#it's late and i need to go to bed but i wanted to get this down first

[kashverse]

CAN you PLEASE PLEASE make a drabble of Toji taking care of sleepy Mamaguro and Megumi? I think it would be so adorable. 🧎

oh to continue writing happy toji and happy mamaguro reader... 🚬

the mission was simple: stay up until 12 a.m. to wish toji a happy birthday. you and megumi, the last-standing warriors of the fushiguro household, sat by the door like hyper puppies, waiting for your beloved husband—your fearless protector—your batman (you are not explaining to a six-year-old what an assassin is)—to return home. it was going perfectly until your phone buzzed.

gonna be late. emergency job. don’t wait up.

you stare at the screen. then at megumi. then back at the screen.

the bastard forgot his own birthday.

your son, wise beyond his years, folds his arms and scowls. “so, what, we just give up?” you slap the table dramatically. “absolutely not.”

if there was one thing you and megumi had in common—besides your unwavering judgment of toji’s life choices—it was stubbornness. this mission would not fail. if your husband wanted to be late to his own birthday, that was his problem. but you and megumi? you were gonna be ready. so, naturally, you both made the worst decision possible.

sugar boost.

you and your six-year-old co-conspirator sprawled across the couch, sharing a single pack of gummy bears like it was some kind of sacred ration. one gummy at a time. chewing slowly. blinking at the wall in utter silence like two very small, very deranged owls.

"mama."

"yeah, baby?"

"do you think papa is the strongest man alive?"

"of course."

megumi chews thoughtfully. "do you think he could lift a cow?"

you consider this. "...easily."

"two cows?"

you hesitate. 

-

it’s 11:57 p.m. standing in the doorway, looking like he just crawled out of a damn action movie, is toji. the duffel bag slung over his shoulder drops to the floor with a heavy THUD, and he’s met with—

a beautiful handmade "happy birthday, papa!!" banner, decorated with poorly drawn badtz-maru stickers, because megumi has commitment to the bit.

you, sprawled out on the couch like a crime scene victim.

megumi, passed out on top of you, his little hand still clutching a half-eaten gummy bear.

toji stares. something in his chest tightens. he lets out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair as he steps inside, shutting the door behind him. exhausted as he is, something about this sight makes his heart ache in that weird way—the kind of warmth he’s still getting used to, the kind that makes him feel like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t screw up as badly as he thought. without a word, he moves over to the couch. and because yes, he is that man—he lifts both you and megumi in one go. you stir slightly, groggy, mumbling, "cow..."

toji frowns. "what?"

megumi snorts in his sleep, muttering, "two cows..."

toji, confused as all hell, just grunts and carries his weird, sleep-deprived family to bed.

the next morning, as the sun peeks through the curtains and the birds chirp outside like they're personally taunting you, you and megumi prepare for phase two of toji’s birthday celebration: chaotic wake-up call.

toji, the strongest man alive (and also the biggest sleeper in the house), is sprawled out on the bed, dead to the world. he sleeps like a log, one arm thrown over his face, mouth slightly open, because even assassins need their beauty rest. you and megumi exchange a look. a silent nod of understanding. then, in perfect sync, you both take in a deep, deep breath and—

"HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYYYYYYY!!!"

toji’s entire body jerks like he just got shot. his arms flail, his head snaps up, and before he can even process what's happening, you and megumi double down with a second round of high-pitched, ungodly shrieks right in his ear.

"what the hell—"

but before he can even think about grabbing a weapon (because let’s be real, his first instinct is to attack), he realizes exactly who the culprits are. and oh, oh, you two are in trouble. his sleep-deprived brain short-circuits for about half a second before years of combat training kick in.

he lunges.

"oh—RUN!" you shriek, shoving megumi, but it’s too late—toji grabs you both in one swift motion, rolling over and pinning you down, locking both of you in a vice-like headlock.

"GOTCHA!"

"NOOOO—!"

megumi screams in betrayal as toji mercilessly ruffles his hair. you’re not spared either, as he buries his face into your neck, delivering an absolutely brutal barrage of kisses like it’s a full-scale attack.

“YOU WANNA WAKE ME UP, HUH? THAT HOW WE’RE PLAYIN’ THIS?”

"toji stop—" you wheeze, kicking your legs as he plants an exaggeratedly loud kiss to your cheek. megumi shrieks, wiggling with all his might, but toji just grabs him tighter, pressing another series of dramatic, disgusting dad kisses to his forehead. "UGH, PAPAAAA!" megumi yells, offended.

"nah, nah, you started this, kid," toji cackles. "you and your big mouth—what was all that ‘two cows’ shit, huh?”

"STOP!" megumi flails harder, but he is six and toji is built different. eventually, though, he relents, flopping back with a satisfied smirk, letting you both gasp for air like shipwreck survivors. "you’re the worst," you pant. megumi, hair now a disaster, groans. "i hate birthdays."

toji just smirks, stretching. "eh, still my best one yet."

[beautifullilacsky]

oh honey. I have this feeling flowing through me, asking me to let it all out. Whatever it is that is in here. Could you tell me what is in here? I feel the need to put it on paper, but I don't know what to put on the paper. I hope the paper sees right through me and gently pulls it out of me.

I am happy to be in my childhood room, I truly am. I like my bed. But baby, ever since you've held me in it, it's not the same by myself. I crave feeling your arm wrap around my waist, pulling me closer to you. If I could hear any sound right now, it'd be your satisfied tiny sigh when you are comfortable. I want to feel it so close to me, letting me bathe into the same level of comfort.

It feels lonely without your "goodnight". I just really want to feel loved right now. Loved by you. I wish I'd feel wanted and craved the same way I do you. Are your feelings like mine? Sometimes I look down into the body of water that represents my feelings. Sometimes, the water seems to go so deep, I'm afraid to talk about it. I am afraid to overwhelm you with it. Maybe even more importantly, I am afraid your waters don't run that deep for me. This fear could be totally off; we just have different ways to show our love. I recognize mine, and I can feel my water get deeper and deeper at times, not even allowing one to see its deepest corners. I cannot see your water, though. I wish you took me there and showed me that it is just as deep as mine. I wonder if within there, lie the same wishes. I wonder if you also crave to hold my hand as we lay on the grass, watching the stars together. If you wish to listen to my voice as I talk, your head on my heart, allowing you to feel it beat and to hear my voice move through my upper body before leaving my mouth and finding you. If you also crave to learn about all of the tiny details about me; if you crave to know me on a level even deeper than my waters. If you wish to sit down in the dark together, and talk about topics that make you ponder, such as the reasons for being alive. The things that shaped you most in life, and your biggest wins. When you felt most proud of yourself, and if there was ever a time in which you wished you weren't born. I wonder if you want to trace your finger along every single centimeter of my entire body, exploring it. To feel the ground beneath your knees as you kneel down in front of me, feeling my hands cup and caress your sweet face. To lovingly stare at you in awe as we make love, admiring every inch of you. Do you also miss our deep talks? Our late night conversations?

