little. She knew exactly who "he" was.

Allyson stepped closer and pulled Laurie into a tight, protective hug. Laurie was quick to bury her face in her granddaughter's shoulder, sobbing all the while as Allyson tried to reassure her. Part of her felt weird accepting affection like this, but another part of her, the bigger part at the moment, was sick and desperate for comfort. Allyson kept her arms around her as she lead her up to the house. The cool fall air had a bite to it that made Laurie's muscles and joints ache in that awful, flu-like way.

As soon as the pair were in the house, with the doors and windows all shut and locked as per Laurie's tearful request, they made their way to the couch.

Allyson sat beside her sick grandmother on the couch, rubbing her back and dabbing at the endless flow of tears and snot with a tissue. No matter what she said or did, Laurie couldn't be consoled.

"I know...I know you don't feel good, it's ok..." Allyson crooned, speaking to Laurie in the same way she always talked to her when she was sick. When the only response she got was more pitiful wails, she asked, "What can I do to help you calm down?"

Laurie sniffled and forced a few shaky breaths. "J-just hold me...please..."

Allyson would be lying if she said she wasn't surprised; allowing herself to be comforted was one thing, but actually asking to be held was so far out of character for Laurie that it worried her. But she wasn't about to deny her. She pulled her as close to her as she could on the couch until she was practically on her lap. Actually, in a few moments she was on her lap. With that, Allyson held her close, wrapped a blanket around them both and started to slowly rock.

With Allyson's embrace and rocking, soothing nature shows on TV, and the sound of an autumn rainstorm pattering against the roof and windows, Laurie's tears dried up and she quickly fell asleep. Allyson didn't move until morning, and even then she didn't go far from her grandmother's side. Not until she was better at least. She'd never seen her get upset like that, she never wanted to see it again, so if Laurie wanted to be held for hours, then so be it.

[nofoxgiven]

OK well now I'm thinking about it a bunch

So my great grandpa died to cancer when I was in 6th or 7th grade, it was the first and to this day, only major death in my life so to say it had an impact on me is a bit of an understatement

First off, he was the only male role model in my life, like ever. My dad walked out on me before i was born, and my step dad was such a piece of shit I never considered him any kind of father figure, just a leach living in the same house who happened to be married to my mother and have donated sperm for my siblings

My mother's father *also* walked out on her

I have a singular uncle, and while he's an awesome guy now, he was literally a teenager unpacking a lot of complex trauma himself while I was growing up

I don't think my family really... worried? At all about the whole lack of male role models thing, I was a girl after all, I can learn everything I need to know from all these women around me

Except I'm not a woman, and it would be really nice to have a standard to hold myself to

For a while I considered my grandpa, he was a veteran, he took care of my grandma, my memories of him are mostly good

But unfortunately he died when I was too young to be smart enough to make sure I got to know him. I know he liked wood working, I've got a rocking horse he made me, it's in our garage. And a half finished dollhouse he started when I was 5, and died before he ever finished it

My memories of him are almost entirely of him in his lazyboy, before things got bad, and then in his hospital bed when they got real bad

I've got maybe a handful of memories from when I was real young before he was old and tired and sick, riding around on the four-wheeler with him in the Alaskan wilderness, helping with chores around the cabin, that sort of thing

But I didn't truly know him, and the more stories I hear from my mom the more... the more I'm glad I didn't? I don't want to sully the memory of the only male rolemodel from my family I've got, so I'll leave it at he was certainly a product of his time, and as an old white Christian man I'm certain you can guess what sort of opinions he held I do not

All this to say I clearly have a complicated relationship with my memory of and the legacy of my great grandpa

I remember pretty clearly the last time I saw him, it was the weekend, we drove the 2 hours to my grandparents house in the literal middle of nowhere

I remember staring at a bowl of soup someone had put in front of me, my great grandma's famous chicken corn chowder. This soup has caused fist fights over who gets to take the leftovers home. I couldn't eat any of it

It was very obvious to everyone this was a final hurrah, grandpa hadn't been talking or doing much of anything for weeks and now he was insisting people come talk to him and making people call family out of state. He knew. We knew.

There was a whole lot of sitting around just hugging people and crying and that's all a blur, but when he called me over, I remember exactly what he said and I think I always will. Some of it I'm keeping close to my chest because that was for me only, but he ended it with "Please add more color to your life"

12 year old me did not take that to heart. I was goth/emo and proud of it and I wasn't about to let some dead old guy tell me how to dress

But I did actually take it to heart. By 9th grade I had a fully rainbow coat from one of those Indian import stores, I wore it every single day of high-school until eventually it fell apart to the point I couldn't. I've worn mismatched brightly colored or rainbow socks just as long. Most of my clothes are still black and gray, but I hang up colorful art all around me, I buy the most colorful water bottle I can find

In a weird way I think it helped me come to terms with my queer identity. I know he didn't mean "go be queer and happy" that man would have disowned me if he had lived long enough to see me go from his perfect granddaughter to a queer freak

But his urging to add color lead to a lot of queer people approaching me in my high-school years. Before I was ready to accept who I was, I was a walking billboard of queerness in my rainbow jacket, and that surrounded me with Trans and bi and lesbian and gay people and every flavor of queer, and gave me the space to explore myself and my identity in a way I might not ever have if I had just kept myself in my dark closet of shame

There is literally no point to this post, and I'll probably delete it before the end of the day. But boy is life complicated, and I sure am glad an old racist white man told me to add more color to my life, maybe I'll pretend to have forgotten all the shit my mom's told me

[galeleads]

Exhaustion could not cover how she felt. For months, she feigned excitement about being in a higher position at South HQ. (Not too high, just enough to be a substantial difference.) A reliable connection for southern State Alchemists to come to for advice and guidance. Her resume shined, and Covelli, her superior, seemed rather content that the months in Central paid off for the young, inexperienced soldier. That the South had gained a potentially powerful player in a game of militaristic bureaucracy.

Her name meant something now. No more days of being the Little Hahn of South Headquarters. She was the Windborne, and she was fierce, and not meant to be played with.

But the days in the sun were only temporary. Who knows how many nights she would find herself tearing up because something reminded her of her Flame, and he wasn't near for her to share? He had no idea that the spark inside her had become its own beautiful flame of passion and power, even when she ruled with her own hand.

And she had him to thank && to love. She intended to do so.

In normal circumstances, lighthearted teasing would have been met with a slap on the arm rather than her opting to just roll her eyes, but alas, it's all he can get, along with a snide tone, "Oh, har har, my superior is in the room; they won't say anything," a pause before adding a deadpan remark, "unless you're punishing me, but we both know that's not a threat."

It seems he really did rub off on her in some aspects, especially the banter. (He had no one to blame but himself.)

Eyes glide to the small table next to the cot. Well, at least they were lucky enough that the nurse didn't take the extra bandages with her. She barely reaches the gauze and wraps without straining herself too much. (A tiny wince or two left audible) "-I don't want to hurt you, so I'm going to talk through what I'm doing, okay?"

This was easy enough. She could do dressing changes in her sleep. (At least, she has to tell herself that because he's going to hurt either way.) Unravel, clean, and rebandage.

When he makes the suggestion that she should be resting, she almost wants to scoff at him once more. "Pot calling the kettle black, Amapola. I'll rest when I'm ready, removing the bandages." The pads of her fingers tap the top of his right palm to signal her movement as her other hand begins to unravel blood-soaked bandages. The smell of the crimson liquid begins to perforate. (An observation she wished her senses would ignore.) 'Think of something else...'

"Besides my stomach and possible concussion- this is gonna sting a bit..." A bottle of saline is in her hand, wetting a piece of the cloth to press onto both sides of each hand with the utmost care. As she dabs, she muses, "There we go...I've got a couple scrapes and cuts, but nothing too deep. Let's wrap those hands."

Considering some of the other soldiers that met their ends in rather violent means, Aurora considered herself rather unscathed in terms of her physical injuries. Though she could hear Roy arguing with her in that regard. (He was always more protective of his team, the silly man.)As she takes a second to admire her delicate wrapping, she orders, "Done. Put your hands down."

As she lays her head back down onto one of the pillows, she sighs. Doing that small task shouldn't have made her so tired. Perhaps a nap is in order...but she'll fight it, choosing the much better past time of running her fingers through his hair (not without murmuring her intended action to him.) "I have a few weeks of bed rest, at the very least, but they might let me go home sooner if I do what they say. Your hands won't keep you here as long as you'd think; it's going to be the sight they hold you for." Ah, an observation she knows will certainly cause him stress. So, she adds, "That doesn't mean we can't get things done while we're here. I can just help you a bit more than usual. Reading, signing..."

"I prefer to stay with you as much as I can anyhow."

“I do.” Two simple words to acknowledge her, said without hesitation. He loved her, and he needed her to know. 

Keeping her a secret all this time caused pain by itself. When she entered any room he was in, he had to feign indifference, ignoring how the wind carried his heart in her hands and made him lighter. He hid smiles and contented sighs behind bored eye rolls and occasionally pinching the bridge of his nose. Her voice a melody, and the one that soothed him, he pretended it belonged to an ordinary person who barely knew him. They were nothing more than coworkers to the public.

The charade exhausted him. From how she spoke, it tired her as well. Their relationship could not return to its status quo with hidden meetings and subdued feelings. With hearts laid bare on a hospital room floor as she uttered, “I love you too,” Roy did not want what they had, but more. What they had was not big enough for the amount and sheer ferocity of love shared between them. Wind and Flame, they were two halves of a firestorm that could not be contained. The Promised Day proved as much.

