#hes only dropped back recently bc hes had nothing to do

[androgynouspenguinexpert]

happy death day babygirl

[norrisainz33]

the call pt4 || gr63 & platonic grid

☆ summary: y/n finishes out the season and gets some big news

☆ pairing: driver!reader x george russell

☆ fc & warnings: suggestive! you are responsible for the content you consume.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

drivergirly posted to their story 🔒

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muppet4: now imma hold your hand when i say this…. none of us care how hungover you are. we need other details

drivergirly: well thats rude... don't even care about my wellbeing?

muppet4: don't put words in my mouth! i care i just care more about what happened with a certain british driver whos name rhymes with peorge mussell

drivergirly: call me 😔

yourbffpriv: oh! so you'll post this but not answer your whatsapp?

drivergirly: pls bestie this morning was a whirlwind! we left the hotel and essentially ran to the airport bc we have to be in qatar asap

yourbffpriv: blah blah blah call me now

sirlancelot: drinking isnt the only thing you did in vegas it seems

drivergirly: LANCE .. you right tho 🤭

sirlancelot: gross

sirlancelot: but it’s about time. you two have liked each other for too long

drivergirly: wait you knew he liked me?

sirlancelot: ………. not until recently

drivergirly: lance???????? what????

sirlancelot: he confronted me not long after i was caught coming out of your drivers room and went off all crazy and george like. he was going a mile a minute abt how he hopes i treat you right and that he hopes i actually like you for you bc ur so great and blah blah blah and i had to stop him and tell him you and i are just friends and that you may as well be my sister and then he got super embarrassed and told me he liked you

drivergirly: omg i can’t believe you didn’t tell me this ??? FAKE

sirlancelot: i promised him i wouldn’t and you know im a man of my word

drivergirly: ugh true

faxmewtrell: what happens in vegas doesnt stay in vegas y/n/n

drivergirly: clearly.... thanks for the reminder maxie!

kikakiks: i am offended that i found out through gossip pages and not from you?!?!?!!?!?!?!!?

drivergirly: im offended that the gossip pages got all those pictures that quickly BUT i was going to tell you at dinner tonight!!!

kikakikas: they’re shockingly quick! i’ll be on the edge of my seat till dinner

grussellsprout: hopefully the drinking is the only thing you regret about last night....

drivergirly: george i've wanted that to happen for years. i regret nothing

grussellsprout: i’m glad because i don’t either. in fact id love for it to happen more

drivergirly: me too

gaslyyyyyy: spill the tea NOW

drivergirly: ill spill over dinner in qatar tonight with you and kika dw

ynuser has made a post

liked by pierregasly, lance_stroll, landonorris, alpinef1team, carlossainz55, and 543,294 others

ynuser: tough luck but at least i looked good doing it. on to abu dhabi!

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alpinef1team: we keep pushing 💪🏻

user2: if y’all don’t announce her as a driver for next season im gonna sue

user4: where is the announcement!!!

user5: hottest person on the grid hands down

georgerussell63: abu dhabi will be good to you 🙌🏻

ynuser: oh i hope so!

user62: 👀 we alll saw that f1gossip post

user12: turn 1 incident wasn’t your fault y/n/n

pierregasly: yassss marina here we come

ynuser: let’s go girls 👏🏻

user19: brutal race but i know you are so much better than that!

user22: we love you y/n/n!

✿

“thanks for meeting with us today, y/n.” your team principal said sitting back in his chair. the room was filled with your entire engineering team, your manager, and just about every alpine pr employee that they had. when oakes had called this meeting you knew it could be about one of two things - either how they were going to drop you before you could step foot in the car in abu dhabi or they had a contract for you to most likely be someone’s reserve driver and as much as you wanted to believe it was the later… you felt is was more likely you were getting dropped with nothing to fall back on.

“of course! happy to.” you forced out with a smile.

“relax y/n.” oakes said gently, “i’ve got some good news for you. we’ve decided we’d like you to race for us in 2025.” he handed your manager a stack of papers that you could only assume was the contract, “i trust you will review our offer in detail but we would really like to keep you around, y/n. we as a team think there is a lot of potential to fight for podiums and points with you as our second driver alongside pierre.”

“we’ll carefully review your offer and get back to you within the day.” your manager said calmly. though you already knew as long as there wasn’t anything insane in that contract that you’d be accepting everything they had to offer.

you left the alpine hospitality feeling invigorated and on top of the world, you whipped out your phone and texted the first person you wanted to share your joy with - george.

✿

✿

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, and 12,836 others

f1gossip: based off these story posts from y/n (left) and george (right) … one might think the pair are on a date in abu dhabi. this comes after they sparked dating rumors following the vegas gp where celebrations seemed to take an intimate turn for the duo.

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user3: oh yeah this is a date

user4: sorry for the confusion guys she was actually on a date with me

user12: step aside george.. i got this 🫷😔🫸

user1: maybe they’re just good friends guys pls let’s not be weird

user3: user1 did you not see the video of them making out on the dance floor 😂

user1: well…….. no

user18: am i the only one who didn’t want her to end up w another driver

user2: yes

user4: uhhh yup

user19: i want both! oh wait sorry what was the question

user29: george! you have been promoted!

ynuser has made a post

liked by pierregasly, f1, maxverstappen1, lance_stroll, georgerussell63, landonorris, alex_albon, and 789,355 others

ynuser: elated to announce that i’ll be driving for alpine in 2025! dreams continue to come true and i am forever grateful for these opportunities. looking forward to seeing you in australia 🩷🥹

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user1: my shayla!!!!!

lance_stroll: incredible news! looking forward to racing with you more 🤍

ynuser: looking forward to it as well. see you on the slopes soon my friend 🫶🏻

user3: best news eVER. made my entire day

pierregasly: here’s to an entire season full of late night snack runs, laughing so hard you pee your pants (again), play dates with simba, opportunities to steal my gf and many more points. je t'aime mon ami 🩷

ynuser: i’m crying no one look at me

yukitsunoda0511: replacing me pierre?

francisca.cgomes: i shed a tear im ngl

user4: the best friendship in all of sports. imma need alpine to not mess this up

landonorris: looking forward to more battles on track my muppet

ynuser: more battles on and off track like in padel

user24: it’s not lost on me how much every driver loves y/n

georgerussell63: forever proud to race alongside you gorgeous

ynuser: likewise

user63: GORGEOUS???? are yall clocking this??

user22: oh my god

user18: feeling very very parasocial about this

✿

george let out a boisterous laugh as the snow gently tapped against the window of your chalet. with your legs draped across his and his hand gently resting on your knee, you couldn’t help but smile. it had become a yearly tradition for you, george, lance, lando and max f to go skiing at the end of the season and this year, pierre and kika were joining. for the first time in a long time - everything just felt right.

"last time we were here i was still in f2," you recalled and that last time felt like a eternity ago even though it had only been 12 quick months.

"a lot has changed," george replied, tracing his finger around your knee causing a shiver to go up your spine.

"just about everything has. i mean i'm an f1 driver with a full blown seat and well... us.."

george smirked looking up at you, "us?"

you rolled your eyes, "yes. i mean we aren't exactly just friends anymore unless of course thats what you think we are."

"no y/n - i don't think we are just friends anymore." george grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his lap so you were straddling him. "in fact, i've been meaning to ask you something." he brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear and said, "do you want to make things official?"

your heart skipped a beat, "yes." and without another word, you kissed him.

✿

ynuser has made a post

[tagged: georgerussell63, lance_stroll, landonorris, maxfewtrell, yourbff, francisca.cgomes and pierregasly]

liked by yourbff, landonorris, alpinef1team, ruben_diaz, erlinghaaland, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri, and 984,139 others

ynuser: winter break tradition lives on 🎿 🤍

p.s. pls don’t tell 8 year old me that she’s dating her biggest opp (that big headed diva in the last 2 slides)

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user2: oh my god

user1: big headed diva i’m screaming

landonorris: i can confirm 8 year old you did try to bribe me into bullying george off the track tho 9 year old you was asking me to ask him if he had a crush on you so……

lance_stroll: 10 year old y/n was asking me to ask george the same thing

maxfewtrell: i think 11 year old y/n was the one who paid me twenty quid to ask george out for her

alex_albon: don’t worry 17 year old george was asking me if i thought y/n liked him

lewishamilton: can confirm george from a couple months ago was also asking people if they thought y/n liked him

ynuser: i might have to block all of you

georgerussell63: whelp this is embarrassing

user33: i stood up and applauded in my living room

georgerussell63: my girl 🤩❤️

ynuser: my man 😘

alpinef1team: glad to see you enjoying break 🩷

iamrebeccad: pretty girl

user43: my roman empire

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: it took me an eternity to finish this final part. i hope you all enjoy!! likes and reblogs appreciated as always 🤍

tag list from first 3 parts: @yawn-zi @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @divagreymare @raizelchrysanderoctavius @ferakillia @stressed-cherry @sassyangel16 @mxdi0 @awritingtree @danielricciardoslut3 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @seasonswinter @rawr-123s-stuff @grussellsprout @belncaldern @ellelabelle @tall-tanned-tattoo @chelseyyouraverageluigi @tellybearryyyy @wosof1 @poppysrin @lanadetails @freyathehuntress @evie-119

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[hoshigray]

hii love ur works 🫶🏽

can I req brat reader giving toji the WORST attitude? 💗.

*sinister laugh* Why, yes, you can, noonie! When I saw this, the first scenario that came to mind was the reader being another assassin who likes to get on Toji's nerves. So, imma stick with that!! Had to take an all-nighter to finish this up, hehe~ (no fr tho, it's 8:35 in the morning here) Thank you for loving my stuff, and enjoy~~

A/n: posting this bc I'm staling on my Geto fic since my brain has so much it wants to add...sigh. In the meantime, while I'm working on this, I figured I could drop this as an apology for pulling the fic back (~_~;) My apologies, and I hope y'all like this one! Also tysm for 1.7k followers!! Y'all are too kind and sweet, happy to be writing for you~☆ Cw: hard dom! Toji x bratty fem! reader - you and Toji are assassins on a mission together - explicit content; minors DNI - implied age gap (the reader is at least in their 20s; Toji in his mid-30s or approaching 40s, up to you) - fingering (f! receiving) - cunnilingus - sexual acts in a public place - degradation (brat, crybaby, slut, whore) - Daddy kink - reader talking smack, but Toji teaches you a lesson - tiny praise - pussydrunk! Toji - pet names (baby, doll, princess) - ends with penetration, but mostly Toji eating you out - unprotected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up) - overstimulation - clitoral play (pinching, pushing, and sucking) - mentions of blood. Wc: 1.8k

You recently joined the hitmen field not too long ago. Still young and new to the workforce, it wasn't the first place you figured to enter for some quick cash. But with your astute skills and abilities, no other occupation best suited you. Besides, it wasn't long before people looked past your recent addition and saw what you were made of. Not only were you good at your job, but you were climbing the ranks, swifting past your inferior subordinates.

It's nothing new, though. You were always good at what you do, better than others at what you do. Doing everything perfectly and effortlessly, that was your style. And everybody knew that.

Everybody but a particular individual. A specific man who always overshadowed you. An older man who snatched your attention the first moment he looked your way, the scar on his lip rooted up with the twinge of his lips.

"Rookies lookin' real cute these days, huh, doll?" were his first words to you. And from that day on, you did what you could to get close to him. Even if that meant irritating him.

From taking his missions to acting as a complete thorn in his side, you do whatever it takes to get Toji's attention. Especially his silent pissed off expressions, which are your favorite to see. And don't let your handler tell you that you two would be on a mission together because the teasing would be endless for the poor, experienced hitman.

Just like today, when you two are deployed to kill an old geezer and his goons for a massive sum of money, Toji goes to one side of the old warehouse to thin out the number of bodyguards and heads straight to the target's den, leaving you to the rest. But imagine his surprise when he sees the old man already dead on the chair at his desk, a stiletto pierced right through his neck, evident of his demise as a stream of crimson staining his yellow dress shirt.

And Toji notices a note left on the weapon, the familiar handwriting in pink with a kiss mark already tells him who wrote it. "Gotta be quicker than that, Grandpa ~" is what he reads in your charming voice, and it vexes him knowing you beat him to the punch.

He sees you leaning on a pallet rack when he returns to the warehouse, and you smile when you turn to him. "Well, that was fast," you play coy, stretching when standing straight up. "Took care of those punks like five minutes ago, figured I'd wait on you."

"I got your note." He wastes no time. He's so hot when he does that.

"Oh? Did ya like it~?" Your hand swiftly grabs something that came dangerously close to your temple — your stiletto. It was thrown with the knowledge that you would catch it. So serious, huh.

"Ya know, for someone callin' me a 'grandpa,' you sure act like a damn kid leavin' y'r toys everywhere."

You chuckle at his complaint. "Awww, did I hurt your big boy feelings with my little words?" You see his green eyes watch your every move as you walk up close to him. "Sorry~, not my fault you were too slow to get the final kill."

Toji raises a brow. "How'd ya get to him before me?"

You shrug with a cheeky grin. "Assassins don't tell their secrets, especially when your old head couldn't get it."

It's his turn to chortle. "Oh yeah? Ya think y'r too fast for me?"

"I wouldn't say that, just that you're too slow for me," your hands go up defensively when he takes a step forward, and you try hard to not get turned on by his well-built physique displayed by the shirt that does a terrible job hiding his features. "As a matter of fact, I bet you're slow at other things."

He takes another step forward, and before you register his next move, he already has you pinned to the pallet rack you once leaned against. His smirk grows broader while your eyes widen at the sudden shifting. "Was that too slow fr' you, princess?"

No, absolutely not. That's what you would want to say to him, his tall figure engulfing you under his presence. But you didn't want to let off that easily, your hand finding the crotch of his pants. When verdant eyes shut to the feeling of your fingers brushing against his bulge, you take the chance to say more. "Oh, that was totally too slow for me, geezer. Such a shame; I thought you'd be a lot more fun. But guess I'll have to go on to the next person who could do a better job."

"Mmm, don't start somethin' y'r not ready for, brat." His gruff voice dials to a whisper, your ears replaying the tone, making the throbbing sensation between your legs prosper. You can feel his erection, even with his pants blocking the view. "Good luck findin' someone who'd shut that pretty mouth of y'rs better than I do."

You giggle after grabbing onto his erect cock, forcing the older man to hiss and his face coming down to your level. You whisper to his ear. "And what makes you think a dumb, old, brute-for-brains like you could satisfy me? I fail to see what you're capable of, grandpa." Those were the words you chose to entice the man under your spell.

But what you really failed to see was the predicament you've gotten yourself in.

Lying on a pallet with your back, your pretty bottoms and panties now discarded to the dirty floor, you scream out to the empty warehouse. Tears and drool escape from your face, and the quiver in your legs is evidence of your body going through the absolute most right now. "Haaahh! Ahhhh!! T-Tojiii, Toji, please!! I'm—Hoooohh!!" You grab tufts of raven hair that are stationed between your legs.

The older man holds your legs up with one hand, the other nestled between your slick-coated folds as his middle and forefinger push in and out of your cunt. His tongue licks furiously on your clitoris, your cries evident of the abuse on your tender bud and vulva.

Toji removes the wet muscle and moves his fingers go an instantaneous pace, the tips of his digits scraping your walls resulting in more tears falling off your face without fail. He snickers, "Look at you; all that screamin' and hollerin' like a damn whore have you forgetting simple rules." His thumb finds your clit, pushing down on it every time his fingers are propelled inside. "What did I tell you to call me, brat?"

The unforgiving rhythm of his hand on your bare vulva has you seeing stars and choking on your spit. "I-I'm sorry, Daddy!! I didn't mean to make you mad at me!"

"You sure 'bout that?" His condescending tone matched the devilish twinge of his scarred lips. The digits doing a 'come hither' motion that has your body jerking nowhere, your legs still restrained by his firm arm pushing them to your stomach. "My 'big boy feelings' were crushed with y'r little comments, so here I am gettin' the payback I need. Was acting all high and mighty until I got my mouth on ya."

"But I said—Mmmph!! I'm sorry!" You wail out, your face hot with embarrassment and excitement. "And I already came—Oh fuck...C-Came three times!!"

"You called me names four times, so I expect you to cum one more time, you fuckin' crybaby." He replies coldly, your tears and pleas on deaf ears. "Heh, if I knew havin' my fingers in you like this would have you behavin', I woulda done it earlier. Grippin' on my 'em like a damn slut."

His fingers go faster with no smooth transition as his mouth returns to your soft button, your screams erupting from the back of your exhausted throat. Even with your voice filling the scene, you can only listen to the raunchy noises of the commotion between your thighs. It's enough for you to wish your ears burn at such lewd sounds, and your head pounding worsens the state of your already mushy brain. This is what you wanted all this time — to have the man you've been infatuated with give you the attention to so dearly strived and poked for. However, the intensity of it all was nowhere near what you had expected.

"Nnnmm!! Daddyyy," the title slurred from your mouth feels hot to the tongue, but it's the only way to address him before your punishment intensifies. You peer down to see his black hair come up, fierce emerald eyes taking in your expressions. "It's coming, gonna cum again!!"

"Yeah? Wanna come on my fingers again?" He chortles when you rapidly nod at him, pathetically desperate for your release. "Fine, cum on Daddy's fingers like the slut you are." He moves his hands to the back of your thighs and has his tongue slowly glide up your soapy chasm, tasting your wetness until he reaches your clitoris and attacks the bud more. Circling around and sucking on your precious nub prompts your orgasm to climb up, and it hits you hard when his teeth and tongue grind on your clit.

With final moans of pleasure, you experience your finish with the harsh treatment of Toji's mouth, hands purchasing his hair for faux stability. Your legs tremble with curled toes, and your body jolts with the shocks. And Toji doesn't stop until he licks the slit clean of your essence, slurping up your sensitive folds until his thirst has quenched. All you can do is submit and let him have his way with you, sucking up your fluids from your cunt to the mess of your inner thighs.

"Mmmm, fucking Christ, Y/n," you hear his mumbled curse below. "Taste so fuckin' good, baby..."

Your body soon calms down from the climax, trying to steady your breathing with even breaths. And Toji finally finishes drinking your wetness, drawing his head up to reveal his lips wet with your come, licking it and his fingers. "Bet that wasn't slow fr' ya, huh."

You meekly nod your head. "And I bet nobody's gonna make you shut you up like that, huh?" You nod again.

The smirk on his face scares you, especially when he straightens up to show his erect dick still hard and ready to be free from the tented pants. And when his cock springs out, your sweaty body runs cold immediately.

"Good," he says while bringing you close to him, arranging his cock to your wet entrance. "But we ain't done here." Complaints and pleas aren't able to enter the air because you just watch the tip of his cock bully through the lips of your chasm and enter inside you with ease. He gradually pushes his entire length into you, getting full with every inch as his girth intrudes between your tight, smooth walls.

"Keep up wit' me, baby," his eyes hone in on you, gauging your reactions before he starts moving his hips relentlessly. "because I'm about to show you what I'm really capable of."