Anyway. I guess that's what the paper pulled out of my filled mind. It is now late. I do not wish to keep you awake while you need to work early tomorrow, but still I wish for you. I wish for a moment in which you whisper me the same words, "we have all the time in the world". A little space for just us, where the passing of time doesn't matter.

[vettelsvee]

Hi love! For your tortured poets department, can I request endgame from the reputation album, lando being the driver please please 🙏

END GAME | Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Friend with benefits Piastri!Reader

SUMMARY: You were used to have random hookups just for fun, including with Lando Norris himself. It's not until he decides to lock both of you up on his driver room and talk about your weird relationship that you don't realize that, deep down, you're willing to settle down your mind and start a dating him ↳ REQUESTED: Yes! Thanks for requesting and hope you like it 💖 Part of REPUTATION in MY TORTURED DRIVERS DEPARTMENT

WORD COUNT: 2745

WARNINGS: Slightly +18 at the end (sorry for leaving it there ☺️), mentions of friends with benefits, spelling with multiple people, angst, curse words

VEE'S NOTES: Haven't written Lando in a very, very long time, so hope you like this one! University and my mental health are killing me but you know what? Writing is what keeps me going (and specially your comments have been a boost of serotonin for me lately). Also... the 2k special is already living rent free in my mind and I can't wait to achieve the goal to post it 😭 I wanna give spoilers now so... you know 🤓 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

"You finally decided to show up at a race. I was starting to think you only liked having me naked in your bed behind your brother’s back."

You smiled at the screen, playing with your fingers as you thought how could you answer Lando. Your relationship was based purely on sex, moreover sexting, with barely any real conversations whenever you met, moans and orgasms speaking for you both instead.

You had never felt the need to go beyond that, to involve feelings in your relationship, or at least that’s what you had made clear to Lando before sleeping with him the very first time. You also let him know that, besides him, there were other guys with whom you had no commitments whatsoever.

However, it was with Lando that you spent most of your time. The others were nothing more than a safe escape, an easy way out when the Brit wasn’t around.

"Be grateful that I even came," you finally replied. "And don’t flatter yourself. I came to see my brother, not to make you come before a race."

You hesitated, wondering if your reply was harsh enough to keep him from getting any ideas and, more importantly, to stop him from insisting on meeting up. You weren’t sure how, but you wanted to end that strange relationship before it spiraled out of control because, whether you wanted to admit it or not, you had started to feel something for him.

Yes, just a few weeks ago, you had one of your usual encounters with a friend of one of your best friends. But everything fell apart when, right before reaching your climax, you couldn’t help it: you moaned Lando’s name instead.

That was what made you question what exactly you felt for Norris and why the label of friends with benefits seemed to be fading away.

"Don’t play dumb, Piastri. See you at the motorhome. You know exactly where."

You huffed. Of course, you knew exactly where you’d be meeting. After all, ever since your brother became a Formula 1 driver, you had visited his teammate’s personal room more than Oscar’s.

With a sigh, making sure neither your mother nor your sisters were nearby, you got up, grabbed the plastic cup that still had a bit of coffee left, and walked with as much determination as you could muster toward McLaren’s motorhome, finishing your drink along the way.

As you walked, mentally preparing a script in case things got tense with Lando, you greeted the people you knew, or at least those who knew you as Y/N Piastri. Lewis was genuinely happy to see you and even stopped to chat, but you excused yourself, saying you had already made plans. Fernando gave you a knowing look, as if trying to figure out what exactly you were about to do with a certain driver.

Even your brother crossed paths with you at the entrance to McLaren’s motorhome. You managed to lie to him, partially, saying Lando had asked you to take a few pictures of him before the race.

Oscar gave you a strange look, then rolled his eyes, offered a small smile and told you to enjoy whatever it was you both were about to do.

You said nothing, but you knew your twin brother well enough to realize he already had a pretty good idea of what you were up to with Norris. Not that you tried too hard to hide it.

When you reached Lando’s room, you didn’t even have to knock. The door opened instantly, revealing a slightly tired-looking Lando with a cup in his hand. His race suit was already on but zipped only to his waist, leaving the top half hanging loose. His team cap was still on, though it didn’t last long since he took it off and tossed it aside within seconds.

He grinned from ear to ear, like he had been waiting for you with far too much anticipation.

"Come in. Make yourself at home," he said with that mischievous tone you were so used to hearing, though something about it felt slightly different this time.

You walked inside without hesitation, crossing your arms and ignoring him, except for the occasional sideways glance to see if he would do or say something before you did. Unfortunately, he didn’t.

"If you wanted a quick fuck before the race you could’ve just said so, you know?"

"I don’t think today’s the best day to fuck you and let everyone hear," he replied. "At least, not yet. Today, we’re going to talk."

"We don’t talk, Lando," you shot back, feeling an internal alarm go off. "And when we do, it’s just to ask about the safe word of the day, what we want to do to each other, and how close we are to coming."

"Well, maybe it’s time we started talking, don’t you think so?"

His answer took you completely by surprise. Your gazes remained locked on each other, and you felt the atmosphere grow tense.

For the first time in a long while, there was no excuse you could use to avoid that conversation with Lando. Maybe the fact that you had been ignoring him for the past few weeks was enough to make him realize that there was a chance—however small—that things had changed between you two.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the growing sense of unease settling in your chest. Lando kept looking at you with that same intensity he always did, except this time… it was different. It wasn’t the first time you found yourselves in a situation like this, where there were a thousand unsaid things hanging between you, waiting to be voiced. But it was the first time, at least on your part, where feelings were involved beyond pure physical desire.

"I don’t think there’s anything to talk about," you said as nonchalantly as possible, but your tense posture betrayed you.

Lando set his cup down on the table beside him. Then, he sat on the edge, crossing his arms again, and reached for your hands only for you to pull away and take a step back.

"I think you know exactly what we need to talk about," he replied calmly. His voice was lower than usual, and you felt the heat grow between your legs. You shook your head, feeling guilty and doing your best to push away that sudden, but familiar, awakening in your body.