He wanted to show the world he loved her. He wanted to stand on top of the command center—once it was repaired—and show the entire country who he loved. Aurora made him the best version of himself, and he wanted everyone to see. She breathed life into him when he thought he had none. How could he not want to share that happiness? 

Still, they had to consider the path forward. He leaned against her hand, allowing a contented sigh to leave his lips. Without Bradley and the Homunculi, they had slightly less to worry about. There was still public opinion and rumor to deal with, but that was nothing they could not endure. Compared to the path they traversed to get to this point, politics would be child’s play. No, the largest hurdles came with the lack of sight on his part. There were multiple variables to consider: how it affected his job, his future prospects, his ability to perform alchemy, and his day-to-day life. Truthfully, he had not even begun to consider all of said variables yet—not with how many there were. He only knew one thing for certain.

“I won’t take the Stone.” A single shake of his head. “I’ve made up my mind on that front.” He knew why she asked again. Both of them tended to think with their hearts more than their heads. She had to know he wasn’t making a decision purely based on his emotions at the time and that he gave it considerable thought. 

There was no malice in her voice when she accepted his choice. It was… refreshing. No doubt rather difficult for her to do, but it was merely another sign of her love. Little gestures such as this added up. Coupled with her words, he could not begin to question her love for him. Nights spent at his side, conversations lasting for hours, how emerald eyes shone when she looked at him—he knew. Self-loathing wanted to doubt, yes, but her caress pushed it away for now. They could tackle that later. 

“You’re gonna get in trouble the longer you stay here,” he chided, clearly not minding as he shifted to hold up his hands, “Shouldn’t you be resting? If you’re tired, you can sleep, y’know. Can you tell me what your injuries are at least? I’m going to worry either way. Once I know, then we can figure out how long both of us are in here for and what we can do next.”

[rickfucker]

(kinda emo) Nsfw Rick Headcanons (GN!)

i’ve gained lots of followers since my last post. hello! and welcome to the shitshow. this turned out extra emo! for whatever reason idk. i think it might just be because of how much i love rick this season. he’s a little softer. pls enjoy.

Sex is one of those things that he almost overdid when he was younger. He still loves it, don’t get me wrong, but he used it as an unhealthy coping mechanism in tandem with his drinking. It started losing its spark as he really got on in years.

This man is of the streets. He’s seen it all and he’s done it all.

Definitely a switch. His default is soft dominant. He will give endless praise, from how stunning your body is to how well you take him.

He gets tired, though. He’s spent his whole life fighting shadows of himself; trying to convince himself that he doesn’t need anyone. He wouldn’t ask you outright, necessarily, but if you decide to take the reigns from him for a night, he melts right into it. He wants someone to take care of him. Love him. Be gentle with him, just enough to make him forget about the cruelty of his own existence.

Sex with you is healing for him in that respect. He has done the hard and fast with everyone he’s ever met. You’re a fresh start, like he’s being given a second chance at doing things the right way.

He takes his time with you. To the point of your very obvious frustration. I’m talking hours of foreplay.

He’s the type to gently coerce you into saying exactly what you want in bed, usually in the filthiest way possible. Once again, extra points for the full-body blushing you’ll be doing. He eats that shit up.

He wants to hear you say what you want. That you want him, specifically. Consent is sexy!

Nicknames for days. Sweetheart, baby, hun, sugar, sweetcheeks, lmao. He loves just hearing you say his name, though.

He likes to fuck in weird places. Views it like a sort of challenge.

You would definitely have sex in every room in the house. Kitchen countertops, living room couch, the shower (obviously), laying you out on top of the dining room table (you insist on Clorox-ing afterward because he certainly isn’t going to do it).

He would never risk the possibility of you two being walked in on, though. He’s for sure into exhibitionism to an extent, but not with his family in mind. For your privacy as much as his own. Also his territorial nature. Nobody is viewing the goods but him.

He actually doesn’t want to have sex on his workspace. He’s got too much important shit that can’t risk, ahem, contamination.

If you get awkward of feel embarrassed while bumping uglies, he literally does not care. Everything you do is sexy to him, including all of the very human things about you.

(AFAB) I can’t tell if he’s a boob or a butt guy, but that’s ‘cause he’s a pussy guy. We all know this. He is King of giving head and he fucking loves it. 

(AMAB) Same goes here. King of Giving Head; He WILL give you that sloppy toppy.

Always makes his partner come first.

He can’t pick a favorite position, but he does love it when you ride him, especially dry humping. He likes it when the two of you end up so in the moment that there’s no time for taking off clothes.

Goes absolutely feral when you say you love him.

Sometimes cries a little after really intense sex, but not when you can see him. He’s got all these pent up emotions that just end up toppling over when he lets his guard down.

Pillow talk for a hundred years. He likes it when you start rambling about the future, toying with his hands while you talk softly. “Maybe we could move somewhere closer to the ocean. Or are you more of a cabin in the woods kind of guy?” You laugh at the idea of Rick lounging on the beach, which he takes mock offense to.

You make him think about things he never would have considered before. What reason would he have to ask himself the less important questions of life? Like what his favorite architectural style of home is. What would his perfect vacation look like? If he had to pick a new hobby to start, what would it be? It’s just nonsense, things he would never talk about in front of anyone else due to their irrelevant nature, but in the afterglow with you, he likes it. Maybe it makes him feel more normal; suburban; domestic. Maybe he just likes how dreamily you talk about those things, and the way you give him your full, rapt attention in the quiet sanctity of his tiny bedroom. Nothing else exists but you.

[randomwriteronline]

So on one hand, Adaman needed to get back in the habit of knocking.

On the other, he could have walked into something much worse than Melli still sleeping with a naked arm that certainly wasn't his reaching out to lay on his side.

He stood for a moment or two in stunned bafflement, trying to decode to whom that alien limb could have belonged while his brother kept sleeping with not a care nor a worry to be found under Almighty Sinnoh's ever-changing skies.

The chilly mountain air must have crept in through the open door, because suddenly there was a disgruntled groan (definitely not in Melli's voice) and a body shifted to sit up, thunking his head against the top bunk with a soft 'ow' before turning to face the Diamond leader.

White eyelids waited a moment before rising to reveal very tired white eyes which squinted at the intruding young man.

"Good morning," said warden Ingo uncharacteristically flatly.

Unless he had grown a third arm and slipped it out of the tunic he was still very clearly wearing, the rogue limb now wrapping around his middle was not his either.

"Hello," Adaman only managed to reply.

"We are sorry to inform passengers that the Multi Line is momentarily unavailable due to scheduled maintenance," Ingo continued, the near incomprehensible words coming out of his mouth clearly part of a script rehearsed and repeated many times before: "Please return at a later time."

Well.

The younger man guessed it did make sense that he was asking him to get the hell out.

And extremely politely, too.

"Alright," he croaked.

"Thank you for your patience," the warden nodded while a sound that was very close to warden Gaeric's voice mumbled something and the mystery arm around his waist was joined by Melli's to weakly try and coax him into laying down again. "Please have a good day and a safe ride."

And just like that he thunked his head back down on the pillow, where the other two bodies wasted no time coiling around him.

So Adaman closed the door behind himself and decided he was going to take a walk down the mountain for a while.

When he returned, roughly an hour later, he remembered to knock.

"Who's that?" Melli asked from inside.

"Just me," he replied.

There was some rustling, something similar to a thump; then the door was opened to let him in, revealing that his brother was alone in his hut.

This made the atmosphere exponentially much less awkward.

Melli of course remedied that by starting off with: "I know that you know."

The discreet sigh of relief about to surface from Adaman's throat froze so quickly he nearly choked on it, causing him to struggle a moment or two before turning around to face his warden with a nervous smile he couldn't help himself from plastering on his own face.

"... That I know what?" he tried.

Melli didn't have any of that: "I've been told you've seen something I would have rather you didn't," he replied vaguely enough so that he wouldn't betray himself in the case he actually had not seen it, arms crossed on his chest in a way that was less angry and more desperate not to blow up.

His leader, who was not built to endure silent staring contests on account of his lack of patience, caved in immediately to reassure him: "Well I mean, I saw the after--"

"There was no after."

"... So that was all?"

"That was all."

The certainty that he had intruded on totally wholesome actual sleeping in the same bed was actually pretty fucking relieving.

That didn't stop the silence from creeping back in and making him feel like his shoulders were being crushed by the weight of an Alpha Graveler, which he absolutely needed to remedy.

"So!" he started as he put his hands on hips, as if to start a conversation, and immediately regretted it since his train of thought stopped the second after what couldn't even be considered a sentence: "Wardens Ingo and Gaeric."

"Gaeric was here for unrelated reasons," Melli corrected very quickly. After a minuscule pause he saw it fit to add: "Unrelated to me."

The specification and implications carried with it might have killed Adaman on the spot if he had been weak enough. This horrible excuse for a dialogue with too long pauses between bombs of moderately cursed information felt like it was chipping away at his sanity.

Time be damned.

Warden Ingo got around, it seems.

"Did you come here to tell me something or did you just want to pry on my life?" Melli pressed, rather piqued.

His leader blinked and raised one of his index fingers in the air, blanking out for a couple seconds with a forlorn vacant stare. He shifted it a little lower, snapped his middle and thumb, and nodded as if he had managed to once again catch the thought which had slipped from his memory.

"There's been a birth," he announced. "Come down to the settlement."

"Now?"

"Or later. Today. Possibly."

"Will do."

Adaman gave him a wordless thumbs up.

"... So is that all?"

"Yes! I will. Go. Remember. Come down to the settlement."

"Will do."

"Ok. Good. Nice. Alright."

And while he kept stammering on a few more monosyllables the leader bid his goodbyes and left.

