#i think i should make a tag for these hold on

[forcaleb]

a dose of love and laughter — caleb

warnings — fluff, sick!reader, caleb taking care of you, angst (like really small part)

notes — a 360 from my previous fic im crying LMFAO \\ tags: @aomiiine

caleb loves doting on you.

no matter how many times you tell him you’re a grown woman who can take care of herself, caleb always finds a way to step in and handle things for you.

“caleb, i promise i can take care of myself while you’re at work,” you say, letting out a small cough. his hoodie keeps you warm against the cool breeze of the air conditioner. you came down with a cold last night, and caleb has been insistent on taking the day off just to look after you. “i don’t want you missing work because of me.”

“but princess…” caleb sighs. “i’m worried you’ll get worse if i’m not here. what will you do if your fever spikes, hm?” he gently brushes your hair back, his touch soft. “let me stay, okay? let me take care of you, just like i always did when we were kids.”

you can’t argue with that. having someone look after you, especially caleb, is comforting. he’s always been good at taking care of you when you’re sick.

his pleading gaze makes you give in. “okay, fine. but if any of your underlings blame me for their colonel being absent, i’m kicking your ass.”

“don’t worry, princess,” caleb chuckles. in one swift motion, he lifts you into a bridal carry, making you squeal in surprise. he sets you down gently on the couch and tucks a warm blanket around you. “you stay here, okay? i’ll go make some porridge.”

you nod and settle into the couch, your favorite tv show playing softly in the background. as much as you hate to admit it, having caleb take care of you brings back warm memories from your childhood. and his porridge is as delicious as you remember.

as you’re about to doze off, you hear caleb’s footsteps approaching. you squint, catching a glimpse of him.

“sleepy already, pipsqueak?” he says softly, setting a bowl of porridge on the table. “want to eat now?”

“only if you feed me,” you declare. caleb laughs, and you hide your smile under the blanket, trying to keep a stern look.

“okay, okay,” caleb agrees, amused. “what would you do without me?” he helps you sit up gently, leaning you against the cushions. taking a spoonful of porridge, he holds it up for you. you open your mouth and savor the warm flavor. “good?”

“mhm,” you hum, swallowing before giving him a smile. “it’s really good. just like i remember.”

“you remember?” caleb asks, sounding surprised.

“yeah, of course i do!” you exclaim, almost choking on the porridge in your excitement. caleb quickly hands you a cup of water. after taking a sip, you continue, “i tried recreating it when you were gone, but i could never get it right.”

caleb’s expression softens, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “really?” he glances down at the porridge, avoiding your gaze. “maybe i should make a recipe book for you. that way, you can make all of caleb’s specialties anytime.”

“hey,” you say gently, placing your hand under his chin to lift his face. “what’s wrong? why do you look so sad?”

he leans into your touch. “just… thinking about you being sick all alone, with no one to take care of you.”

you giggle softly. “why are you upset over that? you know i’m good at taking care of myself.”

“yeah?” caleb asks, a teasing glint in his eyes. “so, you don’t want me to feed you right now?”

“wha-” you quickly grab his hand, stopping him from leaving. “of course i want you to feed me! i’m sick, caleb! i can’t believe you’re joking with a sick person right now,” you say, feigning indignation to lighten the mood.

it works. caleb’s laughter is so genuine that it nearly brings tears to your eyes. you’ve missed his laugh, his smile — everything about him. even though it’s been weeks since you reunited, you still haven’t gotten over how much you missed him.

“you’re contradicting yourself, pipsqueak,” caleb teases. “so, can you take care of yourself or not?”

“hmm,” you pause, pretending to think. “i can take care of myself. but when you’re here, i’d rather have you take care of me.”

caleb blinks, then bursts into laughter again. “why are you laughing? i’m serious!” you protest.

“i know, i know,” he says, wiping a stray tear of laughter from his eye. he gently pats your head. “i’ll take care of you. i promise.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

if you fall, i will catch you

for @steddielovemonth day 2 using Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper

rated t | 855 words | no cw | tags: high school, prom, slow dance, flirting, open ending but assumed getting together

🪩🕺💃🪩🕺💃🪩🕺💃🪩💃🕺🪩

Prom is stupid.

Steve didn’t even want to come. He didn’t have a date and nothing is more embarrassing than showing up to prom alone. Even the nerds come as a group, dancing and laughing together.

His mom made an appointment for his suit fitting and he couldn’t really explain to her that there was no need. She still thinks he and Nancy are on track to be married when Nancy graduates high school. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he’ll probably die alone.

Okay, that’s a little dramatic. He’s probably not gonna die alone.

But he may die unhappy, and that’s worse.

Most of the music hasn’t been terrible so far, at least. Only one slow song played and no one seemed interested in dancing to it.

Steve’s a fucking wallflower at his own prom. He never saw this coming.

He figures he could probably escape within the next few songs, no one would even notice his absence. He makes a mental plan to wait until one of the parent chaperones walks back to the other side of the room.

Then he’s off.

He manages to escape to the hall behind the gym, the one that leads to the auditorium and drama class, not the main building of the school. No one should be back here. It’s the perfect escape route.

“Never thought I’d see the day when King Steve is trying to escape prom,” a voice says from the end of the hall. The music from the gym is echoing in here, but the voice is much louder. It’s familiar, too. “Miss Wheeler too busy with Byers to dance?”

It’s Munson. Steve sighs.

“Why are you even here?��

“It’s my senior prom, too! Or should those of us not graduating not be allowed?” Eddie walks closer and Steve sees that he’s actually dressed up. It’s not a designer suit like he’s been forced into, but it’s nice. Eddie looks…nice.

“Wait,” Steve registers what he actually said. “Not graduating?”

“Yep. Apparently quadratic formulas are crucial to my development and I cannot enter society until I understand them.” Eddie kicks his foot across the tile, leaving a scuff mark from shoes that have probably been waxed beyond necessity. “And I guess dissecting a frog and turning in homework may have helped.”

“But aren’t you pretty smart?” Steve thought he was one of those dungeon dweebs like Dustin. Dustin’s the smartest person he knows, without a doubt, kid or not. He thought all the nerds who play that game were like that.

“Sure, I’m smart enough,” Eddie scoffs. “But I don’t play by their rules. I forget to do homework. I argue.”

“But if you know the stuff, they can’t fail you.”

“Ah, but they can. I don’t have the Harrington name to convince them to change a D to a C. It’s all good. Everyone expected it.”

Steve’s brows furrow, forehead creasing as he thinks about how many things people expected of him that won’t happen.

“Just because people expect it doesn’t mean you have to give it to them,” he says.

Eddie’s eyes widen and he seems shocked by Steve’s words. But the shock wears off quickly. Steve wonders if he imagined it.

“Right you are! Very wise words from the king,” Eddie bows dramatically.

Steve laughs.

Eddie glances up, tense until he realizes Steve’s not laughing at him, just at the entertainment. He stands straight and holds out his hand.

“I do believe such wise words should be repaid with a dance,” Eddie puts on a fake British accent, nose pointed to the sky, smirk playing on his lips.

Steve thinks this must be what it’s like to be charmed by someone.

“A dance?” Steve asks. “Here? With me?”

“It would be my honor,” Eddie loses the accent and turns his head back down so he’s looking right at Steve’s eyes. “Miss Lauper wrote this song just for us, after all.”

Steve’s confusion grows until he hears the song coming from the gym. He can only imagine how awkward it must be in the gym while some couples slow dance with chaperones watching their every breath. He reaches out and takes Eddie’s hand.

“The honor is mine, sir Munson,” Steve tries for an accent like Eddie had previously, but it falls flat.

Eddie pulls him close, but hesitates before he puts an arm around his waist. Steve feels breathless all of a sudden, like they’ve rocketed into space and he forgot one of those astronaut suits. He nods, giving permission for Eddie to take the lead.

When Eddie pulls him closer, they’re almost flush against each other.

Steve’s heart is racing.

“I didn’t know you were weird,” Eddie admits quietly. It sounds a lot like admiration. He’s swaying them back and forth gently, and Steve finds it’s easy to lose track of everything but the way Eddie’s hands rest on his body. “It’s nice to see you, Steve.”

It’s a lot more than what it sounds like.

As Cyndi Lauper plays, Steve wonders if this is how his prom was always meant to be spent: in Eddie Munson’s arms, falling.

[cognitiveoverload]

Rejection (Aaron Hotchner x reader)

summary: Being Hotch’s favorite is hard, but when he suddenly asks you out, you don’t really know if you’d like to make things harder for yourself.

tags: fem!tech analyst!reader

note: There will be more parts, not necessarily in chronological order. What do you think, what situations will they find themselves in? Send an ask with your idea, and let’s see what will happen.

At first, it was just a casual and genuinely innocent observation from Spencer. “Have you noticed that Hotch calls only you if he needs something?” he asked one day as he sat between you and Penelope in your little den.

But then this comment spread through the BAU like wildfire, making everyone think back of all the times their boss needed information, and look at that, they all remembered the same detail–it’s not just the fact he was always calling you, it was the fact he always called you by your first name.

And that’s how the constant teasing began. Derek, Emily, JJ and Penelope tormented you, with Spencer occasionally joining to spit out some facts about the both of you, while Rossi targeted Hotch as far as you knew. It was mortifying, really, but you got used to it.

What you still can't get used to is the change in your boss’ behavior. Recently he’s been different, although you can’t quite put a finger on what it is that changed. Sure, maybe he shows up a little more often in your office, strictly when Penelope isn’t around, and he brings you coffee when you’re working late or arrive a little too early as he does.

“How are you holding up?”

You turn your swivel chair around to look at Hotch, who’s standing in the door with an almost worried expression on his face. He sent Penelope home a few hours ago when a case affected her too much, and now apparently it was time for another wellness check in your little office. It’s hard to miss the way he’s flexing his fingers, a clear sign that he’s nervous, although you’re not a profiler, so you remain silent before you say something stupid.

Thinking about his question, you realize one thing. “It didn’t really affect me. Does this mean something’s wrong with me?” you ask him.

His lips part as he takes a shallow breath and thinks about what you just said. For a moment you think he’ll not give you an answer, but then he sits on the edge of your desk and watches you with a small smile. “It only means you’re tough. Look, you said, ‘It didn’t really affect me,’ which tells me it did affect you, just not as intensely as it did Garcia for example,” he explains kindly.

Nodding, you look down at your hands in your lap, but your gaze rises when he bumps his leg into your thigh. You expect him to say something, but Hotch remains silent, and he even acts like he didn’t do anything at all. There is one little thing that’s different, though. That barely visible smirk, the one you’ve all seen before.

Times like this it’s hard to comprehend the extremes in his behavior. He can act like this, so kind and supportive, but he can play rough too, especially when he loses control. And times like that, like a few days ago when he yelled at an agent who tried to take a case from him, you can’t help but think about how he could yell at you any time with you even thanking him.

Because, as pathetic as it might sound, an angry Hotch is simply irresistible. You probably have some issues that should be analyzed, but that’s tomorrow’s problem.

“I often wonder how you all can do this every single day. Penelope told me to brace myself when I arrived, but… It’s hard sometimes,” you admit quietly. “Yet, there are cases that don’t really make me feel anything. I can’t really wrap my head around that.”

His brown eyes soften in sync with his expression, and then his lips curl into a smile. “You’re a good person, never forget that. Not feeling anything might be your brain’s way of protecting you. Either way, if you ever want to talk, you know where to find me,” he tells you as he stands up.

You nod, then return to your computer once he’s heading to the door. But then the sound of footsteps suddenly dies, and when you turn around to see if he has just disappeared into thin air, you find him watching you with a thoughtful look. Your brows furrow in confusion, but you don’t say anything, you just wait for him to spit out whatever’s on his mind.

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asks casually.

It seems like an innocent, regular question between co-workers. The members of the BAU often team up in pairs or bigger groups to grab something, even Hotch joins them for a drink in a bar or dinner in some restaurant nearby. But he has never, ever gone out to eat with someone alone. Maybe with Rossi, but that doesn’t count.

So, it’s no wonder you have to think about the offer. You would be on thin ice, the team already has a little too much fun with the fact Hotch is playing favorites with you. If you have dinner with him alone, they might think you’ve been in some secret relationship all along.

In the end, the rational–or maybe rather paranoid–side of your brain makes the final decision. “Thanks, but I’d rather go home after I finish this,” you say, pointing at your computer.

He nods, and you begin to think he’s about to leave, but then he gulps and takes a deep breath, as if he’s gathering the strength or courage to say whatever’s on his mind. “I have paperwork that can’t wait, but I can give you a ride home after I’m done,” he offers, and there’s a look in his eyes that you can’t quite identify.

“No need, I’ll be fine, but thanks anyway,” you tell him with a forced smile.

The last thing you need and want is Hotch taking you home. He means well, you know that, but you can’t risk being seen by someone who could easily start a rumor. The problem is, he’s almost as old as your dad, so people would talk about your nonexistent daddy issues, and he’s your boss, which would only make things worse.

So far the whole joke about being his favorite is something that stayed within the team, but if it gets out and reaches HR, you’re both done. You don’t want that, but not because of yourself. Hotch is ambitious, he’s insanely good at office politics, and if he wants to be promoted, he can’t be involved in such scandals.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the sigh that leaves his lips. He looks almost disappointed, which is something you don’t really understand, because you can’t remember anything that could be even remotely rude. What is his problem? Or is there something he wants to talk about, something he wants to get off his chest?

Before you know it, he closes the door and walks back to you. “I’ve been making offers, and you turn down each and every one of them without hesitation. Why?” You can’t help but give him a confused look, because you have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. Well, you know, but why does it bother him? “Is it because we would be alone?”

“It’s just… Wouldn’t it be weird?” you ask.

He inhales and exhales slowly before he suddenly crouches in front of you. “Look, there is a chance it will be weird, yes, but why don’t we give it a shot to see, huh? Come on, just you and me. If you’re afraid someone we both know will see us, we can go somewhere away from the usual crowd.”

You tilt your head to the side as you watch him, observing the look in his eyes, the small smile that makes your heart melt, and you simply can’t get yourself to say no to him. “Why?” you ask, although you know the answer, you just want to hear him say it.

“I’m sure I don’t have to spell it out for you,” he says with a boyish smile.

Gulping, you nod. A date. Aaron Hotchner wants to go on a date with you. But he’s your boss, if you started a relationship, there would be the danger of the aftermath of a breakup. Would you really like to risk it? You love this job, you love this team, you love Penelope, losing them wouldn’t be worth it.

You lick your lips as you push your chair back to build some distance. “I really have to get back to work now, and I’m sure Jack would be happy if you got home before bedtime,” you say, even though it hurts to turn down the invitation.

Hotch lets out a disappointed sigh as he stands up. “If you change your mind… you know. Good night.”

“Good night.”

[gdinthehouseee]

Neon Secrets: KWON JI-YONG x READER

summary: ji-yong catches you getting in your own head so he decides to shake things up and bring you along for a much needed late-night drive

word count: 5180

tags: fluff, denial, idiots in love - everyone can see it but them type stuff

ao3 link

All was silent in the rooftop practice room, save for the soft scratching of a charcoal pencil against paper. You sat curled up on the couch near the window, your notebook balanced on your knee, fingers gripping the pencil tightly. But the page in front of you remained mostly blank—just a few scratched-out lines and half-finished rhymes that didn’t feel right.

Sleep couldn’t seem to get a hold of you tonight—your mind raced with the same thoughts, replaying them over and over until they became a blur of frustration. You stared at the clock, wishing for a few hours of peace, but the ticking echoed in your ears, only adding to your agitation.��

The quiet hum of the building surrounded you, but inside your mind, chaos churned. The notebook’s blank pages mocking your every attempt to find the right words. Your thoughts were too scattered—too many ideas, too many emotions—but none of them seemed to come together. The pressure to create something meaningful weighed heavily on you, and the longer you sat there, the more frustrated you became. Naturally. You hated this feeling of being stuck, of not being able to tap into the creative flow that usually came so naturally. You had written countless lyrics before, but tonight, nothing felt right. Every word you jotted down felt forced, out of place, as if the inspiration you once had was slipping away. The longer you tried, the more you doubted yourself. What if you were losing your touch? What if your career was over before it truly had time to blossom?

"You look miserable."

You jumped slightly at the voice, snapping your head toward the doorway. Ji-yong leaned against the frame, his arms crossed and his dark eyes almost staring into your soul.

Your heart pounded, and not just because he’d startled you. "Keep your voice down," you hissed and motioned for him to come in, glancing toward the hallway. "People are sleeping."

He scoffed but lowered his voice as he stepped inside. "Relax, it’s just us up here. Unless you think someone’s hiding in the storage closet, waiting to snitch on you."

As much as you rolled your eyes, there was nothing you could do to hide the subtle smile forming on your lips. Hoping he didn’t see, you elected to return your gaze to the notebook. "What do you want?"

Ji-yong flopped onto the couch behind you. "To rescue you from whatever creative hell you’re stuck in." He glanced at the page over your shoulder, tilting his head. "Writer’s block?"

A long sigh escaped your throat. "More like ‘everything I write sounds terrible.’ I should just go to bed and try again tomorrow, but I can’t even do that for whatever reason, so I’m just kinda… stuck here, I guess.”

He was quiet for a second before drumming his fingers against the couch. "Or…"

"Or?"

"We sneak out."

You stiffened for a second, before turning around to face him. Only to realise he had leaned closer towards you. 

"You’re insane. You know everyone is asleep in the next room, right? And most of the staff? One wrong move and—"

Ji-yong held up his hands in mock surrender. "I get it, I get it. But that’s what makes it fun." A playful smile tugged on his lips. "Come on. You’re stuck, I’m bored, and the walls in this place are suffocating right now. Let’s get some air."

You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. This was stupid. Reckless. If anyone saw you, rumours would spread like wildfire. But at the same time… the idea of slipping away, of leaving all the pressure behind, if only for a little while—

"Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you." You quickly stood up, moving towards the door. You didn’t even bother closing the notebook or tucking the chair back under the desk. A dangerous move.

Ji-yong grinned even wider than before, already on his feet. "Deal."

He reached the door before you could, grabbed the handle and opened it for you to walk through, his typical mischievous grin never leaving his face. “Ladies first.” 

“Such a gentleman.” You quipped and walked through, not after checking the hallway first of course.

And just like that, the two of you were sneaking through the hallways, hearts racing with every quiet step.

The tension in the air was palpable as the two of you stood in the hallway, the soft sounds of your footsteps echoing against the polished floor. Ji-yong’s eyes were gleaming with excitement. 

"You sure you're up for this?" He whispered, glancing around as if expecting someone to appear out of nowhere.

You hesitated, your gaze flicking nervously to the security cameras overhead. The building was still buzzing with activity, but most of the staff would be asleep by now. Still, the thought of getting caught was enough to make your heart race. "This is risky," you muttered, trying to stay calm. "If we get caught, we're in trouble."

He chuckled softly, his fingers brushing against hers as he took a step closer. "That's what makes it fun," he said with a wink. You’d be lying if you didn’t find it attractive. Unfortunately for you, he was incredibly charming.

"Come on, I know the way."

The two of you moved quickly but quietly, sticking close to the walls to avoid being seen. The dim lighting in the hallways made it harder to spot you both, and every sound seemed amplified as you tiptoed past the security desk. The guard was hunched over, lost in the glow of his phone screen, completely unaware of the two figures sneaking past. Your pulse quickened as you tried to cover up your breathing as much as you could, but Ji-yong kept a steady pace, signalling you to stay low as you made your way toward the exit.