"You’ve been avoiding me, Y/N. And don’t tell me you haven’t, because you were in Monaco and never called me to meet up… to see each other," he added, his voice laced with something unreadable. "In fact, we usually sext almost every day, and you didn’t even bother to tell me what  new lingerie set you bought for when you came over."

"I didn’t tell you I was coming to Miami either."

Your reply, rather than making you sound indifferent, exposed you completely. Lando raised an eyebrow, as if he had caught you red-handed. That was when you realized you had seriously screwed up.

"I haven’t been avoiding you, Lando. I’ve just been busy," you insisted.

"Busy? You mean busy by ignoring me?" He scoffed, ironic. His expression turned much more serious now, and you started to worry about where this might lead. "Tell me the truth, Y/N. What’s going on? What’s happening with you?" he emphasized.

You averted your gaze, pretending to take interest in the room’s decoration, a room you already knew by heart. You knew you couldn’t keep dodging the topic, but you also had no idea how to confront it without changing everything you had so far. It was impossible to put into words what you felt for Lando, not when your relationship had always been purely physical. And especially not when there was a real chance you were just confused… and, well, you couldn’t forget the possibility that he might only see you as his hookup.

"Nothing’s wrong," you finally responded.

"I thought we were always honest with each other," Lando sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

You felt your throat tighten. It was hard to breathe. You had been honest, at least when it came to the unrestricted desire between you, to touching each other without attachments, to seeking comfort in one another without questions that went beyond your wildest fantasies. You had avoided anything personal.

But now, you were slowly breaking the unspoken rules that had kept you in perfect balance until this moment.

"I’ve been busy, Lando, and the last thing I wanted was to deal with you, alright?" you insisted, trying to sound as convincing as possible. "Things should have stayed the way they were until, according to you, I started ignoring you."

"No, Y/N, things aren’t like that," the Brit denied, shaking his head. He stepped closer, cornering you against the wall. "If you don’t want to face something because you’re afraid of rejection, just tell me. But, for fuck’s sake, don’t act like I did something wrong, because you’re killing me."

"Lando…"

"Stop insisting that nothing is happening between us, when that’s exactly what makes me think the opposite."

His confession caught you completely off guard. His words—clear, direct, and without a hint of sarcasm, threw you off… especially because you knew he was right.

You felt the urge to run, to disappear, to pretend none of this had ever happened. Most of all, you wanted to deny yourself any romantic thought you had ever had about Oscar’s teammate.

When you lowered your gaze, Lando moved back slightly, giving you space and making sure he didn’t overwhelm you more than you already seemed to be. You sighed, trying to relax once again, but before you could say anything, he spoke first.

"Tell me nothing’s wrong between us, Y/N Piastri," he said softly. "If nothing has really changed, if everything is the same between us… dare to look at  me in the eyes and say it."

Your chest tightened. You couldn’t run away, not when Lando had you emotionally cornered, teetering on the edge of an explosion. Your breathing was unsteady, heavy. Your mind screamed at you to find an excuse, anything that would let you stay true to yourself regardless of what happened next.

Lando waited, unmoving, his blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you tremble for the first time in your life—without him even touching you. It was the first time he had shown himself to you like this: so vulnerable and yet so determined at the same time.

"Nothing is wrong between us, Lando Norris," you finally whispered, forcing the words out, ignoring both your heart and the boy standing in front of you.

"Say it again, but this time, look me in the eyes."

He didn’t move an inch. He knew you were lying; your posture gave you away—the way you avoided his gaze, the way your fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt and your accreditation pass…

You squeezed your eyes shut tightly. You had no choice… at least, not entirely.

Lifting your gaze, you met his blue eyes once again. Your lips parted slightly, ready to try and let out a lie convincing enough for both him and yourself.

But it was impossible. You couldn’t keep doing this, not when, deep down, and no matter how hard you tried to deny it, you felt something more than just pleasure for Lando Norris. The fear of rejection… it terrified you. The thought of him turning you away, of losing what you had with him, was unbearable.

"Lando…"

"You don’t have to say it if you’re not ready," he interrupted. "But please… stop pushing me away. Stop making this to us."

"It’s just…"

Nothing. No matter how much you tried to explain yourself, to find a logical enough reason for your sudden ghosting, you couldn’t.

"It’s just what, Y/N?" the Brit pressed. "Are you afraid to take a risk? To admit something because you’re scared of what might happen next? Because you don’t want to change the life you’ve had until now? Because you want to…?"

Lando forced himself to stop. He ran his hands through his hair, exasperated, turning his back to you. Guilt hit you immediately, your body trembling as the storm inside you began to break free. The driver rubbed his face, frustration radiating from him. This was exhausting him. You were exhausting him, to the point where he was starting to doubt his own feelings. Feelings that had started to grow the moment he realized it hurt when you ignored him, when you didn’t even send him a simple "Hey."

"I wish this were different, Y/N," he finally murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he turned to face you again. "I wish you didn’t make me feel like this. I wish I could just be content with what we had before and pretend none of this was happening…"

Your stomach twisted painfully. That was exactly what you had been thinking, the very reason you had pulled away from him and from whatever this was. You had ignored the fact that your feelings for Lando Norris had become something much stronger—maybe they had been there for far longer than you were willing to admit.

"Lando, listen" You tried to step closer, but he pulled away.

"No, Y/N, no," he said bitterly. "I tried convincing myself there was a reason you were ignoring me, acting like I was nothing to you, and then it hit me that I really want you as more than just someone to fuck."

"That…" you struggled to say, stepping toward him. This time, Lando didn’t stop you. The sincerity in your eyes, the way you looked both calm and nervous at the same time, made him realize he had to trust his instincts. And that was exactly what they were telling him.

"That’s what I wanted to tell you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, but Lando still heard you. "That’s why I kept you on standby for two weeks… I knew this would change everything, that you’d react badly, that we’d end up fighting, and I… I didn’t know how to face the possibility of you rejecting… this."

Lando stared at you in surprise before a sad smile crept onto his lips.

"Y/N… I’ve always been good at reading signals, but this has been driving me fucking crazy."

"And you think it’s not been making me feel the same?" you shot back, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

Lando stepped closer, taking your hands in his. You didn’t resist, feeling how the both of you tensed at the contact. His lips inched toward yours, and when they finally met, the kiss was so fierce, so full of passion, that you ended up straddling him on the couch, moving against him, desperate to feel him. Even though you both knew there was still a race in two hours.