Melli inhaled deeply; he put his reddened face in his hands and exhaled with a groan.

"Glory be to Almighty Sinnoh for not sending Irida our way," Gaeric finally announced gratefully as he crawled out from under the bed where he had hastily hidden once the Diamond leader had first knocked, "None of us would have survived."

"Are you saying Adaman is weaker than her?" Electrode's warden hissed.

"I am saying he took it graciously," the wider man replied: "I doubt my leader would have been only too stunned for words if she saw her master, the man she welcomed in her clan and you snuggling together in your hut."

"And just what would that 'you' mean?"

That you're the last member of the Diamond Clan she would give her blessing to, Gaeric did not reply because while they both were getting along surprisingly well for the sake of their mutual beloved they were not quite comfortable enough being that blunt to each other's face without spending a whole day ruminating killer glares after: "That you're a Diamond," he said instead.

Melli pouted and narrowed his eyes in a look that said 'it fucking better mean only that'.

In the small bout of tension in which thet forced themselves to calm down and de-escalate the hostility, they both noticed a distinct lack of a third body either between them or anywhere visible.

Gaeric crouched back to the floor to look under the bed as the other warden leaned closer: "You can come out now, he's gone."

"After much thought and consideration," replied Ingo's voice, clearly muffled by the floor, "I have elected to remain here and embrace decay, submitting myself to the dust and rot."

"You have not offended Adaman," Melli assured him as he approached, sitting on his heels beside the other Pearl Clansman.

"My behavior was absolutely unforgivable," their lover insisted. "Telling a clan leader to get out like a brute. I'm never going to be able to merely even look at him without being consumed by the shame ever again. I'm hereby resigning from my undeserved position as station master and forever leaving society, cursed to wander the wilds as a vagabond for my acts."

"That so? And you'd leave us both here like widows, heartbroken and forever lamenting their poor darling husband's untimely disappearance?" Melli mocked his dramatic speech, making even Gaeric laugh as he laid on his stomach to fetch him beneath the bed: "That seems hardly noble."

"Oh, he's right, beloved," echoed Avalugg's warden as he dragged Ingo out of his hiding spot. The foreigner felt a rough nose and patches of beard coax his neck to recline, and a smirk press against his throat: "At least let us hide you away in our homes while you're on the run from your mistakes!"

Ingo gave a low rumbling whine at their teasing and joking, shielding his reddening face behind his arms as both devilish men sandwiched him between them to keep him from ducking back in the brooding darkness they had forced him to emerge from and began mercilessly kissing him all the way from his bony clavicles up to his cheeks, making him feel as warm as a raging fire in Eterna Forest.

He wriggled against their chests to somehow make his escape: "You must start journeying to the Mirelands," he managed to stagger out, "Or you'll get there too late."

"I'll go in just a moment!" Melli complained; his foot rested on his rival's stomach in an attempt to push him away: "But first I'll have you for myself a while since Gaeric will get to keep you all day!"

"I believe we'd agreed to share," Gaeric grumbled, scooting closer: "Especially since I'll be back in the Icelands soon enough..."

"Oh, now it's about sharing? Not when I have to sit and bear it when he visits you in your hellish tundra of a home?"

"That's rich - I recall you two have the entire mountain to yourselves every day!"

"Please release me," Ingo demanded.

He then immediately yelped as both his lovers magically got over their differences in an instant to better squeeze him between them, the feeling flustering him endlessly.

"This is the opposite of - at least let us get off the floor--!"

"We will, we will!"

"All in due time."

And they were back to drowning him in kisses, curling his hair between their fingers, nuzzling into his neck, snickering as they felt him burn up in their hold.

"Tremendous, you are tremendous," they heard him babble with a smile in his voice between the minuscule pauses of their loving torture as he melted like butter in their arms, "Awful little devils, the both of you - like bickering Gligars..."

"Uuuh, how mean, beloved," Gaeric laughed against his throat, "How very mean..."

[leggerefiore]

Little Lies

cw: yandere, memory manipulation, happy ending(?)

Summary: You wake up an amnesiac, and your loving boyfriend helps take of you. Of course, everything returns much too late.

words: 1887

honesty might read as nonsensical rambling.

You felt strange.

Well, perhaps you had always felt strange. Strangeness was part of your existence.

Everything was hard to recall before a certain point. Your earliest memory that was solid and tangible was waking up in Ingo's bed. His Chandelure had been watching over you and floated away to alert him about your newly awakened status. A beautiful song echoed throughout the apartment. Soon, Ingo entered.

Ingo was your then boyfriend, now husband. Gently, he sat down beside you and explained that you had been struck in the head by someone throwing a pokeball. It was caused you some head trauma, and doctors had spoken about how you likely would have memory problems. They were correct. You were completely unable to recall anything outside of your name.

He was saddened to hear this, hand gently grabbing at your thigh. "You don't even remember that we're a couple, do you?" he said softly, eyes brimming with tears. No, you did not. You reached out for his hand, however. It was warm and surprisingly soft, spongy one might say. "I'll never forget, again," came from your lips. His smile was a beautiful sight.

From that day forth, you were kept inside his apartment. It was for your safety; you didn't know anything about the city you were currently in. Danger could lurk in every corner. Ingo would never forgive himself if you had gotten hurt again. He was already beating himself up over what happened the first time. You agree, of course, afraid of having such an assault happen to you again. It was easier to stay inside, too.

You found yourself steadily entertaining yourself with tasks around the house. Laundry, cooking, cleaning, and reading became your closest friends. Ingo loved it, too. He bought you more things related to housekeeping and homemaking. Whenever he came home from work to a ready meal, his demeanor shifted from a tired, restless one to excited and giddy. His arms travelled around your waist, and gentle kisses were pressed to your lips. He rested his forehead against yours and spewed endless praises for your kindness. You felt happy. It was amazing to have such a loving, devoted partner. His affections were returned tenfold.

A few months after you had woken up without recall, Ingo asked how you felt about children. You closed your eyes and attempted to remember anything. Did you like them? Had you ever been around children? Nothing came. It could get boring, admittedly, in the apartment. You had been out a few times with Ingo around Nimbasa, but you never were allowed to leave on your own.

It was still much too dangerous. When you had tried to leave a few times, Ingo had gotten extremely upset. He scolded you endless, speaking of the terrifying world that was just waiting to eat you up and take you from him. Your memories were already gone, how long until it claimed the rest of you? Glossy eyes stared at you desperately, begging for you to stop your behaviour. Seeing him so distraught had caused you to rescind your wish. You got out enough with Ingo. If you wanted more, he offered, you could go out with Elesa. You were fine with that.

Still, when you considered a child… They could certainly liven up the everyday for you. Ingo had the qualities of a good father, at least judging from the books you had read. You leaned into his side and brought his hand to your stomach. Looking deeply into his pale eyes, you saw pure adoration and affection. A kiss was tenderly pressed to his cheek. His hand lightly rubbed your tummy. "Please… Let's have a child, Ingo," you begged him.

"Of course, my dear…" he spoke as he moved to push you onto the couch. His tie laid down your chest and his eyes stared at you with a stranger emotion. Hands drifted under your shirt, sending shivers down your spine. That evening, Ingo had shown you just how tender and rough his love could be.

A ring was soon to follow. A small wedding ceremony was held with his friends and family in attendance. Your hand was squeezed tightly as the officiant read something you failed to care about. Ingo was a gorgeous man. How had you gotten so lucky? He was willing to put up with the loss of your memories and still wanted to be with you. You kissed him deeply, arms pulling him close. Now, you were joyously bonded to your loving husband. The attendees congratulate you both endlessly. His twin brother, Emmet, smiling brightly as he saw you lean into Ingo's arm. "Ah, Ingo. I'm verrrry glad for you," he patted his brother on the back, causing Ingo to choke out a breath, "You're so happy now. That gloom is gone." His gaze turned to you, something lurking that you could not understand. "Thank you for loving him. I'd be upset if you ever left him."

It did not make sense. Emmet's words sounded as if they were meant as a threat. Ingo eased your worries when you brought it up. The younger twin just was not good with words. That was all.

It felt like more. Something biting just outside the area of your skin, ghosting ever so slightly against your flesh. You could not sleep that night.

Your son was the next stop in your life. A big moment for everyone involved. He was brought home as a giggling bunch of blankets. Ingo loved him so dearly, taking an entire week off from his consuming work. Never had you seen him smile so much as you did with the small infant. Often times, you would sit next to him, just watching your son sleep away the day.

This is when it truly began. The strange feeling, that was. Moments when you caught Ingo cradling the newborn sent unadulterated terror down your spine. You rushed over quite a few times and took the baby from. He was confused and distressed by your actions. "Dear, why have you taken him?" his voice low, not to wake the sleeping child.

"I f-feel afraid sometimes when you hold him," you explained, clutching the gentle warmth close to your body." Ingo's smile disappeared. His frown made a return, deep in design. You felt genuinely terrible, but the fear would never lessen unless you the baby was in your arms.

"I see… Surely you must know that I would never hurt him, right?" he asked, arm coming around you to observe carefully, "I am not a man who would ever hurt those I love… Darling, please." His tone slowly became solemn, desperate to prove himself to you. You knew he would not, yet something from somewhere inside your mind's depths screamed for you not to let him hold the child.

It was that day, you chose to play along, however. Whatever had caused you to become distressed must have an explanation but leaving Ingo so suspicious and worried could not end well. You felt yourself feeling oddly consumed with anxiety as you stared at the pictures of you and him that decorated the apartment. It was wrong. Something was wrong.

A nap brought forth a dream, where you stood beside another man. His hair was long and fluffy, and a gentle smile laid on his face. It was his very nature to be kind. You shot awake with tears falling from your eyes. A new name came into your consciousness: N.