[pookietv]

soft anger | george clarke

i'm quite enjoying writing arguments with sweet resolves atm hehehehe so enjoy possessive george (bc i sure do yummy)

it was weird when your household became quiet, it barely ever happened. whether it was your music playing from the kitchen when you cooked or george yapping away to you or even the softer sounds of him recording in a different room, silence was not something that fell over yours and george's apartment often.

you and george were both more quiet angry types, a small argument of back and forth jabs, and then just bitten tongues until one of you finally broke the ice.

the problem with that? you and george were just about the most stubborn people on earth.

it had started as a silly thing. george had been a little jealous recently, which was fine, really. you tried your best to reassure him, make sure he knew you only wanted him and nothing could change that.

but that didn't mean you could completely eliminate the problem. the problem being a co-worker that george was dead set convinced had a crush on you.

"are you that blind that you can't see he wants to sleep with you?" george slyly mentioned as you went into the front room to grab something, and you rolled your eyes.

"george, it's getting pathetic now, he doesn't want to sleep with me," you said back, leaving the room as quickly as you had entered, hearing george's padding footsteps follow behind you.

"you haven't seen the way he looks at you, i mean jesus, he looks at you the way i look at you, it's not hard to tell," he retorted, the tone of his voice so reassured by his silly ideas.

you turned to face him, your usual widened eyes slightly narrowed as you huffed a little, facing the kitchen counter, back to him as you filled your waterbottle, not even dignifying this spat to stop you from doing what you had been doing anyway.

"george, stop it.” you said, your regular sweet tone slightly lower, and hardened. "you're being ridiculous."

you heard him scoff a little as you screwed the lid on your waterbottle, turning to face him.

"ridiculous? you think i'm ridiculous? you're stunning, course he fucking wants you,"

"so? it's not like he's going to sleep with me anyway, whether he wants to or not, so how is that my fault?" you bit back, his face slightly hardened now.

"what do you mean 'so'? what is so wrong about me being possessive and not wanting my girlfriend to be fantasized about in the work environment?" he said, his voice slightly risen in tone, a little louder.

"you're not being possessive you're suffocating me, for fucks sake george! i mean, what do you want me to do, quit work? never leave the house again in case anyone looks at me in a way you deem inappropriate?"

tension was thick in the air, the room almost seeming smaller, and warmer, the sound of the stupid kitchen clock ticking the only noise to be heard.

george's face was slightly reddened, his eyes narrowed, and his voice lower in a way that would be attractive if he wasn't being so damn infuriating. "don't act like i'm being unreasonable when he is literally drooling over you," he said, in an almost condesending tone.

"you're acting like i want or care about some random guys affection, like i'm begging for recognition and approval from strangers," you rolled your eyes once more, a slight click of your teeth followed, loud enough to make george's eyebrows furrow.

"you don't see it, it's... it's not about that," he said, his tone frustated, "or him, it's us!"

"us? we're fighting over some random co-worker that probably doesn't even know my fucking last name, george." you scoffed back, your tone matching his intensity.

"you're around him, all the time, and i can see how he sees you, and it makes me..." he trailed off slightly, exasperation apparent on his face.

"jealous?" you finished his sentence, voice dripped in sarcasm as his lips pulled inwards.

"no," he snapped back, "makes me feel like i can't protect you, like i'm not enough."

your face dropped for a moment, betraying a look of softened guilt. you knew what he meant, you knew he meant well and he wasn't trying to cut you off or suffocate you, but it had become like being smothered.

your tone was slightly more gentle, you didn't want to keep arguing, but you didn't know how the hell to make george see any of your point, "george, i love you, i have told you this a million times, it's you, i mean, i don't know what more-"

"prove it then," he said, his voice a more demanding tone, his glossed eyes hardened.

all the softness left your voice again, the tides you thought were changing rolled right back round.

"how am i supposed to do that? i can't change job because you think someone likes me, i can't change someone else's opinions of me, i mean what the fuck do you want me to do?" you bit back, the frustrated tone in your voice returned and evident.

george's jaw tightened a little, "i want you to trust me."

his voice was low, controlled, completely contrasted to his heated tone before, and his voice was almost wholly demanding if you didn't know him well enough to hear the slight vulnerability that bled through.

"i do trust you george, but trust is a two way thing." you said, words firm but tone softened, eyes glassed over slightly.

tense silence filled the room again, and you felt that familiar feeling, like the room was getting smaller.

"i'm gonna sleep in the spare room tonight, think we both need some sleep. get some rest, george. i'll see you in the morning," you said gently, unwilling to go through this cycle again as you were sure you'd either sob or rip your hair out, gently touching george's arm in a reassuring way as you walked past him, practically feeling his muscle melt for a moment.

"you don't like the spare room, you said it doesn't feel like your space," he said quietly.

he was right, it was george's recording room really with a bed in it incase anyone came to stay.

"i don't like the spare room, doesn't feel right. but i think a night alone will do both of us good, george." you said gently, your body turned back to him, stood in the middle of the hallway now, looking at him still stood in the kitchen.

"i'll take the spare room if you need space, i don't mind. you won't sleep if you're in the spare room." he said, his tone even and matter-of-factly.

"thank you, george. i'll see you in the morning. love you," you said softly, turning into yours and george's shared room.

you were a stickler for that sort of thing, no matter what argument or situation, always say love you. cause an argument didn't mean love was gone, it just meant there were issues that needed to be sorted.

you knew yourself you probably wouldn't sleep, even if you were in your room compared to the spare - you knew well enough yourself that you struggled to sleep without george.

so after a couple hours gone by, and against your better judgement, you gently opened the door to the spare room, seeing george laying on the bed, eyes tired but not asleep, head turning to you once he heard the door creak, sitting himself up slightly.

"can't sleep." you murmured into the dim room, and you saw his silhouette nod.

"me neither," he said gently, and the room was peaceful for a moment.

"i'm sorry, i just didn't wanna lose you." he said, breaking the silence, and you nodded softly, practically crawling into the space next to him. you felt his hands brush through your hair gently, you tiredly leaning into the touch.

"you're not gonna lose me, i've told you that." you said gently.

"i know. i'm just an idiot, that's all," he said, his voice slightly thick from not speaking for a while, and gentle in tone.

"i'm sorry too," you said, breaking the sound of your breathing and occasional creak of the not so comfy single bed, "i was being defensive, and a little angry."

george laughed gently, "i don't blame you. it's okay, lovie."

you lifted your head up slightly to look at him, and felt his head press gently against yours.

"we're being stupid," you whispered, and you saw his lips curve into a softened grin, "yeah, we are."

"okay, get your fat head off me and we can both come sleep in our room?" you teased gently, hearing george huff a little jokingly, but standing and following you instantly.

when morning came, yellow glow flitted through slight gaps in the curtain, making you stir slightly and reach for the other side of the bed for warmth, and instead met with an empty spot. you almost thought you had imagined making up with george in a wishful idea of a dream, until you woke a little more, smelling coffee and hearing gentle humming from the kitchen.

pulling a sweatshirt from the bedroom floor before being willing to leave the comfort of the bed, and into the cold apartment, you gently walked to the kitchen, greeted with george with his back to you.

"george?" you said gently, and you could almost feel him jump before he tutted you, a playful grin on his face.

"you weren't supposed to wake up! i'm supposed to bring it to you," he said, his voice gently teasing, and you giggled a slight bit, sitting yourself down on one of the stools of the breakfast bar bit of the kitchen, facing his back as he fiddled on the bench.

"you're sweet, but i'm sure i can manage whatever it is here," you joked back, watching him as he brought over a plate and a mug of coffee, placing it down in front of you.

"dippy eggs and soldiers," he said with a dopey grin, and you smiled up at him as he kissed you gently on the forehead, before you looked down at the plate, and george's attempt at breakfast.

"and these soldiers were... wounded in battle?" you teased slightly, but he rolled his eyes and shook his head as he moved his plate next to yours, shoving a piece of toast in his mouth.

"hey, respect the soldiers man," he said mock sternly.

[shadowdaddies]

Hi! I’ve been loving all your request drabbles recently and wanted to send you an idea I’ve been thinking about - rubbing oil or lotion on Az’s tattoos 🤤 the way it would make them look so shiny and beautiful. He would always want you to do it for him after a hard mission or him being away for a few days

thank you so much! I love this request omg I had to reel it in bc it made me a little feral

Massage

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: very suggestive

A bright smile crossed your features as you felt a familiar tug on the mating bond - the signal that Azriel was on his way home. He’d been on mission for weeks now, and you were eager to show your mate exactly how much you had missed him.

Making your way upstairs to your bathroom, you prepared the space for him. Dim faelight illuminated the room, the bathtub filled with calming oils and salts for his aching muscles. Your ears perked at the sound of Azriel’s boots making their way up the stairs just as you were finishing setting up for him. 

Shadows greeted you first - the cool smoky tendrils weaving through your hair as you giggled at the feeling, spinning around to see your mate striding through the doorway, a soft smirk gracing his face as he drank in the sight of you. Running the few steps that separated you from Azriel, you jumped into his arms, savoring the feeling of his warmth as he caught you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him down by his hair as you kissed him deeply, earning a groan of appreciation.

Drawing back to admire his features, you gave Azriel another quick kiss before releasing him from your hold and dropping to the ground. Tugging on the collar of his leathers, you whispered with a smirk, “I have a bath ready for you.” Azriel glanced to the warm water that steamed across the room, his hands grazing up your sides. “Mm thank you. Will you be joining me?” 

You shook your head with a soft laugh, swiping a finger along his shoulder and holding it up to show him the dirt. “Maybe you focus on getting clean, and then I’ll take good care of you.” A low growl arose from Azriel’s throat as he licked his lower lip. “A massage?” You giggled and nodded, gesturing behind him to where you had already brought out the oils. “I guess I better hurry and get clean then,” he murmured, eyes never leaving yours as he made quick work of removing his leathers. 

You watched in appreciation as he made his way to the tub, sighing as he sank into the water. “I’ll go make us some dinner,” you promised, turning to slip out the door. A shadow wrapped around your wrist, twisting you to face Azriel who watched you with rapt attention. A coy smile played at his lips, “dinner for after the massage?” You rolled your eyes, laughing with another nod. “Yes, Az. Massage first, don’t worry.”

You came back up to the bedroom with a dinner tray, setting it on the table in the sitting area. Azriel padded out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel wrapped lowly around his hips, smirking as he caught you biting your lip before you realized what you were doing. With a deep exhale, you shook off your desire for your mate and took the bottle of oil from his hands, gesturing for him to lay down on the bed.

Azriel smirked over his shoulder at you as he removed the towel from his hips, laying it down atop mattress before settling down over it. “Az-“ you broke off, laughing as he arched an eyebrow in challenge. “You don’t want oil to get all over the sheets, do you?” With a sigh of mock defeat, you agreed, “no, I suppose not.” 

Azriel gave you a triumphant grin. “See, I’m only being logical.” Humming as you crawled up on the bed, straddling his back, you retorted, “yes, you do seem to always think with your head. Now relax.” Uncorking the bottle, you lathered the oil on your hands, rubbing them together to warm it up.

Avoiding his wings, you worked out the tension of Azriel’s back and shoulders first, sliding down his body as you worked your way lower. “You know, this would be easier for you if you were naked as well, sweetheart,” Azriel mumbled against the mattress. You countered, “I don’t know that we would make it through the entire massage if I were, Az. Now turn over so I can do your front.”

He obeyed, rotating so that he was laying on his back. You lathered more oil in your hands before bringing them down to his chest, admiring the swirls of his tattoos as you ran your hands over his torso. Working his shoulders, down his arms, to massage the muscles of his scarred hands, you marveled in his beauty. 

Threading your fingers in his hair, you lightly massaged his scalp as you leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Alright, there’s your massage. How about dinner?” Azriel pulled back, giving you a pitiful look. “Angel, my wings are tired and sore. Would you please touch those as well?”

You gave Azriel a knowing look, aware of exactly where this was heading. “Fine,” you sighed, kissing him again, dragging his lower lip between your teeth as you pulled away. The moment you pressed your fingertips to the vein of his wing, what little control remained between the two of you was lost.

Dinner had to be reheated.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

Wishing on Golden Stars [5]

Anxiety of Illness

genre: isekai, slow burn, fluff, hurt/comfort, humor(?)

chapter warning(s)!!!: descriptions of illness/aches/fevers etc., ayato in distress he's stressin', teeny hints of overprotective/jealous ayato 🫣

chapter w.count: 6.3k

a/n: he's back babie (fr this time)!!! and bc i've deprived you guys of ayato scenes for two whole chapters in a row- i combined what was supposed to be two chapters into one :D (dont say i never did anything for you. this baby is jam packed (kinda))

The following few weeks Thoma and Ayaka would take silent shifts on keeping an eye on you. The chip on your shoulder finally starts falling away and you begin returning back to the mannerisms you garnered since first arriving here. If you weren’t serving or tending to Ayaka, then Thoma was watching you like a hawk. Assigning himself the position of ‘supervisor’ when it came to household chores you both had somehow falling into together. 

While it was a bit suffocating and annoying at times, you understand their dilemma. You did just sort of decide on your own to rush off to Tataratsuna without any approval while also being constantly stressed beyond belief for days on end with no explanation for them to fathom. You figure when they get tired of babysitting- for lack of better wording- and realize that you’re calming back down, they’ll give you a little bit of leniency back. 

You were currently out in the courtyard, hanging out laundry that's just been washed. “Y/n,” a cool, and far too collected voice calls at your back. Throwing a sheet over the laundry line, you jump at the familiarity of it, nearly dropping the freshly cleaned linen onto the ground.

Oh…he’s back early. 

You turn after flattening the sheet out of creases on the line, what greets you is Thoma standing behind one early returnee from extended business: Kamisato Ayato.

Thoma stood behind Ayato's shoulder, a sheepish look on his face. That coupled with the stretched smile on Ayato’s face you know that someone had tattled. You’re not sure if Thoma told him about your recent fleeing to a different island or Ayaka in the short window he's been back without you even knowing, but whoever did, you wouldn’t be forgetting about it anytime soon. Because now you’re going to either face a lecture from your incredibly far too composed employer or crumble under his scrutinizing smile that declares nothing short of silent irritation. 

“Welcome back, milord.” Maybe you can play nice and just skate by his attitude. “I hope your business went well?” 

“Quite,” was his curt reply. “Once you’ve finished your tasks out here, please see yourself to my office. I believe you and I are in need of a discussion regarding your recent… behavior while I was away.” 

Dammit. You lower your head, yielding quickly. It would do you no good to try and worm your way out of this. He’d only get more annoyed, and you didn’t feel like poking the proverbial bear. 

“I understand,” you dejectedly obey. Ayato, with a cheekish shift in his grin, turns with practiced grace and leaves you. Thoma weakly apologzing silently behind his back towards you as you glare at you. His kicked puppy expression tells you all you need to know. Traitor. 

Turning back to your laundry, you wonder if you should take your time. Extend the task as long as possible as to postpone the scolding waiting for you in Ayato’s office. Even then, he’d somehow know that you did so and would then also scold you for that. You whine to yourself among the white sheets that billowed lightly in the wind of the midmorning air. 

“This sucks,” you murmur defeated before finishing your task. Taking the basket you used to carry the sheets outside back where it belongs, you were soon marching sadly towards those familiar sliding doors where your pale haired employer sits inside. Staring at the doors, you wonder if he knows you're out here already. Wonder if he’s aware of you fidgeting and hesitation on announcing your arrival and purposefully drawing it out for his own amusement?

Or maybe you’re just thinking too much.

Taking a deep, quiet breath in, you hold it just enough to announce your arrival. “My lord, you requested my presence?”

You hear him hum inside, a bit too cheerily. An eyeroll leaves you behind the safety of the still shut door. 

“Come in,” he commands with a suspicious lithe in his tone. With one more breath, you slide the door open, step inside and close it at your back. You wonder if it’s too early to start groveling? 

Making familiar strides across the office, you move to take your place on a small cushion reserved for guests at the back of the room with a small tea table. It was this very table years ago Ayato got his first bit of information out of you. It really has been a while, it’s weird you remember it so vividly. You begin kneeling down to get comfortable when- 

“Not there,” Ayato stops you mid-kneel. Body awkwardly standing at a half-bent angle. You look over towards him. He hasn’t lifted his gaze from whatever document he was looking over. One of his hands holds the long sleeve of his opposite arm back when he lifts his brush to scribble something down on an unrolled scroll with wet ink. You slowly, cautiously, stand back up and your fidgeting starts running the autopilot function. 

“My lord?” Still, without looking up at you or even making a slight stop in his work, his chin juts out to the front of his desk that rests on the floor. 

“There,” he says. The more extravagant cushion on the other side of him was undoubtedly what he was referring to. You’ve only caught glimpses of much higher individuals sitting there when coming to meet with the Kamisato head. The Kujou and Hiiragi Clans for example. You, a random staff member who was hired on more than suspicious terms, shouldn’t be doing so as well.  

Looking around you wonder if there was different cushion around for you to take instead of that one. Or perhaps he means for you to take the cushion you were about to sit on over and sit in front of his desk in that fashion. If that was so, you understand perfectly. 

“No, no,” his voice takes on a playful shift. Still, it makes your shoulders jump because when you lift your gaze back up from the plain cushion at your feet, Ayato is finally looking up at you.

He's set down his still wet tipped brush on a block of elegantly carved wood to prevent it from rolling away and ruining his hard work. The scroll he had been brushing upon with his skilled calligraphy was left idle as the ink began the drying process. One of his arms rests with his elbow on the very edge of his desk to support his chin- a very unprofessional yet comfortable move- while the other rests on his folded lap. “Come here and sit,” he instructs. His eyes shut with a smile and you feel sweat gather at the nape of your neck. Oh, he’s pissed. 

As collected as you could, you make your way to the far too fancy pillow and set yourself formally on top of it. Seemingly satisfied, Ayato picks up his brush once more. Dripping it into the ink well that was surely to run out soon, he begins new brush strokes in silence. The sound of the brush bristles against the parchment would be almost soothing any other time when the aura of the Kamisato head wasn’t boring down on you like a boulder. 

“Are you perhaps… upset, my lord?” You test the waters quietly. You didn’t want to be here all afternoon with this pressure. You could throw up if he drags this out. 

“Oh,” he chuckles, “so, you can tell?” Forget the boulder. A mountain of negative energy just crashed directly into your cranium. “You’ve gotten better at reading people since I've been gone I see.” You know better than to reply. No matter what answer you could give him, it’d be pointless. So, you choose to sit there and give him nothing. He chuckles at your decision of silence. “That reminds me. While I was gone, it seems you also decided to go off and your own, shall we say, adventure?” You swallow and avert your gaze guiltily. “Thoma informed me.” 

“That snitch,” you whisper entirely to yourself impulsively. 

“Part of his duties as a trusted aide is to inform me of anything that could interest or involve me. It seems your actions fulfilled both criteria judging by the haste in which he rushed me as soon as I arrived.” 