"I don’t want to touch you like this, Y/N," Norris whispered against your ear as you left small bites along his neck. "Y/N, stop it babe…"

"I don’t wanna be just another ex-love to you, Lando…" you murmured between kisses, still searching for friction between your bodies.

"And I don’t wanna miss you like your other lovers do, babe…"

This time, Lando gripped your waist firmly, flipping you onto the couch beneath him. His eyes never left yours as he carefully lifted your shirt and started massaging your breasts over your bra.

"I wanna be your end game, Y/N," Lando breathed, unable to tear his gaze away from you.

Your breath came out in shallow pants, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge. Your hands gripped the unfastened gear around his waist, tugging lightly to keep him close.

"Then prove it."

"I have a race in two hours, love…" he murmured, his voice rough as he pressed his forehead to yours, his arousal growing.

"Then you better be quick," you teased, running your hands over his abs beneath the fireproof. "Especially if you don’t want Osc to hear us…"

"You’re gonna be the death of me one day, Y/N Piastri," Lando groaned as he trailed his fingers up your thighs, lowering himself before you. "Now, open your legs for me... You deserve a punishment after being such a bad, bad girl these past few days…"

[manmuncher777]

Nanami basically has two personalities when it comes to your sex life. Sometimes you might behave certain ways to ensure you get the… treatement you want

Nanami is always a gentle and loving partner, his first priority being you and you well being. This is his soft dom side, pleasure dom even. He loves to worship you, and has no problem doing so. So on those evening where you’ve been so sweet for him, he cant help but lay you out on your shared bed, and give you everything you’ve ever wanted.

“Let me have you darling” he whispers against your neck, kissing the word into your sensetive skin. He’s memorised your skin like a map, permanently burned into his mind. He knows every little spot that makes you shiver and whine. Nipping gently on the spot just against your collarbone that has you quivering under his touch.

“You have me ken.” Your hands clinging onto his skin, trying to tug the shirt off of his toned body, needing to feel him.

“Eager darling?” He chuckles at your rushed hands, pulling the shirt over his head. He’ll let you do that, but other than that, he does all of the work. All for his pretty girl

Stripping you down, laying you on the bed. Eyes trailing over you like it was the last time he was going to see you like this. Savouring every inch of perfect skin he could see.

Wasting no time in kissing his way up you legs, never taking his eyes off of your beatific face, loving to see how he was making you feel. Making his way to where he needed to be.

Planting gentle kisses over your dripping pussy as you mewl beneath him.

“More ken~ please.”

Oh how well mannered you were, who was he to deny such a polite request?

No need to say anything, no wasting time. His tongue quickly finding its way through your folds, slurping up your juices.

Pretty nose bumping against your clit as he fucked you on his tongue, letting you buck your hops and tug on his hair in any way you needed

However, you soon found that Nanami had the ability to change, like the flick of a switch. Of course you were an angel in his eyes, but there were certain occasions where you would push your luck, and he needed to remind you that you were meant to be his well mannered wife, not a little brat.

“Ken~ m’ sorry” you cried out, begging. You had been begging him for hours now, the was no room for you to worry about how pathetic you were being, you didnt care. You just needed him.

“Too late for that my love.” That stern look forcing you into silence.

You had gotten a little bit too spoilt today, and Kento wasnt going to put up with your attitude. So here you were pathetically grinding against his thigh while he had his hands on your hips, stopping you from cumming every time you came close

You were quivering from the overstimulation of being brought to the edge so many times, tears streaming down you pretty face as you husband cooed at you. You had no idea he could be so … harsh. But there was something about his unforgiving attitude that had you craving him even more

“Please ken, m’so sorry. Please- let me cum” You cry out, hips rolling again and again, those waves of pleasure never stopping. The faint build of your orgasm once again.

You couldn’t keep up any more, pausing your hips to give your soaked cunt a moment to recover.

“I don’t recall telling you to stop darling.”

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff Drabbles - Two Types of People

Summary: There are two types of people. | Words: 470 | Warnings: None, fluff.

A/N-> I'm not sure if I have posted this before, so if I have just pretend I didn't :) I got the idea from tik tok btw.

General Masterlist | AO3 |

-&-

The annoying beeping made Wanda grumble in bed, trying unsuccessfully to hide from the noise by pulling the covers over her head.

A giggle was heard next, and to Wanda's happiness, the annoying sound stopped as well.

"You need to get up now if you don't want to be late." You warned gently, and she heard your footsteps in the room until the brightness increased signaling that you had opened the curtains. She grumbled again, cowering further under the covers. 

You giggled. 

Suddenly the bed shifted and there was a new weight on it. Wanda forced herself to open her eyes as you pulled the covers aside so you could look down at her face.

"Good morning cutie."  You whispered charmingly, bringing a soft color to your girlfriend's freshly awakened face. Wanda closed her eyes again, and you smiled at the action. "Hey, baby. Wake up."

With another grumble, she moved closer, effectively hiding against your body. You chuckled but did not reject the hug. "Let me sleep. I'm tired." She mumbled in a voice hoarse with slumber, and you hummed in understanding, knowing that she really should by the time she returned from missions the day before. But today was still Spider Boy's graduation and you both promised to attend. 

You were ready for another try when the alarm went off again and you had some difficulty getting free of the girl pulling you back to bed to turn off her cell phone on the corner table. 

Back in bed with a sigh, you wrapped Wanda in your arms.

"I think we have a problem, honey." You forced a more serious voice that made Wanda frown and search your gaze, a little more awake than before. But a smile began to form on your lips. "I'm one alarm type of person. While you're the at least five of them type of person. It's the end of our relationship, I'm afraid." 

Your joke draws a hearty laugh from her before Wanda grabs the pillow and tries to hit your face with it. The small dodge of the target makes you almost fall out of bed, and soon, the laughter is shared. 

"You're very lucky I love you." She retorts with the same tone for the bad joke, just as the pillow falls to the floor and she is practically on top of you. Your hands circle her waist next, and you smile as Wanda leans in to kiss you. 

With a quick twist, you are on top but the affected sigh turns into a pout when you don't go back to kissing her.

"I'll love you so much more after you brush your teeth, witchy." You tease one last time and can't even blame her when red energy throws the pillow at your face, knocking you off the bed this time.