You did not cook that evening, feeling much too nauseous. Ingo was concerned, but you shrugged him off. "It's nothing," you claimed, "I think it's about time to feed Erin again… Do you mind?" He shook his head while you moved to pick up the infant. The baby was enviable, unaware of your strange circumstance. You cooed at him gently and stroke through his silver strands. He resembled his father too much.

The routine monotony of your life was followed for another week. It was difficult to do so, as memories continued to buzz and swarm your head. A few solid, many aeriform and dreamy. They all led you to one conclusion: Ingo was an imposter. He lied to you. Why? You were terrified. What happened to you? How had you lost your memories? Too many questions came with little to no answers. Your memories were unreliable, and your information was limited. Time was easily consumed by Erin, too. The poor child was a product from these lies, but you could not help loving him. He was yours.

A plan was formed, slowly. Ingo was growing more aware of your condition as you let more and more time slip from your hands. You denied sex, affection was limited, and refused to let him handle Erin. He was catching on that something was extremely wrong. Just that morning, in fact, a comment was made about needing to sit down and speak with you. You would never. There was nothing to talk about.

Elesa was unaware of how serious everything had become around your home and agreed to take you out to the amusement park. You carried Erin in your arms as you tactically broke away from the black-haired model. Her shouts for you echoed throughout the park as you carefully made your way to the Ferris wheel. Erin squirmed and gazed at all the people. He had never really been out before, you realised. The same as you, locked away.

It was a hunch that brought you to the location for your plan. A date kept haunting your mind as you tried to sleep at night, Ingo's arm a leaden weight around your waist. His soft breath tickled your neck and made your stomach churn. Today was that date. The day you rode the Ferris wheel with N. A memory whose misty, dense fog lifted as you stood before the ride. Tears welled in your eyes as you slowly felt more recollections ebb into your consciousness.

"Are you alright?" a soft, fast paced voice called out. You turned you head to see him. Green hair blowing softly in the wing, and his turquoise eyes gazing kindly. All you could is shake your head as you felt yourself begin to cry. N. He had come. You always went to the Ferris wheel on your anniversary. An entire year was taken from you by the Subway Boss. He approached you, arm gently going around your shoulders. You were walked away from the crowded amusement park and out into the routes leaving the city.

"N… I'm being hunted down as we speak," you explained, gaze dropping to the sleeping infant in your arms, "I was… Kidnapped, I believe. By one of the guys who run the Gear Station." It felt foreign to explain. Would N even believe you? His eyes darkened, and he looked around carefully. You watched as he approached a landed Pidove and asked them something. His eyes closed. "Let's go to Lostlorn Forest… I feel like that would be a better place to converse."

You felt a smile split your face. He believed you. You walked at his side in the delicate knowledge that he would help you.

Unaware were you of the complete panic and terror that Ingo currently suffered. His careful plan had become entirely unwound.

[sargeant-bxrnes]

1 step forward, 3 steps back.

warnings: rafe being… rafe. drug mention & consumption, cursing, toxic relationship, sexual situations/implications, mental health issues. ANGST.

[AN: this is the first thing i’ve written, ever, so my apologies if it’s not flawless ; also, english is not my first language, that’s a warning on its own]

my requests are open btw

click for my master list

word count: 4.4K

Called you on the phone today

Just to ask you how you were

All I did was speak normally

Somehow I still struck a nerve

“Hey,” you said in a soft tone as soon as Rafe picked up the phone, you were laying down on your bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey princess,” his tone was calm, but his voice was rough and raspy all together.

“How you doing?” you asked him, even though you’d seen him last night, up close.

“I’m doing great,” he replied in a surprisingly cheerful tone, which is weird this early in the morning. Rafe is not a morning person. “You sound tired.”

“I am tired,” you confirmed with a sigh. “Guess I have you to thank for that.”

“My pleasure.” he replied cockily, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could practically hear his proud smirk.

“So, what’s the plan today?” you asked in a casual tone, fidgeting with the edge of Rafe’s shirt, the one you wore to sleep.

“Uh, what do you mean?” he asked in a distracted tone, he sniffed subtly and coughed.

You knew what that meant, but still, you hoped it wasn’t what you deep down knew it was.

“Yeah, I mean—“ you said and made a brief pause. “Wanna go to the club? Maybe we can take a ride on the boat, you know, with food, alcohol... just us.”

“Can’t, I’m busy.” he said after a few seconds, if you didn’t know him better and his occasional mood swings, you would’ve said his tone was harsh.

"Really?" you asked in a soft tone, trying to disguise your disappointment with interest. "But I thought we were going out together today."

"Y/N, just because I'm your boyfriend it doesn't mean I have to be with you all the fucking time."

Okay, now he was definitely angry, you thought you said the right thing, but it still made him angry.

"Rafe-"

"No, Y/N. I have a life of my own, you know? Things to do besides you."

“That’s okay Rafe, I get it,” You said calmly, nodding your head softly. “Have fun today.”

Now you clearly heard the sound of him sniffing something and the sigh that left his lips after, and Barry’s voice in the background. “Don’t play the victim card on me, that’s not gonna work. I deserve to have some time off.”

“I didn’t,” you said softly. “And it’s okay baby, you’re right, you deserve to have some fun.”

“See? No need to be so fucking dramatic,” he said, his voice and words slurring. You? Dramatic? It was all him. “But don’t worry princess, I’ll drop by tonight and fuck the attitude out of you, yeah? That way I’m not just doing things with you, I’m doing you.”

And with such a vulgar comment and a harsh tone, Rafe hung up on you, leaving you completely dumbfounded and filled with incredulity.

What you did know for a fact, is that he would keep up his word. And judging by his tone of voice and how annoyed he was, you could already imagine the ache between your legs.

You got me fucked up in the head, boy

Never doubted myself so much

Like, am I pretty? Am I fun, boy?

I hate that I give you power over that kind of stuff

You knew exactly what you were getting into when you started hooking up with Rafe, and what you were committing to when you agreed to be his girlfriend.

You know that man carries more problems than he shows, he prefers to make himself appear as the Kook prince who lives a life of partying and money; hiding all the things that were going on in his head.

However, there were times when his attitude made you doubt yourself.

You couldn't help but think, ‘What if one day I don't manage to calm him down?’ ‘What if one day he realizes that there is someone prettier, or hotter, or wealthier out there?’

And Rafe would get angry if you doubted yourself. He would complain to you about it, saying you had no reason to be insecure about your looks; if you are absolutely gorgeous, or to feel insecure about your personality; if you were the most genuine person he'd ever met, and you could make him laugh until he forgot all his problems.

But what really made him furious was when you had doubts about the relationship itself, about whether or not he was capable of leaving you for someone else. He took those doubts personally, as if he wasn't trying hard enough to show you how much you mean to him.

When in reality; you were doubting yourself.

'Cause it's always one step forward

You were preparing dinner for you and Rafe, your family was out for the weekend, and Rafe had decided to spend it with you.

Your hair was tied up in a bun, your attire consisted of nothing but your underwear and a shirt that used to be Rafe's, but you took it so long ago that it's yours now.

Music from your shared playlist played in the background, as you danced absentmindedly with a spatula in hand, extremely calm and enjoying time with your boyfriend.

Rafe could do nothing but stare at you with admiration, you are literally the only good thing in his life; his little piece of heaven. You are everything to him.

As soon as Dark Red by Steve Lacy started playing, you let out an excited gasp. That song in particular is Rafe’s and yours, like… if you two had to choose a song to describe your relationship, it would be that one. It represented how you two did not always have good times, but your love prevailed.

Seeing you this happy, comfortable and at ease with him made Rafe's soul happy. All his life, he had done nothing else besides make people angry, disappointed, terrified. But with you, everything was different.

You were so focused on swaying your hips to the music and singing, that you didn't notice when Rafe stood up and walked over to where you were.

It wasn't until he stood behind you, chest to back and with his hands on your hips, that you realized he was closer. His head was bowed, you could feel his breathing close to your ear, so he was able to murmur in your ear the lyrics of the song:

“Only you, my girl, only you, babe,” he sang in your ear, his voice a soft whisper as he wrapped his arms around your body and started to sway with you. “Only you, darling, only you, babe.”

The gesture quickened your heart to unsuspected levels, you felt your knees weaken as you pressed closer to his body, appreciating his closeness as he pressed a kiss against your temple.

“You know I love you so much, right?” he mumbled in your ear, as you closed your eyes and relished his presence.

“I love you too, baby.”  you mumbled back, leaning your head against his chest, caressing one of his arms around your waist with your fingertips, and bringing your hand to his ash blond hair, stroking it softly.

and three steps back

“Why is he mad at you, again?” Topper asked you with a raised eyebrow, after witnessing Rafe utterly avoiding even looking at you when he walked into the room and then left without a word.

“Because I told Barry to not open the door if Rafe dropped by,” You replied with a shrug, closing your eyes and leaning back against the chair. “And when Rafe tried to lash out on him, Barry said it all had been ‘Mrs.Country Club’s’ request.”

“And he’s mad at you because you don’t want him to get all fucked up?” Topper questioned next, trying to understand the situation. But he never knew what the fuck you two were up to.

“Yes, but it’s Rafe, are you surprised?” you said with a heavy sigh.

“No, not really,” Topper admitted. “Honestly, I don’t know why you keep up with him, Y/N.”

“I ask myself that all the time…” you said with a deep sigh. “But I love him, so I guess that’s the answer.”

“And? I mean, I don’t want to be ‘that guy’ Y/N, but he’s…” Topper trailed off, apparently looking for the right word.