“It really wasn’t that large of an ordeal,” you murmur in half-truth. 

“Was it not?” Ayato’s voice shifts once more. All playfulness vanishes and your posture stalls. You ball your hands on our lap with your chin down staring only at the top of his desk and the items that liter it. You hear him once again place his brush down and you know you’re in for it now that his full attention will be directed at you. “I assume your reasons for making such a foolish decision after rescuing Thoma from the Shogun- which while I am grateful for- are justified?” 

“It’s a bit complicated.” 

“How.” That was what you always say when he tries to ask you anything about yourself. It was so frustrating to him. 

You swallow at his pressing agenda. You have no idea how to explain it to him. If he knows what happened, then surely he knows about Aether too. Or maybe he hasn’t been home long enough to hear word of him? No, there's no way. Aether’s name is floating all across Inazuma by now, so he has to have heard it at least once. Should you just use his name to your benefit to try and worm your way out of this? Would that be morally wrong?

“Y/n,” Ayato beckons your train of thought back and you jump at the summon. 

“It’s just,” you fumble, “it was for Aether!” You continue to fumble. Ayato’s anger-laced smile finally drops and his brow furrows in mock confusion. You swallow at the bitter look on his face. 

“That blond traveler?” His voice reflects the stupid excuse you just spat at him. “I’ve also heard of him from Thoma and Ayaka in passing when she greeted me back.” 

“That's right!” You shuffle on your legs that were slowly starting to go numb. “He was a big help in the Vision Hunt Decree rebellious forces. After we returned to Komore Teahouse, Aether was going to head towards Tatarasuna alone. I thought, since I was also seen with them, that showing him the way would be better than-” 

“-Then staying at the teahouse with Thoma where it was safe? Instead, you chose to throw yourself into more danger by exposing yourself out in the open with a stranger you hardly know a thing about?” 

“...Well, when you say it like that.” Ayato sighs, the hand supporting his chin has now been promoted to holding his forehead as he lowers it with a small shake of his head. “Aether really isn’t all that bad though.” Even with you looking towards him now that his gaze wasn’t boring into you, you still miss the twitch his body goes through at the mention of your defense of the blond. “He really pulled through with the rebellion and he kept me safe the whole time until we got to Watatsumi. We even have a lot in common!” 

“A lot in common, you say?” His voice was quiet and you couldn’t be sure if he spoke aloud to you or to himself. “Explain.” Oh, so he was talking to you. 

“Well, we’re both a long way from home. And, um, we’re both from really far away places.” You lower your eyes and take a moment to collect your thoughts. You did have a lot in common with Aether, and while those two things are true, the majority of the connection comes from the more emotional impact of your time in Teyvat. Ayato, not satisfied with your two weak defenses, lifts his head annoyed. 

“Thats-” 

“We both feel alone here,” you whisper. It must’ve been a slip of the tongue judging by the quick reaction of you slapping your hands over your mouth. Ayato’s arm drops as his tense expression relaxes into something somber. “No, what I meant is-” You fumble around trying to backpedal and Ayato just barely hears it. 

You felt lonely? Was it because you weren’t allowed to leave Narukami without sufficient reason or supervision, for instance for business or the like? Did you feel trapped? Did he do it? The last thing Ayato wants to do was make you feel like him. Trapped.

While Ayato loves his family and takes pride in his work, he was undeniably stuck here. Unable to go and run from it even if he tried. He had to take this position for his deceased parents. To protect Ayaka and keep her shielded from the more bloody and cutthroat aspects of the position as clan leader. To keep the Kamisato Clan safe and stable. He could hardly ever be Kamisato Ayato, he was always the Yashiro Commissioner. 

Was it his fault? 

“Ayato!” You screaming his name brings him back to the here and now. Have you ever called him solely by name before? “Please, calm down, my lord. It really isn’t a big deal.” He feels a pain in his leg, one caused by his tight grip against his thigh. When did he start doing that? “What I meant is that sometimes I can get a bit homesick, that’s all. I don’t mean anything else by it.” That was a lie. He could tell. The look in your eyes makes it all too obvious, but you also just wanted him to relax. 

“I apologize,” he composes himself quickly. “It seems I’m more exhausted from my trip than I originally thought.” 

“You often work yourself sick. You ought to fix that bad habit,” you quip. Ayato chuckles. 

“Perhaps I should take a small moment to regather myself.” 

“I’ll go and prepare some tea then. I’m sure her Ladyship would enjoy hearing about your trip. Perhaps you can spend the afternoon together for a change?” You shift backward to wake up your legs before Ayato is nodding along with your suggestion. Taking advantage of the laxed situation, you quickly stand and politely excuse yourself. 

Standing out in the hall and escaping from the heavy atmosphere of his office, you let out a deep breath from the very pit of your gut. You managed to worm your way out of any consequences and kept most of your secrets to yourself once again. Still, looking over your shoulder at the doors, you wonder why you feel like crap? The look of... guilt on Ayato’s face from earlier plays in the back of your mind. 

Shaking your head, you dismiss any idea of telling him anything. He was the one who graciously took you in and gave you a job that came with the added bonus of close companions you can depend on. On top of that, he was an incredibly busy man. How could you unload your burdens onto him when he was already feeling enough of those himself? You couldn’t and until some immovable object places itself in your path, you wouldn’t. 

“Y/n!” Thoma comes walking down the hall towards you. You huff, snubbing him as you pass him by. With a nervous chuckle, he chases your back. “Look, I’m sorry, but I have to tell his lordship these kinds of things.” He lamely tries to defend himself, but it doesn't work. Not at all.

“Lord Kamisato will be having tea with her ladyship this afternoon. Please, go start brewing some while I look for her.” 

“...Understood,” with a sad air of acceptance, Thoma ambles off with a cloud over his head. You’d accept his apology later when you've properly calmed down. Right now, there's a younger sister you have to find and invite to tea. 

It’s been months since the Vision Hunt Decree as well as the Sakoku Decree were abolished and the nation of electro was slowly returning to the times. Opening its borders and allowing traffic in and out to all sorts of people. It was a rough road since there were rumors floating around that a part of the rebellion had tried to reignite conflict. It was quickly shut down however, since more fighting at this point would be pointless. 

There's been a feeling in the back of your throat all day long and despite your best efforts to clear it out, nothing was working. The itch was constant and no amount of muted coughing behind your fist would clear it. 

You were currently out with Ayato, taking the role of unofficial babysitter from Thoma for the day. What his goal for today is, remains a total mystery to you. He was only insistent that you accompany him into the city and was strangely unable to be swayed into taking Thoma instead.

His lordship was currently in a rather passionate conversation with Tomoki about yet more unusual flavors of dango milk when you try once again to clear your throat off to the side. With yet another unsuccessful attempt, your attention was pulled away from the commissioner-vendor duo when your name was called from the other direction of the stall. 

“y/n!” Both you and Ayato turn to the familiar chime of Paimon’s voice. Coming up the way from the north side entrance of Inazuma City was none other than Paimon and Aether. On a completely separate occasion when you were out with Ayaka, apparently Aether had come into Inazuma looking for Thoma and ended up meeting Ayato at the Kamisato residence. Of course, that was all in Ayato’s character quest according to your reality-knowledge. It was relieving since Ayato didn’t need to keep his guard up around the pair of travelers now. 

The pale-haired man politely dismissed himself from the conversation he was having with Tomoki. Making his way to your side as Aether waltzes himself up to join the group. 

“It’s been a while,” you greet when the blond stops in front of you. You’ve seen him once or twice in quick passing since your trip to Watatsumi during the war. He’s always busy with something or another when he’s here. Whether it be wrapped up in something Itto had dragged him into, or commissions he’d picked up out of the goodness of his heart; so proper greetings were hard to come by. “I hope you’ve both been keeping out of trouble.” 

Aether rubs the back of his head sheepishly as Paimon joins him in the silent answer of ‘sort of’. 

“It’s never anything we can’t handle,” Paimon defends. 

“I’m sure,” you humor. 

“What brings you both back to Inazuma?” Ayato asks. An easy and relaxed expression rests on his cheeks and it makes you forget about the discomfort in your throat seeing him even a smidge more relaxed than usual. “Nothing untoward I hope.” 

“We just wanted to come and catch up with some friends!” Paimon explains. 

“It’s been awhile since we’ve come back here on anything other than business,” Aether supports. “It’s nice to take in the island air sometimes.” You nod, understanding. He, of all people, needs to look after himself in the event of a crisis. 

“It’s good to take time for yourself,” you tell him. Crossing your arms, you shoot a look of disapproval to your employer who stands at your shoulder. “If only I could get a certain someone to follow your example.” 

“Why, whatever do you mean?” The smile that was once relaxed, shifts to one of enjoyment as he looks at you. “I’m making time right now, aren’t I?” Rolling your eyes you brush off his attempt at pushing your buttons. 

“Only after Thoma’s constant insisting.” With his arms folded behind him and a slight bend in his back to get closer into your space, you turn away from him with a huff. Paimon and Aether look at each other before looking back at you both. It's obvious Ayato is enjoying prodding you and from the looks of it, you were just letting him. It could hardly be seen as a scenario between a mere employer and retainer. It’s much more... comfortable. 

Ayato’s attention was briefly taken away from you at Tomoki’s nervous beckon. Apparently, he had taken one of Ayato’s out of world ideas into consideration and wanted a bit more of an idea for the future. Dismissing himself, Aether steps up to the plate to continue entertaining you in Ayato’s stead. 

“It’s good to see you’re getting along,” he tells you in regards to Ayato. 

“Of course. He’s tough to handle, but nothing I can’t subdue.” You chuckle. It was always good seeing Aether. Even if you both couldn’t speak of your outworld heritage, just knowing that he knew was enough for you to feel a weight off your shoulders. 

“It’s usually Thoma trailing after him like this, so I was shocked to see you instead.” 

“Yeah, that's true!” Paimon agreed. You nod. 

“For some reason, Lord Kamisato wanted me to come out with him today instead. Thoma may have been too busy with housework and since Ayaka had no plans today, having him stay with her made more sense.” Of course, you didn’t know the full reason and that was just you thinking out loud. 

“Yeah," the floater draws out her word with an unconvinced look. "Somehow Paimon doesn’t think that’s true at all,” she shoots you a look with her arms cross. Blinking at her, you raise a brow. 

“What do you mean?” You ask. She shares a knowing glance with Aether before looking back. “What are you both thinking about?” Aether steps forward and whispers something in your ear.

It was nonsense. Ayato preferring you over Thoma like he was suggesting was just folly! Still, it made your ears burn and you wanted to smack the smirk off his face when he finally stepped away from you. 

With your head down and hand raised to pinch between your eyes on the bridge of your nose, the smirk on Aether’s face twitches as he looks over your shoulder.

Behind you- turned away from Tomoki who was scribbling something down in a small notepad- Ayato shoots him a rather ominous look. Aether was a pretty good reader of a person's emotions, but Ayato had always been difficult to grasp; years of experience he guesses. This look, however, was loud and clear. The blond took another half-step back as he tucked his hands down to his side. 

“What’s your problem?” You ask, head lifted back up and noticing his odd shift in behavior. 

“Oh, it’s nothing.” He brushes off your attempt to get behind the reason for his change. You want to press more, but don’t get the chance to do so.

The itch in your throat rushes back to the forefront of your mind with a harsh cough. Turning away from Aether, you cover your mouth and try to swallow back the coughing behind your hand to avoid making a scene. It doesn’t work. Suppressing it only makes it feel worse. 

You hear Paimon start panicking behind you and Aether’s body comes closer, hovering around you unsure about what he should do. The hand you feel push against your back wasn’t the traveler’s, but the gloved hand of Ayato. With him watching your back, he quickly takes notice of your condition and rushes to your side. Your coughing fit ends with you gathering your breath with a slumped posture. Ayato’s hand still softly runs up and down your spine as you gathered yourself. 

“Are you okay?” Paimon asks in worry. With sweat on your forehead, you nod. You can't tell if you mean it or not. It's suddenly far too warm out in Narukami today.

“This always seems to happen around this time of year,” Ayato speaks. You weren’t sure if he was addressing you, Aether and Paimon, or deducing it himself. Still, it’s heard by everyone regardless.  

“Oh no," Paimon worries, "are you sick?” She floats over to you, now standing back up to your full height, and frets in even closer proximity. 

“I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with worse than a cough before.” You voice stays muffled behind your hand you keep in front of it. If you were sick, then you'd hate to spread it around.

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t sick,” Aether argues before Paimon floats back to his side and agrees behind his shoulder. “You should go home and rest.” 

“That’s-” 

“Exactly what we intend to do,” Ayato interrupts. You look over your shoulder at him behind you. His face is serious. He means every word. You feel sort of guilty. Like you just ruined one of the few chances he has to come into town that isn’t work related because of a cough. “You’ll have to excuse us,” he addresses Aether, not letting you get a word in to argue with his decision.

“Should we walk you back?” The blond offers. Ayato knows it’s all in good faith and he’s only worried, but the clawing feeling at the back of his neck almost makes him frown at the suggestion. 

“No need,” Ayato declines. “We can manage.” Aether doesn’t press anymore, leaving it to the commissioner. With a few more quick words of parting, Ayato offers you his arm to hold onto, which you politely decline since you weren’t so weak you couldn’t walk on your own. Soon, you both were leaving the city and making your way back to the Kamisato estate.

By the time you arrived back home, Ayato is holding your hand in his gloved one. Leading you through the gates on the verge of yet another coughing fit. A samurai standing guard was quickly instructed to find Thoma immediately. Kamisato Ayato was a man of many skills and talents, but caring for the ill is still something he lacks in. He would need guidance to collect himself.  

Not too much later, you were placed in a private room on a clean futon. Thoma swiftly leaves after getting you situated to inform Ayaka of your state of illness while Ayato stays behind to tend to you. All the housekeeper left behind was instructions to make sure you consum the medicine he had prepared for you. 'Make sure she drinks it all!', he had told him.

“Sit up, just a bit,” Ayato softly instructs you. You felt fine this morning, nothing but that itch in your throat. Now you feel terrible. The itch was now a burn, and no amount of water or tea would soothe it. Your head pounds and your eyesight would swim between weary blinks. You feel your body being lifted behind your shoulders. You can barely see a small bowl of tonic hovering near your chin as Ayato keeps your torso lifted with his arm. “This will help.” 

You try to down the tonic, you really do. However, the moment the bitter taste hits your tongue, your body pulls away in repulsion. You already feel awful, you just couldn’t bring yourself to swallow something just as awful. 

Ayato sighs when you close your eyes in disgust. You were so stubborn even when sick. Though, he's more than aware of this fact.

The last two years you’ve been here, this scenario has happened before. Around this time every year, you get sick out of nowhere. No one knows why you’re sick or what's wrong but it’s always the same: a fever, a horrid cough, aches and pains and agony no medicine can help followed by several days of near-continuous sleep. 

It didn't matter how many doctors he calls upon; none are able to diagnose you with any sort of illness. 'All we can do is wait it out' are the words he's always forced to hear with another prescription of medicine to add to his ledger.

Always this time of year. Always around the time when Thoma first found you on the docks of Ritou and Ayato brought you back to the Kamisato home. 

Living through two years of this illness before, Ayato was half expecting this. The whole reason he wanted you to come with him to town was because he wanted to keep an eye on you. He didn’t know how quickly your condition would deteriorate though. Guilt nags at him as he watches you lay in the futon. Still, he needs you to consume the tonic regardless of if you want to or not. 

With a defeated sigh, Ayato looks to the closed door to the room. There was no sound outside. Good. 

“Pardon my actions,” pulling the small bowl away from you, he takes the bitter liquid into his mouth, holding it there. The taste is atrocious, no wonder you didn't want anything to do with it.

Setting the bowl aside, he keeps your body raised and his other arm crosses over to rest on the opposite side of your hips so he hovers over your face. Pushing his lips against yours that desperately gasp for air, he pushes the tonic into your mouth, forcing you to swallow it.  He keeps his hand on the back of your head so you don't pull away from him and waste the medicine.

Once the foul liquid is out of his mouth, into yours and properly swallowed, you cough and recoil from the taste when he pulls away from you. He swipes his palm under his chin, wiping away the trails of medicine that didn't make it to you.

Ayato once again lays you down gently, pulling the blanket up to your shoulders to keep the chills of fever away. He takes one of his gloves off, setting it aside and places his palm on your forehead. It was on fire. He winces at the clammy, hot feeling of your skin against his. 

“If only I was able to pinpoint why this keeps happening to you,” he laments. Your breathing, while harsh, evens out as you slip into a fever induced state of sleep. He hopes that the illness doesn’t cause you nightmares. With a deep breath, his hand slips from your forehead to brush against your hair in a weak attempt to soothe you. “Just as before, I’ll make sure your recovery is swift.” 

And just as the two years before, during your bedrest and hazy moments of consciousness, Ayato has his work moved into the recovery room in which you rest so that he can spend as much time beside you as he can. It makes him too anxious- leaving you on your own. The room is private for this very reason, and no one can talk him out of these actions- not even Thoma. 

You never remember falling so deathly ill when you finally start recovering- or, at least you haven't in the years prior; it's all just a long, blacked out memory.

You never remember Ayato tending to you as often as he can. You never know that your deep, struggling breaths become the only noise he pays attention to. You never know that when he gets accustomed to your ragged breathing, he holds your wrist in his palm so he continues to feel your pulse ebb over his touch. You never know how he looks up at the sky at night while he grips your hand tightly in his, hoping he won’t see any shooting stars that he fears might carry you away. 

It was the dawn of the fourth day since you had fallen ill and the anniversary of your arrival had passed. Thoma and Ayaka had both gone out and purchased two small trinkets for you as both a get well presents and also to commemorate your years with them. Ayato would do the same once you were awake, aware and healthy again just as he has in the past. Perhaps a good luck charm centered around health would be an ideal purchase.

Ayato’s temporary work desk, one much smaller than his office desk in the office, was already filled with paperwork and open books to scrawl in when he heard two knocks on the door. No doubt it was Thoma coming to check on both of his friends. 

“You may enter,” he grants. As he suspects, Thoma’s face slides into view with the opening of the plain doors. “Good morning, Thoma,” he greets without lifting his face from his work. Partly because work did have his attention for the most part, but also because he was probably sporting some nasty eyebags that the pyro wielder would scold him about. 

“Same to you, my lord. Are you hungry? I’ll have breakfast ready in no time.” Ayato only nods along to Thoma’s whims even if his appetite hasn’t been the biggest the last four days. Thoma moves to kneel in front of your still unconscious body. Placing his hand on your forehead, replacing a cold rag there, and checking your pulse he nods to himself. “I’ll bring some more medicine for y/n while I’m at it. They seem to already be doing better. That’s much faster than last year!” 

That was true. Last year it was a week before you started showing any signs of improvement. Ayato’s shoulders relax a bit at that fact. 