As you neared the door, Ji-yong reached for the handle, his hand steady despite the adrenaline coursing through them. He glanced at you one last time, a playful smile tugging at his lips once more. "Ready?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You nodded, biting back a grin. "Just don’t get us caught."

“You know I won’t.”

With one final look around, he pushed the door open, and you slipped into the cool night air, your hearts still racing but filled with the thrill of your daring escape. The moment you had stepped through the exit and carefully closed the door behind you, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you into a sprint toward the car parked just down the street. The night air was crisp against the mostly bare skin of your arms and legs, the sound of your hurried footsteps filled the silence. Neither of you spoke—just the occasional glance over your shoulders to truly make sure no one had followed, accidentally making eye contact here and there.

Ji-yong reached the car first, fumbling with his keys as he yanked the door open. “Hurry,” he hissed, motioning for you to get in. You certainly didn’t need to be told twice. You practically dove into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind you just as he did the same on his side. For a moment, you both sat there, frozen, chests rising and falling with quick, uneven breaths. The street outside was quiet, undisturbed. You made it.

And then, as if on cue, you turned to each other, eyes wide with the weight of what you had just pulled off.

Silence.

Then—laughter.

It started as a breathless chuckle from Ji-yong, but the absurdity of the situation caught up with both of you, and soon enough, you were doubled over, shoulders shaking with uncontrollable laughter. You pressed an ice-cold hand to your burning face, gasping for air between giggles. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

He leaned back against the headrest, grinning as he ran a hand through his hair. “I know, right? That was way too close.” He turned to look at you again, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You looked so scared back there.”

“Excuse me?” You began, “I was being cautious. Someone has to be the responsible one here.”

“And yet, here you are, sneaking out in the middle of the night with me.”

You rolled your eyes but, once again, couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips and the blood rushing to your cheeks. The adrenaline still buzzed in your veins, mixing with the warmth of the moment. Ji-yong shifted in his seat, tilting his head slightly as he studied you for a moment. His laughter had faded, but his expression softened, something unreadable flickering across his face before briefly looking away.

The laughter had faded, but the buzz of excitement still lingered in the air. He tapped his fingers absent-mindedly against the steering wheel. “So,” he said, glancing over at you. “Where to? Or was the plan just to run away with nowhere to go?”

You hummed, thinking for a moment, leaning back in your seat as you gazed out the window. “Honestly? I didn’t think we’d make it this far.”

That made him chuckle. “Wow. Such faith in us.”

“I’m just saying, the odds weren’t exactly in our favour. But I guess you do have a way of getting people to do reckless things.”

“People?”

“Me. Specifically me.” You laughed.

His grin never left his face as he started the car, the soft rumble filling the quiet space. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You sat in comfortable silence for a while, the city lights flickering outside the windows, casting moving shadows across your faces. The world beyond the car felt distant, like a dream you were slipping through unnoticed. It was rare—to have a moment like this, away from expectations, away from the prying eyes of fans, staff, and friends alike.

Ji-yong snuck a glance at you when you weren’t looking. You were tracing patterns on your arm, brows slightly furrowed in thought. He wondered what was on your mind. He wondered if you had any idea how often he caught himself watching you like this—memorizing the way your eyes softened when you were deep in thought, the way you pressed your lips together when you were frustrated.

And if you knew, what would you think about the way Seunghyun, Taeyang, and Daesung teased him for it?

Ji-yong could still hear them now—Taeyang shaking his head with an amused smirk, Daesung’s knowing glances, and Seunghyun’s relentless, dramatic sighs. Just confess already, you’re embarrassing yourself. They never let him live it down, always pointing out the way his attention lingered a little too long, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you, the way he always found an excuse to be around you. And as much as he brushed them off, he knew they weren’t wrong. The thought made his ears burn.

It had started one evening in the studio. Ji-yong had been half-listening to a new beat, scrolling through his phone when Seunghyun leaned over his shoulder with a loud, exaggerated sigh.

“Hyung,” Ji-yong muttered without looking up, already knowing what was coming.

“What is this?” Seunghyun said dramatically, tapping the screen of Ji-yong’s phone. “You’re literally smiling at your messages right now. Are you in high school?”

Ji-yong scoffed and pulled his phone away, locking it. “Mind your business.”

Daesung, sprawled out on the couch, grinned. “It’s her, isn’t it?”

Taeyang let out a knowing chuckle from his spot near the desk, looking up from his own phone. “It’s always her.”

Seunghyun wasn’t letting this go. He leaned in closer, studying Ji-yong’s face. “Look at him. He’s already getting defensive. Next, he’s gonna say she’s just a friend—”

“But she is just a friend,” Ji-yong cut in quickly. Too quickly.

The room went silent for about half a second before all three of them burst out laughing.

“Ohhh, this is bad,” Taeyang teased, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen Ji-yong lie so poorly in my life.”

Daesung grinned, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Bro, you don’t even talk about your crushes, but you think we haven’t noticed how different you act around her?”

“Different how?” Ji-yong challenged, crossing his arms.

“You get all… soft.”

Ji-yong rolled his eyes. “I do not get soft.”

“You do,” Taeyang confirmed. “Like earlier today, when she came by to drop off something for the manager? You barely spoke, but the second she left, you smiled to yourself like some lovesick teenager.”

“I—” Ji-yong stopped, trying to come up with a defence, but all three of them were already grinning at him. Busted.

Seunghyun clapped him on the back with a knowing look. “You’re screwed, bro.”

Ji-yong swallowed, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. No. That was the last thing he needed. If you ever heard them talk like that, would you laugh? Would you tease him too? Or worse—would you start noticing the way he looked at you? The way he felt? And, as a result, would you distance yourself from him?

He had never planned for this—to care this much.

At first, it had been simple: late-night studio sessions, teasing exchanges, fleeting moments that he told himself meant nothing. But then he started noticing the way you made the air feel lighter, the way being around you felt like a break from the noise of everything else. And now, sitting here with you, watching the city pass by in the glow of streetlights, he realized he had been in trouble for a while.

Eventually, he spoke, his voice quieter than before. “So… what were you writing earlier?”

“A whole lot of nothing. Or… trying to write something, but nothing came out right.”

He glanced at her. “Typical writer’s block.”

“Feels more like an identity crisis,” you muttered, half-joking. “I don’t know. I just kept overthinking everything. Like… what if I don’t have anything meaningful to say anymore?”

He frowned at that, his grip tightening slightly on the wheel. “That’s not true. You always have something to say.”

You let out a small laugh, though there wasn’t much humour in it. “You sound so sure.”

“Because I am,” he said, glancing at you again before turning back to the road. “You’re one of the most passionate people I know. Even when you don’t say anything, you’re thinking—feeling. That’s what makes you good.” His voice was steady, sure. “You just don’t see yourself the way I do.”

Your breath hitched slightly at his words.

He must have realized what he said, because his fingers drummed nervously against the wheel, and he cleared his throat. “I mean—uh, the way people who know you do.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, watching as he kept his eyes firmly on the road, as if avoiding your gaze would erase what had just slipped out. A warmth bloomed in your chest.

“Ji-yong.”

He shook his head quickly, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you just figured something out.”

You tilted her head slightly, as if considering. “Maybe I did.”

He groaned, quickly running a hand through his hair. “This is why I don’t say things.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, but there was no denying the way your heart was now racing for an entirely different reason. Trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, you decided to change the subject when you realised he hadn’t explained why he was awake when he found you.

“Y’know, you never said why you were up so late.”

Ji-yong blinked, as if caught off guard. “Ah… I was hoping you wouldn’t ask.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why? Is your reason dumber than mine?”

“No, just…” He hesitated before sighing. “Not that interesting.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Why?”

He hesitated again, longer this time, before answering. “Because my brain is a pain in the ass.”

That made you pause. “What do you mean?”

He let out a short, quiet laugh, but there was no humour in it. “I think too much. About everything. I’ll be exhausted, lying in bed, and suddenly my brain decides it’s time to overanalyse every stupid thing I’ve ever said, every choice I’ve ever made, every possible way I could screw something up.” He exhaled sharply. “It’s like I can never just… be.”

“You mean like anxiety?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s not like I panic, I just—” He sighed, tapping his fingers against the wheel. “I second-guess myself a lot. Get stuck in my own head. It’s frustrating because I know it’s dumb, but I can’t turn it off.”

Something about the way he said it—the exhaustion behind his words—made your chest tighten.

“Why didn’t you just say this earlier?” you asked softly. The car came to a stop as you reached a red light.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because I didn’t want to make it about me. You already seemed frustrated.”

“That’s stupid,” you said without thinking.

Ji-yong finally turned to you, caught between amusement and exasperation. “Excuse me?”

“You do it all the time,” you said, shaking your head. “You act like you have to be the one keeping everyone else together, but who’s doing that for you?”

His lips parted slightly, as if he hadn’t expected the question. His fingers drummed idly on the wheel, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. But then, in a voice quieter than before, he said:

“You.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Ji-yong let out a small, almost self-deprecating laugh. “You don’t even realize it, do you?”

You swallowed, suddenly hyper aware of the way the air in the car felt different—thicker, heavier. “Realize what?”

He glanced at you again, something unreadable in his gaze. He looked like he wanted to say something else, something more, but instead, he just shook his head with a small smile. The traffic light finally turned green and he continued driving.

“Nothing,” he muttered. “Forget I said anything.”

But you wouldn’t forget. Not now. Not when the weight of his words settled deep into your chest, shifting something inside you that you weren’t sure you were ready to face yet. And judging by the way Ji-yong gripped the wheel like his life depended on it, staring straight ahead, neither was he.

At some point, the heavy weight of the conversation had lifted, giving way to laughter and much lighter topics. The city stretched out around you, a blur of neon signs and empty streets as Ji-yong drove aimlessly, neither of you wanting to break the spell of the night just yet.

The two of you talked about ridiculous things—the worst stage outfits you’d ever worn, the most embarrassing moments caught on camera, the weirdest fan gifts he had ever received. He nearly swerved when he burst out laughing at your dramatic re-enactment of a failed dance move during rehearsal, and you doubled over when he confessed to once getting trapped in a bathroom before a concert and having to be rescued by the rest of the guys and a few staff members.

The car was filled with easy conversation, the kind that only came when time didn’t seem to matter. But time did matter. And neither of you realized just how much until Ji-yong absently checked the dashboard clock.

“Shit.”

“What?” You turned to him, still grinning from your last joke.

He gestured toward the clock. 4:32 AM.

Your stomach dropped. “No way.”

He groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “We are so screwed.”

It took a second for the panic to fully settle in, but when it did, it was instant. You sat up straight, suddenly wide awake. “We have to get back now.”

He was already turning the car around, the easy-going vibe of the night replaced with frantic energy. “We better pray no one’s up yet.”

Your heart pounded as you mentally mapped out the best way to sneak back in, every possibility of getting caught flashing through your head. Staff members were early risers, and some of your groupmates tended to wake up for morning workouts. If even one person saw you—

“We can’t go through the front,” you said quickly. “There’s a security camera right at the entrance.”

Ji-yong nodded. “Back door. Less cameras, but we have to be fast.”

You could already imagine the absolute chaos if either of your groups or, worse, the company found out about this. You and Ji-yong locked eyes, truly realizing at the same time just how risky this had been.

Then, for some reason—maybe from sheer exhaustion, maybe from the ridiculousness of the situation—you both started laughing. Quiet at first, then full-on, uncontrollable laughter just like at the very beginning of this little side quest.

“This is so bad,” he shook his head.

You wiped the happy tears that were forming in your eyes. “If we survive this, we’re never doing this again.”

That was a lie. You both knew it.

And as the car sped through the empty streets, the first hints of morning light creeping onto the horizon, you knew this night—this feeling—was one neither of you would forget. By the time you had pulled into the parking lot, the sky had started to shift from deep navy to the softest hints of morning blue. Every second that passed made the risk of getting caught even worse.

You both moved quickly, slipping out of the car and sticking to the shadows as you made your way to the back entrance of the building. He pulled open the door as quietly as possible, wincing at the soft creak of the hinges.

“Go, go, go,” you whispered, pushing him inside.

The hallway was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made every tiny sound feel deafening. You pressed your back against the wall, Ji-yong right next to you as you both listened for any sign of movement.

Nothing.

You exchanged a glance, and without a word, started moving.

The first challenge was the stairwell—safer than the elevators, but the risk of running into someone was still high. He went first, taking the steps two at a time, while you followed as quickly and quietly as possible. Every creak of the stairs made your pulse spike.

Halfway up, you heard a noise—a distant door closing somewhere above you. You both froze.

Ji-yong grabbed your wrist and pulled you down into a crouch against the railing, barely breathing. You squeezed your eyes shut, silently praying whoever it was wasn’t coming down the stairs. The footsteps paused, then faded away in the opposite direction.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Ji-yong turned to you, eyes wide. “That was too close,” he mouthed.

You nodded frantically, your heart still hammering.

The two of you moved again, finally reaching your floor. Ji-yong peeked down the hallway before gesturing for you to follow. Your dorms were now just a few doors away, and you could practically feel freedom within reach.

You made it to the door first, pressing a hand against it for stability as you exhaled. Ji-yong stopped next to you, running a hand through his hair, a tired but exhilarated grin tugging at his lips.

“We actually made it,” you whispered.

He smirked. “You doubted me?”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond, Ji-yong opened the door. As you stepped inside, you immediately realized you weren’t alone. The familiar voices of Taeyang and Daesung were already drifting through the room, and the instant you both walked in, the entire space fell silent.

The kitchen lights flickered overhead as you and Ji-yong froze. There, sitting casually in the lounge area, were the familiar faces of your group and his—Seunghyun leaning against the counter, a couple girls from your own group scattered around the couches, and Daesung and Taeyang, clearly wide awake.

You couldn’t even hide. You hadn’t even stepped inside before they all turned toward you.

“Well, well, well…” Taeyang’s voice rang through the silence, a grin tugging at his lips. “Look who decided to join us at five in the morning.”

Ji-yong cleared his throat, taking a step back, trying to play it cool, but his eyes flicked toward you, silently pleading for a way out. “We… just went for a walk.”

Seunghyun raised an eyebrow from where he stood, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “A walk?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but you couldn’t find any words. The guilt, the tension, the fact that everyone was wide awake and clearly waiting for you two to walk in made it impossible to lie.

“You two are really bad at hiding,” Daesung chuckled from his seat on the couch. “Did you think no one would notice?”

Ji-yong rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, giving you a small, apologetic smile. “We didn’t exactly plan on getting caught.”

“Oh, but you were planning on sneaking in here, right?” One of the girls from your group smirked from the kitchen counter. “Because it’s not like we’re all waiting in here for you to walk in.”

Taeyang folded his arms, shaking his head with a chuckle. “You really thought you could just walk in and slip by us, huh?”

You let out a long sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that there was no escape now. “I guess we’re busted.”

Ji-yong leaned against the doorframe, shrugging with a small smile. “Guess so.”

Seunghyun leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he studied you both. “So, what exactly were you two talking about?”

You froze, unsure of how to answer. Ji-yong shifted next to you, glancing down at his shoes nervously.

“Oh, you know,” he said with an awkward chuckle, “just random stuff.”

Seunghyun snorted, clearly not buying it. “Random stuff, huh?” He shot you a look that you could read too easily. “I’m sure it was really random.”

“I bet it was super interesting,” Taeyang added with a raised eyebrow. “Just you two, talking the whole night away. So what was the real topic of conversation?”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you avoided their gazes. “Nothing important,” you muttered, hoping to avoid the topic.

Seunghyun grinned from his spot, clearly enjoying every second. “Oh, we know it wasn’t nothing important.” He exchanged a knowing glance with Daesung, and the teasing only grew stronger. “In fact, I’d say it was pretty obvious.”

Taeyang tilted his head, glancing at Ji-yong with a knowing smirk. “Yeah, because you two are definitely good at hiding it.”

“Hiding what?” You shot back, trying to sound nonchalant, but your voice faltered slightly.

Ji-yong quickly cleared his throat, standing up straighter. “We’re just really good friends,” he insisted, his voice a little sharper than before, as if to convince not just them but himself too. He gave a small, forced smile. “Nothing more than that.”

Seunghyun raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Mm-hmm. Just friends? Sure.”

“Not this again,” Daesung laughed mostly to himself. Again? What did he mean by again?

“You guys are ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath, trying to downplay the awkward tension growing between you and Ji-yong.

“Well, we’re not the only ones who think it’s pretty clear,” one of the girls from your group said with a knowing grin. “But if you insist…”

Ji-yong rubbed the back of his neck again, his smile faltering. “I mean it. We’re just friends. It’s not that deep.”

Seunghyun looked at you both for a long moment, still not convinced. “Sure, Ji-yong. You’re just friends,” he said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “But I’m telling you, it’s pretty obvious to all of us.”

“You’re really good at pretending,” Taeyang said, eyes twinkling with amusement.

You quickly changed the subject, desperate to get away from this conversation. “Well, we didn’t exactly plan on getting caught by everyone in the kitchen.”

“I mean, it’s not like you tried very hard to hide it,” Daesung said, unable to keep his chuckle to himself. “You two always look like you’re in your own little world.”

Ji-yong sighed, a bit of frustration leaking into his voice. “Can we not make this a thing?” He shot a glance at you, but you weren’t sure what he was thinking—was he upset with the teasing, or was he frustrated about something else?

Seunghyun raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. “Alright, alright, we’ll drop it for now. But you know we’re not buying the ‘just friends’ act.”

You quickly turned toward your room, eager to escape the conversation. “Guess we’ll work on pretending better next time.”

Ji-yong followed suit, offering a quiet laugh, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure we’ll do better,” he said, his voice lacking his usual confidence.

As you slipped into your room, heart still racing from the teasing, you exhaled slowly, trying to shake the feeling lingering in your chest. It was ridiculous, really. Ji-yong was Ji-yong. One of the most sought-after idols in the industry, effortlessly charismatic, always surrounded by people who adored him. There was no way he’d look at you like that. You were just his friend—one of the few people he could relax around without the weight of expectations. And maybe that was why it stung a little. Because no matter how much your heart stuttered when he looked at you, you were certain he didn’t see you the same way.

Ji-yong barely mumbled, just out of earshot from you, before slipping into his own room, shutting the door behind him a little too quickly. He let out a quiet breath, leaning against it for a moment, rubbing his face with both hands. Why did it bother him so much? The way the others teased, the way they all acted like something between you two was so obvious. Maybe to them, it was. But to Ji-yong, it wasn’t even a possibility. You had never once looked at him like that, not in the way he caught himself looking at you. And why would you?

He sighed, pushing off the door and running a hand through his hair before collapsing onto his bed. You deserve someone better—someone who wasn’t always stuck in his own head, someone who wouldn’t second-guess everything the way he did. Someone who wasn’t him.

And so, just like every other night where his thoughts threatened to betray him, he shut them down before they could get any further. Because if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that whatever he felt for you… it wasn’t something you’d ever return. If only he knew this is exactly what you were thinking about him, just on the other side of the wall. So close yet so far.

But that would be the least of both of your problems when you finally found out that a video of you and Ji-yong, with your hands intertwined, running to the car had gone viral. 

taglist (lmk if you'd like to be added!!):

@thanosscross

[qualitygiverdreamer09]

TWST Housewardens (Kalim, Vil, Idia and Malleus) As Your Boyfriend (Headcanons). Part 2 || End.

Header Credit: Disney

Pairing: Multi Scenario x gender neutral!Reader

Tags : Twisted wonderland x reader, Physical and non Physical Effection, just a lot of cute moment between couple.