“I know exactly how he is, Topper, I don’t need you to remind me. I already think about that way too much.”

You and Topper had easily assumed that Rafe was no longer around, since he seemed to be making his best efforts to avoid you.

But Rafe was there, and he heard everything. He’d heard Topper giving you bad advice (or what he considered bad advice) And he heard you, having doubts about why you loved him or stood by him at all,and it made him want to lash out again.

I'm the love of your life until I make you mad

It's always one step forward and three steps back

Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don't understand

No, I don't understand

[+18. Really]

“Leave me alone!” his voice boomed in the room, his brows furrowed and the veins in his neck were popping out.

“Rafe—“ you tried once again, approaching slowly in an attempt to place a hand on his shoulder, but he waved it away aggressively.

“Leave-me-alone,” he said, pausing in between each word to emphasize on how much he meant it. His eyes were bloodshot, his nose had specks of white dust, his lips were dry and his voice was coarse.

You weren’t entirely sure what you could say to get him to calm down. Or if there was anything at all you could do.

Normally, what upsets him the most is Ward. His own father. Rafe has spent his whole life trying to prove he's a good son, to make his father proud, and Ward never appreciates his efforts, only notices the bad, and ignores Rafe's clear calls for help, has since Rafe was 10 years old, so he certainly wasn't going to pay attention to him now that Rafe finally had a steady girlfriend, someone who had willingly decided to help.

95% of the time, you managed to talk to Rafe before he decided to resort to intoxication. Most of the time just seeing you helped him calm down, hearing your voice soothed him, and your lips, your skin, put him in a state of peace.

But the other 5% is when Rafe resorted to alcohol and, above all, drugs.

When Rafe is upset and decides to get high, he only manages to become unstable, erratic and yes, aggressive if not handled with care.

In those situations, the best thing you can do, putting yourself first, is to give him his space. Let him screw himself as much as he wants for that day, and help him deal with the consequences the next day, while you listen to him lament his attitude.

Rafe always said he would quit the vice; claiming you were all he needed to calm himself down, that you made him feel at peace. And above all, that you weren't slowly killing him; on the contrary, every minute he spent with you made him feel more alive.

However, for one reason or another, he always came back to it. Whether it was at a party, because Kelce suggested it, or, as is almost always the case, when he's upset with his father and needs quick relief.

And usually, this ‘quick relief’ ends up with Rafe fucked up, big time.

Once he was convinced that you wouldn't try to intervene again, Rafe went back to his business. He turned to the table, and since he already had the line ready, he simply leaned over and inhaled it, throwing his head back, running his hand through his hair and exhaling as he closed his eyes.

You exhaled heavily, shaking your head as you stared at your feet.  You knew he would struggle to quit, after all it is an addiction and he has to fight it, but sometimes you get the impression that Rafe doesn't want to quit, not really.

"Do you want to help me?" asked Rafe eventually, turning his head to look at you. You didn't know if it was a trick question or not, so you hesitated before answering. "Answer me."

"Yes, of course I want to, Rafe." you replied with your respective hesitations, wondering what he was up to.

"Come here then," he said, making a 'come hither’ sign with his fingers.

You took a hesitant step but stopped, your eyes narrowing as you analyzed Rafe, trying to determine his intentions.

He raised both eyebrows in your direction, in a silent question of whether or not you're going to go with him.

Eventually you walked over to where Rafe was, he smiled at you while biting his lip lightly. Without saying anything he approached you and kissed you; the drugs made his senses heighten, so the kiss was intense from the beginning.

So that's when it made sense to you what he wanted, he wanted you. Your most obvious thought is that he would use you to take out your frustration, put the drugs aside and, most likely, fuck you.

Your idea seemed to be the right one as soon as Rafe grabbed you by the waist, still with his lips on yours, left a little bite on your lip before pulling away; and without any problem, lifted you off the floor and placed you on the table.

It's something you wouldn't admit out loud,—mostly out of shame and guilt,—but this kind of sex with Rafe was the best, he's completely unrestrained, rough, full of stamina and teasing, and above all, possessive. And that, in combination with his attractiveness, always drove you crazy.

And honestly; if what he wanted was to fuck you to take out his frustration, you'd let him.

His kisses were hungry and his hands desperate, running all over your body without distinction, as if he didn't know where to start.

He parted his lips from yours, and left a kiss at the corner of them, on your jaw; and began to make a little trail of slow kisses down your neck. The feeling of his lips on your neck made you bite your lip as you wrapped your legs around his waist to feel him closer.

You slid your hand under his shirt, caressing his defined abs and the sides of his body gently with the tips of your fingers, as he left little bites on your neck. Your hands slowly moved up, intending to remove his shirt, but Rafe was quicker and brought his hands to the edge of your shirt, causing you to stop your movements to raise your arms, so he could remove your shirt with ease. And so he did.

He parted his lips from your neck and stared at you, the hunger in his eyes made you feel a fire in the pit of your stomach that only he could put out.

Desperately, your lips connected again as he settled between your legs. One of his hands traveled to your neck, and he wrapped his fingers around it, pressing lightly to the sides. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head; though he couldn't see it.

With just enough strength, Rafe used the grip he had on your neck to push you down onto the table, so that you were lying on top of it.

As soon as he leaned over the table, you could feel his breath over abdomen, so you bit your lip in anticipation for what was to come.

He began to leave slow, wet kisses on your abdomen, making a slow trail to the edge of your shorts. Your automatic reaction was to close your eyes and put a hand in his hair, stroking it gently.

What you didn’t know is that the fact that you closed your eyes had given Rafe an opportunity he couldn't miss. Without you noticing, he slid a hand to the side of the table, where the small bag of white powder was.

To conceal his actions, he unbuttoned your shorts, and returned his lips to the beginning of your abdomen for more time.

The little bite he left to distract your attention caused a gasp to escape your lips; and that sound almost caused him to change plans completely.

He did want to fuck you, don’t get him wrong. He even had a mental debate about whether to continue what he was doing or simply sink his head between your thighs and provoke more sounds like that.

But he wanted to try something first. He had always wanted to try it, but had never asked you, because he knew that you would most likely say no.

With ease, he slid your shorts down your legs; so that they stayed at your ankles or fell to the floor; he didn't care. One of his hands slid into your underwear with ease, his fingers going straight to where he knew you needed him the most.

Trusting that you would not open your eyes, carefully, he put the white substance on your body, so delicately you didn’t notice. He began to prepare to inhale, while biting his lip in reaction to the sinful sounds that left your lips.

And obviously, without warning, Rafe inhaled a line from your thigh.

And all your sounds stopped, your eyes opened and your expression was filled with surprise, the bad kind.

You couldn't believe what Rafe had just done, you felt like an idiot for falling into the trap.

You also had to bite your lip to keep from letting out a moan in reaction to what his fingers were doing in between your legs, but your pride forbade it.

But more than anything else, you were outraged.

“Rafe, you did not just—“

“It felt nice, yeah?” Rafe’s voice was hoarse, you could feel his breath over your skin, as he left little kisses around. “After all, I did feel you clench around my fingers.”

His dirty words, hoarse voice, and close proximity to your body, not to mention his fingers deep inside you, caused you to let out a soft moan, causing Rafe to smirk in what he thought was victory.

But you wouldn't let him win this little game.

Although you really didn't want to, you grabbed his hand by the wrist and pulled him away, your legs trembling slightly at the sudden lack of anything between them.

Rafe's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as soon as you pushed him away from you and got off the table, lifting your shorts off the floor and putting them back on without a word.

"What are you doing?"

You didn't answer, as you searched for  your shirt, feeling his heavy gaze on your body.

"Y/N, where do you think you're going?"

“I’m leaving you alone as you asked me to, remember?” you said in irony. “Before you sniffed a line off me after I begged you to quit that shit?”

“Oh, so now you’re playing the victim?” his voice rose. “Don't- Don’t act as if you wouldn’t have let me fuck you less than a minute ago!”

"Yes I would have let you, to distract you from that shit!" you admitted to him, failing to control your anger. "I said I wanted to help you, to distract you, to give you something different to do. Not that I'd give you another place to snort lines from!"

Rafe knew you were right, of course he did.

You had spent months after months trying to get him to quit, you had offered him countless hours of your days to give him something new to do, distractions, attention and love. And this is how he had decided to pay you back?

But Rafe was angry too, very. You had interrupted him, you were yelling at him; and you had left him so hard, that it would start to hurt unless he did something about it.

“Fine, then get the fuck out of here.” Rafe spat, his anger clearly getting the best of him.

Your eyes widened at that, you hadn't expected him to react like that.

Your best case scenario would be that your attitude would piss him off, yes, but that he would retaliate by getting you back to the table and showing you everything you were missing.

Instead, he simply took your word for it and told you to get out of the room.

“What?”

“You heard me, get out.”

“Rafe—“

“You uh, you have three options, yeah? You let me fuck you over that table and do whatever I want, you get out of here, or I’ll get you out of here.”

The first offer was tempting, it really was, but you wouldn’t allow him to talk to you like that. Before anything, came respect and dignity, and no matter how much you wanted him to fuck you silly, you were too angry and disappointed at him to let it slip.

Blinking repeatedly to chase away the tears from your eyes, you grabbed your phone from the other end of the table, your jacket from Rafe's bed, and walked out of there without another word as you heard him calling your name.

And maybe in some masochistic way

I kinda find it all exciting

Like, which lover will I get today?

Will you walk me to the door or send me home cryin'?

Your relationship with Rafe was unique.

Not because of the circumstances in which it was created. A one-night-stand that turned into something casual, that was formalized after a dinner.

If not for Rafe.