[mybelovedsylus]

Another day another smutty drabble. You know the drill, no minor interactions please. I’m a Sylus girlie who still quite enjoyed the unhinged Caleb - so I got to thinking. Sylus would definitely want to make sure Caleb knew that you were taken - granted a little OOC cause he likes these intimate moments to be private, but I couldn’t get the idea of him calling Caleb while fucking MC to prove a point… so well that’s what this shit is and that’s your warning. Hope you like it - not edited as always. I'm still working on my smut writing too so forgive me

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Sylus knew he was a possessive motherfucker. Of that he had no doubt, but if he did he knew for sure when he had your ankles draped loosely over his shoulder as your phone dialed next to your head on speakerphone.

"You can not be serious right now," you gasped, hands clutching against nothing as Sylus' evol kept them pinned to the bed. Couldn't have you hanging up prematurely now could we? Not when there was a point to be proven.

"Pipsqueak, what's up?"

Sylus sneered as soon as he picked up, like that wasn’t exactly what his intention was. He looked from the phone to you and raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to respond. As you opened your mouth, he slammed all the way home causing a moan to rip out of your throat, which you were quick to try and muffle by biting down hard on your lip. Sylus looked downright gleeful, the red of his eyes practically glowing.

"You okay over there?" Caleb's voice came through gentle but questioning.

"Ye-yeah, just stubbed my toe?" you gasped out but it sounded unsure. Well now that wouldn't do. Sylus leaned down, essentially folding your knees into your chest, which in turn pushed him even further into you which you couldn't help but groan at. His mouth latched on to your peaked nipple, flicking and tweaking it as his hand reached up to lavish the other with similar attention.

"You must have really stubbed it good, do you need me to bring dinner and some medical aid?" Caleb offers sweetly.

"NO!"

There's silence on the line and you glare as Sylus chokes back a laugh as he leans back, resuming a lazy pace and wiping the hair out of your eyes. The sweet gesture is a stark contrast to the debauchery happening here. Sylus is drawing it out, giving slow lazy thrusts that drag every vein and inch over your sensitive spots, dragging you closer and closer to that precipice. You need Caleb to hang the fuck up before that happens.

"I appreciate the - fuck - offer, but really I'll be okay."

You know it comes out like phone sex, airy and deep, but that's because it's like Sylus can read my mind and is trying to get me over the peak as quick as he can - like he wants Caleb to hear just what he does to me. This possessive motherfucker - but also what does that say about you that you find yourself getting wetter at the idea?

"Uh, okay, was that all you called to tell me? That you stubbed your toe, but otherwise you are fine?" Caleb asked. You could tell he didn't believe a word of what you were trying to sell.

"Mhm," you gasp out as Sylus draws tight circles over your clit, picking up the pace of his thrusts. You are starting to wonder if the slap of skin and the rough slide through your wetness is echoing on the phone like it is in your ears.

"Okay," he draws out, suspicion evident in his tone, "I'm just gonna let you go then."

It's too late though. Between the bruising and pistoning pace,and the flicking of your clit, there's not much you can do to hold it back. You try to bite your lip to hold the noises at bay, but Sylus pulls it free with his other hand. He holds your cheeks in a grasp that holds your mouth open, and you cry his name out as your vision goes white and everything in your body pulls taught with your orgasm. He laughs breathlessly, leaning down to suck at the skin of your neck. He turns his head slightly towards the phone, groaning out your name as his hips stutter and he meets you at the peak. He leans more deeply on you, keeping the two of you joined as he reaches over for the phone.

"Aw, looks like your “gege” hung up," he mutters, tossing your phone off the bed as he looks down at you with what you can only say is a boyish smile.

"You are such a possessive asshole, oh my god, how am I ever supposed to look him in the eye again?"

"You can protest all you want, but you were gushing- looks to me like my kitten might have a bit of an exhibitionist in her," Sylus responds with a sly grin, his hand giving a lazy tweak to your overabused clit that makes you jump. You try to pull away and he makes a tsk noise as he follows, ensuring he remains firmly within the snug confines of your walls.

"Where do you think you're going, when did I say I was done with you?"

[yandere-sins]

Yandere!Mydei caring for a depressed darling

a/n: Tried to do something new with the type of headers I do. Not quite yet close to the aesthetic girlies but I don't hate it! Anyway, I'm now a diagnosed ✨depressed✨ and life's been up and down lately, so I wanted to write for my current comfort character ♥

Characters: Yandere!Mydei(mos) x GN!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Possessiveness, Obsessiveness, Kidnapping, Depression

❥ Mydei likes to return to you doing something. He likes to find you taking a bath (scrambling to get some clothes on when you hear the door unlock) or reading a book (sighing because your reading time is effectively over), stuffing your mouth like an adorable little animal with food, or even wreak havoc if you must (and he gets to put you back in your place). It excites him. It makes taking a rest so much more enjoyable, and he needs to see you thrive in this environment he created for you. Knowing that it's his place that you live in satisfies the homesickness he suppresses, as he can live vicariously through you. Coming home to you asleep—or at least trying to—isn't quite what he has in mind for a greeting.

❥ He's not too pleased to have to wake you up or make you at least acknowledge his presence. But he will, of course, do so however his mood commands him to. Sometimes, he grabs the blanket so you end up rolling out of bed; other times, he spoons you from behind, applying more and more pressure to your body until you react. Or he calls out to you and pokes you until you're finally up. Just this time, everything he does seems to affect you less. Like you don't care. Like you can't care.

❥ When you do finally get up, he immediately notices the changes in you. He can't pinpoint what exactly is wrong. Still, everything from your sluggish demeanor to the faded light in your eyes gives him clues to an unsolvable puzzle. He doesn't like it. Mydei asks you what's going on with you, his repeated questioning getting annoying fast, but your shrugging your shoulders and being dismissive isn't cutting it for him. He will test for a fever and belittle you for not taking care of yourself as you should as he tries to find any wounds that could cause you distress. Clearly, you've been up to no good and probably worn yourself out. Mydei is so obsessed with finding the cause that he can't see the forest for the trees.

❥ Frustrated and angry at you since he doesn't know what is going on with you (this could just be another one of your ways to challenge him), he storms off to take care of his own needs for a little while but eventually does return with your favorite food. Even though Mydei has to get you out of bed again—which he does unapologetically and ruthlessly by picking you up regardless of your state of awareness—he forces you to have a meal with him. He gets even more upset when you barely touch your food. He keeps piling more items on your plate, but you just sit back after a few nibbles, unwilling to consume more. It's grating his nerves, but even more so, it raises a sense of discomfort in him that he never felt with you before. Even when he had to fight you, wrestle you to the ground, and force you to obey his whims, he never felt like this... somewhat... helpless. It's uncomfortable and distressing, and Mydei doesn't want to think of the memories these feelings remind him of.