“You really shouldn’t stress out so much, my lord.” Thoma looks at the small space between your head and Ayato’s place sitting at his temporary workspace. “I know you’re worried, we all are. Still, if y/n ever finds out that you always push yourself so much when she gets sick, she might feel guilty about it.” 

Ayato halts all his actions and lets out a deep breath. He knows Thoma’s right, but it wasn’t like he could just not care. 

“I’m not saying you’re not allowed to care,” it’s like Thoma could read Ayato’s mind sometimes. “We all just wish you’d take better care of your health too. Y/n will recover, she always does. So please, try not to worry too much.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Thoma.” The housekeeper dismisses himself with a small quip and when the door shuts and Ayato is left alone with you again, he deflates. Placing his items down, he shifts and reaches over to brush his fingers over your bangs that were damp from the fresh cold cloth on your forehead. 

Later that day, Thoma visits once again only this time, he’s brought an additional party member. Or rather, two. 

“Ayato, we’re here to visit y/n.” Paimon announces as she floats in beside Aether and behind Thoma. Ayato feels astonished to see the blond and also somehow conflicted at his visit. Perhaps it was just his imagination, and he was more tired than he thought. 

Thoma excuses himself to leave you all alone so he could tend to his own work. Aether takes a seat next to your body while Ayato dismisses himself from work for the duration of however long Aether plans to stay. He feels antsy. It's irritating.

“How is she?” Aether asks. 

“Improving. This happens annually.” 

“Does she have some kind of illness?” Paimon asks. 

“We’re not sure. No one has been able to identify exactly the cause of her collapsing like this. It’s always around this time of year, but it doesn’t last long enough to become fatal.” 

“How weird,” Paimon worries. 

A small conversation between the three of them begins easily and Ayato is soon changing your towel again. Aether and Paimon are near astonished seeing the commissioner remove his gloves to tend to you. In fact, they were shocked he was taking this so seriously if it has happened before and doesn’t risk your life. They expected him to worry of course, they know Ayato isn't heartless- but he was taking it so seriously. Like you really could die.

Ayato’s fingers run briefly through your hair when he draws back from placing the freshly squeezed towel on your forehead and dabbing your face of sweat. 

“Say, Aether,” he starts yet another conversation while looking towards you instead of his guest. Bad manners aside, Aether hums back at the call of attention. “You come from beyond Teyvat, correct?” The blond swallows. 

“I do.” There was no point in hiding it if Ayato already knew. Of course he did, it seems like he always has access to knowledge that is basically pointless to him. 

“Y/n once told me that you both have many things in common. Being far from home was an example of such a bond.” Finally lifting his gaze and straightening his posture, the commissioner looks Aether in his eyes. “Is there a chance y/n is also from beyond Teyvat. A place we of the common folk could never reach?” 

Aether knows the answer. Of course that was the truth, but he has no right to explain that in your stead. It was something you had to do yourself. 

“I couldn’t say,” was the answer Ayato received. “Why not ask her about it when she recovers. I’m sure she’d be willing.” 

“Perhaps,” he muses dismissively. You hadn’t opened up to him about your home for three years at this point. Why would you suddenly do so now? Then again, maybe it was because he wasn’t fully open with you either. It was a challenge opening up to anyone, but maybe if he explains your position in his life- your significance- you’d be more willing...?

Ayato looks up at the sky outside the room. It was late afternoon and soon the sun would be setting. Would you wake up tomorrow? He hopes so. 

Aether and Paimon stay at the residence for dinner. Ayato is persuaded to join them, Thoma and Ayaka all for a big joint meal. You were left with a trusted attendant until Ayato could return and while he knows you're in good hands, he still couldn’t focus. He even drops his chopsticks a few times when his mind began to wander for too long causing his grip to slacken. 

After a good meal, and a politely declined offer of staying over the duration of the night, the Kamisatos' see Aether and Paimon off. Free from the binds of being a good host, Ayato makes haste back to your side to dismiss the attendant tending to you as well as settle the anxiety in his chest that comes with being away from you. 

Oh, how he wishes you’ll wake up tomorrow.

a/n pt.2: oh the woes of be infected with isekai sickness. rest in pieces but did you see that he kisSeD-

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[thelov3lybookworm]

I literally just sent a cassian request but this one popped in my head for Lucien. Lucien falling in love with a smokehound breeder from the autumn court. Introduced to each other by eris when he’s going to pick out yet another smokehound for his kennels. The litter that was just born has the smallest tiniest runt that lucien takes pity on and he keeps visiting the breeder to make sure it’s ok and he gets the dog AND the girl in the end bc OF COURSE he does. He deserves the world. 🥹

Better place-

Summary: Lucien wants to go out, Y/n knows a better place.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: i thought this would be longer, but it turned out like a drabble 🫠im so sorry 😭

•○🌑○•

Y/n smiled softly, her heart doing weird little backflips in her chest when Eris's brother grinned, his mismatched stare fixed on the little puppy, Berald, jumping around, chasing its own tail.

The male laughed when the puppy ran headfirst into his legs, bending to scratch behind the hound's ears.

He seemed so genuinely happy, Y/n considered telling him to take the pup home.

Y/n had first met Lucien two months ago, who had tagged along with the high lord of autumn when he came to get the strongest pup in the recent litter.

Eris, now high lord, had started adopting the strongest hound that was born every month, wanting to add more and more hounds to his army of canines now that his father was dead.

Lucien had apparently started visiting autumn court more frequently, having begun to rebuild a relationship with his very misunderstood brother. Eris, taking up any excuse for spending time with, arguably, his favourite brother, had decided it best to show Lucien the smokehound breeder he got his hounds from.

And now, Lucien had been visiting more recently, having taken a liking to the smallest pup in the litter. Also because he worried so much about the tiny thing.

Y/n had only had seen and cared for such weak pup maybe once or twice before, so when Berald was born, it was a surprise.

"He looks healthier than he did last week." Lucien mumbled, glancing up at Y/n with glittering eyes.

She smiled at him, wondering what the weird feeling that spread through her chest was, goosebumps rising under the sleeves of her dress under his intense stare. "Yes, he's been getting better."

Lucien grabbed the little pup from the ground, holding his wiggling body close to his chest as he stroked the top of Berald's head.

"Um... hey Y/n, can I have a word with you?"

Y/n blinked at the sudden seriousness in his voice. "Uh- yeah sure. What is it?"

His chest expanded with a deep breath, and Y/n could see the resolve hardening in his eyes.

"Have you tried the new restaurant that opened up a week ago down the street?"

Y/n stared at him for a moment. "Yes. I tried it the day after it opened."

Lucien visibly deflated, his eyes falling to Berald, who stared up at the redhead. Suddenly, his head jerked up, and with a lazy grin, he leaned close.

"Will you come with me to that restaurant? I've been wanting to go, but I don't want to go alone."

Y/n was dumbfounded, both at the invitation and his proximity and she was sure he could see her burning up.

"Yeah... yeah sure. But I know a better place-" Y/n smacked a hand over her lips, her eyes widening at her own boldness.

His grin widened. "Great. I will pick you up after sunset."

"Okay..."

Y/n could do nothing but watch and blush as he reached out, grabbing her hand gently and placing his lips on her knuckles, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Then he straightened, turning to drop Berald back to the ground before walking away.

Y/n stared at his retreating back, then turned to stare at Berald, as if the pup could give her the answers she sought.

The only answer she got was that she was not going alone on the date tonight. Berald needed to come too.

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch

Lucien Vanserra Taglist: @mirandasidefics @fell-in-luvs

[ideas-live-forever]

hi!! i love your ken imagines and was wondering if you might be interested in writing something for maybeee a pining ken and an oblivious reader? 👉👈🥺 reader has totally convinced themselves that ken is just being super nice bc they've been showing him the ropes for living in the real world but he's actually just super smitten with them

Pining Ken With Oblivious Reader

hi!! thank you so much for requesting! sorry about the wait, i got a little stuck in the middle of writing this. i hope this is what you meant! if not, feel free to send another ask :)

i’m working on my other request right now, so i should be able to get it out soon. in the mean time, i’m open to other ken requests as well!

Ever since you met, you’ve been all Ken can think about

You’ve always been so kind to him, helping him figure out the real world and everything

And he is nothing if not head over heels in love with you 

He can’t help but admire you from afar

And the care and caution he uses when interacting with you is far beyond what he uses with other people

In fact, he gets teased by your guys’ friends all the time about it

As much as he wants to tell you, he just can’t find the courage to do it straight out

You two are just friends

What if it’s too much too fast? Or you don’t love him back? Or you never even liked him in the first place and were just putting up with him because you’re just that good of a person?

You love him too, obviously 

But you don’t seem to pick up on any of the hints he drops, no matter how blatant they are

It started about a month ago, when Ken decided to start being more obvious with his affection for you

His hints were pretty tame at first: an extra compliment here, a few more texts here

“You’re looking extra nice today, did you do something new with your hair?”

‘Goodnight! Have the sweetest of dreams :)’

You were flattered, sure, but in your head he was just being nice in return

He kept that pace up for a while until he couldn’t deal with it anymore

This was going agonizingly slow

So, recently, he’s been more obvious about it

He’ll bring you gifts all the time, hoping they’re meaningful enough to get his point across

It gets to the lost where you have to be more assertive with how many presents he gives you a week

“Ken, you really need to stop buying me so many things.” You scold him, though your tone is undermined by the warmth of your gaze as you look at what must be the 3rd gift box you’ve gotten in 5 days. 

“Why?” He asks, a dejected kind of look falling over his face. “Do you not like them?”

His expression and cautious words catch your attention and you let out a little smile. He’s really just the sweetest guy. ‘If only he liked me..’

“No, of course I do!” You reply, setting the present down and placing one of your (shaky) hands on his. “I’m just worried that you’re spending too much money on me.”

Miraculously, you don’t notice the way the blush rises to his cheeks or his eyes widen at your touch. Ken takes a deep breath to steady himself before stumbling through his next words.

“That’s like, impossible. You’re worth more than all my money.” He says, cringing as soon as it leaves his mouth.

A part of you, a small and repressed part of you, swoons at his statement. However, the reason i’m your mind decides that this is just another example of Ken being Ken.

You don’t see the little frown that falls back over his face when you don’t seem to get the hint.

Ken, driven by newfound motivation, starts jumping at any opportunity to hint how smitten he is with you

He’ll remember the smallest things you say and bring them up later

“The aquarium?” You inquire, looking at the building you two had just arrived at. 

Ken smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. He thinks for a moment, debating whether or not to tell the truth. He decides to be totally blunt.

“Yeah. I, uh-“ He clears his throat. “You told me about that time when you were like 6 when your birthday at the aquarium got cancelled and you never really got to go back. So I just figured it could be fun or something-“

“You remembered that?” You ask again, in slight disbelief.

Ken’s a really sentimental person, you know that. But he remembers that dumb story? You must’ve told him that months ago. A blush creeps onto your cheeks.

“Of course.” He shrugs.

Obviously, you end up having a great time at the aquarium (although he got scared in the shark tunnel and you had to hold his hand)

Your one-on-one hangouts evolve from casual outings to fancy restaurants quickly

The line between hanging out and going on a date is so blurred that neither of you are quite sure which it is

Not that you’re going to bring it up

One day you go out for a walk after dinner and end up sitting on a park bench, just talking

Ken looks over at you and noticed how perfect you look in the moonlight

He’s tempted to tell you how he feels right then and there

But of course it doesn’t work out like that

“Thanks for hanging out today,” You say, brushing some of your hair out of your face.

Ken smiles in acknowledgment before clearing his throat a bit. He shifts his gaze from you, to the stars, back to you again. You can practically see his brain racing.

“No problem. It’s nice to feel so wanted.” He says softly. “I really appreciate this, by the way. That you’re willing to put so much time and care into, uh, this.”

You take a deep breath. ‘He’s just being nice. Don’t look for implications that aren’t there.’ You think to yourself. But you have to respond somehow. He’s looking at you like you handed him the world. It’s really cute.

“Of course, Ken. You know I love you,” You realize what you said quickly, eyes widening. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Ken’s never felt so disappointed in his life

He really thought that was it

He’s pretty stiff for the rest of the evening

Like everything he says is scripted

It’s really just so that he can keep it together until he gets home to think out what to do next

As soon as he drops you off, his mind starts racing

What was that?

Was he friendzoned? Was that last part a coverup? 

Regardless, he cares about you too much to potentially hurt you in any way

Even if that means backing off a little bit

So he distances himself abbot, not knowing what else to do

You realize something is off pretty quickly and walk over to his usual spot on the beach

Sure enough, he’s sitting on the sand alone, his head cradled in his hands

You approach him slowly, sitting next to him on the ground

Ken glances up as your shadow casts over him. You sit next to him, not saying anything at first. He looks… confused. There’s a glint of relief at your presence, but also a slightly guarded look that Ken never usually carries.

“Hey,” You say softly, meeting his gaze. “You okay?”

He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes betraying that he’s weighing whatever options he has in this situation in his head. Eventually, he sighs, shifting his gaze to his hands.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He says vaguely, fidgeting with his fingers. “Just trying to think I guess.”

“About?” You don’t want to press, but Ken’s almost never closed off like this. 

“You?” He says, blushing intensely. 

The two of you just sit there for a second, trying to process what effect that little comment had on the future of this conversation

He eventually works up the courage to tell you everything. From the very beginning.

He tells you what a great friend you are, and how he never wants to mess up what you already have

He starts rambling in his nervousness, trapped beneath your intense gaze

“I know you love me as a friend, and I obviously also love you as a friend. But I think I might also love you a little bit more than that, if I’m making any sense. But I totally get it if you don’t feel like that as well. I might be moving too fast. I’m sorry-“

You have to kiss him to shut him up (i know it’s cliche i’m sorry 😭)

He just stares at you after you part, his eyes wide as saucers, until a small grin sneaks onto his face

“So, is that like, an, uh-“

“An ‘I love you too’? Yes.”

You’ve never seen him smile to big

You two spend the rest of the day sitting on the beach and talking

About how you covered up your confession that day at the park

About how he thought he had to avoid you 

Hesitantly, he reaches for your hand

When you grab it back he smiles a little, turning away to hide the blush in his cheeks

[sssilverstoned]

while you can still smell them ꩜ ln4

type: full length fic

word count: 3.9k

title from: i wish you roses by kali uchis

warnings: some fluff, angst, but like it's a happy ending. cursing bc i'm me, italics are memories

lily said: you know me i can never leave well enough alone. i thought this little snapshot of the break that was never really a break would be cute! for context, i'd suggest looking at the ig au linked below! this would be taking place in between part 2 and 3.

part 1

part 2

part 3

masterlist

You've only seen Lando cry on occasions that called for it. When family members died, when racing got too much for his mental, in some awful, awful moments. Maybe that's why it hurts so bad to see him cry now.

"A break feels a lot like you should add 'up' to that statement," he had said, turning away from you, looking out at the stars. You were sat on his balcony, feeling suffocated by the apartment. But the AC was on and working fine, and windows were open. Your emotions were suffocating you, that was more fitting.

"We can't keep on like this, Lan," you say in a broken voice, the lump in your throat thick and threatening. "It's not fair to either of us."

He doesn't realize he's crying until the drop hits his nose, making it quirk up in surprise. He swipes at his face, a pawlike move to get rid of the teardrops.

"Do you not love me anymore?"

His question makes you sob. Full body, head dropping to chest, your hands writing in your lap. The sound of you breaking down turns him back to you, rushing to the chair you've melted into. He lifts your face in his hands, and you take a breath when you see his face, discolored with tears.

"I'll always love you," he makes out of your words, just barely. "I, I just, it's not the same,"

"We can fix this, us. We can work on it together," Lando's brain is whirring at hyper speed, damage controlling the last 8 months of your lives together.

The cracks began to become schisms when he committed your largest pet peeve, which was ignoring things out of ease. Blissful ignorance, if you will.

It was small things, like forgetting about date nights in lieu of longer trainings or prolonging trips. Sometimes he forgot to water the plants, or didn't move laundry over, and that was manageable. That's what every couple encounters. What every couple does not encounter, was the intense pressure of racing a car for a living.

He was frustrated, with Zak, with anything papaya colored, and with his own self-doubts. He carried that frustration in his chest, and it came out in some of the words he spoke to you, and actions he took. You eventually stopped offering to come over and cook, because dinners were becoming continuously tense, and you were uncomfortable. Felt like a nuisance.

But at the same time, you were both so codependent. Without anything being said, you two began to avoid things you assumed the other wouldn't like, and asked for permission to do the smallest of things. You first noticed it when your sister pointed had asked you to come go with her out of town for the weekend, and you hesitated. "I'll have to ask Lando," you had told her. She bit her tongue.

Lando was just as bad, he had quite literally lost the ability to sleep when you weren't around. It made Grand Prix weekends an actual nightmare when you weren't there, calling you at any times in the day or night.

"Are you alright, it's 4am,"

"Sorry, can't sleep again. The melatonin does nothing,"

"Did you try the tea my mum got you?"

"Baby I just," he scrubs a hand down his exhausted face. "I just need you here."

"I can't just get up and go to Australia."

"I'll get you a flight, or maybe we can-"

"Lando," you say in a sterner voice. "I can't."

He's quiet for a moment, and you wonder what's going through his head. You hardly raised your voice or got intense, certainly never at him. But then again, recently, you seemed to never know what was going through his head.

It was silly to think that Lando was the same man that you began dating. You were 19, you would pray that he had changed somehow over the span of 5 years. But there was something missing that once was. The relationship was becoming more of a task, and that wasn't right. Which is what brought you to this moment, brought you to telling him you needed to talk.

"Lan," you whimper, bringing a hand up where his hold your face on either side. You don't even have to say anything more, he knows you better than you know yourself. And he begins to cry harder.

"I've never loved anyone but you, baby."

"I know."

"I can't, I really don't want to live without you," he shakes his head, standing back up to his full height. His hands stay busy, though, ripping through his hair.

"I'm not going to go away," you explain, agonized that you're calmer than he at this point. You stand from the wicker chair, but don't edge closer to him. "But my career is unpredictable right now, 6 months in Marbella is a long time. And you're, well, everywhere. And you need to focus on that."

"I've multitasked for 5 years," he says bitterly, making you sigh. His eyes are back on the stars, and his back to you makes your eyes blurry again.

"I'm not happy." You finally blurt, making his body stiffen. "I'm really not."

When he looks at you again, his expression reads clearly with fatigue, with anguish. "Please, baby, don't,"

It's your turn to clutch his face, bringing his forehead to touch with yours. Through your contact, you feel the heaves of his body, the breaths he's trying to control. "It's not forever," you whisper, mustering courage. "But we need to stop acting like everything's fine."

"I don't see myself without you."

"You're not," your hold tightens, he leans further into your palm, "but we've grown up together. The flower pot's too small now," you try to joke, he barely can fake amusement.

"I'll buy a thousand new pots."

"We need to clean up the broken one, first." His jaw clenches, you soothe it with your thumb. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He says back, almost silently. "Still wear that Mclaren shirt on race days, I need the luck."

You finally crack a smile. "I'll wear the hat too if my hairstyle permits."