You loved him, no doubt about it. You would give anything to see him happy and at peace, at peace with himself and succeeding in his life.

Rafe would do anything for you, really, anything. No matter how risky, demanding or dangerous, he would do anything for you.

He would die and kill for you.

But that surely didn’t mean it was an easy relationship, hell no. In fact, the willingness both of you had to do anything for each other sometimes made things too complicated; for at times it seemed that not a single rational thought crossed your minds.

And yes, Rafe’s addiction was a big issue. Whenever he was too high, or going through withdrawals, he wasn’t the Rafe you knew or had grown to love, it was another side of him you wanted to help get rid off. And the process wasn’t easy.

While trying to get clean; there was no way to know how he’d behave. He could either get clingy and want you around at all times to calm himself down, or he’d be in a very bad mood all the time, constantly snapping at you and raising his voice.

So there were days where he’d walk you to the door of your house and leave you there with a tender kiss and a smile.

Or days when you’d get out of his truck without a word, with tears streaming down your cheeks while he kept yelling for probably the stupidest thing.

No, it's back and forth, did I say something wrong?

It's back and forth, goin' over everything I said

It's back and forth, did I do something wrong?

'It's back and forth, maybe this is all your fault

Rafe knew he wasn’t okay. After all, he had begged his father for help, begged for anything that would get those thoughts to stop, but his father hadn’t listened, had only told him to ‘man up.’

You knew he wasn’t okay. Which is why you wanted to help him, to offer the support no one else had bothered to give him before he met you.

Whether he wanted it or not, those thoughts were still there. Being with you made them easier to ignore, but it’s not like they vanished entirely. He still had some ideas that made his own skin crawl.

And sometimes, you’d say or do the wrong thing and trigger those thoughts. And things got bad again for him.

Rafe knew you wanted nothing but to help him get better and be the best version of himself, and he really wanted to give you that. To change and make an effort. Not only for himself but for you. He wanted to be a man worthy of your love.

But it was hard to be anywhere near decent when you two went out and a guy stared at you for longer than Rafe’s limits allowed, or when guys tried to hit on you, when his friends got a little bit too close for his comfort.

Whenever he got jealous, he turned into a walking, talking ticking bomb. Anything could, and would set him off.

It wasn’t your fault, not really, but most of the time you felt it was. You knew Rafe dealt with a lot of insecurities already, of not being a nice person, not being good enough and so many other things. And you hated being one of the factors that caused his insecurities to arise.

And I'd leave you, but the roller coaster is all I've ever had

It was a complicated relationship, and it would probably never stop being complicated because both of you are complex people, plus there are other factors that affect the relationship.

But that didn't mean either of you would stop fighting to keep it alive. Neither would let the other go.

Rafe utterly refused to ever let you go. He loved you as he had never loved anyone, as he never thought himself capable of loving with that twisted heart of his.

You are, without exception, the best thing in his life, the best thing that ever happened to him. And you being in his heart was slowly turning him into who he had wanted to be during all those years of loneliness.

And you would never let him go, because you loved him with all your heart, soul and nerve of your body. And because you know that no one will ever love you like him. With so much passion, intensity, honesty and purity.

Because every feeling Rafe expressed with you was true; he was himself with you. And you didn't want to let him go.

Even if the two of you went one step forward, and three steps back, that single step would be longer than any step life makes you take backwards.

[shirakumos-sandwich-shop]

🍂Zhongli x fem reader 🍂

🍂Single Dad, modern au. 🍂

Feat. Xiao as a kid cause why not.

(Idk why I wrote this, let me just die of embarrassment while I post it anyway.)

“Did you have a good day at school Xiao?” You asked the tiny four year old.

“No.” He said bluntly.

“Why not? Did something happen?” You crouched down to his level.

“Ajax was mean to me again.” The little one whimpered. “He said my hair was stupid.”

You made a mental note to tell the child’s father once he got home.

“That’s not nice of him.” You tousled the boy’s colorful locks. “Don’t listen to him, your hair is perfect.”

“You think so?” He gave you big round golden puppy eyes that made your heart melt.

“Yes of course I do!” He smiled at your words. His little arms held out asking for you to pick him up. You scooped him into your arms and carried him off to the car. He was tiny but still heavy.

“Y/n?” He questioned.

“Yes Xiao?” You smiled.

“Why doesn’t daddy pick me up from school?” He said sadly.

“Your daddy has to work.”

“Oh…” the little one sighed. “Why does daddy work so much?”

“He has a very important job.” You answered.

You got to the car and buckled him into the car seat.

“Ajax said my dad works for dead people! Is that true?”

“What?” It took you a second to realize he meant the funeral parlor. “No sweetie, he doesn’t work for dead people.” You didn’t want to traumatize him with the details at such a young age.

You got into the driver's seat and drove out of the school parking lot. He was quiet all the way home and just stared out the window. After a short drive you pulled into the driveway of the large house. You let Xiao out of his car seat and he held his arms out to you to be held. He certainly was a clingy child. You carried him through the quiet house to the living room and set him down.

“I’m gonna make you a snack, is there anything you want?” You asked him.

“Almond tofu!” He exclaimed.

“You can’t have that for every meal, Xiao.” You chided.

“Oh..” he thought hard. “Apples then… but can I have just a bite of almond tofu?” He persisted.

“Would you rather have some now or save it till dessert? Cause I know you’ll ask for it again after dinner.”

“Fine… I’ll wait.” He sighed.

You patted his head and went to fix him a plate of sliced apples, you added some crackers and juice for good measure and brought it to him. He nibbled on the snacks happily and then decided it was time to color.

Time went on like this till nightfall. Xiao drew a dragon that he wanted to give to his dad. He was really just the cutest. You checked the clock, Xiao’s father should be back soon. It was getting late and Xiao was getting peckish again so you decided to get dinner ready for them so they could eat when he came back from work. You went to the kitchen and started preparing a good meal of chicken, rice, and vegetables.

“What about almond tofu?” The persistent child asked.

“I’ll do that next.” You calmed him. You went ahead and got started on the dessert so it would be ready later. Cooking wasn’t really required in your job description but you did it once in a while. The boy’s father always seemed to be so tired when he got back.

You heard the door open and Xiao scrambled to run to the door.

“Daddy!” You heard his exclaim from the other room. “Look what y/n helped me draw today!”

“That’s amazing!” You heard him reply. “Let’s go put it on the fridge!”

Zhongli entered the kitchen with his son dragging him by the hand. He looked very tired but tried to be energetic for his excited child.

“Hello, y/n.” Zhongli said softly.

“Hello, I went ahead and made dinner for you.”

“Oh you didn’t have to..”

“It’s okay, I wanted to. There is enough for leftovers. Let me just finish Xiao’s favorite and I’ll be on my way.”

“Would you just like to stay for dinner?” He asked.

“Oh no I couldn’t impose.” You blushed nervously.

“You're not imposing, you made the dinner after all.” He smiled at you awkwardly. “We’d love to have you stay, right Xiao?”

The little one jumped up and down and ran to hug your leg.

“Please stay, y/n.” He gave you the irresistible puppy eyes again.

“Of course, I’ll stay. I can’t say no to you.” You ruffled his colorful hair.

Zhongli smiled to himself while he witnessed the interaction. No one had been able to get Xiao to open up like you had. He used to be such a quiet child until you came along. Maybe it was just his imagination but he felt that you were having a similar effect on him as well.

You felt a bit awkward at dinner, Zhongli had never invited you to stay before. Your crush on him was driving you crazy, thinking of all the reasons he could have asked you to stay. You were just Xiao’s nanny so you didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. Throughout dinner Zhongli grew more comfortable as the evening continued. It felt natural having the three of you there together. He wondered as he always did when he saw you, if you might be the answer he was looking for. Xiao had always been begging him for a mother. Zhongli wanted to make him happy, he tried to go on dates but no one seemed to fit. No one except you. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t considered asking you out, but every time he considered saying something it didn’t seem like the right time.

“Y/n! Come read bedtime story!” Xiao was already dragging you off by the hand to his room. Zhongli cleaned up the dishes and then followed you to the boy’s room. It would be a difficult task getting you out of Xiao’s clutches so you could go home and get some rest. He was also feeling the fatigue of the day and felt like he could fall asleep any second. He found the pair in Xiao’s room looking at books. The little boy already had a stack of all his favorites that he wanted to read with you. The little one looked up happily at his father when he entered the room.

“Xiao, I’m sure y/n needs to get home and rest. Why don’t you save the books for another time?” Zhongli told the boy.

Xiao’s eyes widened and nearly teared up. He looked at you for confirmation.

“Y/n? You don’t have to leave yet do you?” The little one whimpered. He gave you the adorable puppy eyes once again.

“I can read one book with you.” you looked up at Zhongli. “Is that okay? I’d hate to disappoint him, he’s so excited.” Zhongli smiled at you and wondered how he could possibly deserve someone like you.

“As long as your not too tired.” He agreed.

Xiao looked at his bed skeptically. It was not big enough for all three of you. He was accustomed to his father laying on his bed with him while being read to. With you there now there was simply not enough room. He came to a quick conclusion on how to fix the problem and grabbed onto both your hand and Zhongli’s and led you off to his father’s room. He climbed up on the big bed and waited expectantly. You blushed at the idea of even just sitting on his bed. Zhongli had similar thoughts and looked away awkwardly. Xiao had already opened the book and was sitting there expectantly. Neither of you wanted to disappoint him so you went and sat on either side of the child.

Xiao nestled into the crook of your arm and gave you the book to read. As you started reading you felt yourself get more comfortable and sleepy. You were so sleepy you became unaware of Zhongli’s arm behind your shoulders or the adoring glances he gave you.