❥ You, not objecting to being placed on top of him like a weighted blanket for the night, is the final nail in the coffin. You hate it with a passion when he picks you up and moves you like a doll, especially if it initiates more body contact than you feel like having with him or being placed in an awkward position. But you don't even tell him to stop or push your hands into his chest, giving him a reason to wrestle with you for a bit. Instead, your behavior keeps Mydei up all night after he pulled a blanket over you two, and you actually have the audacity to fall asleep on his chest without any complaints, not knowing the agony he's going through. But fine! You want to not interact with him? Well, that gives Mydei the opportunity to do whatever he wants with you.

❥ So, in the morning (later than he usually gets up), he forces you to bathe with him. You do tense up and try to get away from him, but he won't let you. Having your hair washed by Mydei is not a gentle undertaking, as he scrubs the soap against your scalp seemingly without an ounce of care. However, when some tears fall, he at least makes an effort to be more careful with the rest of your body. You'll be surprised to witness how he is still able to learn from his mistakes despite forcing you into this relationship with him. But even if it isn't how he's used to doing things, he tries—for you. The same goes for brushing your teeth (he'll use his tools for you unless you do it yourself), combing your hair (washing was enough torture, although he's reaching for the comb almost too quickly for you to decide if you can manage it yourself or not), and putting fresh clothes on (which takes a lot of time as he ponders what you should wear that day).

❥ Mydei's special care doesn't stop there as you are getting carried or dragged around all day by him—no matter where, except for the place you had been forced to call your "home". Into meetings with the other Chrysos Heirs (which everyone is very surprised by since Mydei never allows them to visit you and keeps you all to himself usually), onto the training grounds (where he was nice enough to bring your book along in case you were bored, but he ended up checking up so much on you that his training was cut short), and to restaurants three times that day, so he could make sure you were eating right. You've never actually got to hang out so much with him outside his place, and he had never shown any interest in you learning about his daily routine, either. So, although you can't appreciate the change as much in your current state, you do enjoy being outside and doing something (even if it isn't what you want to do).

❥ Even though he kept his eyes on you all day, your lack of trying to complain to someone about Mydei's treatment concerns him. Usually, you'd try to tell everyone your tale of being forced into a relationship with him the few times he took you outside, always causing a scene with him in the streets. But you seem to lack the energy for it. For anything, really. You're still barely eating and even allow him to reach for and take your hand at any given moment, which he enjoys but is only half as rewarding as when he has to fight for the right. You even stopped struggling whenever he picked you up, instead slumping over and resting in his hold. And you sigh a lot, reaching up sometimes to wipe away tears that threaten to fall. If he wasn't concerned the day before, he definitely is now.

❥ It can't be helped, Mydei doesn't know what to do. So, despite grumbling about how he can't believe all this, he takes you to a spot no one can see you two in. Somewhere, the sun will shine down on you despite it being evening, and he sets you down between his legs, leaning you against his chest before resting back against a wall, too, soaking in the sunlight. It doesn't take too long until the silence gets to you, emotions swelling inside you until they burst out in tiny sniffles. By the time you are turned into a sobbing mess, Mydei is hugging you tightly against his chest, letting your tears run down his skin. He's neither hushing nor reprimanding you, rubbing your back calmly instead and letting you cling to him even if your nails dig into his flesh. The part that suppresses all of the uncomfortable feelings inside of him locking them away and burying them deeper every time they act up, doesn't understand what is happening. Mydei put them away to keep himself clear-headed and fighting at all times. But the other part—the one ruled by his heart that loves you so very much—feels for you, wishing he could just take care of whoever and whatever made you feel this way. He longs to have your feisty, adorable self back and wishes he could prove to you how capable he is in protecting you. Still, instinctively, he knows that it wouldn't be this easy.

❥ Mydei is not admitting to being part of the problem. He's not allowing anyone, not even you, to tell him that. But he will be the one to help you fix whatever issue you're having. You will follow his routine, and he will adjust it so you think of anything other than the thoughts in your head that torment you. If he can provide you with a new experience, he will. If buying you a hundred new books, he will. Ice cream for breakfast? Just say the words. He'll stay behind from some missions, no matter how hard he itches for the fights, just so you aren't as lonely. He'll do anything—anything—so he doesn't have to come back to find you this way again. So that he doesn't encounter this condition that he doesn't know how to fix. A condition no one taught him how to take care of and which he doesn't acknowledge in himself.

❥ Despite not getting any softer than this, Mydei does show you a tremendous amount of care the next few days. He drags you to many more outings, but there are also a lot of planned rests in between. You get to meet the others, and sometimes, he sees your smile return, however short-lived it is. Mydei goes out of his way to make you happy, never saying it out loud but showing through actions that he cares. He lets you roam the market by his side or even allows you to hold a weapon once or twice (under his strict supervision) when you show interest in it. He does stop you the few times you try to tell someone what is going on because losing you isn't an option, even if you seem to think it is. There is no way he'd ever let you go... but he does want you to feel better again. Having you wither away had never been the plan, although he reflects that sometimes it could have looked that way to you. He's not going to change his ways in the future, but he will provide you with what you need as long as he can give it to you.

❥ But the first time you get upset at him again, his heart makes a massive leap in his chest, trying to burst out. Mydei wants to rip it out from beneath his rips so he can throw the stupid thing at you, hoping you'll finally realize how bad his feelings are for you. Just having a glimpse of the you, he loves, back is enough to satisfy the ache that had risen over the time he had to watch you live in your depressive state. And sometimes, when you two fight, he even lets you win now. Mydei can spare a night not smothering you beneath him as he falls asleep spread on top of you. Letting you push him off and wearing the very temporary bruises like marks of endearment on his skin. His love becomes increasingly undiluted, especially when you show him the fire returning to your eyes. Your tongue, too, tastes better once it's sharp again and he has a reason to shut you up. Even though he carried you around for a while, seeing your body move around on its own is like a mesmerizing dance that he watches with rapture, and it raises his appetite for you like never before.

And you will never know how much effort he puts into keeping it this way for the rest of your time together.

[alotofpockets]

Tiny Tillie | Katrina Gorry x Reader

5k celebration prompt: “Our girl’s first football practice.”

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.2k

-----

Harper grew up in a world filled with football. With both of her mom’s playing professionally, there hadn’t been a day in her life where a ball wasn’t involved. She had joined you and Katrina on camps since she was a little baby, and it hadn’t taken long before every single one of your teammates had become her aunties. 