He kisses you, almost convincing himself this if is the last fix he can get for a while, he needed it now. Not that either of you know it, but you both have the same thought. You both notice that your cheeks have each other's tears on them now, not sure which ones came from whom. You were on the same page in that regard, at least.

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

"You should ask y/n out," your best friend says to Lando in the middle of a party. He chokes on his drink, not expecting her to come up to him like she did, and not expecting the words out her mouth.

You all were freshly 19, still congregating in someone's living room to try to have a good time. He knew your friends better than he knew you, the newest of the group in town, only having moved to the area with your family when you were 16.

"Should I, now?" He says, recovering from his fright.

"Yeah," she replies, ignoring the sarcasm. "She goes on about you, it's cute. She'd hurt me if she knew I told you, though. Not sure what she sees in you," his eyes narrow at the girl, which she ignores once again. "You'd be lucky to have a girl like her in your life."

That much, he knew. You were fiercely loyal to your friends and family, and treated him with a kindness that made him melt every time. You were funny, and genuine, and not to mention, the most beautiful person he's sure he knows.

When he bumps into you later at the party, he asks you what you're doing the following evening.

That was the story he'd tell people with a proud grin when they ask how you two got together. All you recount is how he nearly ruined your cute top with a shitty guinness.

He's struck with the memory when he sees the guinness logo in the ads on the walls of a restaurant. "Mate," Max all but snaps his fingers. Lando locks back in, humming for what he missed.

"Was just curious if you wanted to go out tonight. They've been texting in the chat about it, I saw you never responded."

Clubbing wasn't as fun as it used to be, not when you weren't dancing your heart out beside him, or waiting in bed with your nose in a book when he came home because you weren't feeling like going out. It felt like a waste of his time, and like he was sucking the fun out of other people's nights.

"'M alright," he says with a tight mouthed grin. "Gonna sit this one out."

Max looks at his friend, seeing through his response. "When's the last time you went out?"

If he had to take an educated guess, you last graced his apartment that night on the balcony, 4 weeks ago. So, 4 weeks ago. Perhaps longer, judging by the schisms. "A while. Not up to it."

"You're torturing yourself."

"I'm not interested in getting shitfaced, Max."

Max looks away for a second, quickly weighing the pros and cons of asking what he's been wanting to for the last, well, 4 weeks. "Do you think Y/n is wallowing too?"

The sound of your name makes his fingers twitch inadvertently, almost like a flinch. "That's not fair."

"I'm serious, Lando. You said she needed a break because she felt like you two were co-dependent and not actually working through problems, and look at you. You're not functioning without her. I mean, it's your fucking birthday next week, and you haven't brought it up once, you realize that, right?"

He knows he's right. Nothing he said was out of line, or wrong, and that's why Lando has nothing to say back. He wants to argue, to prove him wrong, but he can't. He's seen your ads and campaigns, the beautiful shots of you promoting luxury brands and names that your fans only dreamed of owning. Despite the distance, he was so proud of you still. You worked hard, were disciplined and humble through your success. He had texted you when the Dior campaign had launched, and the message of your thanks, with a smiley face, made him, for just a second, think that things were back to normal.

When they left the restaurant, and ran directly into fans, Lando tried to put on his best face for them, smiling for selfies and signing what was gestured toward him. When a sweet looking girl with glasses shyly spoke up, telling her favorite driver where she was visiting from, his tired eyes light up. "You're from there?" He confirms, and she smiles with an eager nod.

"Y/n is too," he almost mumbles, but every fan in earshot heard it. The typical squeals followed, the hushed whispers amonst themselves on if they'd push the questions they were itching to ask or not. And heard it they did, as the encounter made its way onto social media and gossip pages. But Max was right, his mourning period needed to be over, if anything was going to change for the better.

You call him on his birthday. It was nerve wracking, which made you bitterly laugh, because never did you think you'd be nervous to talk to Lando Norris of all people. One of the few people in the world you wholeheartedly trusted.

It had only been about a month since you requested time apart, and he had honored that. The texts were sparse, the calls nonexistent. Although, that was sort of what had brought you to this point anyway. But you were working on yourself, and your career at the same time, and things were looking better. Change never happened overnight, but the journal your therapist recommended, and the disappearance from social media besides professional posts were great starts.

You bite at your cuticle as the phone rings. You take your cell away from your ear, chest panging at the contact name "Lan <3" at the top of the screen. Was he really going to screen your call? Is that what you deserved, possibly?

"Y/n," he finally answers, and you quickly bring your phone back to your ear.

"Hi," you say awkwardly. "Happy birthday, Lando."

"Thank you," he says stiffly. "I'm happy to hear from you."

"Yeah I um, haven't really been on my phone here," you bite harder on your finger. "I think it's nice here, you'd love Marbella."

"I'm sure I would," he says with what you can hear is a smile. "I miss you, you know?"

"I miss you too," you concede, "how have you been?"

"Not great, I won't lie. Much rather would hear about you."

"'s not my birthday," and he smiles a bit at that.

"Well, racing's fine. But Max is sick of my shit, says I've been wallowing."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

You don't really know what to say, you've rarely been the perpetrator of his negative feelings. No relationship was perfect, but you all hadn't really hit a communication wall until now. It was uncharted, scary territory. "Well, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday, that was all. Have a good day, really. 24 is a big one. Kobe year, that's what someone said to me. I hope this year is great for you."

"Y/n, wait," he halts your beginnings to hang up. "I'd like to come to see you soon, I've got some time before Abu Dhabi and maybe I could swing by Spain on the way."

"Lando," he absolutely hates that you're calling him by his whole name. Lan, that's what would you called him almost exclusively. Lando feels so formal from you.

He needs to hear it, you know he does. He needs to hear that you want to see him, that you need to see him just as much as he yearns to put eyes on you once more. But you were constantly afraid of accidental manipulation, holding him by some invisbile garotte. But this was his first birthday you hadn't celebrated together since you were 19, that meant something.

"Please focus on racing," you implore, and squeeze your eyes shut before adding, "but you if you'd like to come and it won't be an issue in your plans, you're more than welcome."

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

You saw the posts, it wasn't very hard. Fans utterly disappointed that you and Lando hadn't been seen together in ages, putting pieces together quickly after you didn't post for his birthday. It didn't make you feel worse, to be truthful, and to your surprise. You were sure there'd be a barrage of insults hurled your way, maybe a cheating rumor or two. But really, all there was to see were requiems for your relationship, nostalgia for what once was. What did cause you to delete instagram from your phone, was the response to the podcast.

You were single for the time being, that's what you and Lando had agreed on when he visited you. It wasn't an invitation to go out and find the next man to lay in your bed, but you both had agreed that it wasn't healthy to hold out in anticipation of your rekindling.

"You're the only girl I've, you know," he awkwardly trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. He sits up in bed, linens pooling around his hips. Hooking up with your now ex-boyfriend, might've not been your brightest idea, sure, but you were both human, at the end of the day.

"Fucked?" you tease, remaining comfortable against your plush pillow. "I know. First few times kinda showed that."

He looks back at you pointedly. "You cried the first time."

"It hurt!"

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head in fake annoyance. You grin. "I'm sure the girlies are gonna have a field day with you being single now,"

He rolls his eyes again, laying, or rathing slumping, back into the pillow next to you. His arm instinctively comes around the top of your head, you try not to lean into it. "I think I really will finally listen to you and focus on racing."

You turn on your side, admiring his profile as he stares up at the ceiling, probably tangled in his thoughts. His nose sloped perfectly, the little freckles dotting his skin like constellations. Your boy.

"I told my mum."

He snorts. "She hates me now, I'm sure."

"Mm, no, her first ask was what I did," your mom was Lando's biggest fan, through and through. Of course, you were her daughter, but she was convinced he was cosmically made perfectly for you.

He looks at you then, realizing your eyes have been on him the whole time. He copies your position, turning to you so your bodies lay parallel, nowhere to look but each other's eyes.

"Do you regret that I'm the only boyfriend you've ever had?"

You immediately shake your head in denial of the question. "No, not at all," you were lucky, if anything. "You?"

"Well, I've had other girlfriends,"

"Ouch?"

"You knew that," he chuckles, and yeah, you did. "But I don't regret that you're the only one I've been serious about. I still am."

"I know. I am too."

"An ex-boyfriend doesn't lay in bed with you, you know."

"And an ex-girlfriend doesn't still remind your team when your doctor's appointments are,"

"Fair enough, guess we're just weird."

You share a matching grin. "So weird."

So once Alex uploaded the Call Her Daddy episode you were a guest on, and it was official to the masses that you had been single for now almost 4 months, the articles came in. The timelines of you and Lando's relationship, the rumors of him leaving clubs with random girls. You'd be lying if you said you didn't zoom in on some of their faces, relaxing when you recongized most of them as friends or even family members. He wasn't yours to be worried about, you suppose, but you also knew that any girl he decided to share his time with would be a lucky one.

Your friends had tried to get you on dates, that wasn't a lie when you said that on the podcast. But you weren't ever excited to get to know someone new, small talk was painful and you didn't feel comfortable going home with them.

But then, a few weeks later into February, you get a phone call from Lando. "Hi," You answer, pleasently surprised.

"Hey there," he says, sounding slightly out of breath. "How are you?"

"I'm good, great even. Finished up everything down here, leaving Marbella next week to head back home." Home was London to you, not Monaco. You constantly visited, had a family flat there and everything, but couldn't leave officially becuause of your career.

"Congratulations, everything looked stunning," he compliments, and your stomach flutters.

"But um, how are you? I'd ask if you were relaxing, but I'm sure training's well underway."

"Meh, more or less. I'm heading to Surrey next week, actually. Got some stuff to do at HQ."

"Oh," Surrey was only about an hour and a half from where you were in London. "Would you, well, not assuming anything, but if you'd have time to spare, it would be great to catch up?"

This isn't why Lando called you, you fully know this. Who knows what he picked up the phone for, he could be calling to let you know he's eloped with someone he's met in the 6 months you've been apart.

"I'd love to," you hear his grin in his voice. "You haven't moved, have you?"

Not only had you not moved, but you haven't changed much about your flat either. Same bedding, same color schemes, same photos decorating your tables and walls of your friends, family, and Lando. He never took the photos of you down either, and that photo from your 21st birthday was still stuffed in his wallet.

You order takeout, sitting across the kitchen island from each other acting like it didn't feel like your first date again. He acts like he doesn't want to reach out for your hands as you animatedly use them to share stories of Spain, and you act like you don't want to push the curls back that threathen to land over his eyebrows.

The food gets cold as you two catch up, a few glasses of wine becoming a whole bottle gone. You actually can't remember the last time the two of you had done this, and perhaps, absence had truly made your hearts grow fonder.

"Bahrain is on leap day," Lando says, making you gasp.

"That's got to be good luck, no?"

"It's just the first practice,"

"But still, you're starting your first weekend of the year on a special day like that," you muse, "so exciting. I'm excited for you,"

His chest warms at endearment in your voice. You truly and honestly rooted for him through everything, that was one of the things he was most grateful for about you. He knows you don't truly care about all of this, if he won or lost, but that you care about him and his development, how he sees himself and his profession. He fell in love with that about you.

"Would you come?"

You hesitate, daring to look at him from where you had begun to clean the countertop. "To the race? "

He nods, and turn back to the counter. "I don't know, Lan. Is that where we are?"

He hopes so. He's missed you something horrible, prays you missed him just as bad.

Lando takes the cloth from your hand, replacing it with his own. "I know it's only been about 6 months, and that's not enough time to say everything's well and dandy," you fight a smile. "But I want to work through things, with you. I've had nothing but time to consider what was off with us, and I want to be better. For you, more than anything. Yeah, I learned how to be just Lando. But I know I prefer being Lando and Y/n."

You bite your lip, finally meeting his eyes. "I want to take it slow."

"We can do that,"

"So, I don't know if I'm ready for the race. But, my birthday's coming up,"

"It is,"

"And we'll be in Dubai. My sister did it up, got this crazy plan going since it'll be my 25th."

"Quite the old woman you're becoming,"

"Oh get off that," you scoff, pushing his chest. He chuckles and pulls you back into him, where you go willingly. "But, if you can, I'd love for you to come to the dinner."

He raises an eyebrow with a smirk. "You want me to fly to Dubai just for your birthday dinner?"

"You'll be in Saudi Arabia then anyway,"

The smirk gets bigger. "You know my schedule already, love?"

"You're so fucking cheeky, can't stand it," you feign annoyance, but never move from his arms.

He holds you, as your arms delicately find themselves behind his neck, not daring to kiss just yet. To really be honest, you're not sure if you're ready to take that whole plunge.

"I'm happy to be back, even if things are slow. They can be molasses for all I care."

"Thank you for being patient with me," you lean your forehead against his. However, this time, neither of you are crying. Nice, for a change.

"I'd wait decades for you, my love."

After a beat of sweet silence. You speak up once more. "One thing though," he hums to prompt your continuance. "I'm pretty sure, when it's said, it's Y/n and Lando, just so you know."

[atticsandwich]

Hey I like the idea of your fic where mephisto made a pact with mc before mc got yeeted to the past in NB. I know it was a while back but did you make a continuation for that? If not would you consider doing one? I really want to know what happens when mc gets back to og timeline and reunites with meph

hey!! sorry it took me this long to respond, i only recently got around to getting an idea for a continuation. i initially wanted to leave it open ended but i kinda wanted to indulge myself a bit haha :>

—

time, curious time

mephistopheles / gn!mc

a sequel to this fic, in which you come back

(to preface: ignore the hard mode reunion for this one 💀 i still choose to think that "reunion" is a red herring set up by nightbringer bc it does not align at all to how they set up mc's dissappearance in the first place. but more on that theory some other time or maybe im just being delusional idk)

—

It was a day like any other.

R.A.D was bustling with students rushing to go home or hang out after a long day of class, echoes of afterschool plans reverberating through its halls. On one hand, everything seemed as it was— nothing was amiss; there were no violent bouts or random screams of terror, no demon stampedes or curses being thrown at each other.

But, it was still different.

At least, that's how it was for Mephistopheles, who, as usual, was holed up in his office at the newspaper club room. Ever since your disappearance, he's been spotted less and less, only ever coming out when summoned by Diavolo or if he deemed it necessary to go home— he still has a brother awaiting his return to tend to, of course. He never really got used to how quiet the office became, especially during the times he'd typically expect you to barge in like you owned the place. He also never got used to his phone being so... stagnant, missing your daily texts and calls whenever you couldn't visit him. Your name is still pinned at the top of his D-Com list, just in case, he says to himself everyday.

Just in case they come back.

It's been a year since then, yet the memory of the first night of your disappearance is still vivid in his mind. He remembered exhausting all his resources and connections, from the grandest duke to the tiniest noble— he didn't care about the judgemental gruffs and stares he'd get when he asked them if they had any info about a particular human sorcerer, which, considering demon nobility, there was a lot of, to the point where he almost started accussing any noble who responded to him with even the slightest off-tone. Diavolo had to intervene at some point, as the usual snarky, egotistical demon completely stopped sleeping then. His worried brother's face was one he would forever remember, and he made a mental note to never let him see his big, dependable brother in that state ever again.

Things have calmed down now, he supposes, but they never slowed down searching— he never did. Sure, they eventually pieced together that you were sent back somewhere in time and that Solomon was tasked to bring you back, much to his dismay, but there was still a culrpit on the loose, someone bold enough to snatch up a human under the protection of the Demon Prince hinself. Whoever that was— demon, human, whatever— no matter their reason or agenda, still had to answer.

The echoes of the crowd of students outside started getting softer, and Mephisto deems it might be nigh time for a little break. Just in time too, as he starts feeling his eyelids drop and mind fog, a stale cup of tea now cold on the side of his desk. Before drifting to sleep, the last of its scents wafts over to him, reminding him that he did your favorite blend today.

—

This must be a dream, he thinks.

When he opens his eyes he's met with the darkness of his office, the halls outside now dead quiet. Someone must have turned off the lights, as he slowly sits up from his position on the sofa.

Wait, when did he get here?

He surmises it must have been the club president or Diavolo, as they often come to his office to check in on him from time to time. Still, there's a weird feeling bubbling in his stomach, something that he hadn't felt in a while.

Why was his hand so warm?

It's then that he finally notices it— the soft, steady breathing of someone laid next to him. He stops himself from jumping in alarm, and just before his mouth opens in condemnation that some random demon went and slept with him while he was taking a nap—

"Mephisto? Are you awake now?"

A voice lulls him back to his senses.

He knows that voice. He knows it all too well.

He notices the hand clutching his; tightly, like they weren't going to let go anytime soon. He feels the lone pact on his wrist suddenly burst to life, like it never faded in the first place, and he finally realizes what was happening.

If this is a dream, please don't let it end, he pleads.

The figure sits up, still not letting go of his hand. He feels another hand carress his face in a warmth that he never thought he would feel again, before he finally locks eyes with the figure.

"It's not a dream. I'm home."

"You..." the words get caught in his throat, unable to say anything. He resorts to taking his free hand, the one shaking uncontrollably, as he returns the gesture of carressing your face. You lean into his touch, chasing the warmth it radiates.

He doesn't notice his tears starting to flow, nor does he notice you lean towards him in time to react as you kiss away the salted dew from his eyes. In true Mephisto fashion, he retaliates, like he always does, smashing his lips all over your face until it reaches yours, and you laugh as you finally feel his smile while taking in his fervent attempt of making up for lost time— hands still bound together, bodies falling back to the comfort of the couch, your name spilling out of his mouth everytime he catches his breath. In his arms, here,

you're home.