Zhongli was drifting off as well, it had been a long day for him. And now with you leaning against him and quieting his mind with the story you were reading he felt at peace. Your head fell onto his shoulder and he sleepily pulled you closer. The scent of your hair was the last thing he remembered before drifting off to sleep. Xiao stood up on his tiny legs and patted your head and then Zhongli’s.

“Lumine said that only mommies and daddies sleep in the same bed..” his little brain tried to work out what this meant. He climbed off the bed and jumped on his own bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

Zhongli woke to find you cuddled against his chest with his arms around you. He gently tucked your now messy hair out of your face and your eyes fluttered open. You gasped when you saw who you were snuggled against and jerked back from his touch.

“I’m sorry.” You squeaked. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Y/n.”

“I’m sorry, I should go.” You scrambled out of bed and made for the door.

“Y/n wait!” He jumped up and hugged you from behind. You felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest. “Y/n, I really like you.”

You twisted around in his arms to look at him.

“I like you too Zhongli.”

He smiled softly at your words and looked at your lips. You melted into his arms as he leaned down to kiss you. It was short, sweet, and perfect. He pulled away and gave you an unusually mischievous look. You squealed as he scooped you up and carried you back to the bed. He peppered you with kisses and held you close. You snuggled against him as he pulled the bed covers up over you.

“It’s Saturday, I don’t have work. Want to stay here for a while?”

You nodded at his request and pressed a kiss to his lips. At this moment Xiao came in search of the two of you. He climbed up on the bed and you gasped in surprise. He bounced his way into your arms and giggled. The little boy snuggled between you and Zhongli.

“Does this mean you’re my mommy now?” He asked seriously. You blushed furiously but Zhongli just looked at you happily.

“I hope so.” He told his son.

You blushed even harder and hid yourself in his chest. And so the three of you cuddled in bed until Xiao announced he wanted breakfast.

[landinoandco]

Hey could you do one with max verstappen, where the reader a fight about him not helping around the house (witch he doesnt do because he is just tired from working hard but the reader dont know) so they yell at max and he suddenly walks away but then they find him crying in bed, because hes overworked and feels like hes never gonna be good enough at being a driver and the readers boyfriend. And feels like he can only dissapoint the reader, his dad and cristian. But the reader comforts him. Tnx

Because I'm not good enough...

Max Verstappen x Reader

Warnings: angsty

Word count: 2 k

Requests are open :)

You were sat at the dining room table, staring out at the empty seat in front of you. Your arms crossed across your chest and your lip in between your teeth. You had been sat there for an hour - in the grand scheme of things an hour didn’t seem like such a long time but it was his final warning and an hour was just long enough to allow for your anger to boil over.

Dinner was in the fridge - the same dinner you had cooked an hour ago, your phone lay screen up on the table - the same phone you used to call Max two hours and a half hours ago, he told you he was on his way home. Home whilst you were in the UK was 25 minutes away from the Redbull HQ. This was becoming a regular occurrence, some nights he would come home so late that you had already taken yourself to bed. The atmosphere in the house seemed to freeze over whenever he was around even though you were yet to come out of summer, there was something hanging over the pair of you - unspoken feelings and as of now a red hot anger that threatened to escape from your usually composed nature.

Ever since the championship had taken a turn in the favour of Redbull, Max had started to become much more distant. It started off with him not inviting you along to the races, leaving on the Wednesday before race weekend and sometimes not seeing him until the following Tuesday and that was on a stand alone race weekend. On the triple headers, it could be nearing two weeks until you two were spared 5 minutes alone and even then it was a brief conversation before he rushed back to the factory or to train.

You thought you knew what you signed up for and since yours and Max’s relationship and that was three years ago so you thought you had seen it all - been through it all with him, witnessed every high and every low. This was a new territory and you knew that if it wasn’t tackled soon -

The click of the door lock echoed in the hallway, you straightened in your seat - eyes locked ahead of you and your knee bouncing.

Max sighed loudly and wiped his hand over his face, it had been a long day - he had been at the factory up until Christian had invited him out to lunch, it was nice to catch up with his boss and Max felt like he owed the man so much; guiding him through the years that had led up to the moment they found themselves in. Max felt like over the past years he had matured as a person, sometimes still short tempered but being an F1 driver it wasn’t necessarily a bad trait. After his lunch with Christian, his dad had called him - the less said about the conversation the better. By the time you had called, the last thing he wanted to do was come home and risk upsetting you. He had taken himself on a run - to clear his head and focus on what he was going to say to you because he felt like something definitely needed to be said.

He also owed a lot to you, you had put up with so much over the years and standing by his side even when he had made a mistake - although you were very quick to tell him when he was in the wrong. You seemed to be on his level, a blunt and forward look at life - there was no time for dawdling about when you had things to be done. Life was short and there was no time to waste.

Recently however, he was putting so much pressure and stress on himself about work that the hours slipped away from him and so did the time spent with you. He felt the atmosphere change around the pair of you - as though he was always walking on thin ice, the cracks beginning to show. The guilt he felt was nothing like he had ever felt before, all he wanted to do was talk to you but he was scared of pushing you away - which is ironic because not talking and letting the pent up anger build up was having the same effect. He was never that good when it came to talking about how he felt - as much as he wanted to he felt as though he would be a burden and that he would put too much pressure on you. He could never tell you what he really felt like inside. It was embarrassing, he knew that a professional athlete should never feel what he felt. It weakened him and having weaknesses in a sport like Formula 1 was not an option.

Max shrugged his coat off and walked through to the main room of the apartment - the room where you were sat waiting to pounce as though he was your unsuspecting prey.

He offered a tired smile, in response he got a sneer. Swallowing hard, you felt the anger take over, like some monster escaping from a cage.

“I have been sitting here for an hour, Max -” You shot to your feet, pointing at the table, your voice cracked slightly. “For months, you’ve been leaving me - it’s me who’s been cooking for us both, cleaning, washing - everything, Max. By myself.” You were shouting now, your heart threatening to break free from your chest. Max just stood there, a blank expression on his face - his gaze fixed to the ground. “I don’t understand what went wrong, Max. We were happy, hell, we spoke to each other. Now, I’m alone. In fact, I may as well be alone if this doesn’t change.” The words had fallen out of your mouth before you had any time to consider them - or the consequences. Your eyes went round with shock and you fell back to your seat. A loud silence filled the room.

Max, too, had not expected the words that had initiated the silence. He opened his mouth, eyes still on the ground, then closed it again before raising his head and looking you dead in the eye.

“You don’t mean that.” He managed to mutter, barely being able to raise his voice any louder. He felt a tired emptiness, this was the last thing he had wanted to happen.

“That’s all you have to say to me.” You rounded on him again, angry tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“No - I -” He stuttered, then closed his eyes, inhaling slowly, “I just don’t think we should talk things through whilst you’re angry -” He saw you about to interject, when he raised his hands. “You have every right to be. That’s not what I’m saying. I think we should wait to talk about it so we don’t say things we are going to regret later.” Max could feel his throat constricting, he was battling to keep his emotions at bay.

You sniffed and nodded slowly, placing your head in your hands - hot tears escaping and shoulders tensed.

Max swallowed thickly, his eyes swimming with tears. He made a move and after no interruption left the room. He had only made it to the stairs before he collapsed, the fatigue getting the better of him. He was such an idiot, a fact he was certainly aware of now, how could he have let things get this bad. Did that make him a selfish person?

He couldn’t hold it in any longer, a harsh sob escaping from his mouth - fingers shaking and his head a loud mess.

As soon as Max had left the room, you had gotten up to get some water - when you paused, a sound catching your attention - a deep sounding sob. You waited, a line appeared between your brows. Slowly and carefully, you inched towards the door - waiting with baited breath for the sound again.

It was coming from the stairs and there was only one person it could be. Regret instantly pooled in the pit of your stomach, you hadn’t meant for him to cry. You were just so angry and he needed to know that.

“Max.” You called out softly, unsurprisingly there was no response. You went in the direction of the stairs and hunched over in front of you was your boyfriend - attempting to stifle his sobs. You rushed forwards, placing your arms around his shoulders and pulled his body into yours. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around your waist. You kissed the top of his head, stroking his hair as he continued to cry - you allowed him to empty his emotions out; some tears of your own betraying you entirely.

“I’m sorry, I really am.” Came a muffled voice. Pausing, you released your hold of him and placed your hands either side of his face - offering him a watery smile. Then, using your sleeves you wiped his tears away - he watched your every move, waiting for you to say something. When you didn’t, he braced himself - lips trembling; he knew it was now or never. He had to tell you how he really felt.

“I’m not good enough.” He stated simply, his eyes glossy. Your forehead furrowed. “I’m never going to be good enough to take the championship, I’m going to let everyone down. Everyone that has ever believed in me - it doesn’t matter what I do, how much work I put in - I’m never good enough. And you -” He paused, meeting your gaze, a lump forming in the back of your throat. “I keep letting you down, time and time again. I was the one who caused this, I’m never going to be good enough for you.”

“If you believe that -” You began, kissing the newly formed tears away, “Then I will eat your race shoe.” You moved to sit next to him on the stairs, pulling him into your side. “Why didn’t you tell me that’s how you felt.”

You felt Max shrug, the side of his head resting on yours. “I didn’t want to burden you with all of my problems, you already put up with so much.”

“I will always have time for you, Max.” Grasping his hand in yours, “You are enough, you are more than enough. You are Max Verstappen, the fastest, strongest guy I know.” You chuckled lightly, “I know it may sometimes feel like that and that’s ok. You are putting yourself through so much - maybe, it’s time to give some consideration for your personal life. It’s unhealthy to work all of the time - then we run into issues like these.” You spoke softly, almost whispering but you could tell he was hanging onto every word you spoke. “I love you, Max. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You admitted, turning your head to look at him. He chewed on his bottom lip, processing your words.