While she had already kicked balls around in the biggest stadiums, in front of thousands and thousands of people, she had always been too young to sign up for your local football club.

You and Katrina had always said you wouldn’t force her to be into football like the both of you, your children would be free to love whatever they wanted. But Harper loved football with her whole heart. She wanted to be just like her mom’s.

After asking again and again if she could play, you were finally able to enroll her. She would have her first practice with the club today, and she had not stopped talking about it all week. Her enthusiasm was the most adorable thing.

The morning of Harper’s first practice was pure chaos, but in the best way. It started by her hopping into your bed and jumping around. “Get up! Get up! Get up!” She chanted full of excitement. 

You swooped her out of the air mid jump, and held her down onto the bed in a cuddle. “Darling, practice isn’t for another couple of hours.” You tried, hoping she would let you and Katrina stay in bed just a little longer. “But mama, I gotta get ready.”

“Hmmm, I think that you have plenty of time, and maybe the tickle monster should have a visit first.” Katrina chimed in, lifting her hands tauntingly above your daughter. “Noooo.” Harper said as she was trying to get up to escape the incoming tickle attack, but Katrina’s fingers were tickling her tummy and sides before she was able to run off. 

Your bedroom filled with her giggles, a sound you would never be able to get enough of. “Mama!” She cried out with laughter. “Help me!” You wrapped your arms around her protectively and softly swatted your wife’s hands away.

“Alright Harps, why don’t you put on your training kit. Mommy put it on your chair last night. Then I will be right there, alright?” Harper’s eyes lit up at your words. She jumped off of the bed and sprinted to her room. “Save some of that energy for practice.” Katrina said after her jokingly.

Then she turned to you, “Can you believe it’s our girl’s first football practice?” You shook your head and pulled your wife closer. “I still remember the first time we took her to camp with us like it was yesterday. I can’t wait to see the joy on our little girl’s face when she’s out there.”

“Mama, help!” You heard Harper from the other side of the hallway. You kiss your wife’s head. “Duty calls.”

When you walk into Harper’s room you see her struggling to get her shirt on. It was all twisted around her small frame, one arm through the head hole and the other in the wrong arm hole. “Hm I think this is fixable. Arms up.” You said and helped her pull the fabric off. 

“Here, let me hold it up for you, and then you can try again.” She carefully watched what you did, eager to learn how to do it herself. She had been in a phase lately where she wanted to do everything herself, so you let her and knew she’d come to you if she needed help anyways.

“There we go, well done darling.” You praised her when she managed to get the shirt on properly the second time around. She proudly showed off her outfit, that’s when your eyes fell on the West Ham short she was wearing. “Darling, why are you wearing your West Ham kit? You got shorts from your club.”

“Because they’re my favourite Mama.” You were about to tell her to switch them out, but Katrina stepped up behind you and wrapped her hands around your waist. “Pick your battles, love. They’re just shorts.” 

Katrina was right, as long as it was training, she should be fine in her West Ham shorts. “Alright, West Ham shorts it is.” Harper jumped around excitedly. “Yay, let’s go Hammers!” You both chuckled. 

“I’m going to start on breakfast, see you downstairs.” Katrina whispered to you. Leaving you to continue helping Harper get ready. 

When she was all dressed, and you finished braiding her hair, the two of you headed downstairs. Instead of walking to the dining table however, Harper went straight for the kit bag that Katrina had gotten ready last night.

“Where do you think you’re going, Harps?” Katrina called out to her. “We have to go to practice, Mommy.” She shook her head with a chuckle. “Come have some breakfast first, we still have time. Footballers need to have a good breakfast, so they can be strong on the pitch. You want to be strong, right?”

“I am strong, Mommy.” She said showing off her muscles. “Well, I think some pancakes would make you even stronger than that.” At the word ‘pancake’ she dropped her bag and sprinted to the dining table. “That’s my girl.” She said proudly before placing a stack of pancakes in front of her.

Once breakfast was ready, there was no stopping the little baller from wanting to go to practice. Heading over early actually worked out for the surprise you had planned. 

When you got to the parking lot, Harper was hastily trying to undo her seatbelt, wanting to get out of the car as fast as possible. You opened her door and walked her to the little sidewalk in front of the car before, while Katrina got the bag from the trunk. 

Harper was too busy looking towards the pitch to notice two people walking towards her. “Look who’s here.” You nudged her in the right direction. “Kywa! ChaCha!” She yelled out full of excitement as she ran their way. Jumping into Kyra’s arms as the midfielder lifted her up and spun her around.

“Are you ready for your first practice?” Charli asked Harped as she kissed her cheek. “Yes, I’m gonna be just like all of you!”

“Our Tiny Tillie.” Kyra said to her, “I can’t wait to see you out there.”

Then Harper looked over Kyra’s shoulder and saw even more familiar faces. “Put me down! Put me down!” She said, wiggling her legs. The moment her feet touched the ground she ran off to greet Steph and Caitlin. It was safe to say that the surprise of some of her aunties coming down for her first practice was a success. 

Together with some of you Aussie girls, you watched your daughter play full of pride. She looked to be having the time of her life, a big smile plastered on her face as she was running around on the pitch with the rest of the kids. No matter how far she wanted to take football, you would be there to support her through it all.

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[oceansnotebook]

the DC boys and love languages

how they show their love for someone.

Included: dick, tim, jason, hal, wally, roy, barry

trying to write for more characters so I added my favorites!

Dick: quality time and touch.

Dick will do everything in his power to be around you most if not all of the day. He loves just sitting in silence with you, it’s never awkward! He loves it even more if you’re sitting in silence holding hands.

Any and every time you’re walking around in public, he will be holding your hand. He loves to take hold of your hand and swing your arms.

And at night, when you sleep together, he is so clingy. Just an absolute cuddle bug and will not let you go.

Tim: acts of service and gift giving.

Tim notices everything about you. And when he gets your routine and habits memorized, he will try to help you complete them easier. Whether that be making the bed for you, or simply making dinner he will always try to do something nice for you every day.

Whenever he goes out shopping and spies something that reminds him of you, he will most likely get it. Your house gets over cluttered with little things Tim has gotten you over the years.

He’s a really good gift giver too. whether it’s somthing you’ve been wanting for a while or something you didn’t even know you wanted, he’s gotten it for you.

Jason: quality time and words of affirmation.

Jason loves spending time with you and he gets very sad when he hasn’t seen in you in more than a day. He calls you a lot too. Your used to picking up your phone and seeing 13 missed calls from him, just for him to say “hi, I miss you”

He really loves words of affirmation because when you tell him something nice, he gets and happy and blushing so he tries to make you feel that way too.