Warning : None

A/N : For today there will be no Quotes, but I have different plans, including creating several headcanons (hc), which I have postponed for almost several months due to several obstacles that have prevented me from completing them.

The following is my interpretation of what I believe Kalim, Vil, Idia and Malleus would say and act, and I kindly apologize if it does not align perfectly with the character or if you have a different understanding. Please bear in mind that it is intended purely for entertainment purposes and should not be taken to heart.

─────────ೋღ 🌺 ღೋ─────────

Kalim Al-Asim

Type of Boyfriend - The Sunbeam Who Loves You With His Whole Heart

Dating Kalim is like basking in endless sunlight—he is warmth, joy, and laughter, a lover who showers you with affection at every opportunity. He doesn’t hold back—his love is open, genuine, and utterly overwhelming.

But with all that love comes deep-seated fears—fears of being not enough, of losing you to someone better.

Early Relationship – The “You’re the Best Thing Ever!” Phase

The moment Kalim realizes he loves you, he tells you. Immediately. Enthusiastically.

“OH! I love you! Haha, I was wondering why my heart felt all funny whenever I saw you—wow, this makes so much sense!”

There’s no hesitation, no overthinking—Kalim loves you, and he wants you to know it.

From that moment on, expect to be constantly adored.

He brings you surprise gifts daily (sometimes unnecessary, but the thought counts). He hugs you out of nowhere. He talks about you nonstop.

“My partner is the coolest! You should’ve seen them today—ahhh, I’m so lucky!”

It’s overwhelming at first—Kalim loves big, and if you’re not used to that, it can be a lot. But you quickly realize that his love is genuine.

He loves you because you’re you. Not because of status, looks, or achievements—just you.

As He Falls in Love – The Affectionate & Insecure Side

Despite his overwhelming joy, there’s a fragile side to Kalim’s love.

He’s never had to fight for anything in life, but love? That’s different.

Sometimes, when he sees someone else looking at you, laughing with you, he gets quiet—too quiet. And then, later that night, he’ll hug you a little too tightly and whisper: “…You don’t think I’m too much, do you?”

Because in the back of his mind, there’s always the fear that someone better will come along. Someone less reckless, less naïve—someone who deserves you more than he does.

And it takes everything in you to convince him that he is enough.

How He Shows Love

Physical Affection: Kalim loves touching you—hugs, kisses, holding your hand, carrying you for no reason at all.

Words of Affirmation: He tells you he loves you every day—sometimes multiple times a day.

Spontaneous Gestures: One time, he threw an entire fireworks show just to see you smile.

Dates with Kalim

Extravagant Adventures: Private airship rides, exotic locations, anything fun and spontaneous.

Festivals & Celebrations: He loves parties, and he wants you to be by his side.

Cozy, Quiet Nights (Eventually): Once he realizes that not every date has to be a grand event, he treasures the simple moments—watching the sunset with you, laughing over spilled tea.

Jealousy & Possessiveness

Kalim trusts you, but he doesn’t trust other people.

If someone flirts with you, he’ll laugh it off at first—he’s not the type to get angry. But later, he’ll frown, shifting uncomfortably.

“…You do love me, right?”

He’s not possessive in a controlling way—he just needs constant reassurance.

And when you pull him into a hug and say, “Of course I do, you dummy,” he grins so brightly that it feels like the sun itself.

Final Thoughts on Kalim as a Boyfriend

If you want a boyfriend who will love you openly, enthusiastically, and with everything he has, Kalim is the perfect choice. His love is a never-ending celebration, but beneath all that joy is a heart that just wants to be cherished in return.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Vil Schoenheit

Type of Boyfriend - The Perfectionist Who Loves You Flawlessly

Dating Vil is like being in the spotlight with a star—he is beauty, grace, and discipline incarnate, a man who demands perfection but loves you as you are.

He is meticulous in everything, including his love. He will never half-love you—he will either love you entirely or not at all.

But with that love comes expectations. And his biggest fear? That you will one day realize you deserve better.

Early Relationship – The “You Need to Keep Up” Phase

Vil doesn’t fall in love. He chooses it—carefully, deliberately.

So when you confess, he studies you—measuring, analyzing, searching for any sign of hesitation.

“…Do you even understand what you’re asking for?”

Loving Vil means being with someone exceptional. He does not tolerate laziness, carelessness, or complacency. If you want to be with him, you need to match him.

But if you do—if you stand beside him as an equal—his affection is breathtaking.

As He Falls in Love – The Devoted but Insecure Side

Vil is not soft, but his love is undeniable.

He adjusts your collar, smooths out your hair, fixes your posture—his fingers linger, gentle but firm.

He whispers praise in moments when you least expect it. “You looked radiant today.”

He challenges you to be better—not because he isn’t satisfied, but because he sees so much potential in you.

But beneath all of this is a deep-rooted insecurity: What if one day, you realize I’m not enough?

Because perfection is fleeting. Beauty fades. And Vil cannot bear the thought of losing you.

So when you kiss his temple and murmur, “You are more than enough,” he closes his eyes, just for a moment, and lets himself believe it.

How He Shows Love

Words of Affirmation: Vil praises you not just for how you look, but for your intelligence, your strength, your ambition.

Gift Giving: Every gift is thoughtful, personal, perfectly chosen.

Physical Affection (Surprisingly Tender): His touch is always intentional—brushing hair behind your ear, adjusting your jewelry, tracing patterns on your wrist.

Dates with Vil

Luxury Spa Days: Self-care is essential, and he loves spoiling you.

Cultural Events & Galas: If he’s attending, you will be by his side.

Peaceful Evenings with Just the Two of You: Though he thrives in the spotlight, his favorite moments are private, when he can simply be with you.

Jealousy & Possessiveness

Vil doesn’t get jealous. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

But if someone flirts with you, his expression turns cold—perfectly polite but utterly dismissive.

Later, he’ll cup your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“…You belong to me, don’t you?”

Because Vil knows his worth. And he needs to hear that you do, too.

Final Thoughts on Vil as a Boyfriend

If you want a lover who will push you to be your best, who is as devoted as he is exacting, and who, beneath it all, just wants to be enough for you, then Vil is the perfect match.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Idia Shroud

Type of Boyfriend - The Awkward but Devoted Gamer Boyfriend

Dating Idia is like romancing the final boss of social anxiety—he’s shy, awkward, and convinced he doesn’t deserve you. But once he opens up, he becomes shockingly devoted, willing to grind endless hours (in games and in real life) just to make you happy.

Early Relationship – The “Are You Sure?” Phase

At the start, Idia cannot process the idea that someone like you would want to date him.

When you first confess, he physically malfunctions—his face turns so red it could rival his flaming hair, and his voice glitches into rapid, panicked muttering.

“H-Huh?! L-Like, in a dating sim kind of way, or like, ironic ‘haha let’s prank the shut-in’ kind of way? Because if it’s the second one, oof, plot twist, my HP just hit zero—”

Even after you reassure him, he’s still convinced this must be some kind of dream or parallel universe scenario. He even makes a conspiracy board mapping out how this could have happened.

“Did I somehow trigger a secret romance route? There was no way my stats were high enough for this!”

As He Opens Up – The Clingy and Flirty Upgrade

Once Idia finally accepts that yes, you actually like him, his behavior changes dramatically.

Online, he becomes shockingly bold, spamming your DMs with flirtatious comments he’d never say out loud.

In person, he still stammers, but his touch lingers—his fingers brushing against yours, his hoodie sleeve tugging at your wrist when he doesn’t want you to leave.

One day, while gaming together, you casually say: "I love you."

CRITICAL HIT. Idia drops his controller like it physically burned him, staring at you in wide-eyed horror. His whole body glows neon pink.

“Wh-What?! You can’t just drop that bomb mid-match! That’s like pulling a final boss move out of nowhere! How am I supposed to counter that?!”

And yet, later that night, you receive a voice message from him—quiet, awkward, but sincere.

“…I love you too. Just, um, don’t use it as a combo attack without warning, okay?”

How He Shows Love

Quality Time: His ideal date is staying in and gaming together, eating snacks, and being comfortably silent.

Gift Giving: He crafts custom gaming avatars of you and writes sweet (but cringey) love notes in code hidden in games.

Physical Affection: He takes forever to initiate, but once comfortable, he leans into you while gaming, hugs you from behind while peeking at your screen, and absolutely melts if you play with his hair.

Dates with Idia

Private Anime & Gaming Marathons: He sets up the ultimate gaming nest, filled with blankets, RGB lights, and custom-made playlists based on your favorite OSTs.

Building a Digital World Together: He codes a mini-game where your characters can go on virtual dates, even if he’s too nervous to suggest real-life outings.

Late-Night Stargazing (From His Room): “Why go outside when I can just project the sky onto the ceiling? Same vibes, less social interaction.”

Jealousy & Possessiveness

Idia isn’t the confrontational type, but if someone flirts with you? Oh, he notices.

He won’t say anything in person, but later, he’ll be grumpy in chat:

“Ugh. That guy totally used a ‘flirty NPC’ dialogue line on you. So cringe. You’re not gonna, like, trade routes or anything, right? …Wait, you’re joking. You’re definitely joking. Right??”

His jealousy manifests as passive-aggressive nerd energy, but in reality, he’s just scared of losing you.

What It’s Like to Sleep Over

Idia does not sleep at normal hours. He wraps himself around you like a blanket, mumbling game theories until he passes out mid-sentence.

If you wake up first and move, he immediately latches onto you, half-asleep, muttering: “…No. Don’t go. Respawn… stay…”

Final Thoughts on Idia as a Boyfriend

If you love nerdy, flustered, ride-or-die devotion, Idia is the ultimate prize. He starts as a nervous wreck, but once he’s comfortable, he becomes a devoted, affectionate, and low-key possessive partner.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Malleus Draconia

Type of Boyfriend - The Chivalrous but Lonely Romantic Boyfriend.

Malleus is a fairytale romance brought to life—he treats you with reverence and awe, as though you’re the most precious thing in his world. But beneath his regal elegance is a deep loneliness, making him cling to every moment he has with you.

Early Relationship – The Curious and Courtly Lover

Malleus is fascinated by love, but since he’s rarely experienced it, he approaches it like a grand mystery to uncover.

When he first realizes his feelings for you, he doesn’t just confess—he formally asks permission to court you, bowing slightly with a hand over his heart.

“Would you grant me the honor of being yours?”

Dating Malleus means experiencing old-world chivalry—he opens doors, offers his arm, and kisses your hand as if you are royalty.

But he also doesn’t quite understand modern romance.

“Tell me, what is this ‘Netflix and chill’ humans speak of? A ritual of some sort?”

As He Falls in Love – The Possessive Protector

Once Malleus realizes how deeply he loves you, he becomes fiercely protective. He is not above displaying dominance to remind others that you belong to him.

If another person flirts with you, his voice drops dangerously low: “…I trust you will mind your place.”

That night, he will whisper against your skin, his breath warm: “You are mine, my love. No one shall take you from me.”

His affection is deeply poetic, almost worshipful: “Your presence is like the first star of twilight—endlessly radiant, eternally captivating.”

How He Shows Love

Gift Giving: Malleus bestows enchanted gifts, like flowers that glow when you’re near or jewelry infused with protective magic.

Quality Time: He cherishes every second with you, often watching you in quiet admiration.

Physical Affection: Forehead kisses, protective embraces, and tracing your features as if memorizing them.

Dates with Malleus

Midnight Walks in the Forest: The fireflies glow brighter around him, as if drawn to his magic.

Dancing in the Moonlight: With no music, only the sound of his deep laughter as he spins you in his arms.

Tea in His Castle: He loves watching you sip from delicate china, his gaze unreadable yet full of devotion.

Jealousy & Possessiveness

Malleus isn’t aggressive, but his mere presence is enough to make others back off. If someone flirts with you, they’ll feel a chill in the air—his magic reacts instinctively to his emotions.

Later, he’ll murmur against your temple: “Tell me, my love… Do you enjoy making me jealous?”

Final Thoughts on Malleus as a Boyfriend

Malleus loves with his entire being. If you want intense, poetic romance, deep devotion, and a protective yet gentle lover, Malleus is your perfect match.

Written By @qualitygiverdreamer09

[acerathia]

essence || Sylus | Qin Che

Summary:

It has been some time since the last message you have received from Sylus. And that's way too long. So, once you check on him, you find him in quite a predicament and decide to help him out a little.

Wordcount: 2.6k

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Sylus | Qin Che / f!Reader | MC

Tags/CW:

Minors and Ageless Blogs DNI!! pwp, mildly dubious consent (bc is any consent ever not dubious if ruts are involved?), aphrosidiacs/sex pollen, he's in a rut, nipple play, cunnilingus, soft femdom (i think lol), thigh fucking, prone bone, praise, piv, cockwarming, soo much desire and lust waow, sprinkles of spoilers of his myth (implied), they're sooo soulmates

Note:

dragon............ yeah *thumbs up*

The N109 Zone is a No-Hunt-Zone. A place that is supposed to be filled with fluctuations and wanderers. Yet, the reason for its name weren’t the wandering abnormalities, but the factions, filled with desire to spread their power, and because of the difficulty entering it in the first place.

You remember how you got yourself into this place in the first place. But now, you don’t need to resort to such actions anymore. Not with Sylus, who will always have your back. Sylus who has not contacted you in some time, leaving you worried and tense, waiting for any sign of life. Until you couldn’t stand staring at your phone anymore. You had to look for him yourself if he didn’t answer your messages. There must be something wrong, right?

Even if you know how capable Sylus is, anxiety is something you cannot simply fend off, not without reassurance that he is safe and sound. And currently, that exactly is missing. This is why you have gotten onto your motorcycle and are racing towards the N109 Zone, your eyes occasionally flitting around, looking for Mephisto. But the skilled crow that is usually observing you at all times seems to have gone up in the air.

There’s barely any time for you to properly park your motorcycle before you practically storm into his home. Opening every door shouting his name, until you stop in front of the one belonging to his bedroom. Despite your hurry, you raise your hand to knock.

“Sylus? Are you there?”

A rustle and a low grunt. “What are you doing here, sweetheart?”

Your hand on the doorknob, slowly opening the door. “You worried me… You– you haven’t answered me in two days, what was I supposed to do…”

“There’s nothing to worry about, I’ve been rather… preoccupied lately. That’s it. You can go back now.”

His words rough, like he’s suppressing, hiding something. You furrow your eyebrows. This only raises your concern, as there has never been any instance where Sylus, your Sylus would have sent you away, just like that. And even if he did, he would be truthful to you about why.

So, even with his subtle instruction, you enter his room fully. And the heat presses against your skin. The moment you feel the choking warmth, you make your way to the next window to open it and to let some fresh air in. But you barely have cracked it open, when a hand grabs your waist, pulling you towards him.

The heat is pouring out of him, almost like he’s made of fire itself. His arms wrap around you, pressing you tightly to his own body, his face nuzzling into the soft skin of your neck, inhaling sharply.

“This was a mistake, you should have listened to me… I don’t know if I can hold back,” he murmurs, his teeth scraping against your jugular.

“Sylus… What happened?” you ask, hands cupping his head carefully to lead him to look at you.

He presses his face against your palm, eyes half-lidded. “An operation has veered slightly off-course. Nothing major, just brought some bothersome consequences. This should be over soon…”

Before you could offer your help in any capacity, he had already dragged you onto his lap, his lips kissing along your throat. Softness, before the sharpness digs into your flesh, his sharp canines scraping your skin, marking you at the soft spot where your shoulder meets your neck.

A gasp escapes you, and your fingers pull slightly at his hair, making him look up to you once again. Only to be met with hazy eyes, dark and filled with desire, cheeks slightly flushed. The way Sylus looks at you makes something stir in you, and your thoughts disappear in smoke, as you simply sink your lips against his, tasting him and his wants. His slack jaw makes it easier to get your tongue into his mouth, caressing his, exploring him tooth by tooth, their unusual sharpness digging and dragging.

His hands on your hips, moving you so easily with his strength, trapping you underneath him, kiss uninterrupted, his mouth devouring every bit of you. All he can think of is you and the way you feel underneath his touch, the way your body fits against his, like a piece of his soul returned to him.

Weight pressing against your body, comfort yet heady and exhilarating. You take his hand and lead him to touch your skin underneath your shirt, encouraging his raging desires he desperately tried to repress, stoking the flames bubbling in his veins. And it seems to work, his fingertips clutching you, but at the same time, this simple touch is not enough for him; thoughts consumed by you, you, you.

With a single jerk of his hand, Sylus has ripped your shirt, exposing your torso to his blazing eyes trailing over every bit of you; and to his greedy teeth, digging into soft flesh soon after.

“That’s good, take your fill,” you pant, your hand cupping his jaw to allow him to grab more of you.

He murmurs your name over and over again. Until you stop him from descending lower than your collarbones.

“Patience. C’mon, take your clothes off for me,” you direct him softly, tugging at his shirt, raising your foot to press against his bulge. “Show me your desire.”

The simple touch evokes a rumbling groan out of him and you feel him twitch against your sole. His eyes meet yours, hunger barely restrained by your words. Yet, Sylus listens to you, grabbing the hem of his shirt to slowly pull it over his head, muscles moving with each motion, tense and squeezing. Truly what a sight, one meant just for you.

Throwing it aside, he reaches for his belt, unbuckling it with a low hiss, followed closely by the sound of a zipper. With a shuffle, he slides his pants off, and you can see the outline of his length, pressing desperately against the cloth covering him. His fingers find the waistband, but you hold your hand up.

“That’s enough, come here.”

You stretch your arms towards him and he immediately sinks into your embrace, his face nuzzling against your neck, teeth scraping against skin. Your fingers drive through his hair while your leg is applying slight pressure against his bulge, rubbing and nudging, eliciting a groan out of him.

“My darling, do tell, what do you want?” you ask him in a breathy voice, your own needs intensifying just by seeing him in this state, completely in your hand.

“You, I want you, only you, I want to burn in your touch, feeling you, and nothing else. May I, my love? I don’t know how long I can hold out without piecing our souls together…” he murmurs, voice hoarse and it almost seems like his current desire mingles with one from the past, yet still towards you, always you, the only one able to truly touch his essence.

You hum, cocking your head to give him more room for his mouth against your jugular. “Do you want to show me? How you would devour me? Then, I suppose I can give you permission to do what you want, just for now.”

The moment these words leave your mouth, his teeth sinking into your flesh, leaving stinging indents behind; and you wonder if he’s coating his tongue in your blood, if the sweetness of your skin makes his head dizzy, his desires overflowing.

His mouth travels, savoring each inch of you, biting, nibbling, not leaving any skin untouched, aching and desperate. Lips latching on your nipples as soon as he kissed his way towards him, sucking, licking, tasting, his lips teasing and caressing. Meanwhile, his hand has found the other one, fingers pressing delicately, before twisting, feeling the way you twitch underneath his touch, his ministrations. And you feel the pads of his fingers hot against your skin, much hotter than a normal human would feel.

After hearing you gasp his name a couple of times, hands buried in his hair, Sylus continues on his way, leaving a trail over your tummy, a proof of his existence, just for you. And soon, he meets the waistband of your pants, the ones gone as fast as you could even think about them, leaving you with your already soaked panties. His hands grab your thighs to pry them apart and to reveal your desires to him, the way your throbbing core wants him, needs him. He lowers his head, only to nuzzle it against your thigh, looking up to you with lidded eyes, almost like he’s asking for permission.

“You deserve it, take a taste, and please me,” you smile, nodding your head once as encouragement.