—

tags: @insomniachox @whatever-fanfics

[dirtysvthoughts]

oh, so y'all thought i wasn't gonna write about this? everyone's gonna suffer along with me on this thursday, bc he's literally my adonis, his sexy ass </3

general tags/warnings: boyfriend!chan, female! reader, sexting into video call sex, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, reader (kenny) is obsessed with chan's muscle groups

word count: 1.3k

notes: y'all this chan dropped this morning, had me feeling things, and then this was born, god he's so sexy, wanna suck him off so bad.. anyways, hope y'all enjoy and lemme know if ya liked it :')

imagine chan working out after his schedule, alone in the gym, finishing his last set of weights. he notices his phone light up from across the room, picking it up from where he left it on the floor. he smiles as your name appears along with the green message icon, envisioning your sweet voice as he reads your text:

baby: heyyy, how was ur day? been thinkin about you 🤍

you lie in your bed, in nothing but one of chan's t-shirts and a pair of panties. chan was coming to see you later on the day, and you couldn't wait. even though it had only been a few days since you last saw each other, you couldn't get enough of him. as your mind continues to wander, the ping of a new notification immediately brings you back to reality.

channie: it was pretty good, i'm about to finish my workout. i've been thinking about you too, pretty girl :)

you clench around nothing as you read his new message over two things. one, he called you pretty girl which always got you going; two, he was at the gym. working out. probably shirtless. all of beautifully shaped muscles on display.

you never admitted this to your boyfriend directly, but you were obsessed with his muscles. his shoulders and back are so broad and strong, you felt them up whenever you could. whenever his arms flexed while doing something, you couldn't help but bite down on your lip, thinking about what it would be like to slightly tighten his grasp when his hands were on your throat. and his abs? you so desperately wanted to sink down on them and ride chan, praising him for how sculpted he is and how he makes you feel so good.. all this was on your mind and more as you typed out your response.

baby: oh? ur working out today? 😏 knowing you, ur shirt's probably somewhere across the room 🤣

chan smirks, laughing to himself at your guess. he still had his white shirt on with his sleeves rolled up, but something in him wanted to take the conversation in a new direction.

chan: i mean, it's not, but who's to say i can't take it off right now?

chan: maybe send you a pic or two...

you freeze at the most recent message. you were already needy for him, and he was voluntarily giving you the chance? you couldn't pass this up.

baby: chan, don't tease me.. pls..

baby: if ur serious about this, then lemme see

baby: wanna have you pin me down with those arms 😩

without a second thought, chan takes off his shirt and tosses it across the room. he angles himself in the mirror correctly so you can see all of him, his left arm holding the waistband of his shorts as if he wants you to see more.

then, he takes a video, the camera facing him this time. not saying a word, he smirks at the camera as it goes from his face all the way down to his waist, making sure you could see his defined muscles up close.

he can feel his dick get hard as he types out his next message, sitting down on one of the benches, already thinking about what he would do to you later on that night.

channie: [image]

channie: [image]

channie: [video]

channie: how is it, pretty girl? like what you see? 😏

you were already gone, hands playing with your clit outside your panties, thinking about the last time you had sex with chan. how he pinned you down, how his thrusts were so strong, and how his muscles flexed so deliciously...

you grab your phone with your free hand, and you whimper at the pics he sent you. but you're not ready when you press play on the video, moaning at how insanely hot he is, and he wasn't even doing much.

baby: fuck, channie

baby: ur so fucking sexy

baby: i need u so so bad 🥺

chan moves to lock the door of the room he was in, making sure no one could disturb or see him. he sits back down and opens up the camera again, this time taking a video of him from the waist down.

channie: [video]

channie: need you too, baby

channie: so much that my dick is rock hard now

channie: need you inside of me too

you open the video to reveal chan's big dick, his hands running up and down his shaft, his tip starting to get red. you were in a trance at how he moved, your hands starting to hurt from moving faster.

an idea pops in your head, and you find the voice recorder, tapping on it and the numbers appear across the screen.

"mmm, channie, a-ahh, channie... i'm so wet for you, i'm touching myself but it doesn't f-feel the same at all," you whine feeling your stomach starting to coil, "want you to make me come all over my sh-sheets, a-ah!"

you hit send, and sit up, not wanting to come just yet. you get your vibrator from your drawer, glancing at your phone and noticing that chan has listened and kept your dirty little voice message. seconds after, his name flashes across your screen as a video call. you toss your vibrator on the bed, and set up your phone on top of your pillows. you accept the call just before it disappears.

"damn, my pretty girl doesn't waste any time, does she?" is the first thing you hear as you lift up your shirt so he could see your lower body. you grab the vibrator and slowly place it on your clit, looking directly into the camera as you begin to grind down, loudly moaning at how it amplified how you were feeling.

"s-shit, ch-chan," is all you can manage to say in the moment.

"does it feel good, baby? i know you already wish it was me filling that tight pussy up," he groans as he goes back to touching himself. "god, you're gonna be so in for it tonight."

"i wish you were here, this vibrator only does so much, you're so much better, fuck, those pics you sent me turn me on so much.. you're so big and broad, i just want you ruin me and make me yours."

he smirks, wanting to take you further to the edge. "well, who makes you feel this good, baby? who always gets you so wet your panties are soaked? say my name, baby, tell me you're mine," he tilts his head back as he moves his hand faster on his dick.

"i'm yours, chan, i'm yours! 'm gonna cum, gonna cum, love you s-so much, are you close? " you whine, feeling your climax quickly approaching.

" 'm getting there baby, but you're gonna cum? do it for me then, baby. cum all over those sheets while you're thinking of me fucking you, can't wait to get inside of you.."

you gasp for air as you finally release all of you, chanting his name as if it was the only ting you knew. seeing you cum, chan comes into his hands, his fingers coated in his own juices.

"channie," you sweetly say as you bring your fingers to your mouth, licking them clean, teasing him by taking them in and out. "don't you wanna come taste me yourself?"

he groans out, clearly enjoying the extra show you were putting on for him. "you better take off those panties and get ready for me," he says as he comes out of view to grab his shirt. "i'm hightailing it to your place, i need to have you."

"then come make me feel good baby," you say as you blow a kiss, smiling at chan, ending the video call.

[randxmthxughts]

Unrequited - Chapter 4 - Tsu'tey x Omatikaya!Reader

chapter 2 | chapter 3

wc: 4k

contains: one-sided love, angst, birth giving scene

a/n: you see how i'm spoiling you and posting two chapters within the same week? i'd like some appreciation for that 👀 also, i have to state that in no way i am encouraging or implying slutshaming in this chapter. i don't think it is even a thing on pandora. the reason why some dialogues with mo'at can be seen as harsh is bc she is the tsahik and she believes it is wrong to connect physically without spiritual bond

unrequited masterlist | general masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“I was beginning to think you finally changed your mind about me,” Tsu’tey said playfully, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he saw you.

Your cheeks were flushed from the rushed walk you took to catch him before he left. It was already an hour past the eclipse, and if it weren't for your recent busy evenings, he would have left long ago.

“Now stop trying to pin the things you would do on me,” you rolled your eyes at him, leaning against the entrance.

You were struggling to hide a smile from forming on your lips, relieved that he was still there. Tsu’tey sat on the ground with his back propped against the wall, a small knife in his hand, which he had been using to entertain himself with. The arrows he had sharpened during his waiting were arrayed next to him as a big sign of his boredom.

It wasn’t that Tsu’tey did not have a lot on his mind. The responsibilities of the Olo’eyktan have been taking up his whole days; from the moment the sun rose, he was consumed by the matters that demanded his attention. But when the nights stood still and your bodies were wrapped around each other, he could temporarily forget the weight of his obligations. The warmth of your skin and the softness of your touch have been keeping him distracted, distanced from the things he cared about in the daylight. And the attachment that he started to form to you was like a sudden gust of wind that swept him away, making him long for you more often that he’d like to admit. It scared him.

“You seem drained,” he commented.

“The lessons were harder this week,” you sighed. 

“Ah, I see… I thought you were talented,” his tone was serious, but you could tell that he was only teasing you. Giving you a hard time for making him wait. 

“I am,” you huffed, feeling defensive, “Tsahik thinks that I have a knack for herbals, so she wants me to focus more on the technique… That is where I lack the skill.”

Tsu’tey nodded, listening intently. Recently, the reason why lessons had been draining you was precisely why you and Tsu’tey began spending some time talking about your lives, before pursuing the desires of your bodies. It was strangely comforting to share some of you with Tsu’tey, who had previously known nothing about you. It made him feel cruel sometimes that he was only now getting to know you and discovering your personality, yet he dreaded the feeling of investing in a relationship that wasn’t supposed to last. 

But the ending seemed near when rumors began circulating about you two. It all started out when one of the warriors saw Tsu’tey exiting the training hut early in the morning, and later found your anklet inside. At first, the incident was brushed off as a young trainee's fling, but when Fya’at unintentionally made a comment about your scent during a gathering, the gossip started to spread like a fire. Your attempts to pass it off like a joke were clearly a failure, considering the suspicious gazes following you everywhere, making you feel like a prey in the jungle. 

But the final drop was dramatically worse, when during a communal dinner, a woman named Tse'a'ha suddenly burst into tears. All attention then was turned to her, as she threw a harsh look at Tsu’tey and stomped off. Tsu’tey gulped down and ordered everyone to return to their food, clearly admitting that he had some knowledge of what had happened. The next morning, you found out that Tse’a’ha had brought Tsu’tey gifts in an attempt to court him, but he had turned her down with the words that his heart was already taken. You knew right away that he was referring to Silwanin but the venomous tongues twisted Tsu’tey’s words into gossip, making him out to be a chief who was hiding his mate.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Tsu’tey stood with his arms crossed over his chest, intently surveying the training warriors in front of him. The clattering of weapons echoed through the air as the Olo'eyktan scrutinized their every movement with a critical eye.

“Tsu’tey, may I speak to you in private?” Takuk’s voice distracted him with a note of urgency.

“Sure,” Tsu’tey nodded, turning his gaze towards his warrior, “I’m headed back to the Home Tree, walk with me?”

Takuk hummed in agreement, falling behind the chief. They walked away from the training camp, and once they were out of earshot, Tsu’tey slowed his step, indicating that he was ready to listen. Despite his usual easy going nature, Takuk seemed to be nervous. He cleared his throat, earning a curious look from Tsu’tey.

“What is it?” 

“I wanted to talk to you about Y/N,” Takuk started out slowly, as if testing the waters. 

“What about her?” Tsu’tey tensed up involuntarily, already sensing the direction in which the conversation was headed.

“Well… I was wondering if the rumors about you courting her are true? I do not wish to cross the Olo’eyktan.” 

Takuk’s words seemed to hang in the air, the tension between them palpable. Tsu’tey couldn’t help but feel irritated that the man wasn’t scared of him, approaching him head-on. But there was really no reason to be mad at him, Takuk had the right to check.

“I am not courting her,” Tsu’tey finally answered after a long pause.

“So, if you are not courting her, then, can I?” Takuk's lips curled into a small smile, “Of course, only if there is nothing between you -”

“Y/N is a free woman,” Tsu’tey cut him off, “If you wish to court her, that is up to her.”

“Right,” Takuk nodded in gratitude, “I had a feeling it was only gossip. Thank you.”

Takuk bowed deeply before excusing himself, leaving Tsu’tey lost in his own thoughts. He realized that he had no right to claim you as his own, as he was the one to set the rules from the start. If you showed interest in someone else, he would have to step away with respect and let you live your life free of any complications.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Your eyes burned with tears as you watched Saronyu struggle through her labor, surrounded by a few of you. Her mate held her tightly against his chest as she fought for breath under the stern instructions of Tsahik. You and Neytiri sat on the opposite sides, holding Saronyu's hands as she pushed through the pain. Her swollen belly heaved, with each breath, exhaustion and agony etched on her face. Your own muscles ached in sympathy, imagining the incredible pain she was experiencing.

“You’re doing great, Saronyu,” you wiped her forehead with a damp cloth, “Just a little bit more.”

She nodded her head, her eyes locked onto Tsahik, seated between her legs. Under Mo’at’s commanding voice, she took a deep breath to prepare herself before pushing. You felt her grip tighten around you with a grunt, and then you heard it, when the infant took its first breath with a loud cry. 

Mo'at worked quickly, checking the baby's vitals and cleaning it before placing it into Saronyu's outstretched arms. The room filled with compliments and words of congratulations as the new parents gazed down at their child with giddy smiles. You couldn’t help but smile yourself, the miracle of life never ceasing to amaze you. This was the first birth after the battle with the sky people, and it seemed to symbolize something greater for the clan. Saronyu’s firstborn was a reminder for hope and resilience. Life on Pandora would continue no matter the hardships.

Neytiri was the first to leave the hut, while you stayed behind to help Mo’at with cleaning up. She left the flap open, revealing a small window into what was happening inside. A group of Na’vi lingered outside the hut and cheered in excitement and pride, when Neytiri revealed the newborn’s name. Basking in the joyous atmosphere, Jake pulled his mate into a tight embrace. She smiled at him, as he complimented her assistance. 

Tsu’tey stood a little behind them, his eyes locking on your frame inside the hut. He felt a sense of warmth spread through his chest at the way you cradled the baby so gently. You were cooing at it with a small smile, occasionally lifting your gaze to Saronyu and her mate who were beaming at their newfound bundle of joy. As the Olo'eyktan, Tsu’tey felt obligated to be present in a monumental moment like this. He had seen birthgivings before but this one, due to its timing, felt special. A small smile played at the corner of his lips, which did not escape Neytiri’s curious eye. She tugged at his arm playfully.

“Y/N is good with babies, no?” she asked, capturing his attention.

Tsu’tey only hummed in agreement, knowing that she was probably getting at something, but he was too distracted to think about it . Jake’s eyes flickered between his mate and Tsu’tey with a clear skepticism. He was convinced that Mo’at’s theory was baseless: the only time he ever saw you and Tsu’tey interact was when he yelled at you in the healing hut. But Neytiri had grown up with both of you, she could sense that the dynamic had shifted. She just couldn’t figure out the reason for it. 

“She can make an excellent Tsahik one day,” Neytiri pressed, “My mother wouldn’t choose just anyone to give lessons to.”

Tsu’tey knew it had been true. Mo’at had a strong judge of character, knowing immediately if she liked someone or not: it was rare to convince her otherwise. Tsahik picking someone for individual lessons was the highest praise any healer, besides the tsakarem, could get. You were talented, and Mo’at recognized that. 

But Tsu’tey also felt attacked by her choice. It was clear to him that Mo’at had been growing impatient with him and was threatening to choose a tsakarem on her own. Her strong personality didn’t go well with Tsu’tey’s, so she was pushing him into either accepting her choice of future Tsahik, or finding himself a new mate. Despite this knowledge, Tsu’tey decided against revealing it to you when you first told him about taking lessons. You seemed so happy to be given such an opportunity, and he did not wish to minimize your efforts to the mere wish of Mo’at trying to set you up with the chief.

“Neytiri,” Jake pulled her back into him gently, “Leave him alone.”

“No,” she shook her head, like a child, “I am right about this, you will see.”

Jake sighed with a small smirk, watching Neytiri take Tsu’tey by his wrist and lead him away. Tsu’tey was confused but he trailed after her regardless. When she reached a more private setting, she crouched down and encouraged Tsu’tey to do the same. 

“I know that lately my mother has been pushing you to find a mate,” she gave him a knowing look.

“She is too stubborn,” Tsu’tey let out a defeated chuckle. It was beginning to feel like a big joke that was being played on him, “She won’t hear my refusal.” “What is the reason for your refusal?” Neytiri asked softly.

Tsu’tey took a long pause, carefully considering his answer. If there was anyone he could confide in, it would be Neytiri. After all, she understood the toll that Silwanin’s death had taken on him.

“I can’t force myself again,” he answered with a shake of his head, “Eywa knows… I’ve tried very hard. You know it too - we did our best.”

Tsu’tey gestured between the two of them, earning her understanding nod. Neytiri recalled the time when they were first forced into a bond. Back then, she had tried her hardest to feel something more for Tsu’tey. But she could only see him as a brother, and so did he. His heart never stopped belonging to Silwanin, so all they could do was put on a facade to respect the clan. Much to Neytiri’s liking, that quickly crumbled when Jake appeared in her life.

“Tsu’tey, you will always love Silwanin. No one can take that away from you,” she reached out to point to his chest, “She will always be in your heart. Just like she is in mine,” Neytiri then pointed to her own chest, “But life must go on. Dwelling on the past will not leave space for hope.”

“Hope for what? All I got from hoping was loss and disappointment,” Tsu’tey threw harshly.

“If I have learned anything from loss is that there is always a new beginning,” Neytiri’s gaze softened, as she thought back to Jake. 

“Not all of us are destined for new beginnings.”

“I understand your pain, Tsu'tey, but you cannot keep your heart closed off forever,” Neytiri placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I am sure that Eywa has something planned for you, but you refuse to accept it…Silwanin would have wanted you to be happy.”

Tsu’tey covered her hand with his, letting the words sink in. Deep down, he knew there was some truth to what she was saying, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it. It was too risky to get his hopes high up again. 

“Tell me what is bothering you,” she asked gently, receiving nothing but silence in return, “A secret for a secret?”

Tsu’tey couldn’t help but smirk at the phrase; it reminded him of the way they used to negotiate as kids. A secret for a secret. What could Neytiri possibly tell him to make him reveal his attachment to you? He felt like she was bluffing, but Neytiri proceeded without getting his approval.

“I am pregnant,” her voice rang softly in his ears.

His eyes widened, as he gazed down at her stomach. There was no visible bump yet, it was far too soon for her to be showing, but the way she cradled her middle was enough to make his heart race.

“Is it true?” he asked.��

“You are one of the first to know,” Neytiri nodded with a smile, “It is still early, but the baby grows stronger with each passing day. My mother wanted me to be present during Saronyu’s labor to be prepared for my own.”

“Does Jake Sully know?” Tsu’tey asked tentatively.

“I will tell him tonight.”

Tsu’tey felt a surge of joy overwhelm him as he pulled her into his arms for a warm embrace. Despite their occasional disagreements, Neytiri was like a sister to him, the only family he had left. The fact that she confided in him about her pregnancy before Jake made Tsu’tey feel incredibly touched.

“May Eywa bless your child,” Tsu’tey murmured, his hand rubbing her back. 

When they pulled apart, there was a twinkle in her eyes. Tsu’tey couldn't help but smile at how happy she seemed. He watched her lose so much in her life, this was the new beginning she deserved. He wondered if he deserved a chance at happiness too.

“Now it is your turn,” Neytiri said. Tsu’tey took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the conversation ahead.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Wrong,” Mo’at announced with a harsh tone, watching intently as you worked on making a paste.

You winced, applying more force to the pestle but it didn’t make much difference. Her eyes pierced through you with judgment, yet you couldn’t figure out what exactly you were doing wrong.

“The force must come from the shoulders, not the whole body,” she spoke up, her voice stern, as if she had just read your mind.

You felt a pang of embarrassment, as you tried again, this time using your shoulders only to apply the necessary pressure. Mo'at remained silent, seeming more satisfied with your correction. She rarely admitted to you doing something right, but when you slipped up, she would make you stay late and work, until you mastered the technique. It seemed like this lesson was going to stretch out into a longer one too.

“I apologize for my interruption,” a voice broke the quiet concentration of the lesson, catching both you and Mo’at by surprise. 

Takuk stood awkwardly in the entrance, before bowing deeply in greeting. His eyes flickered playfully between you and Tsahik, until his gaze settled on Mo’at. She waited patiently for him to continue.

“I did not wish to disturb the lesson,” he said, “I just wanted to know when I can expect it to end?”

“Why do you need to know that?” Mo’at raised an eyebrow, her eyes sharp and questioning.

“I would like to invite Y/N for a stroll after she is done,” he admitted, throwing a quick glance at you.

You felt a blush creeping up your neck, caught off guard by his boldness. Mo’at looked back at you with slight confusion, urging you to answer.

“I am afraid I already have plans to tend to after my lesson, Takuk,” you answered apologetically.

“It is alright, we can go tomorrow. I just have something important to talk to you about.”

“Oh,” was all you could say, “Sure?”

“I will see you tomorrow then. I’m sorry again for the interruption,” Takuk said, bowing before taking his leave.