“I love you too, more than anything.” He murmured, placing his forehead on yours. You lifted your head slightly to leave a soft kiss on his nose, earning the corners of his lips to quirk up.

Closing your eyes, you relished being in his arms again, to have him close to you. You had missed it. You had missed him. Both of you knew you had a lot to work through, that it wouldn’t simply disappear but both of you were going to do it together. Hand in hand. And that was more than enough.

[moonlit-reveriee]

NSFW Alphabet

ft. technoblade

concept: a collection of my own personal nsfw headcanons for techno, one for each letter of the alphabet

@saturnsstufff ‘s discord saw it first ;)

A = Aftercare 

I like the idea that techno actually gets very clingy after sex. He’ll get up and grab a glass of water or a towel if either of you need it, but if he’s able to, he’ll stay glued to your side the whole time. Even if he won’t admit it, he needs to have that intimacy after sex. He loves the feeling of your body pressed against his as you both cool down. Usually, his hands will be absentmindedly drawing patterns over your skin

B = Body part 

Kind of an oddly specific one, but he loves your shoulders. He loves to casually rest his chin on them as he holds you from behind, and bury his face in the crook of your neck as he presses heated kisses on your pulse point. He also considers the way a person carries their shoulders to be an indication of their strength, and how could he see anything but strength in you.

He hadn’t put much thought into his own body before meeting you. He’s learned to love parts of himself because of you. Particularly his scars. They way you gently run your fingers across the rough surface of them, in both intimate and casual settings, made him crave the touch. Now when he looks at them, he thinks of your hands moving across his skin

C = Cum 

Fun fact: pigs have 30 minute orgasms

Early on in your sexual relationship, he was very embarrassed by just how much of it there always was. But once you started praising him for it, that became a very different story. He started to take pride in how well he could completely fill you up without even trying

D = Dirty Secret 

He would probably never admit it to you, but it’s become a habit of his to think about the last time he had sex with you during battles. He starts to make sure you two always have sex the night before a big fight, so his mind can wander back to it during the haze of battle. He’s not sure if it’s a coping mechanism or what but it certainly helps

E = Experience 

You are his first ever sexual partner, but somehow he just.... already knows what he’s doing?? He’s very nervous and considerate the first time, but he does everything perfectly. Once you tell him that, he’s very happy and secretly a bit proud of himself

F = Favourite Position 

He loooves to have you in his lap. Either facing him, back to chest, it doesn’t matter. He’ll do everything with you in his lap. Cockwarming, fingering, thigh riding, anything you and him are physically able to do in that position

G = Goofy 

He’s usually a bit more on the serious side. Sometimes the two of you will quip at each other during foreplay, but once he gets going, it’s all business. In the moment, he likes to treat is as something special (doesn’t mean he won’t tease you about things after the fact)

H = Hair 

He likes to keep himself clean-shaven most of the time. When he’s relaxed and doesn’t have to go to any public events for a long period of time, he’ll let a small amount of stubble grow on his chin. You can always tell when he slacks off on it, cause the stubble on his face brushes roughly against your skin as he kisses down your body...

he doesn’t really shave much below the neck, but he keeps it clean and trims occasionally

I = Intimacy 

He’s surprisingly romantic when he wants to be. It’s definitely a side of him only you’re allowed to see. Alone together in his bed, he’ll whisper sweet nothings to you as he slowly draws you to your climax. Even when he’s speaking the most lewd and naughty things to you, he somehow makes them sound affectionate and full of love

J = Jack Off 

He loves to watch you masturbate. The first time was a complete accident. He came home late one night to find you curled up with his blankets, breathing heavily as you massaged yourself over your underwear. It wasn’t long before you noticed him in the doorway and jumped, worthlessly attempting to hide what you were doing. He wasn’t sure if it was the blush on your face or the fact that the blanket you chose to cover yourself in was his cape but something urged him to sit on the edge of the bed, still in his armor, and ask you to continue. It was beautiful to simply sit there and watch

K = Kink 

He’s a little bit possessive. He loves to mark you in subtle ways so you always remember that you’re his. Especially if you’re going on a trip without him. He’ll drape you in gold jewelry and leave a hickey just out of sight on your neck for good measure. The part that he loves the most about it though, is that you know exactly what he’s doing and show off his signs of possession with pride

L = Location 

He prefers to keep most of your sexual acts to the area in and around his cottage. Other than in bed, he loves to press you up against a wall. Sometimes you two get distracted while tending to the farms and end up heatedly making out in the snow. One time, you decide you wanted to lay out some blankets on the floor and do it right in front of the fireplace. He adored the way the firelight danced across your skin. (He’s thought about taking you down to the syndicate room and laying you out across the table. But he came to the unfortunate conclusion that during meetings, he’d never be able to look anyone straight in the eyes ever again. So he’s shelved that idea for the time being. Maybe once the group has disbanded...)

M = Motivation

He loves to be praised by you. During regular day-to-day life, he doesn’t like to accept any compliments from you, usually just brushing them off or responding with a joke. But when you two are alone together and intimate, he drinks that shit up. How can he not believe it when you look up and him with lidded eyes and tell him just how good he makes you feel. Just moaning against his lips as he kisses you is enough to keep him going for a while

N = NO 

He will never do anything that involves seeing your own blood. It sets off the voices too much. One day, you randomly got a nosebleed while cooking dinner together. He could smell it before he even saw it. When the voices recognized the deep red color dripping down your face, they wouldn’t stop chanting. He tried to help you clean up, but it became too much to ignore. He had to go out back and slaughter at least a dozen zombies before they shut up. And even then, he was left with a pounding headache. You were extra gentle and sweet with him when you cuddled up in bed together that night

O = Oral 

If you’re on the receiving end, be prepared for him to be down there a looooong time. Once he gets his mouth on you, it’s hard for him to pull away. He loves your smell and taste too much. He tries not to get too carried away, but there was one time he made you come 5 times in a row with just his mouth. He was very thorough with his aftercare that night.

He isn’t the one receiving very often. He only really likes it when he’s tired. He loves to sit back in a chair and watch you gently suck him of on your knees in front of him, one hand gently weaving it’s way through your hair

P = Pace 

I always imagine him on the slower side. He likes to savor every moment, making sure that every thrust or movement of his hand is intentional and perfectly placed. He takes time to watch you carefully to make sure you’re getting exactly what you need. He’ll go harder before he goes faster

Q = Quickie 

As much as he loves to treasure your intimate time together, there are times where he just needs it. Every once and awhile, he’ll be desperate for it and quickly have you against the wall before heading out to run some errands. Sometimes he’ll pull you in, make you cum, and head out the door without saying a single word. He usually feels the need to make up for it when he returns, but you’ve assured him many times that you love sex with him at any pace

R = Risk 

Since he’s still fairly inexperienced despite his skills, he’s not super adventurous himself. More often than not, you’re the one bringing new ideas to the relationship. He’s willing to try the new things you suggest. You’ve had a discussion about your limits, and you both understand what goes too far for each other

S = Stamina 

He can go multiple times in a row if he wants to, and for a long time. He lowkey loves it when you tire out before him, and you let him keep going while you lie there sleepily in his arms

T = Toy 

He doesn’t own any sex toys, but he likes to make sex toys out of everyday objects (as long as they’re safe and properly cleaned of course). He likes the idea of never being able to look at that object the same way again, especially if it’s something either of you use around the house frequently. He would get his hands on some actual toys if you wanted him to. If toys are involved, he prefers them to be used on you, not on him

U = Unfair 

He likes to randomly tease you during moments that are absolutely not sexual. Maybe you’re brushing out his hair, complaining about the knots in it. He’ll suddenly respond with “that’s not what you told me in the bedroom last night” leaving you to sit there in shock while he laughs. Or he’ll quote things you said to him during sex completely deadpan and watch as the blush rises to your cheeks

V = Volume 

He’s not extremely loud. When he is loud though, he growls. You’ll be able to feels his chest vibrating when you lean into him. Sometimes you can even feel the vibrations through his lips as he pleasures you with his mouth, which is an absolutely crazy and wonderful feeling.

During very domestic moments, he likes to talk a lot during sex. If he comes home from working all day, and he’s missing you greatly, he loves to tell you all about his day while his cock gently rocks inside of you

W = Wild Card 

This part is definitely just gonna be me fulfilling one of my personal kinks, but I love the idea of techno going through a heat since he’s part piglin. Maybe it only happens like once a year, but when it’s that time, his senses are kicked into high gear and he’s desperate for you. The two of you have a routine for it by now. You prepare the bedroom by gathering every blanket in the house, and prepping a week’s worth of food & water that can be eaten quickly during the moments when techno’s haze of arousal drops. Once he feels it start to set in, he locks the bedroom door and allows his senses to become completely enveloped by you

X = X-Ray 

I like to believe that a lot of the hybrid races are PACKING. It’s one of the many things he’s nervous about on your first time, but seeing the way your able to take him so well every time is such a turn on

Y = Yearning 

Both you and him can be too tired to have sex at times, but if he’s able to have you, he’ll take everything he can get. He loves to take care of you if you’ve had a long day, and he knows you’ll do the same for him

Z = ZZZ 

If it’s nighttime sex, he can pass out as soon as aftercare is over. But if it’s morning or midday, he can have sex and go about the rest of his day no problem. Since his orgasms are so long, he likes to make you cum more often than he does, and watching you cum invigorates him