Taking your words and immediately diving in, his tongue lapping at your clit over the damp cloth, tasting your desire for him. Despite the slight barrier, he doesn’t take your panties off, rather, he continues to lick your core like that, sucking at your throbbing bud, tip of tongue savoring you with each motion, with each touch. Your thighs are pressing against his head, hips bucking, in need for more and more of him.

You grab his hair and pull slightly at him. “F-fuck. Do it properly, will you?” You try to hide the slight whiny tone in your voice, needy and desperate for more.

Instead of words, his teeth dig into the soft flesh of your thigh, at the connection between your pelvis and leg. While putting his mark on you, he slowly slides your panties down to the middle of your thighs, just leaving enough space for him to fit between your legs.

And heeding your words, the moment he’s within reach, his flattened tongue caresses your aching clit, sucking at your most sensitive spot, making you more and more tense with each swipe, with each pass between your sticky folds. The tip of his tongue teases your clenching opening, drawing a moan of his name out of you, highlighting the emptiness inside of you, yearning for him to fill you and complete you.

With his careful ministrations, his knowledge about you immeasurable, touching you in every way you like, in every way leading you closer and closer towards the edge. Until the right time, the right pressure, and the sight of him between your thighs, eyes hazy with lust yet focused on you and your own wants, and you unravel on his tongue, feeling yourself gush over his mouth, and all he does is drink you up, devour you entirely.

You throw your head back, shivering as you continue to feel his tongue against you, licking everything seeping out of you with eagerness, moans vibrating against your skin.

“Ah, Sylus! Fuck… Mmh. Well done…” you murmur, tugging at his hair, only to let your fingernails scrape his scalp carefully. “Hm, what a good boy you are. You can choose how you want to take me.”

After one last kiss, he raises himself, and he’s towering over you, all muscle and strength, and yet powerless underneath your touch and your words. With ease he grabs your hips and turns you around, your chest hitting the mattress. You barely can hold yourself on your knees, as he leads his length towards your entrance. But instead of entering your needy cunt, he lets himself glide through your folds, his tips bumping against your clit, rubbing and caressing, the veins throbbing against you, making you clench around nothing. Desire overtaking him, as he leans down, his chest pressing against your back, his lips touching the nape of your neck, moans of your name filling your marrow, while one of his hands caresses your chest, pinching your nipple.

You whimper at the way he seems to hit your sensitive spots just right. “C’mon, make me feel good, won’t you?”

These words seem to spur Sylus on, as you feel him twitch between your thighs. And at this, you can’t help but rub your soft skin against him. “Hm, show me how you would fuck me, though. Fuck my thighs for me, yeah?” You change directions, feeling excited at the thought of him climaxing purely due to your softness and nothing else.

His hips sputter for a moment, only to pick up the pace, as you press your thighs closely together, leaving just enough space for him to get off on. His cock slides against your softness, twitching and throbbing, hips rutting, seeking his own high, pleasing himself on your body with your permission, enjoying the way your skin rubs against his veins, caressing the tip of his cock; the way your flesh molds to him, and only him. And he can’t help but imagine how it might feel to be enveloped in your warmth, to fill you to the core. Just the picture of his length being buried to the hilt in you instead of just rubbing against your supple thighs, combined with the pressure you have been continuously applying, imitating the clench you have been feeling with each jerk of his, makes him climax, sputtering ropes against your torso, yet he continues to buck his hips, seeking more friction, more you, moaning your name over and over again, his reason to exist.

You don’t give him proper downtime as you rub your hips against his, feeling him harden once again. Your mere existence is enough for him to want and want and want. “Do you want to cum inside me? Do you want to please me, to feel me? Hm? Then do it, let me feel you.”

Teeth sink into your shoulder and he doesn’t hesitate to align his length against your entrance, aching for him. The moment his tip enters you, you feel overwhelmed, his cock filling you slowly with each languid stroke, until you can barely breath, his being taking over you entirely, making your head spin from pleasure and want. His hips against yours, and you can’t help but grind yourself against him, seeking more and more, and Sylus doesn’t want anything more than you and your pleasure, to see you come undone over his cock. So, he begins to move, pulling out carefully, only to push himself back in at the perfect angle, hitting your soft spot, making you see stars and moan his name. With each motion of his hips, the speed takes up until he settles for something you truly seem to enjoy, while taking good care of you. At the same time, he carefully grabs your face, turning you towards him to capture your lips in his, hot and heavy, tongue lapping against tongue, spit and moans, teeth dragging and digging, devouring you with his fierceness.

His weight slowly shifts on you as his hand wanders between your legs, spreading your folds carefully to touch your clit with his fingertips, to draw the motions and get the loudest noises out of you. Each flick and jerk barely controlled, just with the intent to draw out the tension, to wind you up underneath his touch. And with the right pressure and a deep stroke into your cunt, you come apart, clenching around him as you moan his name in wanton. The sudden tightness around him draws a grunt out of him, his lips kissing your shoulders, before letting his incisors once again mark your flesh, his thrusts growing erratic with each passing, until everything releases, flowing out of him and warming you up, his cock to the hilt buried inside you, right where he belongs.

With this, he lets himself slump fully towards you, arms circling your waist, as he drags you down to the mattress, face in your neck, refusing to let go of you, murmuring confessions of love and resonance of your being. And as much as Sylus would never want to part with you, you would never part with him; you both share a soul, living without the other impossible. That is your fate, the one you choose; to be with him for the rest of all times.

[lumiambrose]

~ ✰ UNSPOKEN ACCIDENTS ⋆｡°✩

featuring: reo x gn!reader (should pass as gn!, sorry in advance if it's not!)

summary: after months of unspoken feelings and an extremely tough match, he finally lets his deepest emotions slip...

request for nonnie xx

wc: 1.1k

tags: smut, little bit angsty i guess, friends with benefits, cumming inside, fluffy ending too i guess :)

Your fingers trace absentminded circles on Reo’s bare chest, his skin still damp from sweat, the air thick with his scent. The bed beneath you feels warmer than usual, but maybe that’s just him. Or maybe it’s you, pretending this means more than it does.

Reo is silently staring at the ceiling, his jaw clenched tight. You know this isn’t about you—not entirely. His team lost today—he lost today. A stupid mistake in the last five minutes cost him the game, and Reo Mikage does not take losing lightly.

Still, you hope… well, you’re not sure what you hope for. Maybe some sign that you’re more than a stress reliever, that you’re not just a warm body for him to sink into at a whim. But expecting anything is unfair of you. I mean, it goes without saying: no feelings, no expectations, just pleasure and the occasional bite of comfort when the world outside becomes too loud.

“Reo…” you start hesitantly, your fingers pausing over his heartbeat. He tenses under your touch, eyes snapping to yours. You’re not quite sure what’s going through his mind right now, but either way, you’re not sure whether you want to know.

“What?” his voice is sharper than anticipated, irritation bleeding through.

You bite your lip. “I just… you played well today.”

A bitter laugh escapes him. “Yeah, clearly. That’s why we lost, right?”

You sit up, pulling the sheet around yourself. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

His jaw ticks. “You don’t get it.”

“I do, actually.”

“No, you don’t.” His voice rises. The frustration clear in his tone as he sits up abruptly, raking a hand through his hair. “You don’t understand how much this fucking means to me. How much I—” He exhales harshly, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, but your heart twists nonetheless at the rawness in his voice. “Reo, I—”

“I don’t need your pity,” he snaps.

That hurts. More than it should. You clench your fists, doing your absolute best to ignore the feelings surging up your body. “I’m not pitying you.”

He scoffs, running both hands through his hair. He looks wrecked—tired, angry, vulnerable in a way he probably hates. But you don’t judge him. You don’t think you even can. Knowing the weight of expectations he carries, the way he punishes himself for not being perfect.

So you do the only thing that crosses your mind. You reach for him.

At first, he resists, but when you pull him closer, his body sags against yours. His head resting against your shoulder, and his breath is warm against your skin, uneven.

“I hate losing,” he mutters, voice muffled.

“I know.” You run your fingers through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp. While it does take a while, you finally notice the tension in his body begins to melt.

And then, as if seeking something else—something more, his lips find yours.

It starts slow, but you both know where this is heading. His hands find your waist, your nails dig into his shoulders, and the weight of every unspoken thought between the both of you comes crashing down.

His kisses are tired and sloppy, a reflection of his current state, but the way he holds you makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters right now. The way his palms roam from your waist to rubbing the small of your back and eventually making their way to the globes of your ass, you almost feel special.

It’s not long until he’s removing his boxers, freeing his cock before taking your lips to his once again. Placing you on top of him, his hands continue to roam once again, and once you can’t take it anymore, you take your own initiative. Aligning your heat with his cock before slowly sinking down on him, a breathy moan escaping your lips, only to be muffled by Reo.

You start slow—painfully slow. Adjusting yourself to his size as you slowly shift back and forth on his lap. Reo reciprocates, grinding up into your aching core. It’s slow but surprisingly sensual, extremely sensual.

His lips are latched to your neck, planting wet kisses and marks throughout your skin as he holds onto the soft flesh on your ass. If you didn’t know any better, you’d actually believe he wanted you. Though that’s not relevant, not while your body aches in pleasure as every thrust sends jolts through your body.

Reo can feel it too. He guides your movements, helping you bounce on his lap as he thrusts up to meet you, slowly increasing in pace. The room fills with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and your mingled moans and grunts. And before you know it, you’re reaching that all-familiar high. The high only Reo can give you.

“Reo,” your voice strained. “I’m so close.” Your words come out slurred between a mix on moans and gasps, but he understands. He lifts you up slightly, allowing him a better angle as he continues to thrust inside of you, chasing both of your releases.

“Yeah? Go on, make a mess for me.” Even his own voice is strained, but that doesn’t change a thing as you find yourself trembling on top of him. Your high crashing over you as you moan out his name.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” he’s getting desperate too. “Gonna fill you up, ok?” Though he doesn’t give you time to reply as he reaches his own high. Hot seed spraying your insides as he finally slows down his movements, gently grinding his cum inside you as the two of you pant against each other's skin.

The air is thick—too thick, almost as if something is up. Maybe you’re just delusional, actually believing the impossible will happen. But as you rest against Reo’s chest, you hear the strangest words.

“I love you.”

Your body stills, your heart stopping mid-beat.

His eyes are wide, as if he himself can’t believe what he just said. But there’s no taking it back. His hands tighten around you, grounding you in this moment.

“You…” Your throat feels tight. “You love me?”

You look up, finally facing him as you try to comprehend his words. You’re not imagining things, are you?

“I do.” Short and simple, but everything you wanted to hear. The months of what you considered one-sided yearning, all to be reciprocated, and it feels like a massive weight has just been lifted off your chest.

The grin that spreads across your face is impossible to hide, even when you try and turn away; he pulls you back to him, reciprocating with a smile of his own.

And then, as if afraid you’ll slip through his fingers, he kisses you again—like he just won his greatest victory.

Taglist: @sky-casino, @bbladie, @thetwinkims, @inu1gf (join my taglist here)

©lumiambrose ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

[tonysbed]

Secrets I keep | Part 10

Lando Norris x sister!reader

Max Fewtrell x norris!reader

summary: You and Max have been dancing around your feelings for years but jealousy gets the best of us all..

not proofread

series masterlist | previous | next

-

yn

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, maxfewtrell, landonorris and 638.946 others

yn sundays are race days 🏎️🤍

*tagged maxfewtrell, landonorris, kellypiquet*

kellypiquet my babies 🥹

landonorris 🧡🧡

maxfewtrell real flattering 😐

yn 😁😁

user where is alex??🥲

yn sick sadly :((

user oh noo, get well soon alexandrasaintmleux

alexandrasaintmleux thank you 🤍

user love their friendship sm

user p and the catsss

user the little hand i’m crying 🥹

-

You open the door to Max, who is holding his hands behind his back. “Don’t do that“ “Do what?” He scrunches his eyebrows “Hands behind your back. I’m a true crime listener, i’m always thinking about the worst case” Max slowly shows you his hands, a pink flower boquet is in his right hand and his phone is his left.

“I’m not sure how much damage flowers can do but.. Well you love flowers and now I made it awkward, haven’t I?”

You shake your head chuckling “Thank you.” You take the flowers off him and walk inside. Max follows you and makes his way to the kitchen, while you look for a vase in the living room.

P looks at you “What are those?” “Flowers, baby” “I know that” She says and puts her hands on her hips. In her size, an adorable sight. You smile and continue looking until you find one.

“Are they from max?” You nod “They are” “Like maxie gets for mom? Oh! So he loves you very much!” You look at the little girl “It’s just a nice gesture” P raised an eyebrow “Sure, miss almost kissed”

Your head snapped to her “What did you say?” “Nothing!” She goes back to playing with her toys and you make your way to the kitchen.

“Where’s Alexandra?” Max asked “Sick” You shrug. Max nods “Could you make P something to eat? She’ll be hungry soon and she is a nightmare when she’s hungry” You grimace. He chuckles but does it either way.

-

“So she is just sick?” Max asks, setting down food for P and sitting down next to you on the couch “mhm” You say, holding the bottle for the baby “I don’t believe it to be honest”

“No?” “No.” “Why?” You look at him with a knowing look “Ah. You told her” You blush a little and look back at the little human in your arms “Hey, i’m not mad you told her. But now it’s suspicious that she isn’t here” “That’s what I’m saying” You chuckle.

yn added to their story

-

“Are we gonna talk about this now or..”Max trails off. Max and Kelly already returned in the evening and picked the two kids up. Max was helping you clean up a bit because two young kids in the same space can be quite chaotic.

“We should..shouldn’t we” You sigh and stand up from where you put toys away. He nods and you both sit down on the couch once again.

You fidget with the hem of your sweatshirt “Do we wanna risk it or not? Is this worth it? Is probably what we should answer..right?” You nod “Yeah”

He looks at you “We can’t stay away from each other, and it’s killing me okay? I just..” He runs his hand over his face “This is all or nothing” You say quietly, which he nods to.

“We have to think about us..but..” “He’ll be okay. Your mom has a talent in calming and convincing her children. “ He says, reaching out to push a lose stand of hair behind your ear. You look up at him.

“he won’t leave you.” “You don’t know that, Max” “I do. Do you even know how much he loves you?” He smiles “You’re his person.” “Are you referring to Christina and meredith?” You smile “After you forced me to watch every season, can you blame me?”

“He’s my person too..” He nods “I know. And as long as we’re honest with him, he’ll be okay. We had our reasons to keep it this long but we didn’t go behind his back.”

You nod, your eyes focused on his. You lean in once again “If anyone calls, you’re not picking up and the door stays closed” He whispers, hand now resting on your cheek. You look into his eyes and stop moving.

“This would going behind his back tho, no?” You say quietly. Max squeezed his eyes shut and let his forehead meet yours “I have a feeling faith hates us” You chuckle “Why?” “Anytime we’re about to fucking finally kiss, something or someone stops us. Now that we’re finally here, you stop it again” He breaths.

“I’m sorry max, I can’t hurt him. Not after he reacted that badly to dan-“ Max pressed a finger to your lips “Don’t talk about him when i’m right here, please”

You nod pull away when your phone lights up in a notification. Max groans and you pick it up “It’s carlos..?” you say confused.

“What does he say?”

“How does everyone figure this out?” Max whines “It’s not like we were very subtle. The only one who really didn’t notice was Lando. And probably keegan cause he’s just..keegan” Max laughs “Yeah.”

“Oscar actually asked me about it when you two used to race in renault together” “Really?” “Mhm.”

“I’ll have to text lando that mom is coming. And the way I know her, she’s bringing dad”

“Yeah. But back to the original question..”

“Do you think we’re worth it? Are you ready for the confrontation with Lando?” You ask him “I am if you are” You smile lightly “Then we’re doing it?” “I guess we are. Better us than Da- the man who shall not be named.” You laugh “He’s not voldemort.” “He’s still a dick.”

-

-

The short time to Wednesday felt like forever. Lando kept trying to get out of you why your parents were coming. The only answer he got was “Why shouldn’t they?”

Lando was slowly going crazy. If they act like this, there must be something wrong. The last time everyone was this secretive, it only meant something bad.

So it was no wonder that Lando hadn’t slept when you picked up your parents from the airport “Hello my babies” Ciska pulls you both into a hug “Hey mom” “Hey” You both say. Adam pulls you and then Lando into a hug after you pulled away from Ciska.

“Let’s go shall we?” You say nervously. You walk next to your mother “Can someone tell me now why you’re here? It’s really worrying me” Lando says exhausted as you stop next to his car.

Adam looks at Ciska, who shrugs a bit “It’s nothing to loose your mind over. It is just better when we’re here. We’re going out tonight.” Lando eyes him “Going out?”

“Yes, at a restaurant. Let’s go now!” Ciska clapped in her hands.Lando helps them with their luggage as you sit in the backseat which your mother joins you in. She takes your hand and gives you a reassuring squeeze.

-

As you put on your jacket, Ciska stands in the doorway “He’s going straight there?” You nod “He’s meeting us there” “Have you told lando that max is coming?” You nod again “He knows. But he doesn’t know why”

You say with a shaky voice. Ciska stands behind you, hands on your shoulders “We’re here. And if this is what really matters, he’ll accept it. You don’t even know how much he loves you” “I’ve been hearing that a few times recently” You chuckle.

“Then it must be true. There’s nothing that could separate you two.” She kisses the side of your head and you walk into the hallway, where lando and adam are waiting by the front door, deep in conversation about the season.

“Ah! You’re finally here. Let’s go!”

-

f1gossip

f1gossip Lando norris, Yn norris, their Parents and Max fewtrell were seen tonight at a restaurant out in monaco! Fans seem to think, for a good reason, that this is about Yn’s tweet two days ago.

user max keeps showing up at their family dinners 😂

user chaos pure

user am I the only one who saw the video of Max and yn walking together??

user right? They seem to finally getting along

user finally no more war 😂

-

After you ordered, silence filled the table “So? We’re not here for no reason at all, are we?” Lando asked, playing with his napkin. Ciska looks at you.

“I wanted to talk to you..about something” Lando raised an eyebrow “And you needed Mom and dad for that? And Max?” “Yeah. Well mom and dad are just a safety measure.” Lando laughs “From me? Okay.”

“Lando.” Ciska warns “Okay okay. Tell me” “So uhm.. this actually goes a bit back in time.. way back actually..” You fidget “Have you broken something?” “No” Lando raised an eyebrow, still confused.

“Will you let her speak” Adam says now, taking a sip of his drink. Lando nods and looks at you “Uhm..So I uh.. Like someone” Lando nods “Okay? What does that have to do with me? It’s not Daniel, or?” You shake your head.

“Thank god. I love him as a friend but for my sister? Wasn’t so happy but it only matters what you want” He shrugs. You glance at Max, who returns the look and you look back at Lando.

Lando scrunched his eyebrows together but doesn’t say anything “I only really want to tell you and approach this because otherwise Daniel would and I don’t want you to find out from someone else and O don’t wanna loose you,so i’m telling you now, but I like max and he likes me and we’ve liked each other for a long time but we didn’t wanna go behind your back and-“ Lando sits up and blinks in surprise at your sudden fast pace confession “Hey hey hey, breath jesus”

You stop talking and look at him, tears welling up “You like Max?” He looks at him “You like her?” Max nods, lips pressed together. You clench your jaw “Please don’t hate me” Lando looks at you “What? Hate you?”

A tear rolls down your cheek “Yn no” He gently grabs your hand and pulls you out of your chair into his arms. His hand cradles your hand and the other arm tightens around you “I could never hate you.” He pulls away and holds your face in his hands “How long have you..”

“Since.. uhm” “since we were sixteen” Max mumbles, loud enough for all of you to hear. Landos eyes soften “Why didn’t you say anything?” “I didn’t wanna ruin your friendship or.. our relationship” Lando keeps wiping the coming tears.