You could sense Mo’at’s disapproval radiating off of her, and you felt ashamed to have negotiated plans in front of her during the middle of the lesson. She clicked her tongue in irritation, gesturing at the pestle and mortar. You quickly resumed pounding the herbs, feeling her eyes on you.

“That boy wants to court you?”

“Oh, I am not sure,” you mumbled, “Maybe.”

“He must either be brave or stupid for going after a promised woman.”

You looked up at her in surprise, pausing in your movements before coming to a stop.

“I am not a promised woman,” you objected.

“Of course you are,” her voice was stern, “You have mated with the Olo'eyktan.”

“What? I am not -” you shook your head in bewilderment.

“Do you think I am stupid?” she tsked, gesturing at you, “I can smell him on you every time you come here. No amount of washing can cover that. Maybe once, but not this often.”

Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest at how accurately she had pinpointed it. Was there even any point in denying it? Mo’at could see right through you.

“You must warn that boy to stay away. He must not disrespect his Olo'eyktan, you and Tsu’tey are now mates,” she ordered.

“We are not mates, Tsahik,” embarrassed, you lowered your gaze.

“Of course, you are, You have performed a tsaheylu and mated before Eywa. You are bonded for life now,” she explained angrily, as if you were dense. Your shoulders slumped involuntarily.

“There was no blessing from Eywa. No tsaheylu,” you admitted quietly. 

Mo’at stared at you in shock, her eyes widening in disbelief. With a deep sigh, she stood up and stormed out of the hut, leaving you alone in your thoughts. Deep in shame, you remained seated on the ground, your eyes still glued to the same spot. Tsahik must think very little of you now and will most likely forbid you from ever visiting her again. You were suddenly jolted back to reality by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the hut. You quickly scrambled to your feet, when you saw Mo’at enter with Tsu’tey. 

She gestured for him to stand next to you, and he complied, a knowing expression already plastered on his face as he threw you a quick glance. Mo'at looked angrier than you had ever seen her before, her eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made you shrink back in fear.

“What is this that I am hearing?” she demanded loudly, "You have committed a great disrespect to Eywa."

You lowered your ears, feeling the blood rush to your face in embarrassment. Involuntarily, Tsu’tey lowered his ears too. Despite his newfound confidence as the chief, he still felt ashamed in front of Mo’at. He had always considered her to be like a second mother to him. Mo’at spoke again, her voice dripping with disapproval.

“You insulted and ignored the laws of Eywa. You continued to fool around with no bond, no tsaheylu,” she pressed her hand to her forehead, sensing a headache approaching, “How long has this been going on?” 

“Since the last moon,” Tsu’tey answered. Tsahik’s face twisted with a mixture of disappointment and disgust. She had never expected Tsu'tey, a man so proper and dedicated to his duty, to behave like a selfish, reckless child.

“Stupid,” she spat, gesturing between the two of you, “If you want to remain respected clan members, you must fix this… Either you begin to court this girl properly and make a bond with the blessing of Eywa, or you leave her alone to find herself a mate.”

“But Tsahik -” you opened your mouth to protest, but Mo'at hissed at you, cutting you off.

“I do not wish to hear anything else. Do not show your faces to me unless you fix this.”

She dismissed you with a wave of your hand, as you and Tsu’tey rushed to step out of the hut. The darkness outside enveloped you, and you wondered where Mo’at had found Tsu’tey. You cursed him mentally for not being farther away. 

“I’m sorry for telling her, she just…” you trailed off guiltily. 

“I know, it’s not your fault,” Tsu’tey nodded in understanding.

He strode ahead, and you followed behind him in silence, waiting for him to speak. Things were going to change now, and you hoped that the bond that was forming between you and Tsu’tey would help, but his next words quickly shattered it.

“Tsahik is right. We can’t be together,” Tsu'tey said, his voice heavy with resignation, “I am being selfish.”

“What are you saying?” you scrunched up your face.

“From now on, we must stop seeing each other. I promise to respect your space, and there will be no reason to dwell on what has happened between us anymore. I want you to have the freedom to find a mate.”

“No! I don’t want a mate,” you protested,  “I don’t want anyone, I only want you. You know that.”

“It is wrong,” Tsu’tey stepped away from you, “I am grateful for the time we spent together, but Tsahik is right. I have to dedicate myself to my duty and give you a chance to choose a proper mate.”

“This is nonsense,” you huffed, “I thought we had an agreement.”

“Yes,” Tsu’tey agreed, “Which I am following through with right now. I think Takuk and you can make an excellent match.”

“Takuk?” you asked, the hurt evident in your voice.

“He asked for my permission to court you this morning. You should give him a chance.”

You felt your heart shatter into pieces. He had been the one to push you towards someone else, making it clear that he didn't love you. You had clung to the hope that his feelings might change, but now it seemed like he had given up on you completely. Your throat tightened as tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

"You had no right to do that, to give permission on my behalf," you jabbed a finger into his chest, your voice filled with anger, "You are merciless."

“I am sorry, Y/N,” Tsu’tey let out a long sigh, catching your hand in his, “I will not forgive myself if I ruin your chance at happiness.”

His eyes bore into yours, expression softenting. For a fleeting moment it felt like he hated himself for letting you down. He squeezed your hand, bringing it to his chest.

“You have no idea how much I love you, do you?” you asked bitterly, pulling your hand out of his grasp, “I was stupid for thinking you could ever, ever feel the same way. And you warned me from the beginning.”

"It is not true, I -” Tsu’tey interrupted himself, shaking his head, “I care for you deeply but I cannot give you what you want.”

He caught your hand again but you yanked it away from his grip. The pain in your chest was suffocating you.

"Don't touch me," you hissed.

The tears that threatened to fall earlier were now streaming down your face, as you walked away, leaving Tsu’tey standing there alone. By the time you reached home, you couldn’t stop the sobs that wracked your body. You weren't sure if you could ever put your shattered heart back together because Tsu'tey now possessed every single piece of it.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

next chapter

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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[seventh-district]

Dying Star

In the back of your mind, you recall something you once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can still see a star that's already burnt out, because its light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

You remember Sam's words, once whispered to you on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

You think about dead stars.

You think about time.

- - - - - - -

Sam’s words have been weighing heavy on your mind ever since you discussed your shared future and the various forms it could take. You didn’t realize just how heavy they were until it all came spilling out of your tired mind on a late night spent together beneath the stars.

Pairing: Sam x Darlin' / Reader

Word Count: 4,053

Contains: [angst] [a dash of humor] [a hint of chubby!Sam bc i like 'em strong and soft] [crying] [cuddling (dub-con cuddles with Quinn in the past & consensual ones with Sam in the present)] [emotional hurt/comfort] [implied/referenced dub-con sex (nothing graphic) (in the past between Darlin' and Quinn to be specific) (refer to my Ao3 notes for further explanation)] [mentioned Quinn] [not quite Dissociation i guess but Darlin' does zone-out/get lost in thought more than once] [pet names (Darlin' (obvs.) and honey)] [Reader is Darlin'] [Sam wears a cowboy hat bc i said so] [some passive suicidality from Sam if you squint (hell, maybe you don't even have to squint)]

A/Ns: Well, well, well, here I am, the person who said they wouldn't write any Redactedverse fanfic. I recently felt a mighty need to expand upon the blurb I wrote in this post, and I'm braving my fandom anxiety by sharing it here. pls be nice 2 me abt it

Timeline-wise, this fic takes place sometime after the ‘Talking About the Future With Your Vampire Mate’ audio but sometime before their presumed eventual departure from the house that William gave Sam, given that they've already had the 'turning' discussion but are still on the same roof in this fic.

This is a songfic, inspired by and quoting verses from 3 songs. Those being:

‘Dying Star’ by Ashnikko feat. Ethel Cain

‘Fix What You Didn’t Break’ by Nate Smith

‘No Plan’ by Hozier

The roof of Sam’s house is far from a ‘cushy’ place to relax. But as you lie here next to him under the stars, a knowledge settles within you that you wouldn’t trade the rough shingles beneath you for the softest mattress in the world. Not if it meant there’d be anyone other than him lying next to you.

Some people might counter that it’s an easy thing for you to say, given the number of nights you’ve thrown a balled-up shirt onto one end of a worn-out couch and called it a bed. But some people don’t know you as well as they think they do.

You’ve known luxury. Quinn might’ve been just as content taking his fill on a seedy motel bed as he was wrapped in silks at a Hilton, but he knew how to play up the luxe when it served him to do so. And in the early days as he worked to lure you in, it did. Plush sheets and expensive drinks helped to soften the preordained blows and dull the imminent pain that your nights with him held.

Once you’d latched onto the bait though, he let the act drop one piece at a time, like props collapsing on a stage. After all, what was the point in all of those frivolities when you both knew what you really came to him for? It wasn’t to be wined and dined, it wasn’t to be dressed up and shown off, and it wasn’t even to be slowly stripped of it all, laid out across the rolling clouds of a pillowy mattress.

It was to be used. Tranced. Restrained. Bitten. Drank from. Choked. Hit. Edged. Denied. Made to writhe and whine and bleed and plead. Plead for more, for less, for nothing, for anything. Anything to quiet your mind and fill the ever-expanding void inside you where you suspect love was supposed to live.

That’s what you both really wanted.

At least, that’s what you told him you wanted.

That’s what you told yourself.

You only got what you asked for.

To your right, Sam stirs, stretching gently with a yawn. The soft noise he releases as he does so reminds you of where you are, and you trace back through your thoughts to find how you got so lost.

…Right. Luxury.

While your relationship with Quinn certainly changed over time, you never forgot what it felt like in the beginning. 

You remember nights laid next to him, body sore, mind quiet. Quinn’s idea of aftercare was lacking to say the least, but you had nothing better to compare it to at the time, and you’d take what you could get. At least your head felt empty, and the bed was soft. Exhaustion would pull you under soon enough.

The mattress, sheets, and pillows enveloping you were likely worth more than you even made that past month. ...Or several. You found that display of luxury hard to be impressed by though, when it wasn’t the type of comfort you’d been seeking.

As Quinn shifted in his presumed sleep, pulling you in tighter, you didn’t fight it. You found yourself unwilling to fight anything he did, like his mere presence was enough to drain the fight right out of you. You told yourself that you were okay with that. Because you wanted it.

Lying there with your head on his bare chest, you took a deep breath and told yourself that you liked the stench of cheap cologne, poorly masking the cigarettes and alcohol on his breath. You silently told yourself that you liked everything. You liked the pain that he chased with hints of pleasure. You liked the loss of power, the way you couldn’t fight back if you wanted to once he looked you in the eyes. You liked all the things he said, no matter how much the truth might hurt.

He was right, you supposed. Your desires, the things you craved, the depravity that you so enjoyed, wasn’t normal. It was uncommon, unusual, and in the eyes of some, unfathomable. To possess such dark desires, there must be something truly broken inside you.

How lucky you were, to have found someone willing to indulge you. Someone that could give you everything you wanted, and be so kind as to keep it a secret too. He promised that word of the things he did to you, the things you let him do, would never get out. You remember the way he held your hand as he told you, falling for the guise of sincerity in his eyes. You remember his warm smile, and his razor sharp teeth.

You remember seeing that exact same smile on his face through one-way glass as he sat across from Sam and told him everything.

You stood in that room and thought back to those nights of luxury. To the feeling of his nails ghosting over the freshly healed punctures in your neck. To the way he held you against him. You remember laying there, lifeless, feeling like prey playing dead. Afraid to move, afraid to disturb him. But why? He hadn’t threatened you. He never told you that you had to stay. He never said that you couldn’t move, or pull away. So why did you feel that way?

As you stood, helplessly witnessing hours of his slander in that interrogation room, you understood. Your rose-tinted glasses had long since shattered, and you saw that smile for what it was. It was the smile of a man playing a dangerous game, brimming with satisfaction, thinking he’d won.

The radio near you begins to crackle, static obscuring the hosts voice as they announce the upcoming song. Sam doesn’t even open his eyes, just raises a hand and reaches out, blindly adjusting the antenna of the old device.

You’ve teased him for holding onto it for so long, as he is wont to do with damn near all of his possessions. But as you watch him deftly extend and angle the antenna with practiced care, the response he once gave you proves itself true once again.

“I don’t wanna replace it, Darlin’. It’s not broken. It just needs someone who knows how to make it sing again.”

The static clears, and music flows through the radio’s old speakers once more.

You watch Sam return his hand to its prior position beneath his head, acting as a makeshift pillow of his own. The way he’s lying has his hat pushed forward, and it’d be doing a damn good job of shielding his face from the sun if it weren’t somewhere around midnight at the moment. Still, it suits him somehow, despite its lack of any practicality. All he’s missing is a stalk of wheat between his teeth and a tree to lean against and he’d be the spitting image of the cowboy he swears he isn’t.

His other hand rests on the soft curve of his stomach, rising and falling again as he breathes. He’s the image of peace in moments like these, and you’re drawn to it like a moth to flame. Maybe one of these days you’ll find some of your own, but for now you’re more than content to bask in his.

As you admire him, he takes a slow, deep breath and you mirror it on instinct. The grounding practice helps you leave your mind and return to your body, if just for a moment. In doing so, you realize just how tense your ruminations have made you.

You relax your hands, releasing the blanket beneath you from your iron grip. You brush your palms over it, worried that you’ve torn the fabric once you realize that your nails had halfway shifted to claws. You don’t fret much over damage to your own possessions, but this blanket is Sam’s and you’d hate to ruin it. Though, you suppose he doesn’t prize it too much or he wouldn’t have laid it out here across the roof in the first place.

“If I buy somethin’ it’s because I wanna use it. Now quit frettin’ and get over here.” You recall what he told you earlier as he patted the blanket next to him in invitation, and you smile.

Doing a small stretch of your own, you release the tension in your shoulders, turning your attention back to the stars above you. For a while, you let the soft music wash over your tired mind.

“I asked him not to kill me politely. He drained my magic core, bottled up at the source. I washed up on the sea glass shores. I’m nobody's captive.”

In spite of your best efforts to relax, you’re still subconsciously futzing with the loose threads of the old blanket beneath you.

You’re made aware of it when Sam reaches a hand down, gently laying it over yours and effectively stilling your anxious motion.

“Burning like a dying star, invasive weeds rooted in my heart, set in a crooked trajectory. The journey here was hard, I was almost pulled apart. Trying to leave his orbit took what’s left of me.”

You flip your hand over beneath his so you can hold it properly, lacing your fingers together.

For reasons beyond your understanding, emotion tightens your throat, the threat of tears pooling in your eyes.

…You must be more tired than you thought.

As minutes pass and one song fades into another, your gaze dances across the blurry, scattered points of light in the dark sky.

“You were the star in the pitch black, shine the way on the way back. Out of nowhere, answered all my prayers.”

Sam’s always been so much better at identifying stars and finding constellations. But as the music plays, you begin to see one of your own.

“Picked up the towel that I threw in, took in a heart that was ruined. Showed me the past ain’t a tattoo, loved me even when you didn’t have to.”

“Sam.” You squeeze his hand to get his attention.

He squeezes back in acknowledgment. “Hm?”

“I want you to look at something.” You swallow back the emotion that tries to seep into your voice, but it catches his attention all the same.

He leans up and lifts his hat from his head, setting it aside near the radio. He then reaches to turn a dial back, lowering the music’s volume to give you his full attention.

You release his hand, raising yours up as he turns back to face you. You don’t say anything at first, nearly too lost in your own mind to realize you need to actually voice your developing thoughts.

"What—what're you pointin' at Darlin'?"

Your hazy focus is trained on the brightest star visible in your line of sight, arm stretched out to the sky above you. "That really bright one, to the... to the left."

Sam does his best to follow your less-than-specific directions of 'to the left', your pointed finger doing little to help given the difference in perspective. Luckily, after all these years, he knows this stretch of night sky like the back of his hand, so it isn't hard to locate the brightest one. Ghosting his fingers up along your exposed wrist where your sleeve had slipped back, he takes your hand in his again and brings it back down to earth. "Okay, yeah, I see it now. What about it though?"

"That's you." You say, matter-of-factly.

"That's me?" He questions, humor in his tone.

"Mhm." You nod with finality, blinking slow.

Sam considers the odd statement for a moment before gently correcting you. "I'm uh, I'm pretty sure that's Sirius, actually."

You scoff. "I am being serious."

Sam stifles a laugh. "No—no I mean—like... what's another name for it... Oh, it's also called the Dog Star."

"C'mon Sam, at least call it the Wolf Star if you're trying to turn this around on me..."

He shakes his head and readies himself to explain further, but you cut him off before he can start. "But no. No, this isn't about me. That's you."

He decides to play along, finding something endearing in your overtired nonsense. "Okay... then would'ja be so kind as to explain to this confused old man just how, or why that star is me?"

Your frown is audible in your voice as you latch onto the wrong part of his sentence. "You're not old, Sam. ...Do I need to tell Asher to kick the jokes down a notch?"

He smiles at your over-protectivity. "There'll be no need for that, now. Was just a joke, honey, I promise."

You huff, but begrudgingly shift focus back to the prior topic. "It's... I dunno. It's just you, Sam. It's... bright. Light. Something warm, out there in the cold dark. Standing out amongst all the rest. Calling to me, stealing my attention.”

Sam’s brow furrows as you continue to explain, realization setting in that you really are being serious.

“I... I didn't come out here looking for it, but there it is. ...And there you were. In the dark. The only bright thing I'd seen in... fuck, in years. Years of chasing fleeting warmth, tripping over myself in the pitch black, falling into... places and people that I shouldn't have. You were the light in that darkness. Even there, at Wonderworld, surrounded by the ghost of him. Your warmth, your presence, your aura—even with all of your walls up, you outshone it. Your warmth didn't hurt. I didn't have to squint when I looked at you. You weren't the blinding sun. You were the brightest star I'd ever seen. You guided me home."

In the back of your mind, you recall something you once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can still see a star that's already burnt out, because its light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

You remember Sam's words, once whispered to you on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

You think about dead stars.

You think about time.

"...-lin'? Darlin'?" Sam's calloused hand squeezes yours tight, his urgent tone pulling you out of your thoughts. "There you are. Think I lost ya' for a minute there... you good?"

You look up at Sam, concern creasing his features, faint shadows cast across his face from the light of the dying stars above him.

You reach out, pulling him down into you. He falters for a moment at the sudden proximity, but quickly embraces you in turn. Burying your face into his collar, Sam's concern grows when he feels it saturate with tears. A human might struggle to hear your words, muffled against the thick flannel, but his hearing catches them just fine.

"Don't burn out too quickly. Please. I still need you here. I don't—I don't wanna be left in the dark again. Please, please Sam. Don't leave me here. I'm not selfish enough to ask you for forever, but please. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet."

The words feel like a weight being lifted from your shoulders, but with it comes a flood of emotion they’d been holding back. You cry harder into him, and as much as it pains Sam to witness, he lets you feel it, for as long as you need.