“I just want you to be honest, not hide yourself from me. I thought we were over that?” He sighs “You told everyone i’m off limits!” “Think. Have I told Max?” He looks at Max “Have I told you that?” Max thinks for a moment but shakes his head.

“Why did you think that is?” He looks at you “Why do you think carlos texted you?” You looked at him schockrd “What?” “I’ve known for a bit. It clicked when Daniel made a backhanded comment at the dinner. I can’t recall what exactly he said but you and Alexandra looked at each other and after that she kept glancing at max”

“So alexandra-“ “No I would’ve figured it out myself. At least when max started hating Daniel out of thin air. He didn’t hate him, he was jealous. And why do you think was keegan in your business?”

“You set him up?” “Made him act clueless and all. I wanted to confirm my suspicions. And don’t worry, I get why you didn’t tell me”

“See?” Ciska now says, smiling. Lando wiped the last of your tears and moves to hug Max.

“I don’t have to give you the speech do I?” He asked with raised eyebrows “No, No. I got it” Max says, raising his hands.

“Good. Oh the foods here!” He says excitedly as the waiter sets the plates down. You smile at him and sit back down next to Max. He gives your arm a reassuring squeeze and a warm smile.

-

After everyone had finished their food, Lando looks around. His face was reflecting that he was deep in thought.

“Lan? Everything okay?” “Daniel was about to tell me because he was hurt, right?” You nod “I think so..why?” “Just asking. Now he’s gonna hear a few things from me when he tells me. Guess who my new guest will be for the next grand prix” He smiles mischievously.

“Lando, no big scene.” You say, tilting your head “Yn. He tried to mess with you, hurt you by telling me. You think i’m just gonna let him? What would you do in my situation?”

You stay quiet, knowing you would do the same. Lando nods “See?”

-

yn

liked by danielriccardo, landonorris, maxfewtrell and 739.634 others

yn it’s race week 🤭

alexandrasaintmleux see you soon ❤️

yn ❤️

landonorris why always these random pictures? Why not the good ones you took of me?

yn I’m your sister, not your photographer.

landonorris 😐

user Daniel liked ahhh

user you think you’re the biggest mclaren fan and then there’s yn

-

I don’t like this chapter at all.. And lando is not as stupid as we thought.. and what in gods name is he planning? 😧

[maikelfist]

@chimneyz encouraged me to come off anon and take credit for my horny headcanon and I thought I'd do it by turning it into a fanfic. This kind of ran away from me. It was supposed to be quick and smutty but sweet, achy feels managed to sneak in, culminating into a pretty unhinged combination of tags. Don’t even ask. If you’re in the mood for hurt/comfort and self-indulgent smut this is for you. You can find it on ao3 here:

The Mechanisms of Pain Relief

BuckTommy | 9k | rated: E

Summary:

For Evan and Tommy, intimacy is as natural as breathing, and the idea of going long without sex feels almost unthinkable. If it were up to them, they’d stay in bed all the time. But life happens—sometimes their shifts don't align, they're exhausted, or they prefer to cuddle and comfort each other after a particularly rough day at work. Those things are to be expected. What isn’t predictable or acceptable is when Evan ends up hospitalized with a head injury. Or: Tommy takes care of Buck and Buck is overwhelmed in so many ways.

Symptoms of a concussion may include headaches, dizziness, confusion, sensitivity to light and noise, fatigue, sleep disturbances, memory problems, slowed reaction time, irritability, anxiety, depression and sensitivity to stress.

If you experience any of these symptoms worsening, you should speak to your healthcare provider.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

For Evan and Tommy, intimacy is as natural as breathing, and the idea of going long without sex feels almost unthinkable. If it were up to them, they’d stay in bed all the time. But life happens—sometimes their shifts don't align, they're exhausted, or they prefer to cuddle and comfort each other after a particularly rough day at work. Those things are to be expected.

What isn’t predictable or acceptable is when Evan ends up hospitalized with a head injury.

Tommy’s heart stops for a moment when Eddie’s text comes through, and he doesn’t even wait for his supervisor’s approval when requesting time off work to rush to the hospital. This isn’t like a dislocated shoulder, where it makes more sense to wait until his shift ends to check on Evan, no matter how agitated he felt at the time. This is much more serious.

A sigh of relief escapes Tommy’s lungs as he steps into the observation unit and sees Evan awake, propped up in bed. Evan’s face is pale but relaxed under the fluorescent lights. A bandage covers the treated head wound, and the sunglasses perched on his nose—definitely Eddie’s—give him an oddly fashionable look despite the circumstances. Blocking the harsh hospital light in style. The tension in Tommy’s shoulders eases slightly when Evan greets Tommy with a sleepy, sedated smile and the reassurance that it’s “not too serious of a concussion.” CT scans have been done and pain relief has been given.

“Don’t even need to stay the night… pr-probably,” Evan continues, his speech more slurred than Tommy would like. “I-I told Eddie it’s not a big deal. Head wounds are a lot worse than they look.” Evan pauses, confusion flickering across his face before he corrects himself. “No, wait. Other way ‘round.” He thinks for a moment, visibly rearranging the words in his head, taking longer than necessary. “They look worse than they are!” Evan exclaims with more energy, pleased that he got it right. “The head has so many blood vessels that—that even a small cut can look like… like a crime scene… b-but it’s usually not that bad—”

"Evan." Even when he keeps his voice low, Tommy delivers the name with a seriousness that he knows will make Evan pause, hold his breath for a moment. "How long until you can leave?" Tommy has hundreds of other questions on his mind, but he doesn’t want to put any strain on Evan. He’ll squeeze out all the information he needs from Eddie later.

“Uh… they said they wanted to watch me for a couple of hours. I-I don’t know how long it’s been. Eddie will know. He wanted to—he’s…” Even with only half of his face visible, it’s clear that Evan is scrunching it up in puzzlement. “Water!” he exclaims after a few seconds, as if the word had just clicked into place. “He’s getting me more water.” Evan slowly turns his head toward the entry, as if mentioning Eddie's name might make him return more quickly. When Evan realizes that no one is standing there yet, he shifts his gaze back to Tommy. A dopey smile spreads across his lips. “They asked me if… if I had someone who could take care of me at home.” Evan sluggishly lifts his arm, fingers bumping into the back of Tommy’s hand before he manages to take it, his grip weak but warm. “I said yes.”

Tommy’s chest tightens, a mix of relief and affection flooding him as he squeezes Evan’s hand gently. He isn’t sure whether to feel glad or disappointed that Evan is wearing shades. On one hand, it’s good that the sunglasses are providing Evan with some comfort, but on the other, he’d give anything to see those sunny eyes of his—the ones that have the power to melt him inside and leave him weak in the knees. Right now, Tommy knows he needs to be strong for Evan, but he can’t help giving in to the widening grin on Evan’s face, returning it with a soft smile of his own. He brings Evan’s hand to his lips and kisses it gently.

“Yeah. Yeah, you have.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Evan hit his head on a car door. That’s the short version of the story. Eddie almost makes it sound like a slapstick sketch with how casually he remarks on it. Tommy knows, though, that Eddie’s calm demeanor is just a cover for how worried he is. Tommy knows that feeling all too well.

The full story is far less comedic. Two cars collided, leaving one severely damaged. It ended up wedged against a concrete barrier, with the passenger side crumpled like tissue paper. Thankfully, the father and son had been seated on the driver's side, and they managed to pull the unconscious father through the broken windshield. Extracting the son was more difficult. The child, sitting in the back seat, was trapped by twisted metal around the rear door, crying, panicking and in pain from a broken leg.

Evan was tasked with prying open the car door using a hydraulic spreader. He placed it between the door frame and the car body and began to apply pressure. The metal was severely bent and difficult to move—until it suddenly gave way. With a loud cracking sound, the door swung open so abruptly that Evan lost his footing and fell face-first into the swinging metal, a sharp edge striking his temple. The force was so strong that it cracked Evan's helmet.

Tommy’s stomach churns as he listens to Eddie’s retelling. Seeing Evan in his patched-up state is already bad enough; Tommy can’t picture what a terrifying sight he must have been to their friends—unconscious, blood gushing from the wound down his face, soaking into his clothes and hair. He doesn't even want to imagine what Evan's head would have looked like if he hadn't been wearing protection.

Eddie says he’s pretty sure Evan put too much pressure on the spreader, trying to get the boy out as quickly as possible.

Tommy doesn’t give in to the urge to rub his eyes. Instead, he quietly jokes, “Well, kids are a weakness of his.”

Eddie exhales a humorless puff of air in reply. “Yeah.”

They are whispering back and forth in Evan’s kitchen, the only illumination coming from the faint streaks of light peeking through the edges of the closed blinds, loft darkened to keep the fading day from hurting Evan’s eyes and allowing him to sleep peacefully upstairs. 

“Hey,” Eddie adds softly. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

Tommy shifts his weight from one foot to the other, hoping the lack of light conceals the awkwardness of it. “You really don’t need to thank me for that.”

“I’m gonna do it anyway. How many of your vacation days did you use to get two weeks off work? Just to be stuck in the Bat Cave?”

“You’ll keep us alive by providing us with food and supplies, so who’s the real Batman here?” “I think that makes me Alfred.”

"Who has been called Batman’s Batman," Tommy points out, raising a finger at Eddie.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, we’re both awesome,” Eddie relents, batting the finger away. “I’m just saying, I… I would’ve looked after him at my place, but I just got Christopher back and I don’t think it would be good for him to see Buck like this, so…”

“I get it. You can count on me, all of you.”

“Well, except that one time,” Eddie drawls.

There will likely never be a time when Tommy won't feel shame when reminded of how he ran away from Evan out of fear of getting hurt. At the same time, it floods him with relief knowing that Eddie and the others are casual enough about it to use it as roasting material. He would listen to their quips every day if it meant being with Evan. However, that doesn’t mean he will just take it lying down. “Yeah, we all need to make a monumentally stupid mistake once to learn not to do it again, right, Eddie?”

The blow makes Eddie close his eyes for a moment, and Tommy can practically see the Kim fiasco flashing behind them. When Eddie opens his eyes again, Tommy is met with an unimpressed look. “You’re lucky this ended well for both of us.”

Fond amusement quirks Tommy’s mouth. “So are you. And this will turn out well for Evan, too. Alright?” Tommy assures Eddie.

The first genuine smile of the day brushes across Eddie’s lips, so small that it's nearly unnoticeable. “Yeah. Alright.”

Shoulder bumps turn to hugs turn to goodbyes. Tommy holds the door open, promising to regularly send Eddie updates, lists of groceries and other things he needs from his own place, while Eddie swears he’ll come by as often as possible. When the door closes, Tommy listens for a moment until he can no longer hear Eddie’s muffled footsteps. Then he turns to face the dark.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The recovery time is a bit of a whirlwind. Or rather, a tornado.

Tommy learns to navigate Evan's loft almost blindly because he refuses to turn on any of the bright lights at night. Who thought open-space architecture was a good idea? The evening he broke up with Evan was filled with many moments that make him shake his head—mostly at himself—but Evan asking him to move into a place that was essentially one big room was certainly one of them. Then again, even through walls, Tommy feels an odd sense of guilt whenever he has to make a sound louder than his toothbrush. It will probably be a while before he stops cringing every time he needs to flush the toilet.

The stairs end up being Tommy's biggest source of stress. Through eye contact alone, Tommy knew that he and Eddie were on the same page about the desire to simply carry Evan up the stairs and into bed if Evan hadn’t insisted on climbing them himself. Instead, Eddie led the way, walking backward and holding on to Evan's arms, with Tommy behind Evan, hands on his back, ready to catch them both. 

Tommy keeps having nightmare visions of Evan stumbling and falling down the stairs or over the railing. He considers taking Evan’s bed apart and moving it to the lower level, but their current situation isn’t exactly ideal for playing IKEA. Not for the first time, he curses his neighbors for having the most obnoxiously noisy construction work done on their house at the worst possible time. Otherwise, he would take care of Evan at his place. As it stands, he plans to keep Evan as far away from the stairs as possible until he’s healed.

Thankfully, it seems to be quite easy to look after Evan, his dizziness and confusion turning him pliant and receptive to Tommy's care. Tommy ensures that Evan stays in bed, always having water and Tylenol within arm's reach so he can remain hydrated and pain-free, and regularly prepares light, nutritious meals for him—though, trying to make sandwiches by the dim light of the open refrigerator is certainly an experience. He tends to Evan's wounds with gentle hands, is by his side when he takes a bath, washes and combs his hair, and stands by the closed but unlocked door whenever Evan needs to go to the bathroom, ready to help if needed. Evan sleeps a lot, but rarely a full night’s worth in one session, waking up every couple of hours, and Tommy is there to give him whatever he needs or simply keep him company.

His demeanor softened by the lingering haze of his injury, Evan soaks up all the attention and care Tommy gives him, and Tommy is more than willing to provide it. Evan is sweet and easy, and Tommy really should have learned from Billie Boils' “curse” that it wouldn’t stay that way.

After a couple of days, dizziness turns to irritation. Evan keeps getting up from the bed, desperate to move, run around, exercise, and he argues till his head aches when Tommy tries to coax him back to bed.

After getting the okay from Buck’s doctor, Tommy researches suitable activities for someone with a concussion and begins to incorporate light, slow seated stretching and range-of-motion exercises into their daily routine. They don’t work out for very long, only a couple of minutes at a time, until Evan realizes this isn’t what his body actually wants while it’s healing.

Tommy can tell what Evan misses the most is going outside and running in the park, but since that’s not possible, Tommy tries to bring the park to him. One afternoon, they lie in bed together, both of their eyes closed, as Tommy tries to create scenarios for Evan to imagine.

He describes the scene in a soft, soothing voice, painting a picture of clouds drifting overhead, leaves rustling in the wind, and even attempts to mimic the sound of the breeze, puffing out his cheeks and blowing air through his lips.

Evan cracks one eye open, unimpressed. “Your wind sound is almost as bad as your fake mouth static.”

Determined to make up for his apparently less-than-convincing sound effects, Tommy pulls up a video of city park ambience for relaxation, which turns out to be a huge mistake.

"I miss my phone," Evan whines behind his hands as the pads of his fingers rub his eyes in frustration, having remembered that the internet, with all its vast knowledge, exists.

"You're not allowed to look at screens, you know that," Tommy retorts, his voice gentle yet firm, as he lies on his side on the bed next to Evan, propping up his head with his hand.

Evan lets his hands thump to the pillow next to his head, his face sulky and disgruntled. “But I want to know how big jellyfish can get!”

Tommy’s brows furrow slightly and he can feel amusement tug at the corners of his mouth despite himself. “Why?”

"I had a dream about an ancient god-like jellyfish the size of a whale. It talked to me but I forgot what it said," Evan says, arms crossed and pouting, as if the universe itself has wronged him.

The largest known jellyfish apparently belonged to the Lion's Mane species, boasting a bell diameter of 7 feet and tentacles around 120 feet long—if one can trust the Wikipedia article which Tommy slowly reads to Evan. Normal research often sends Evan spiraling down a never-ending rabbit hole of information. However, Tommy is happy to discover that research-via-boyfriend, listening to the calm, deep rumble of his voice, helps Evan fall asleep.

The research bouts aren't the only way Tommy engages Evan's mind. A nurse advised Tommy to regularly assess Evan's cognitive function. Initially, Tommy tries using crossword puzzles and simple math problems, but Evan quickly becomes bored. So, Tommy starts asking questions to jog Evan's memories—about birthdays, how their friends take their coffee, recipes and special events.

"What was the first city I flew Eddie to?" Tommy asks, fingers brushing through Evan’s curls as he’s sitting behind him on the bed, Evan leaning against his chest.

Evan grumbles, "I have a concussion, not amnesia."

"Do you know the answer or not?" Tommy presses.

"Vegas, and I also remember that you stood me up for it," Evan says, lifting his chin defiantly to look at him with accusatory eyes. 

"You did get to buy me a beer later.”

Scorn tinges Evan’s voice. “Oh, it feels so good to be a second priority.”

Tommy stifles a sigh, managing to keep a straight face. "What was the name of the restaurant we went to on our first date?"

"Abandon-me-at-the-fronteria."

Laughter threatens to break out of Tommy's chest but he suppresses it as well, pressing his lips together and burying his face into Evan’s hair. Evan can be really fucking funny when he's acting like a brat, Tommy will give him that. That’s not a compliment Tommy should ever say out loud, though.

"Close enough," Tommy deadpans.

Eddie isn’t spared either during his visits. One time, he foolishly believes that Evan would be interested in hearing about the science project he’s working on with Cristopher and how well it’s coming along, only to throw a startled look at Tommy when Evan replies with a curt, “Good to know you’re having so much fun without me.”

Eddie texts him later.

Eddie: Please tell me he doesn’t act like that all the time

Tommy: He does sleep occasionally

Eddie: I bet you fluff his pillows and tuck him in after he curses your ancestors

Tommy: Don’t forget the kiss on the forehead

Eddie: You have the patience of a saint, man

Tommy: You’re patient with him too

Eddie: Because I get to leave

Tommy: I very much plan on screaming into a pillow when I can be loud again

Eddie: TMI

Laughter spills out of Tommy, and he just finishes replying with an emoji wearing a halo when Evan pipes up, “Rub it in my face that I can’t talk to anyone, why don’t you.”

“You just talked to Eddie.”

“That’s not the same.”

Tommy spends the rest of the evening catching Evan up on the 118 group chat, reading messages aloud and typing out Evan’s replies. Unable to resist, he puts on a different impression for each person—like a deep and steady tone for Bobby or a high, nurturing one for Maddie. He keeps it up until Evan starts to complain about his headache getting worse.

Not everything they do requires patience. In fact, there is one moment in particular that will forever be etched in Tommy's memory as one of the happiest of his life.

Only a small light in the living room is on, casting a warm, indirect glow up to the bedroom on the upper floor. Tommy has Evan in his arms, giving him support, and they're gently swaying back and forth, Tommy humming the melody of a song whose title has slipped his mind, intermingled with nonsensical lyrics he only half recalls. Slow dancing counts as low impact exercise, right?

Evan seems to agree, judging by the way he happily sighs into Tommy's neck, his warm, wet breath sending shivers down Tommy's spine.

If heaven exists, and if Tommy were allowed in, this is what it would feel like.

Until Evan starts kissing his neck. Tommy mindlessly leans his head back, giving Evan more room to explore Tommy's skin with his mouth. Evan's movements become more heated and demanding, and Tommy hisses when Evan bites a bruise into his throat. Only when Evan begins to open the buttons of his shirt does Tommy put up any resistance.

"Evan..." Tommy half-heartedly tries to push him away. "Evan, we can't—not yet."

Evan keeps clinging to Tommy and insists, "Come on. It's been so long. I'm almost healed." Nuzzling into the spot where neck meets shoulder, his breath comes hot and uneven against the sensitive skin. Fingers fumble with the buttons of Tommy’s shirt, lips trailing downward until they reach the coarse curls of his chest hair. Evan buries his face into the dip between Tommy’s pecs, inhaling deeply and moaning as if intoxicated by the scent.

The sensation sends a flush of warmth through Tommy, electric currents racing up his spine. He can feel himself getting hard in his pants at a speed that makes him dizzy, his body betraying him even as his mind fights to stay in control. Still, he doesn’t budge. "Almost isn't fully." 

He tugs at Evan's hair to lift his head, which in hindsight isn’t a great idea—Evan moans at the feeling, a soft, involuntary sound that sends a jolt of heat straight to Tommy’s core. Evan follows Tommy's lead for a moment, but then leans in, pressing his forehead against Tommy's. "Tommy, please," he begs, his voice barely above a whisper, plush lips brushing his. "I need you." The yearning in his voice reverberates in Tommy’s chest, and it’s just as delicious as the feeling of their bodies rubbing together when Evan starts to grind against him.

It’s impossible not to entertain all the vivid images flooding Tommy’s mind. It would be so easy to give in. They could be gentle. Tommy could blow him or ride him or hold on to Evan’s spread legs as he carefully rocks into him, letting Evan do nothing but lie there and look pretty, his breath hitching and thighs trembling as Tommy surrenders to his wishes, gives him what he wants. Evan’s back would arch, his hands gripping the sheets, and his moans would fill the room as he throws his head back in pleasure—

"No." Tommy tears himself away, allowing no contact between them. His voice has been in quiet mode for almost two weeks now, so his rejection comes across as startlingly loud, despite it still being softer than his usual conversational volume.

The ceiling lights don’t have to be on for Tommy to know that big, fat tears are starting to well up in Evan's eyes. The wet huff escaping his lips and the way he hugs himself tell Tommy enough.

"I don’t actually need you, you know?" Evan spits, voice corrosive with acidity and venom. "I can take care of myself. You can't stop me."

A pit wants to open in Tommy’s stomach, and he’s holding it together by sheer force of will. 

Evan doesn’t mean it like that. He’s just upset. He doesn’t mean it. This isn’t about you.

Tommy closes his eyes for a second, as if that could help him ignore the ache in his chest, and reminds himself to breathe. Squaring his shoulders, he focuses on the situation at hand. Part of him actually wants to try to stop Evan, but he knows he won't win this fight. 

"Be careful then,” Tommy says, his voice purposely steady. “Make sure to do it lying down. And don't finger yourself. Your coordination isn't quite there yet, and you could move your head too much trying to get the right angle."

The next sound leaving Evan's mouth is less of a huff and more of a snarl. "Fine. Have it your way." Evan takes off his clothes and climbs onto the bed, all of his movements filled with spite, uncoordinated as they may be.

Tommy picks up the clothes that Evan has haphazardly thrown across the room and says, in the calmest voice he can muster, "I'll be downstairs if you need me."

The short, bitter laugh that bursts from Evan makes him realize how unfortunate his word choice has been.

"I’d say the same, but clearly you don’t need me,” Evan talks back, his tone dripping with resentment. “So I’ll just stay here, all by myself, moaning and begging for it."

Tommy balls his fists into the clothes he’s carrying to keep himself from arguing about how wrong Evan is. That wouldn’t actually be doing Evan any favors right now. He doesn’t mean it. Instead, he feigns an unaffected hum. "Have fun."

The pillow Evan throws at him nearly makes it to the lower floor, but Tommy manages to catch it just in time. He drops Evan's shorts in the process, but oh well—Tommy takes a deep breath—he can just pick them up again.

Tommy puts the pillow back in its place, unable to resist stealing a glance at Evan, who lets out a performative moan when he wraps his hand around himself. Tommy quickly averts his gaze and hurries down the stairs.

If Tommy spends longer than necessary in the bathroom, that is between him and the sink. And the floor. And Evan’s shirt, which he presses to his face, inhaling deeply and moaning into the fabric as the muffled, exaggerated sounds of pleasure from upstairs make his stomach twist with arousal and longing. He's just here to do laundry, that’s all.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

For Evan and Tommy, intimacy is as natural as breathing, and the idea of going long without sex feels almost unthinkable. If it were up to them, they’d stay in bed all the time. But life happens, and sometimes one of them is stuck in bed for entirely different reasons, needing the other to care for them while they're recovering.

That makes it all the sweeter when the doctor finally gives Evan the green light to return to normal.

They could just attack each other's lips and exchange blowjobs or handjobs for quick relief when they get home. Evan could fuck him. Tommy would be more than happy to spread his legs for Evan and let him do as he pleases. But he knows that's not what Evan wants right now. Once Evan gets his hands on him, he will want all of him. Once he gets his hands on Evan, he will want to give him all.

‘All of him” requires some work, though. If Evan gets fucked regularly, he generally has a pretty easy time taking Tommy without too much preparation. Getting fingered or licked open is usually enough. A dick that big leaves a lasting impression, Evan has joked—multiple times.

However, when there's a long break, Evan needs to go through an entire routine to prepare himself for Tommy, to get his hole adjusted to that size again, similar to what they did when he made love to Evan the first time—good hydration, some stretching and breathing exercises, a hot bath to relax Evan's muscles and ensure he's nice and thoroughly clean.

Tommy starts by massaging Evan's back, digging his fingers into his shoulders and along the curve of his spine until Evan groans. He tries to keep it relaxing for Evan, but soon Evan begins to wiggle, urging Tommy to hurry up. Evan demands it knowing that Tommy won't.

It's moments like these when Tommy enjoys teasing Evan's hole with his fingers without ever actually entering it for a while. Instead, he taps, strokes, pulses and circles around it until the ring starts to pulsate as if trying to draw him in—until it remembers him. 

Evan has gone through his prep routine, and now it's time for Tommy to go through his, which involves tongue and finger-fucking Evan until he's crying and begging into the pillow.

He licks and sucks at Evan’s hole, devouring it like it’s candy and moaning at the taste. Excess saliva fills Evan up from the inside, dripping down his taint and balls, making him even wetter than he already is. Tommy spits on it for good measure. 

When it’s not Tommy’s lips and tongue teasing Evan—his stubble providing a fine rasp against sensitive skin—it’s his fingers pumping and scissoring inside him, massaging his prostate regularly but nowhere near enough for Evan’s liking. Every now and then, Tommy hooks both his index and middle fingers into Evan, spreading him wide so he can push and flick his tongue into the gaping opening.

Tommy is scraping together the last remnants of his patience for this, and he has no idea where they’re coming from, other than the knowledge that he doesn’t want to hurt Evan.

And maybe, just maybe, he wants to chastise Evan’s hole for having forgotten him.

"Tommy, I can't," Evan whines, punching the mattress with his fist in a pitiful release of frustration. "I need it so bad! Come on, give it to me—"

Tommy must be closer to his breaking point than expected, and he only realizes it when he hears a loud smack followed by Evan throwing his head back and fucking yelling at the top of his lungs. With a startled flutter of his lashes, Tommy registers what just happened.

He just spanked Evan's hole.

There's a moment of stillness as Tommy tries his damned best to assess the situation based on Evan's reaction. Then Evan turns his head, and Tommy catches a glimpse of his beautiful face—red and splotchy to the point where his birthmarks are almost invisible, with pillow creases marking his skin and lashes damp with tears. Both his lips and eyes are shiny, red and wide open with surprise and something that Tommy would like to call wonder.

"Was that okay?" Tommy asks, his voice extra gentle as if to compensate for what he just did.

A shivery, wet exhale flows from Evan’s lungs before his arms give out and his head falls back onto the pillow. Tommy can still see Evan’s pretty profile, and it takes him a moment to realize that the way Evan is rubbing his face into the fabric is meant to be a nod. “Yeah. Yeah, that was okay,” Evan whispers.

"You want more?" Another nod. That wouldn't do. "Words, Evan."

A kittenish noise escapes Evan and he starts squirming again. "Yes, Daddy. Please, Daddy, I want more." Evan stretches his back and lifts his ass, as if he thinks he needs to bring his hole closer to sway Tommy.

A ball of arousal tightens its grip on Tommy's insides before bursting, sending bolts of intoxicating pleasure through his body. It's reminiscent of the rush he feels when he's flying—that swooping thrill so addictive in nature one can't help but crave to relive it again and again. As Tommy's eyes flutter shut, he takes a moment to savor the sensation, his mind already replaying the sight and sound of his boyfriend trying to entice him—and succeeding. God, Evan is exquisite. Always, of course, but especially when he falls into a mood like this.

Tommy takes a deep breath and calms his nerves. He needs his bearings for what's to come.

"Evan." Tommy's hands settle on Evan's waist, his thumbs lightly digging into the curve of his spine as he holds him steady. He trails his fingers along the line of his back, shaping Evan’s form to his liking and making him arch prettily. Tommy’s body follows the upward motion of his hands until he can speak into Evan’s ear, attempting nonchalance, though the rasp in his throat betrays him as he asks, “How many days has it been since I last fucked you?” “Seventeen,” Evan replies without a moment's hesitation, a breathless hitch in his voice revealing his anticipation. The corners of Tommy’s lips curl up at that. Of course Evan would know the answer. Tommy could probably ask him about the hours, the minutes, the temperature, and Evan would fondly reminisce about the last time Tommy's cock was buried in his ass, down to the very last detail. Over the past two weeks, Evan hasn’t answered any of Tommy’s questions with as much eagerness as this one. Cognitive function? Check.

“And why is that?”

“C-cause I got hurt?” 

Evan’s reply is endearingly timid, which is why Tommy doesn’t tsk before he retorts, “Close, but no. Try again.”

A miserable little mewl escapes Evan’s mouth, disappointed that he didn’t get it right the first time. Happier noises start filling the room—musical, airy notes—when Tommy’s dick finds the cleft of Evan’s ass. “Please—” Evan starts begging, distracted by the contact. Tommy’s grip on Evan’s shoulders tightens before he can lose himself completely. “Evan. Evan,” he repeats with more force when Evan continues to writhe. “Try again.”

Evan fusses and hides his face in the pillow once more, his voice muffled as he admits, “Cause I was careless.”

Evan's curls feel damp as Tommy begins to stroke them. The gentle touch gives Evan the courage to glance at him again from the corner of his eye. Tommy leans in and kisses his cheek, cooing, "Good boy, Evan." Another one of Evan’s sweet sounds chimes through the air, but Tommy doesn’t let him bask in the praise for too long. He continues, "Yes, you were careless. But that's not the reason either."

"Wha—why then?" Genuine confusion furrows Evan's brows, and he pouts in a way that Tommy can only describe with one word: adorable, adorable, adorable.

Tommy leans in, his forehead touching Evan’s temple, careful of the healing wound there, and nuzzles against Evan’s cheek. “Because you’re precious and I had to be gentle with you. Wanted to be, so you can heal properly.” His tone shifts from soft explanation to a husky tease, a wicked, feral edge creeping into his words when he rasps, “But I can be rough with you now, can’t I, Evan?”

Pouting lips part to release a floating, weak little gasp, followed by a needy, “Yes, pleasepleaseplease—”

Tommy plants a quick kiss on the corner of Evan’s mouth to quiet him before continuing, “You know what that means?” Evan shakes his head as best as he can. “I will give you seventeen hits, baby boy, one for each day we couldn’t do this.” Tommy emphasizes the last word with a thrust, making Evan moan eagerly. “And you will count them all and say ‘thank you, Daddy’ after each one. Alright?”

“Yes! Yes, thank you, Daddy, yes—” “After I spank your hole, Evan, not before.” Tommy lets sweet condescension drip from his tongue, underlining the lewdness of the words, ensuring he voices what Evan is begging for out loud.

Another high-pitched mewl leaves Evan, followed by a distraught cry as Tommy pulls himself away from him. Tommy keeps one of his hands on Evan's back to prevent him from following his movements. “Stay.”

Evan goes still, except for his fists kneading the sheets, desperate to release his pent up energy somehow. Tommy should give his hands something better to do. “Hold yourself open for me.” Evan scrambles to follow his order. “Very good, sweet boy.”

Tommy takes a few precious seconds to enjoy the sight in front of him—Evan presenting himself for Tommy, his hole wet, puffy and pretty in pink, winking at Tommy eagerly.

The first smack comes as a surprise to both of them. For a moment, Tommy considers dragging things out, but apparently, he doesn’t have that in him anymore. The sound of shock that shoots out of Evan’s lungs tells him he made the right call. Evan likely also assumed Tommy would tease some more.

Tommy waits, then chides when he hears nothing. “Evan.” Evan gasps, realizing his mistake and hurrying to correct it. “One! Thank you, Daddy.” Two, three, four and five follow in quick succession, the slapping sound made even more obscene by the wetness of lube and saliva spread between Evan’s cheeks. The next strikes follow a more irregular pattern, keeping Evan on his toes, each impact ripping through him like an earthquake. Tommy spanks with enough force to make it sting, to make the nerves feel raw and exposed—the kind of pain that makes you hiss and lean into it. 

Evan’s howls turn into keens with each hit, but he doesn't forget Tommy's instructions again. He does struggle to maintain a firm grip on his cheeks every now and then, his hands slick with sweat, but he manages to regain control each time.

Tommy takes a break at ten to check on Evan’s condition. Evan has stopped burying his face in the pillow, head tilted to the side again, likely because he needs air. His chest heaves beneath him and soft whimpers leave his mouth with each exhale. 

“You okay?” It takes Evan a couple of seconds to realize he’s being spoken to, but once he does, he nods. “Seven more, you think you can take it?” Tommy asks more clearly. A nod, again. “What did I tell you about using your words, Evan?”

“Yes, thank you, Daddy,” Evan rushes to deliver breathlessly, having reached the point where he mindlessly uses the phrase like a punctuation mark. Tommy couldn’t be prouder.

Tommy leans down to kiss Evan's skin, first grazing his hand and then his ass with a gentle brush of his lips, punctuated by another sharp smack to his hole. 

All the sweet reactions he used to elicit from Evan come flooding back as he remembers slapping his dick against Evan's cheeks and hole, teasing him with the heft of it before letting him feel it from the inside. He should have realized earlier just how into this Evan would be.

By the time Tommy reaches the end, an endless string of sobs is wracking Evan’s body, interspersed with heartbreaking hiccups whenever Evan is forced to inhale. Tommy makes sure that the last spank is the hardest one.

“ Ah! Hah- oooh, s-se-sev'nteen, th'nkyuDaddy,” Evan barely manages to slur in between his whimpers, but like a dutiful little trooper, he perseveres.

Tommy takes a good look at his creation.

Evan’s right cheek is squished into the pillow, his mouth slack-jawed, and he’s either uncaring or unaware of how much he’s drooling. His eyes, red-rimmed and glazed over, appear to gaze at nothing at all, unfocused, feverish and fuck-drunk, despite Evan not even having had a dick inside him yet. Maybe next time they do this, Tommy will place a vibrating egg against Evan’s prostate, see if he can come from that and the sting of spanks against his hole alone. A different kind of fucking.

Evan’s cock is a mess, just like the rest of him, twitching when air touches it and slowly but steadily leaking an obscene amount of precum onto the towel beneath him, thoughtfully placed there just for this purpose. Tommy’s mouth is watering with the urge to lap it up, but he resists. No distractions. He can still taste a hint of Evan’s ass, rich and carnal, on his tongue and that is enough to sustain him for now. 

Speaking of... Tommy's eyes fixate on the focal point of his masterpiece. A bright red circle glows around Evan's hole which pulsates to the rhythm of blood pumping beneath the skin. Tommy hovers his hand above it, dead certain he can feel the radiance of heat emanating from the area. He’ll have to treat it later, with Evan spreading his cheeks for Tommy so he can apply cooling, soothing aloe vera gel to the skin.

A deep, primal groan rumbles up from the depths of Tommy’s chest, and he can feel the last shreds of his self-control coming apart. He hurriedly grabs some lube to slick his cock, hissing in discomfort as he touches it and quickly pulls his hand away as if burned. His dick has been neglected for so long, and it’s letting him know just how displeased it is—angry red and overfilled with sensitivity. Tommy softens his touch; the caress of his feather-light fingers gradually gives way to careful strokes, maintaining the movement until he no longer feels like he might burst out of his skin. Once he feels ready, he gives Evan’s hole a soft parting kiss and crawls up his body, making sure his chest is fully pressed against Evan’s back.

Evan isn’t begging anymore, too out of it to understand what’s happening when Tommy starts feeding him his dick. Tommy didn’t forget that it’s been a while, but he isn’t taking it anywhere near as slowly as he usually would. He can’t.

A beautiful, silent O forms on Evan’s lips when he realizes that he’s finally getting what he’s been panting for all this time, eyes widening in pleasure-shock at the feeling, and his hands clawing at any part of Tommy he can find. His feet begin to lift off the bed at the same measured pace Tommy is entering him, as if every muscle in his body contracts more and more the deeper Tommy goes. All muscles, that is, except for the ring around Tommy’s cock, stretched wide and striving to stay open. Tommy can only imagine what it must feel like to be filled after such sweet torture to his hole—nerves oversensitized and rewired to perceive pleasure and pain as one and the same.

Only when Tommy’s hips are flush against Evan’s ass does a wanton moan break out of Evan, his legs thudding down onto the bed as his eyes roll into the back of his head from the pressure of Tommy’s cock against his sweet spot.

Evan chokes on a sob, saliva-garbled exclamations of “guh-good, s-so good” spilling from his lips, and tries to call for him, if his broken “Da-!” is supposed to mean anything, letting Tommy know that he can start moving and—

God.

This.

This is the moment Tommy has been waiting for over two fucking weeks—the moment where he’s finally allowed to snap, not a single cell in his body capable of patience or self-control anymore.

He practically throws his cock into Evan’s hole, not holding back on the power in his muscles, pistoning in and out as if trying to punch Evan’s prostate with each snap of his hips.

Tommy should probably put a hand over Evan’s mouth, muffle his howls and wails and sobs, his cries of yes! and please! and Daddy!, but he’s too far gone to deny himself the reward of Evan’s ecstasy. If Evan’s neighbors end up struggling with eye contact after this, that’s their issue.

For some reason, Evan’s orgasm takes him by surprise, untouched and early as it is, even though it really shouldn’t, considering how long Tommy has been dragging him along. The tight, spasming clench of Evan’s hole makes his hips stutter, but even that isn’t enough to restrain him. He grabs a fistful of Evan’s hair, both to pin him down, to stop him from thrashing around too much, and as leverage to put even more force behind the relentless push-pull-shove of his thrusts.

Normally, he would comment on how quickly Evan came, especially when it happens solely through prostate play. Evan has told him how much he adores it, unpredictable as it is—both the physical sensation and the meaning Evan has given it, the feeling of being a good hole for Tommy. Depending on the mood, Tommy either rewards him with soft words for surrendering to his pleasure, or teases him for being easy, praise glazed with honey-sweet mockery. Tommy doesn’t even have that in him anymore.

“I’m not stopping,” Tommy warns instead, voice guttural and feral with savagery, unrecognizable even to him.

Evan accepts his fate if the way one of his hands shoots out to the headboard is any indication—support to hold on for the ride. He could say his safeword if he truly wanted Tommy to stop. Instead, Evan grabs the pillow and bites into the fabric, bearing the overstimulation with scrunched shut eyes, gritted teeth and desperate grunts, unable to sing his pleasure through pretty moans anymore with how shot his voice is.

The tight heat of Evan around him—his body safe and sound beneath him, right where he’s meant to be—consumes Tommy entirely. He pounds into Evan’s hole with enough force—hard and deep—to make the flesh of his cheeks ripple with each slap of skin on skin. Evan’s knees start to slip on the sheets, drifting further and further apart with each punishing pump, until the insides of his thighs must be aching. Tommy imagines the tip of Evan’s cock brushing through his own spilled cum, steadily leaking a delicious mess onto the towel, as it bops up and down each time Tommy’s hips bounce off of his ass.

His climax creeps up on him like a bird of prey, lurking but undetectable until it grabs him by the throat—pleasure clawing its way through his body until it releases itself in unrestrained, rapturous groans resounding through the loft as he fucks his load into Evan, filling him up with hot fluid. That of all things earns Tommy a small delighted squeal from Evan, sweet, little cumslut that he is.