Your fear of losing him manifests itself physically, nails curling and sharpening again. When he feels them prick his skin through the fabric of his shirt, he calls your name but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans further down into you, letting his weight ground you. “Darlin’, I am right here. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

As you eventually cry yourself out, enough wherewithal returns to you to realize that you should probably release the poor man from your grasp, and the awkward position you pulled him into. When he pulls away enough to see your face, you notice a string of snot running from your nose to his shirt collar. Quickly batting it away out of embarrassment, you cringe, voice thick as you apologize. “Eugh, gross. Uh… sorry. About that.”

He shakes his head, laughing good-naturedly as you wipe at your nose with your jacket sleeve. “It’s completely fine, honey. After all, I’ve been covered in plenty of your, uh… various fluids before. When you come from my line of work, this is child’s play.”

He leans to his right, reaching back and pulling—of all things—a handkerchief from his jeans’ left back pocket. You laugh at his words, and at the sight, but with how congested you are it turns into more of a hacking cough than anything. Accepting his offering, you blow your nose into the black patterned fabric.

As soon as you can speak somewhat clearly, you can’t stop the teasing remark that slips out of you, gesturing with the wad of fabric in your hand. “You know, you really aren’t beating the cowboy allegations with stuff like this.”

He rolls his eyes but his soft smile remains. “It’s a practical thing to have on me, ‘allegations’ be damned.”

You shake your head with a smile of your own, but don’t disagree. As you’re visibly unsure what to do with the dirtied fabric, he takes it from you, setting it aside. “I’ll toss it in the wash when we go back inside. Along with my shirt, and…” He eyes you for a moment. “…that jacket of yours too, given how long you’ve probably been wearin’ it.”

Normally you’d argue that it hasn’t been that long, but come to think of it, you actually can’t recall when you last washed the thing.

Reaching up and rubbing your temples, you already regret your crying fit as a headache begins to set in. “Fuck, Sam... I’m sorry for… whatever that just was. I don’t know what came over me.”

His expression falls into something serious again. “You never need to apologize for feeling. And it certainly seems like… you needed to feel that.”

You nod quietly, but don’t elaborate, prompting him to question you gently. “Darlin’. What was that about? The—the askin’ me not to leave. Are you… afraid that I’m gonna leave you?”

You close your eyes, weighing out your response. “…Not in the sense that you’ll break up with me or something, no.”

His gaze narrows and his head tilts as he rolls your answer over in his mind. “If it ain’t that, then—” He remembers how you mentioned ‘forever’ and cuts himself off as the puzzle pieces start coming together. “Oh. …Oh, Darlin’, no.”

You open your eyes to watch as he shifts from leaning next to you, moving to sit up beside you. “Is this about what I told you, when we sat up here and had our uh… turning discussion?”

You hate to admit it, but you nod in confirmation. “…It’s your choice, Sam, and I never want to take that away from you. I shouldn’t have said what I just did, I—I don’t want to make you feel guilty, or like you have to stick around for my sake. But I’d be lying to you if I said it hasn’t been playing on my mind. The thought of you… leaving. Like that.”

He reaches up, running a hand through his hair. “I… think I maybe should’ve been a bit more clear, when I said that. Because I wasn’t talking about any time soon. I didn’t want to give you the false impression that I plan on sticking around for centuries, but… I also wasn’t trying to imply that I’ve got plans to do it next week either.”

You bolt upright, voice cracking. “Next week?! I sure as shit hope not!” You grab your head, pain flaring and suddenly dizzy from the quick shift in position.

He places a hand on your shoulder to steady you. “I’m not, honey, I’m not. Did you catch the rest of my sentence? I’ve got no plans to leave this world any time soon. I promise.”

You groan, head pounding. “I heard you, I did, I just—fuck, I don’t even wanna think about you leaving so soon. Here I am, stressing, thinking I’ve only got—I don’t know—some odd years left with you, and…” You sigh, trailing off.

Sam stays quiet for a minute, letting the crickets sing.

Eventually, he interrupts their chorus. “…Can I get closer to you?”

You nod. “…Please.”

He closes the gap between you, carefully wrapping a strong arm around your curled shoulders. “You’ve got way more than a couple years. I promise you that.” Your tension begins to ease a bit as he clarifies. “You… you’ve helped me find a life that I actually feel like livin’ again, for the first time in a long time. And I want to experience it with you for as long as I can.”

“…Really?” Your voice sounds so small, so unsure, so… unlike you when you question him that he wants to kick himself in his own ass for the role he unintentionally played in making you feel this way.

“Yes. Really. I mean—” His voice takes on an edge of humor. “If you decide to set your sights on the year 3,000…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know about that. But as far as the 21st century is concerned? …I think I’d like to see it through. For as long as you’re there to see it with me.”

His words cause fresh tears to well up in your eyes, and you sniff in an attempt to hold them back. The sound catches his attention, and he leans forward, thumbing across your warm cheek. “…I’m makin’ you cry again…”

You shake your head, clearing your throat. “No—No, it’s okay. It’s good. They’re… they’re good. It’s… relief.”

He breathes out a relieved sigh of his own. “Yeah?”

You nod, leaning into him. “Yeah.”

As you rest against each other, breathing in the cool night air, you nudge him with your shoulder. “Can we… lay back? For a bit?”

He squeezes your arm in gentle confirmation. “Of course.”

He twists and reaches back to straighten the wrinkled blanket beneath you, before laying out across it himself. The radio crackles as he turns the volume back up a bit. Watching him with tired eyes, you smile at the sight of him patting his chest in habitual invitation.

“Sit in and watch the sunlight fade. Honey, enjoy, it’s gettin’ late. There’s no plan. There’s no hand on the reign. As Mack explained, there will be darkness again.”

Curling up against his side and laying your head on his chest, you release a heavy sigh when his hand comes up to rest on your shoulder. As his fingers press rhythmically into the tense muscle beneath them, you breathe in his scent. Black coffee and wildflower honey… he smells like home.

“Your secret is safe with me, and if secrets were like seeds, when I’m lyin’ under marble, marvel at flowers you’ll have made.”

You reach your hand out across his broad chest, slipping beneath his open flannel and sliding down to rest on his waist. He sighs, relaxing further beneath your touch.

“My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand. That’s how I know now that you understand.”

Yeah, you’ll take this over ‘luxury’ any damn day.

“There’s no plan. There’s no race to be run.”

Laying there with him, listening to the low hum of the radio, the moment grows so comfortable that you almost hesitate to break it.

“The harder the pain, honey, the sweeter the song.”

“…Sam?” You whisper into the night.

His hand sweeps across your back before returning to your shoulder. “I’m here, Darlin’.”

“There’s no plan. There’s no kingdom to come.”

You smile. “I… I’d like to be there, to be here, to see it through with you, too.”

It takes him a moment to recall exactly what you’re referring to, but when it hits him he hums a low understanding tone, clearly pleased. “Then let’s see where it takes us, yeah?”

“But I’ll be your man if you got love to get done.”

He presses a soft kiss to your temple. “We’ve got plenty a’ time.”

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. You can find my extensive notes and commentary on this fic right here on Ao3. My Sam & Darlin' Playlist My Sam Playlist My Darlin' Playlist My Sam & Darlin' Moodboard My Sam Moodboard My Darlin' Moodboard Header Image Credit: Gage Smith on Unsplash

[thedvilsinthedetails]

wrote a quick, just fluff, slice of life microfic w rosekiller (679 words)

wrote it pretty quickly so the description is #entirelynonexistant

Oh for the record ‘grunkle ford’ is a gravity falls character bahaha

also ten things I hate about you I LOVE THAT MOVIE thats the literal only reason I have them watching it is just bc I love it lmao

CW: reference to background sexual stuff but nothing depicted (its Barty btw bc Evan is ace in this)

Evan got back home at around seven, rain soaked and shivering from shitty London weather. He leaned against the door with a sigh, throwing an angry glance at the umbrella he’d decided he wouldn’t need today and left in the doorway this morning. Then he heard it. 

Barty softly groaning from the bathroom, then a gasp and then…

“E-Evan!”

Then silence. 

Evan just chuckled, sitting himself down on the sofa, smirking bemusedly when Barty emerged a minute later from the bathroom. 

“Having fun?”

Evan joked. Barty stuck his tongue out his boyfriend. 

“I tried to do it before you got home.”

“Don’t worry it’s fine, I don’t mind hearing it. I mean I kind of like the fact that you think of me when you…I just don’t want to do it.”

Barty’s smile softened and he reached his hands out to cup Evan’s face. Evan hesitated, moving his head back for a second.

“Sorry just…you’ve washed your hands like a lot right?”

“Course baby. Hands cleaned thoroughly with scented soap.”

Evan relaxed and let Barty’s hands slip around his face. Barty leaned down and pressed a kiss gently on the top of his head, nestling his face in Evan’s hair for a moment.

“Just so you know though.”

Barty whispered softly in Evan’s hair.

“I may have said your name but I was actually thinking of Grunkle Ford. Ultimate DILF.”

Barty chuckled before dropping his hands and running to the kitchen, giggling at Evan’s indignant expression.

“First of all. RUDE. second of all, he’s a literal old man.”

Evan chased Barty quickly with a laugh.

Barty just shrugged, turning and pulling Evan into his arms. They swayed there for a moment, holding each other in the soft glow of the kitchen light. Barty curled his head against Evan’s chest, looking up at him with soft eyes. 

“DILFS only improve with age.”

“Barty!”

Barty laughed again. He had a strange laugh, one that alternated between complete gaping silence and something that resembled a hyena’s shriek. It warmed Evan up from inside out to hear. 

“How was your day?”

Evan pressed their foreheads together gently as he asked.

“It was good, boring. You?”

“Same. Wanna watch a movie?”

“Ten things I hate about you, ten things I hate about you, ten things I hate about you…”

Barty began to chant it, dancing around the kitchen excitedly as Evan got snacks for the movie ready. Evan threw a handful of pretzels at him at one point which Barty tried and failed to catch in his mouth. In the end he just picked them up off the floor, blew on them (like that would even do anything) and shoved them in his mouth. 

•••

They were curled up on their sofa, Barty had his back pressed against Evan’s chest, one hand resting on Evan’s knee. Evan had an arm slung over Barty’s shoulder, other one wrapped around his waist. Evan tried to focus on the movie but it was sort of difficult when Barty kept throwing Evan not so subtle glances. 

“What is it baby?”

Evan murmured. Barty’s eyes widened and he dropped his gaze quickly. He took his hand off Evan’s knee and began to rub his knuckles against one another nervously.

“Bee?”

Evan asked again, hugging him just slightly tighter. 

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Hey.”

Evan whispered.

“You don’t have to tell me but I won’t judge you or anything.”

Barty glanced up at him again. He drew in a shaky breath before speaking.

“I’ve been thinking recently, you know about us. And I didn’t know what it was but I just figured it out and well…look I think I love you. I know I love you.”

He blurted it out quickly, tripping over words as he spoke. Evan just froze slightly.

“Oh.”

Barty shifted awkwardly, eyes fixed down in his hands.

“I love you t-“

“Ev you don’t have to…”

“Bee.”

Evan pressed a soft kiss against Barty’s cheek.

“I love you too.”

Barty looked at him for a moment, then hummed happily, snuggling even closer to Evan. 

[wienersmosh]

my thoughts on the most recent lunchtime with smosh episode and what it means for the sketches:

so i've only watched that episode once and then i went to bed. i woke up an hour and a half ago so i might be misremembering things or whatever.

i just want to preface this by saying that when they dropped the news that ian and anthony had reunited, my mind didn't go to "they're bringing back the classic sketches". instead it went to, "oh my god, anthony's gonna be on unscripted videos". i absolutely love the classic sketches from the olden days especially bc they were what made me fall in love with ianthony/classic smosh, but i'm not like pathologically attached to them. they're just content, the medium in which we see ian and anthony and their friendship, which is more important to me.

getting rid of unscripted to make way for the sketches was definitely very polarizing, and i've always held the belief they could've co-existed on the main channel instead. i respected their decision and defended them from angry cast stans, especially bc it's not like we saw a lot of them on pit and games anyway. the main channel could be primarily ian and anthony content that the members funded while the cast had pit and games. whatever.

this isn't about sketch vs improv or classic sketches vs bit city. what really bothered me was their attitude about it in the lunchtime with smosh episode, especially ian.

anthony was more diplomatic and professional about it. he was more tactful and emphasized that the classic sketches didn't highlight the cast dynamics and personalities. i thought using that as a reason not to make them anymore was a little silly, and if they really wanted to show more of the cast in sketches, they could always go back to making smoffice-style or EBE-style sketches. but in the end, i understood that the sketches were harder to make, they were more labor-intensive and time-consuming and again, they did not highlight the cast.

but ian's demeanor and how he talked about it really bothered me. he came off as resentful and a little hostile. it's like after those 2 months of being on break he suddenly had a different outlook on the paying members and the membership. he didn't consider why the members would be disappointed or even confused, and he straight-up admitted they were nostalgia-baiting. it was a signal that the spirit of smosh was back. dude! just say the sketches weren't profitable! why are you acting like your fans are stupid for thinking you were gonna be doing the sketches for longer than a year?

i feel like he was being a little disingenuous. he knows damn well why people signed up to be a member in the first place - to watch ian and anthony focused content. but now he's acting like, well since you signed up to be a member that means you support ALL of smosh and want to see EVERYTHING we do, not just the sketches, right? wink wink.

he also said that this expectation of them making "ian and anthony only" content was ridiculous. in a way, i understand where he's coming from, he doesn't want to shut out the rest of the cast from content anymore, i get it. but is it really that ridiculous and far-fetched that a subsection of their fandom who quite literally funded their sketches for a year wants and expects to see content of them being a duo? i guess that's what lunchtime with smosh is for, but come on. it doesn't even have to be sketches! it could be low-effort vlogs or they really could just increase their screentime on pit and games.

idk. i haven't been a paying member in quite a while now, so on a personal level, this has nothing to do with me. again, i am not attached to the sketches specifically, i am looking forward to more bit city, i am glad anthony is back. but as an ianthony fan, i couldn't help but feel slighted, and i empathize with anyone who's feeling hurt right now.

[prodbyton]

the way you LITERALLY READ MY MIND WITH THE PERV!SEUNGHAN YOU WROTE???? like, i had "perv!Seunghan = 24/7 hornball; "i need you right now"" jotted down in my notes 🧍🏾‍♀️ kinda crazy how you looked into my brain, but i love it!!

recently, i've been giving perv!Anton maybe a little bit too much thought. i already decided that it had to do with taking pictures bc DUHHHH 🤪 Anton loves taking pictures of you. all. the. time. you don't mind bc you love posing for him (foreshadowing :D). any time you're together he takes at least 40 pictures of you and usually sends them immediately so you can keep your insta current.

you dressed up for a little morning date in a cute and maybe a little short skirt, but you two ended up spending the whole day together. it was so late you decided to stay over. he was distracted by whatever he was doing on his laptop, and you had to beg for the pictures he took (like full-on send it to me Rachel!! 😫). he tossed his phone to you without missing a beat.

you open the photo gallery and just before you tap the first picture of yourself, you see an album with a puppy. it was so cute you thought "oh, maybe Anton has a whole album of cute animals!" you tap it and immediately your jaw hits the floor. the first photo was a shot right up the skirt you were currently wearing. you quickly composed yourself and continued to scroll. there were so many pictures of your ass and cleavage, it made your head spin. and the occasional shot of your bare pussy from the hot nights you slept in only one of Anton's shirts didn't go unnoticed. you eventually sent the clothed pictures of yourself to your phone and acted like nothing happened. that's when the constant posing started.

you started wearing skirts and dresses more and dropping things more often. every time you get up after bending over, Anton's ears get so red. one day you decided to give Anton the special treat of a short skirt paired with no panties. when you did your usual extended bend-over, Anton very quickly excused himself. he damn near sprinted to the bathroom. you followed him because why not.

you stood outside the bathroom and could faintly hear him whisper to himself something along the lines of "i shouldn't keep doing this. she'll be so mad at me". the whispers soon turned into moans whimpers and the wet sound of Anton fucking his hand. you stood there the whole time just listening. this was probably the hottest moment of your relationship that didn't last long enough. the door swung open and he was so red in the face when he saw you. his eyes were wide and watery as he searched for something to say.

-🎀 (i am once again asking the universe for a man who is obsessed with me and is Anton)

im glad we’re on the same page abt perv hani, but i lowkey wanna hear your thoughts now 🙈 but thats just cuz seunghan makes me crazy

PERV ANTONNNN im doing backflips. been waiting for this one fr 🫦 but ugh he’s definitely the type to sneak pics. he has you and everyone fooled with the dog as the thumbnail trick so no one would suspect a thing. but you’re just a girl and if you see a photo album with a cute animal on it ofc you’d click on it :/ but then you see what your boyfriends been doing behind your back and you don’t know what to feel.

any normal person would be disgusted, it was perverted and just nasty to put your take photos of your girlfriends panties under her dress/skirt, using his height to his advantage so he can get better cleavage photos, keeping his phone by his side to get various shots of your ass, all behind your back. but you can’t help but be a little turned on. your boyfriend was so obsessed and attracted to you that he felt like he had to sneak to get a few panty shots.

i think if you gave him photos of your body he would appreciate them soo much, but something about sneaking them and getting them during candid moments just made the photos sexier for him. he even has his live photo setting on so he can play the 2 second clip of you bending over while he’s jerking off.

you had already found out about his little secret, but when you decide you wanted to catch him in the act you knew you had to think of a plan. when he sees you outside the bathroom door you play it off as you were just checking on him since you needed to go after him, and he tries to calm his racing heart from the idea of being caught.

it’s not until later when you ask for his phone, an innocent request and it’s not like he would ever hide his phone from you. you said you just wanted to play games on his phone while he watched whatever was on tv. he wasn’t even thinking about moving his little folder into his hidden before handing you his device, but he didn’t think you’d be going into his photo library if you were playing games.

after a bit, you open his camera and start taking selfies and this shouldn’t be an issue, anton loves when you do this, he loves having photos of you in his phone, but he was so nervous of you opening his camera roll. he got tense, suddenly wanting his phone back and you raised a brow at him but ignored him. you played it off by saying you wanted to look back on the photos you took so you could send them to yourself. now he’s praying that you dont notice that one specific folder when you open the photos app.

but you do. and anton feels like he’s going to throw up.

“you have a folder of animals? thats so cute how come you never send me these?”

“it just slipped my mind i guess…” he chuckles nervously and runs a hand through his hair, and then everything hits the fan the second your finger clicks on the icon.

all the photos he had of you in compromised positions, up your skirt, down your shirt, and just full on naked photos of your weak body after you two had sex was on display. you pretended to be shocked, like you hadn’t already discovered the folder some days ago, but anton was a mess trying to explain himself. strings of apologies leaving his lips and he’s basically on his knees begging for your forgiveness. you just cup his face in your hand, rubbing soothing circles on his cheek with your thumb.

he looked super hot like this, so pathetic under your touch begging for you to forgive him and to not think he’s some sick pervert. but you reassure him that it’s okay, and he can continue taking all the pictures he wants of you.