Tommy doesn’t give Evan a chance to think it’s over. While his length still twitches and jerks with the force of his orgasm, he reaches for Evan’s. He doesn’t know if Evan’s cock has refilled or if it never really went down, and it doesn’t matter. All Tommy cares about is the silky-wet feel of it in his hands as he begins to stroke it.

“Nnng-ooh—!,” Evan whines pitifully, reflexively placing his hand on top of Tommy’s but doing nothing to move it away. Tommy’s not sure if that was a moan or a no, and Evan likely doesn’t know either. Another thing that doesn’t matter. Tommy’s hand is wet in seconds from how much Evan’s cock is drooling for a fist to fuck into.

“You’re not done yet,” Tommy growls. It will take a few more minutes for Tommy’s erection to fully go down. He clenches his jaw against the sharp sting of overstimulation coursing through his body and makes the most of that timeframe, rolling his hips into Evan and scraping his sweet spot in staccato rhythm. “Come on, sweet boy, give it to me,” Tommy urges, echoing Evan’s earlier plea, the gentleness of the pet name contrasted by the roughness in his voice.

Evan doesn’t stand a chance against the double stimulation, torn between arching back into the stretch of Tommy’s cock deep inside him and thrusting into Tommy’s fist as he empties his balls again, thick ropes of cum adding to the mess already on the towel. Evan makes his own anguished bliss known to the walls as his body convulses uncontrollably, giving Tommy a reminder of just how strong Evan is. It’s almost as if he’s trying to put his feet flat on the bed and lift up to get Tommy off him, bucking like a mechanical bull that doesn’t understand it’s meant to be ridden. Tommy puts Evan in a loose chokehold to gain better control and then flings them to their sides, still milking Evan for every last drop. Only when the hand on top of his starts pulling at his wrist does Tommy let go.

Tommy stares at his hand for a second, moving his fingers in a come-hither motion to marvel at the beauty of the pearly white fluid covering it. He contemplates licking his skin clean but ultimately decides against it. He knows he would get lost in the taste, and his desire to touch Evan takes over. Instead, he wipes his hand on the towel and then rests it on Evan's heaving stomach, mindlessly playing with the trail of hair there. Tommy buries his nose in Evan's hair, inhaling deeply as he catches his breath and holds him through the twitches and trembles rocking his body.

Peppering sweet, light kisses along Evan’s neck, Tommy waits for him to calm down—keeping them connected, Evan filled up the way Tommy knows he likes—until Evan feels ready to part.

After a little while, Tommy lifts his head in confusion when he notices that the shaking doesn’t subside, sniffling sounds filling the air.

“Evan?” Tommy asks carefully, receiving a hitching breath in response. “Evan, what’s wrong? Is it your leg?” he adds in alarm.

Evan digs his stubby nails into Tommy’s wrist and shakes his head, his voice thick with tears as he stutters, “I-I-I’m sorry, ‘m s-so sor-”

Tommy tightens his grip on Evan and hushes him as gently as he can. “Shh, sweetheart, there’s no need for that. Why would you be sorry?”

“I-I d-didn’ mean t-to hurt.” 

Tommy tries to make sense of the phrasing. Hurt who? Himself or others? Regardless, his heart aches for Evan at the thought of how exhausting the last two weeks must have been for him—physically and emotionally vulnerable, feeling both overwhelmed by and disconnected from the world. He must have felt incredibly isolated and confined when everything he usually loves caused sensory overload—stuck in a dark place in more ways than one.

“My sweet darling,” Tommy soothes. “I know you didn’t. This wasn’t a punishment. You know that, right? I just wanted to make you feel good.”

“I-I know. And y-you do— you take s-such good care of me…”

A shivery exhale escapes Evan and he starts curling in on himself. Tommy mirrors the movement, embracing him more securely—as if holding on firmly enough could stop the shaking of Evan’s body. He caresses the skin beneath his palms and responds in a gentle, calming tone, “Of course I do. I care about you.”

“M-me, too. Me, too,” Evan returns, the words spilling out in a breathless rush, as if trying to convey far more than they can express. He gently squeezes Tommy’s hand and lifts it, pressing it to the rapid beat of his heart. Tommy takes a moment to treasure the words and the proof of Evan alive beneath his palm, his mind already racing for ways to make him well again. He infuses a teasing lilt into his voice as he jokes, “You care about me or yourself?” Thankfully, that has the desired effect—soft, wet laughter bubbling out of Evan as he lightly slaps Tommy’s wrist. “You, of course.”

Tommy hums gently at that. “Well, you should care about yourself. Make sure you come back to me safe, healthy and happy every day.” The light-heartedness fades from his next words, but there’s still a casualness to them, proof of how self-evident they are. “But even if you don’t, I’ll be right beside you.”

“Right beside you,” Evan repeats, his voice carrying a dreamy cadence as his breath evens out more and more.

A sound of agreement rumbles in Tommy’s throat. “For now, we’re going to cuddle a little longer, then I’ll clean us up, we’ll drink some water, and after that, we’re going to sleep. How does that sound?”

Evan nestles his face into the crook of Tommy's arm and gently kisses the skin, his reply a soft brush of lips against it.

"Perfect."

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Bright sunshine is streaming through the window, warming Evan’s skin and making him glow. Just as it should.

A small, content smile curls on Tommy’s lips as he watches his boyfriend sleep, a picture of sweet serenity. When Tommy woke up, he considered getting out of bed to make coffee, but then he decided he was allowed to indulge in the beautiful and dearly missed sight before him: Evan bathed in sunlight.

Tommy’s smile widens even more as he watches the tell-tale signs of Evan waking up: the way his eyes struggle to open, how he scrunches up his nose, the small grumble in the back of his throat—all betraying his reluctance to leave the comfort of rest. Until his eyes find Tommy. Then his expression transforms into one of sleepy joy, his smile slow and sweet, reflecting the bright light of the sky—Tommy’s favorite sight.

“Good morning,” Evan croaks, voice still hoarse and groggy from sleep and sex.

Tommy’s voice is steadier, filled with warmth, as he returns the sentiment in a gentle whisper.

They had fallen asleep facing each other, Evan’s head tucked under Tommy’s chin. Evan must remember this, because after staring at Tommy for a moment longer, he returns to that position, closing his eyes and burying his nose in Tommy’s neck with a pleased exhale.

“You okay?” Tommy can’t help but ask, recalling how last night ended.

Evan makes another satisfied sound. “More than,” he replies happily, a sense of satiation tinting his tone.

It’s Tommy’s turn to sigh and close his eyes in contentment, his fingers gently tracing over Evan’s skin.

For a moment, Tommy thinks Evan has dozed off again until he starts to feel him vibrating in his arms. It takes him a second to understand that the warm puffs of air hitting his skin are giggles bubbling out of Evan's chest.

Evan carefully stretches in his arms, his movements languid and indulgent, and tilts his head to look at him again. “What the hell, Tommy,” he exclaims through breathless, incredulous laughter, his sleepy expression a mix of reverence and playful accusation, as if to say, How dare you ruin me like that?

Tommy’s lips quirk in amusement. “I take it you enjoyed yourself last night?”

Evan raises an eyebrow in mock offense. “I think I saw the face of God. And I’m not very religious.”

It’s Tommy’s turn to laugh. Evan is so damn lovable Tommy wants to squish him. He does exactly that, tightening his arms around him as he jokes, “Was he good-looking?”

The sun has nothing on the grin Evan is giving him. “Yeah. He had a cleft in his chin.” One of Evan's thumbs finds its way to said spot, a favorite resting place, as he leans in to give him a chaste kiss—morning breath be damned.

Tommy hides his smile against Evan's lips, adding another moment to his ever-growing collection of Happiest Memories. There have been many more since Evan came into his life.

Evan slowly pulls away and makes sure to rub their noses together before leaning back to look at him again. His eyes lock onto Tommy's, and for a moment, he simply stares. "Tommy?" Evan breathes, his voice laced with achingly soft tenderness. "Thank you."

“I think you said that enough times yesterday,” Tommy deadpans.

“No, I mean—thank you,” Evan repeats emphatically. “For—for everything. For being there. For being you. God, I—,” breathless laughter interrupts Evan’s words for a moment, “I-I can’t believe how lucky I am.” His eyes are filled with unapologetic warmth and sincerity, that unique brand of earnestness he exudes. It always makes Tommy feel small and delicate, as if he’s looking at something much larger than himself—something that could crush him but promised it wouldn’t. The desire to cherish is palpable, and Tommy feels like he’s staring at the sun. He has to look away.

“You would do the same for me,” Tommy shrugs awkwardly. It’s supposed to be a wave-away statement, a Don’t mention it, and Tommy freezes when he realizes the true implications of his words.

Two thoughts fill his head simultaneously. How can you possibly think someone could ever feel such devotion for you? and Of course Evan would take care of you, he’s the best person you’ve ever known. Ideas so at odds with each other that the cognitive dissonance makes Tommy’s head hurt.

Evan must see something in his expression, something that stirs his urge to comfort, because the next thing he does is take Tommy’s hand. Tommy looks back just in time to watch Evan press a kiss against it. The words he breathes against the skin carry such a profound sense of truth that they act like Tylenol on Tommy’s nerves.

“Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

Here's a horny headcanon for you. If Buck gets fucked regularly he generally has a pretty easy time taking Tommy's dick without too much preparation. Getting fingered or licked open is usually enough. A dick that big leaves a lasting impression, you know? When there's a long break between sex though, Buck needs to go through an entire routine to prepare himself for Tommy, to get his hole adjusted to that size again. A warm bath to relax his muscles and get himself thoroughly clean, breathing exercises, Tommy needs to give him indulgent massages, first his entire body, then focusing on his hole. It's moments like these where Tommy likes to play with and finger at Buck's hole without ever entering it for a while. Instead he uses his fingers to tap, stroke, pulsate, circle, until it starts winking at him. Until it remembers him. You see, Buck has gone through his prep routine but now it's time for Tommy to go through his. Which involves tongue and finger fucking Buck until he's crying. Tommy partially drags things out out of genuine concern, to make sure Buck doesn't feel the slightest bit of pain. Another part wants to tease and chastise Buck's hole for having forgotten him.

oh my goodness anon... this is beautiful. i have no words, this is perfect, this is beautiful, this is everything.

i will love you forever and forever anon

[lastoneout]

Anyone saying that the "tarrifs targeting red and swing states" thing is good is getting an insta-block BTW I've already seen people in the general tags saying we deserve it and that they hope everyone in Texas and Florida and every other red/purple state suffers immensely and it's sick. Our states have some of the worst voter suppression and largest marginalized populations. Trump doesn't give a fuck about his voter base, and neither does like any GOP politician, targeting red states in the hopes that making republican voters suffer will prompt GOP Governors and Congressman to stand up to Trump will never work. Like keeping us poor and illiterate and unemployed is HOW THEY STAY IN POWER. They do not give a single shit about the American people, so long as they can eat(and they will be able to no matter what) they couldn't give a less of a shit about their constituents starving. Hell, us starving will probably make them happy because they can paint you as the enemy and rile up whoever the fuck here is still allowed to vote in two years, which, statistically will not be the starving non-white, disabled, and queer people.

Don't laugh while innocent people suffer just because you don't like how a, let's be real, miniscule percentage of them voted. Voter suppression and interference was at an all time high, Trump basically admitted in front of god and everyone that Elon Musk fucked with things so he could win and the only reason no one did anything is because he's so old and so used to lying it's almost impossible to tell when he's being serious or just rambling bullshit.

Don't any of you fucking dare take joy in the suffering of innocent people. Hell, you shouldnt take joy in Trump voters suffering either, because you know, no one should have to starve and fear for their lives at all but I know actually holding true to your political beliefs is kinda hard for some of you so whatever. Just remember that laughing while people suffer is what the enemy does, and you're supposed to be better than them. At least, that's what y'all solid blue state assholes keep saying. Maybe shut the fuck up and act like it for once.

(Also I am not pretending to know what Canada should do, aside from protect their own citizens as well as swear to take marginalized American people fleeing for their lives, but I feel like you could just do country wide tarrifs instead of specifically singling out states who are only red due to massive voter suppression and election interference?? Always remember, if every single eligible American voted the GOP would never win another election for the rest of fucking time. So yeah, they're right to act, I just don't fully agree that they way they've chosen to act is going to work they way they think it will, which sucks for everyone on this goddamn continent.)

[boybandbaby]

Team Work (Evan Buckley x SingleMom!Reader)

word count: 1444

warnings/tags: Buck with a child 🥹, as always please lmk if I missed anything

note: I tried to do some light research about Girl Scouts I’m sorry for any inaccuracies I never got to be a GS

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Your daughter Evie had just gotten back from her Girl Scout meeting, the one where she gets all her materials to start selling cookies.

Last year, she hadn’t sold too many cookies as it was only her first year. This year, the prize for selling the most cookies was a ticket to Universal Studios.

You had never taken her before despite living in LA. As you and Buck ate dinner, you watched on as she excitedly ignored her food to discuss her plans to sell as many cookies as she can.

“And- and if I win I can go to Universal Studios and see Gru and the minions!” She screeched.

“How about you eat dinner first and then we can talk about when to start selling?” You suggest.

“Okay but I want Buck to help me.” She huffs. You roll your eyes while Buck grins at you.

She wanted Buck’s help and boy did he show up and show out.

“How many boxes for you Chim?” Buck holds a clip board with an order sheet.

“Oh no, clipboard Buck is back.” Hen nudges Eddie.

Buck ignores the comment, writing down 3 boxes of thin mints and 3 caramel delites. 6 boxes on top of what he already forced Maddie to buy.

“And for the Diazes?” Buck turns to Eddie.

“Give me a box of thin mints and a box of s’mores.” Eddie states.

“Okay, so what I heard was 5 boxes of thin mints and 5 boxes of s’mores.” Buck writes down. He looks up to see Eddie looking at him confused. “Give some to your Tia and Abuela.” He shrugs.

“Hen! Hen..” He smiles, opening his arms for a hug. “How many for the Wilson’s? You’ve got a family of 4, I’m thinking 3 boxes each?”

“Are you nuts?” She looks at him then to Chim and Hen.

“No, I’m determined. I’ve gotta help Evie sell these, she’s asked me to be her business partner and I’m taking it very seriously.”

Hen sighs, “fine, give me 2 lemonades, 2 thin mints, 2 trefoils, and 1- don’t look at me like that. 1 tagalong.”

Buck shakes his head before writing her order down. “Thank you for doing business.” He smiles before heading up to the loft to harass some of the other firefighters.

“He should try asking all his exes and ex hookups, he’d sell out in no time.” Hen says to Chimney.

“I heard that!” Buck shouts back, voice drifting away.

The next shift, Ravi is his next victim. Buck gets him in the locker room but is surprised when Ravi buys 3 boxes of every kind.

“I admire Girl Scouts and what they are doing to shape the youth of America. I’ll gladly support Evie.” Ravi smiles and earns a high five from Buck.

“I knew you were my favorite for a reason.”

“I thought I was your favorite?” Chim scoffs, offended.

“Yeah, after me.” Eddie grins.

“My favorite is whoever buys the most boxes.” Buck winks and exits the locker room.

The next day when he has a day off and Evie doesn’t have school, he spends the day with her in front of a grocery store. He’s her personal assistant, bagging the boxes and handing them to the customers as she practices how to count money and make change.

You park in front of the store with two bags of lunch for Buck and Evie, and to give Buck a bit of a break. You can’t help but laugh as Buck has purchased a matching brown vest and beret to look just like a scout himself.

“Hi babe,” you kiss Evie’s cheek and then Buck’s. “Working hard?”

“Always, we’ve already sold 92 boxes today. We’re almost running out. Did you bring the two boxes I left by the door?”

“Yes, they’re in my trunk. Sit, eat, take a break.” You urge. “I’ll get them.”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll grab ‘em.” He smiles and puts his hand out for keys. You hand him your keys and watch as he practically skips to grab the last two boxes.

“Mommy, Buck is helping me sell so many cookies!” She squeals. “He’s so cool.”

You laugh and watch Buck balance the box on top of the other. “Oh, Bobby wants you to stop by his after you’re done here. Says Athena and Harry wants some more of the toffee ones.”

“I’ll save them a few boxes then.” He sets the boxes down behind the table.

“You look really cute in your getup.” You snicker.

“Yeah? You like?” He grins.

“Mommy, don’t be gross.” Evie remarks causing Buck to laugh.

“I’m not being gross, he looks so handsome.” You throw your hands up.

She gags as a few more customers come up to the table.

Later that night, you drive the two of them to Bobby and Athena’s. You’d already sent the team a picture of Buck in his vest and beret and Bobby said he wouldn’t buy any more cookies unless he came wearing them. You stand behind as Buck and Evie knock on the door. Bobby and Athena open up with their cameras out.

“Well, look at you!” Athena teases.

“Hey, I’ll do what I have to, to help my girl get the big prize.” Buck nudges Evie’s side causing her to stumble over.

Your heart swells when he says that. Buck has never made a big deal out of you having a daughter. He welcomed her with open arms when you’d told him on your third date that you had a daughter.

Buck brings her out of her shell and makes her life better. She’s told you so countless times. Even though he’s not her father, he’s stepped up to take on some of the role.

Watching Buck with your little girl makes you love him even more.

As the cookie season comes to a close and it’s announced that your daughter has won second place, Buck has to comfort her and apologize for not selling more.

You and Buck had already had a discussion that you didn’t want to get her hopes up in case this exact situation happened. You both wrestled with the idea that if she doesn’t win, you’d take her to Universal Studios anyways for her hard work but would let her know sometimes these things happen and you can’t get discouraged.

“Listen, we did the best we could. That’s all that counts okay?” Buck kneels down to hug her, rubbing her back. “We were the best team and I loved hanging out with you.”

She nods and steps back, wiping her cheeks. “I had fun with you.”

“Yeah? Do you wanna do something else fun with me and mom?”

“Like what?” She sniffles.

“Well, because you worked so hard and we’re so proud of you, we’ll still take you to Universal Studios.” You caress her cheek.

“Really?” She giggles, jumping up and down. She then starts crying again.

You kneel down to hug her and she cries into your shoulder. “Don’t cry, babe. We’re gonna have so much fun! Buck can be your ride buddy.”

“Yeah, I’ll ride all the rides as long as you hold my hand when I get scared.”

“You’re too old to get scared!” Evie laughs and pokes Buck’s cheek.

“I’m not old!” Buck gasps, tickling her tummy. “Say it!”

“No!” She tries to get away from him. “Mommy, help me!”

“No, Buck’s your best friend now you gotta deal with him.” You poke her belly and stand up. “Did you give him his gift for helping you?”

“Oh!” She runs to her bag. Buck stands up.

“You got me something?” She nods before holding her hand out. Buck takes the brown and gold pin from her.

“It’s the Brownie Entrepreneur family pin! Because you helped me!”

“But it’s yours.” Buck says softly, you can hear it in his voice that he’s getting emotional.

“I have so many, this one’s for you.” She shrugs, wrapping her arms around his legs. “You can put it on your vest.”

“Will you help me?”

“Yes!” She cheers before running to grab his vest from the back of the couch.

Buck slips the vest on and take the safety back off the pin, “here, put it on for me.”

He kneels down as she carefully puts the pin on his vest. “Now you look like me!”

“So if I look like you, that means you’re old too!” He jokes.

You shake your head and make your way to the kitchen to start on some lunch. You can hear Buck blowing raspberries into her cheek and her loud screams of joy as she calls him an “old man.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

[griefabyss69]

Half Light

Written for @st-loveconfessions Acts of Kindness Month day 2: Ficlets inspired by Fanart! @spicyglitterfang's pin-up of Steve is one of my favorite things anyone has ever made in this fandom, so I wanted to write something for it! I hope you all enjoy it <3

Steddie | Rated: M | 2K | No CWs apply | Tags: Nude Modeling, Garfield - Freeform, Art Shows, Photographer Robin Buckley, Post-Canon, University, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together, Flirting, Eddie Munson's Garfield mug

[ AO3 ] Summary

Robin is a photography student and Steve is a good friend. Eddie's a good friend too, for lending them something to help make Robin's vision real, and not sweating it when that something touches parts of Steve's body that... well.

He's a good friend.

Excerpt

“It’s not just about the subversion, Steve,” Robin declares as she does inscrutable things to her camera. “It’s also a love letter.”

“A love letter,” he repeats flatly. There’s cold tile under his bare ass and the window at his back isn’t any better. “You don’t love men, though.”

Robin peers through the camera and then stands up, coming over to mess with his hair. He’s glad they’re pretty used to each other, or having her this close while he’s naked would be... weird. It’s not like he’s excited, or worried about that, even if he’s trying not to think about the exhibitionist thrill he’s getting out of... well. Getting his picture taken like this. Modeling.

“Not that kind of love,” she mutters, distracted as she turns his head. “There. Don’t move, the light looks perfect.”

He’s not sure what makes the light more perfect with his head turned an inch further the right than it was, but he lets her do her thing. At least the Garfield mug covering his dick has warmed up to his body heat.

“Okay, now hold up the teapot like you’re offering to fill a cup,” Robin says, back behind the camera.

Steve gives her a warm smile—not even fake, not really—and holds the Garfield teapot up.

It’s a funny thing, kitschy. Eddie was reluctant to let them borrow it, and when he sees what they did to his mug Steve’s pretty sure he’s not going to forgive them, but... he’ll buy him a new one if he has to. Robin says it’ll be fine, that Eddie’s queer enough to appreciate sacrificing for art, or something. Steve secretly thinks she’s implying he’d like drinking out of a mug that had a dick in it.

“Great, okay, give your arm a break,” Robin says. “I don’t know if I got it. You look like you’re going to laugh.”

“Should I be more serious?” Steve asks, twisting his mouth around until he gets the smile out, letting it melt from his face.

“Yeah, let’s try that.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

i love him on purpose

for @steddielovemonth using red, white, and royal blue for inspiration

rated t | 1385 words | cw: forced coming out | tags: established relationship, secret relationship, royal steve harrington, wayne munson is the president (god i wish)

🔴⚪🔵🔴⚪🔵🔴⚪🔵🔴⚪🔵🔴⚪🔵

The news broke in the middle of the night, long after Eddie had fallen asleep, and just before Steve’s alarm woke him up.

PRINCE STEVEN CAUGHT HOOKING UP WITH FIRST SON EDDIE, ROYAL FAMILY INSISTS ON SECRECY

Every headline is some variation of Steve and Eddie being caught, but there’s no photos. Most articles point to the royal family not wanting to allow it, but they didn’t even know about it.

Steve’s been so careful, much more careful than Eddie. Eddie’s told his best friends and Wayne, who deserves to know when his nephew turned son is getting into things. Especially when the thing he’s getting into is the Prince of England.

Steve doesn’t really have many friends. He has Robin, who is more like a sister to him, and an entire advisory team, publicists, security…

He won’t answer his phone, which means all of those people have probably informed him he is to have no contact with the outside world until they figure out what to do. Eddie doesn’t know what to do.

They talked about hypotheticals, as any young adults in the public eye are wont to do. How they’d handle the press when they come out. How they would handle Steve’s family when they come out.

All under the assumption that they would have control over their coming out.

How naive.

“Ed. I have to give some kind of message here,” Wayne says softly, gently like he knows that Eddie is gonna beg him not to say anything until he hears from Steve. “Silence ain’t gonna win us any favors.”

“I promised he wouldn’t have to do this alone,” Eddie says. “If we make a statement now, I’m just throwing him to the wolves.”

“Not necessarily. Plenty of options with what to say. As long as we acknowledge we’ve seen it, they don’t have to have any other information,” Wayne says. “I’ll follow your lead, kid.”

“I don’t know what the right thing is.”

Wayne pulls him into a hug. This isn’t the first time they’ve had a PR nightmare on their hands, and probably won’t be the last. Wayne’s always been good at handling things just fine.

But this is something Eddie needs to handle. He accepts the comforting hug, then he decides to be brave.

****

“Forcing anyone to come out is disgusting, and the media has done it time and time again. In this case, they took something that should have been up to me, and up to Prince Steve, and made it world news based on a false report of someone seeing us together at an event. Whether we are together romantically or not isn’t up for speculation. We are what we are. We choose how to define that to ourselves, to our loved ones, and maybe someday, to everyone.” Eddie takes a deep breath and looks into the many cameras facing him, trying his best to ignore the reporters anxiously waiting to be able to ask questions. He’s not letting them, but they don’t know that yet. “Respect goes both ways. Pops has always taught me that respect is earned, not freely given. No one in this press room has earned my respect. Until you do, the only news story you can break about me is that I’m disappointed in the way the media has handled this news story. Thanks for your time.”

Eddie leaves the room.

Wayne is waiting for him in his office.

“Proud of ya, son.”

“Thanks.”

“Your boy will be here in four hours.”

Eddie’s jaw drops. “He called?”

“He did more than call. He caused a scene with every secretary in the building. He insisted he needed to speak to me.”

“He could’ve called me,” Eddie is pacing.

“You left your phone in here earlier, remember? He was desperate.”

“Is he okay? Have they made a statement yet?”

“They haven’t. They wanted to see what we’d do first.” Wayne holds Eddie’s phone out to him. “But I think he could stand to hear from ya.”

Eddie steps in to take the phone from him, but Wayne clasps his hand between his, holding tight.

“I can’t protect you from the media forever, but I’ll always stick up for you and your happiness. You know that?”

“Of course I do,” Eddie answers.

“That goes for your Prince, too,” Wayne smirks. “His family’s on thin ice, though.”

****

Eddie talks to Steve on the phone for a few minutes, but Steve’s not alone, and Eddie’s trying not to hide away entirely from everyone who cares about him. It’s a short conversation, but it’s enough to get them through until Steve arrives.

He sounds like he’s being stoic.

Eddie knows he’s struggling.

It takes nearly two hours of security for Steve to actually get to Eddie’s suite.

“Baby,” Eddie says as he pulls Steve into his chest, feeling whole for the first time since he woke up. “It’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay.”

“They’re making a statement any minute now,” Steve says miserably.

“I’m guessing it’s not what you wanted.” Steve shakes his head in response. “That’s okay. We can work with whatever we need to.”

“They wouldn’t let me do it,” Steve explains. “I wanted to do something like what you did. They said I was too emotional.”

“I think you’re just emotional enough. God forbid you show signs of being a human.”

Steve laughs. Eddie smiles.

“Have you eaten? Do you wanna get cleaned up? I know you hate how airplanes make you feel,” Eddie offers.

Steve tightens his grip around Eddie. That’s answer enough.

****

“We sincerely hope the media will understand that making accusations of this nature about a member of the royal family will not go unpunished. Whether it is true or not, we will be handling this discussion internally. We have contacted the President’s office to have a discussion with their team. Eddie’s statement today was not discussed with us beforehand, nor did it go through any of our approval, and should not be seen as our official statement.”

“Does your grandfather always look like someone pissed directly in his eye?” Eddie asks Steve as they watch the official statement from his room.

“It depends on which of us has displeased him,” Steve laughs. “If it’s my mother, his lip curls up over his teeth.”

Eddie pulls Steve into his side on the couch, turning off the television so they can have some peace. They sit in the silence for a couple of minutes, something neither of them get to do very often.

“Wayne offered us the house in Indiana for a bit. Said it might be nice for us to just be away from the chaos,” Eddie runs his fingers up and down Steve’s arm, smiling to himself when Steve shivers against him. “At least for a few days. Let the media move on and give time for your family to get the sticks surgically removed from their asses.”

“That sounds nice,” Steve agrees, leaning his head back to kiss Eddie’s lips. “I wanna do something first, though.”

Steve pulls away so he can get his phone from the coffee table. It’s been on silent and face down since he arrived. He types for a minute, and Eddie waits.

Steve sets his phone down and turns back to Eddie with a grin.

“Okay, ready to go.”

Eddie’s phone goes off in his pocket. He pulls it out and looks down at where he’s been tagged on Instagram in Steve’s post.

It’s a picture from the trip they took with Wayne to Indiana last month, the two of them by a fire with melted marshmallow all over their lips. They’re both happy.

The caption makes tears pool in Eddie’s eyes and a semi-hysterical laugh burst from his throat.

Doesn’t matter who pissed in his eye, as long as I’ve got you. Let’s go off the grid, baby

“You’re gonna be in so much fuckin’ trouble, baby,” Eddie laughs with disbelief.

“I don’t care. They know better than to cause a bigger scene.” Steve kisses the corner of his mouth. “Can we go to that diner when we get there? The one with the burger that have cheese inside the meat?”

“How American of you,” Eddie teases. “I’ll make sure Wayne calls Benny ahead of time so he knows we’re on our way.”

[ohgodthevoices]

what if you dated bokuto kotarou ?

tags/warnings : clingy bokuto x reader, fluff , reader wears makeup , silly lil guy

wc : 0.5k

bokuto doesn’t realize how invasive he is sometimes, he doesn’t understand the concept of personal space or alone time, he just doesn’t pick up hints “alone ? that’s sad…i’ll come ! i’m free”

bokuto the type of guy that knows no shame, embarrassment shouldn’t be a thing ! he is your boyfriend after all , what’s wrong with following you to the bathroom even if you’re gonna pull a number 2… right ?

bokuto who genuinely thought that cheating on your partner is illegal , who even thought going all out on valentines is a legal obligation

bokuto mirrors your emotions without even noticing, if you’re feeling angry well he’s angry too now, if you’re sad maybe you should hold each other and cry together, if you’re in a good mood suddenly he’s all smiles and laughs

during high school , bokuto would be your personal alarm clock, he’d call you every morning to wake you up with a “GOOODMORNING GORGEOUS”, he would facetime you thru you whole routine

when you both grew up and started living together, that didn’t really change , bokuto would still follow you around but now he can get a better view when you’re showering. he would hold you while you’re making breakfast, falling back asleep for an extra minute

and when you’re doing your makeup , he looks at you like it’s the most complex thing in the world. he would sit next to you and silently observe , too scared to ask questions “hey…i don’t think you should be putting that pencil in your eye..”

you don’t need to be an athlete, but bokuto will insist on working out together. If you refuse, he just picks you up and starts doing squats

he sends texts at the worst time— you’re in class? BAM—a blurry selfie of him mid-practice with the caption “thinking of youuuu”

bokuto is your ultimate hype man, “bokuto,I finally organized my desk.”

bokuto: GASP “BABE. YOU’RE INCREDIBLE. LOOK AT THIS ORGANIZATION. SO CLEAN. SO EFFICIENT. I’M DATING A GENIUS.”

bokuto is physically incapable of not touching you. If you’re sitting next to him, he’s leaning on you. If you’re standing together, he’s either holding your hand, draping an arm over your shoulder, or spinning you in circles just because.

you’ll be doing laundry and find random rocks, rubber bands, crumpled receipts, a paperclip, and occasionally a mystery item in his pockets. If you ask him about it, he shrugs. “seemed important at the time.”

bokuto would wear fake glasses sometimes and suddenly starts using words like “indubitably.” If you try to challenge him on something dumb, he just pushes them up his nose and says, “Actually, according to SCIENCE—” (he does not elaborate).

on dinner dates, bokuto would wait for the keyword “i’m not hungry anymore” so he can take your plate and gobble it

bokuto doesn’t mind playing the role of the weighted blanket , although he does love to be the big spoon , when you wrap you arm around him or let him lie on your chest , he melts

[stinkybrowndogs]

gsps really are the most Dog of all dog breeds

I’m honestly surprised there are not more shorthairs on dogblr. What’s the hold up people. They are basically just a Malinois minus the teeth and brains and there are like 50 of those bopping around on this site! That and gsps are truly a dime a dozen. I could go on Craigslist right now and find a few byb litters. (I won’t. But I could.)

In all seriousness I think it has to do with the fact that the people who enjoy them unfortunately tend to lean conservative 😓 especially once you get into the hunting community. Being obviously gay or trans in hunting spaces is not super comfortable or safe feeling and I can only imagine being non-white in these spaces as well. That and the popular training methods used for gun dogs are… interesting. To say the least.

Some snippets of the books I was given when I was trying to get into hunting :

That isn’t to say that these are completely void of any useful information, there are lot of simple training steps that make perfect sense for the task the dogs are doing. But I think you have to take some of this with a grain of salt; when I was trying to get into hunting I found that I was able to achieve the same results with less adverse methods, plus my mentor was much more versed in modern dog training and conditioning. Brandy’s training is more of a blend of the two- the most adverse tools we used was a woah- harness (phased out pretty quickly) and an e-collar for long distance recall (again, there is a bit of a trade off of comfort for safety- the dogs job in the field necessitates being off leash and pushing out far ahead of the handler, and they can quickly get out of sight or earshot. Having a Vibrate-based recall cue simply makes sense. This should be paired with a gps collar just in case… I was told many a horror story of dogs falling into mine shafts and only being found because of the gps Tag).

Force fetching was never on the table. I saw one handler with a rubber bumper covered in toothpicks so his dog would not bite down too hard on it… never had to do that either. I’ve never had to strap an e-collar to my dogs belly. I don’t have to force my dog into a down to teach her. I don’t step on her toes (on purpose).

Her WOAH command maybe took longer than I would have liked, but it’s solid with lots of practice. Her recall is great and regularly practiced, and I don’t need an e-collar to reinforce it. She has a wonderful natural fetch, though we never formalized it. She’s beautiful when she’s on point, and it’s amazing to just see her do exactly what she was meant to do with little input from me. Truly no greater feeling than watching her cross back and forth across a field in front of me and freeze into a perfect point. It’s like she wants to chase the bird/rabbit/whatever SO BAD she’s shaking but her genetics won’t let her.

If I had the money to get back into hunting and falconry I would do it in a heartbeat. It’s a hobby that’s been sidelined since losing my job for obvious reasons, and it’s the first thing I want to pick up when I have a more stable income. If and when that will happen, I am unsure

What the fuck were we talking about. Oh yeah.

Dogs of all time for sure. But very much a dog that is good at the one thing they are good at, and if you DON’T do that thing, they can be…. A bit much. Being so environmentally focused can be difficult for people I think. It’s just not what many people are looking for (even though they give world class cuddles). That and the energy level; I don’t think it’s too bad, especially now that they are older (we go out for runs like 2-3 times a week) but also I simply would not leave the house if there were no consequences, so having a creature that will dismantle my furniture if I do not go get some vitamin D is a great motivator. The dichotomy of being a Velcro dog and being nearly oblivious to their handler when they are off leash is interesting, and probably why you don’t really see them in many sporting dog circles, or working outside of hunting. You gotta cement that recall before you let them off leash, ESPECIALLY being able to recall off of wildlife, and you gotta work really hard to reinforce handler engagement. I joke that Brandy is an idiot, but everything she needs to be able to do seems to be hardwired into her, and the things I had to teach her (recall, leave it, drop it, WOAH ect) she picked up quickly and hardly ever has issues with. (Dont talk to me about loose leash walking though)

Regardless, I love their personalities, their niche behaviors, their energy level, their ability to be the goofiest silliest idiots, their soft soft floppy ears, I love how they talk back to me when I talk to them, I love their big booming barks and club feet. I love that we are ultimately exploring the world together, and the joy we share when running through the woods or on the beach. I love watching them leap into the river with reckless abandon. And then at the end of the day, all they want to do is get under the covers with me and fall asleep. They are perfect monsters and I can’t see myself without them.

[juh-wasnt-deactivated19691231]

tumblr note: this is a living document. Tap the original post header to see the most updated version.

a weary traveler’s guide to the poison bogs of tumblr

welcome to the land that cannot be killed in a way that matters. we have plenty of in-jokes, but this post isn’t about sightseeing: it’s about survival. there are many things to be wary of.

bots, nefarious

most of our evildoers appear to be automated. they spread lies and hate, but mostly they spread inflammatory language, with the goal of wasting your time and making you mad. often you’ll see that these blogs have no pfp, or they are Single Issue Bloggers, or they leave an inflammatory comment on everything they share. block and move on.

bots, annoying

i would classify the gazabots, pornbots, and thirst traps here. gaza is a real tragedy, but the bots sending spam aren’t helping. porn is wonderful, but the bots are scams. the thirst traps have little substance to them, but they must exist for some greater purpose—i think they metamorphose into full-fledged scams or maybe evildoers later in their lifecycle? block and move on.

terfs and other fascists, human

similar to the nefarious bots, but seemingly more human. this does not change their goals or my recommendations, though. they are not here with an open mind, and you cannot reason with fascism, because it has no root in reason. block and move on. do not engage.

morality

mos eisley cantina is our spiritual ancestor. this is the “lying, cheating, and stealing for fun are good and morally correct and you should do them always” website, at its extreme. there are folks who think you shouldn’t hold a food sharing program unless all of the food is stolen. BUT there are also folks who just think sharing is good. we really run the gamut here. trust your gut, you can ask questions once in a while, but don’t be surprised if a stranger bites your head off. understand that if something seems fishy, there’s a good chance it is, and you need to factor that into how much thought you give their statements and how much you care about the discussion.

on that note

yeah so tumblr is a very queer place (in spite of its management, as with everything else we do). there’s a lot of pro-queer stuff, there’s occasionally someone who thinks they’re pro-queer but would get mad at me for using the term “queer” for some reason (? block and move on, or point and laugh, dealer’s choice). if you are not some form of Not The Default, or if you just feel Too Normal, it’s okay. i am personally granting you permission to be here and to have fun. if someone has a problem with that, block and move on, or even just ignore it. a lot of people here are not good at conveying their points, a lot of people are angry, and we are famous for our piss-poor reading comprehension. don’t take it personally. they’re just Like That.

seriousness

most of tumblr ranges from neutral to deeply unserious. if someone’s discussing a heavy topic or making sense, they might be serious, we do have some of that, and sometimes there’s really good things to see here. but don’t expect a whole lot of Genuine Discourse and Thoughtful Discussion on average, unless you find your way into those circles. i tagged a post #christianity once and my notes were clogged with people having philosophical discussion about forgiving satan and it was weird.

argument

I once saw advice here that said, some people like arguing, and others don’t. If you like arguing, it’s super important to find other people who enjoy arguing, so that you can have your stimulating discussions with them, without totally burning out your friends who just want to get along. this really cleared up a lot of things for me, and i saw the light. (it turns out i don’t like arguing)

the bottom line

you’re here to have fun! so do that. our motto is “do whatever you want forever.” if you’re not having fun, take a step back to wonder why. you don’t have to post, or comment, or add tags, or even like the posts. you can just scroll if you want. if you like interaction, you can curate a blog (original posts and reblogs) that you like or that you think other people will like. my blog is mostly shitposting, cats, and advice, and sometimes computer things, but i moved most of that to my datacenter blog. you can send asks, you can receive asks (but don’t be disappointed if you never get any—most of us don’t. be the change you wish to see in the world!). understand that there is no Algorithm, and the only way to find something is to tag it and remember that tag later. godspeed mooncat.

further reading