He tries to do it smoothly, randomly walking by and saying “oh, your hair looks nice by the way” once you smile, he’s celebrating.

Hal: physical touch and acts of service

Hal loves touching you. He loves intertwining fingers, resting heads on shoulders and hugging. He doesn’t care when or where, he just adores touching you.

He also tries his best to be helpful and do small chores or things for you. He really likes it when you do tiny tasks for him, so he’ll do some in return. He knows that you get lonely when he’s away on long missions, so he tries to make up for it by catching up on chores and such. If theres ever something you’ve been worrying about, Hal will get it done for you and act as if it’s no big deal when you thank him.

Wally: quality time and physical touch

Wally loves being near you. He loves just sitting next to you and staring at you as you read or scroll on your phone.

Whenever you two are on public transport, like a bus or subway, he will be holding onto your waist, as you rest your head on his shoulder.

He really likes squeezing you’re face before kissing you, he thinks you look adorable and he loves the smile and laugh it brings.

Barry: acts of service and physical touch

Barry gets busy a lot. He also forgets a lot. Whenever he notices that you have done something for him, whether it be a small task or not, he feels so lucky. He tries his best to repay you for your act of kindness by doing something small for you in return.

You often return home after late nights to see dinner made and the laundry put away.

He also loves holding you, but he’s very observant of your boundaries and whether or not you’re in the mood for hugs. If you are, then he’ll be glued to your side all day, and if not that’s okay too! He’s okay with simply sitting on the same couch, smiling as he watches you do something mundane.

Roy: words of affirmation and acts of service

Call this boy anything sweet and he’s in love. He lives for your kind words and praise, even if he hides it. He tries to say something nice about you every time he sees you. He will absolutely praise you a lot, as he likes praise himself.

He also enjoys doing small things for you. Need something fixed? Ask Roy, he will be happy to help. It’s usually repairing things, or making small things for you he does, he always hopes it means alot to you.

this took so long to make lmao!

I might do things like this more but separate posts, so like batboys in one and other people in another!

I really hope you like it, I have never written for Roy and Wally before.

[capquinn]

what about quinn just basking in the way bug and mom interact?? its like they have their own secret language and he loves to watch it happen, makes him all fuzzy and warm and just honestly fall in love with you even more (if thats even possible) seeing you as a mom

i just know quinny would find himself tearing up every once in a while when he sees them all soft like this 😭😭

Quinn leans against the doorway, arms crossed, watching.

The house is quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the living room lamp. It’s late — Bug should be in bed by now, but instead, she’s curled up against you on the couch, her tiny body tucked into yours, head nestled beneath your chin. She’s talking, voice soft and sleepy, her words tumbling together in that half-lucid way they do when she’s fighting sleep. Quinn doesn’t catch all of it, but he doesn’t have to. Because you do. You always do.

And God, he loves watching it. Loves watching you. Loves watching you as a mother. It comes so effortlessly to you, like instinct, like something woven into your bones. The way you smooth your palm over Bug’s back in long, steady strokes, the way you hum in just the right places, murmuring quiet encouragements, responding to things Quinn doesn’t always follow, like you and Bug are speaking in a language only the two of you understand.

Bug pauses, her little lips pursing, fingers absentmindedly tracing tiny shapes against your arm, a habit she’s had since she was a baby. You don’t rush her. You just wait, patient, steady, your fingertips brushing through her curls, giving her all the space she needs to find her words. After a beat, she exhales, relaxing against you as the words come together in her sleepy little head.

“— and then the bunny had to go home,” Bug murmurs, voice getting sleepier by the second, “but the bear didn’t want her to.”

You tilt your head, waiting, because she always has more to say.

“Mm,” you encourage with a small hum, shifting just enough to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. “That’s tough, huh? Bear and bunny are best friends.”

Bug nods against your chest, letting out a little sigh. “Yeah. But… but bunny said, ‘I have to go, bear. My mommy’s waiting for me.’”

You hum again, warm and soft. “Because her mommy misses her?”

Bug nods again, slow, eyes fluttering shut for a beat. Quinn thinks she’s finally given in, finally let sleep take her...

But then, in the tiniest voice, she murmurs, “You’d miss me too, right?”

Your arms tighten just slightly, your lips pressing to the crown of her head, fingers tracing slow, steady paths down her back. Quinn watches it happen — watches the way Bug knows the answer before you even say a word. She doesn’t need to ask again. She feels it in the way you hold her, in the warmth of your touch, in the way you keep her close like you never want to let go.

It’s something innate passing between the two of you, this quiet understanding that doesn’t need words.

Bug breathes out, a tiny, content hum slipping past her lips, her whole body going boneless against you. A smile, soft and sleepy, tugs at the corner of her mouth as she burrows impossibly closer, little fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt, clinging without urgency, without fear. Like she’s heard you loud and clear, even though you haven’t said a single word.

But you do, because you know she still wants to hear it.

“Oh, baby,” you murmur. “I always miss you when you’re not with me.”

And that’s all she needs. She sighs, long and slow, her body going completely slack against you, safe and sure in the way you love her.

Quinn watches, his heart caught somewhere between aching and overflowing, the kind of fullness that makes his chest feel too small to hold it all. Because this — this quiet, sleepy moment, the two of you curled up together, Bug safe and sound in your arms — it’s everything.

Quinn swallows, stepping further into the room, perching on the armrest of the couch.

“She out?” he murmurs, voice hushed.

You glance up at him, smiling softly, your fingers still stroking through Bug’s curls, lulling her further into sleep.

“Almost.”

Quinn reaches out, his knuckles grazing Bug’s cheek, and she makes a tiny sound — somewhere between a hum and a sigh — before burrowing deeper into your warmth, her little hand still gripping onto your shirt even in sleep, like she never wants to let go.

Quinn feels something tighten in his throat. Because he remembers when she was just a baby, small enough to fit in the crook of one arm, when her cries could only be soothed by your voice, your touch. And now, here she is, still finding her safety, her comfort, her home in you.

And God.

He thought he knew love before. Thought he had felt it in all the ways that mattered.

But this? Watching the way you hold her like you were made for this, made for her? Watching the way she leans into you like she doesn’t even need to think about it? This kind of love? It’s something else entirely. Something that makes him want to reach out, to touch, to hold.

So he does.

His hand drifts, skimming over your arm before curling around the back of your neck, his thumb tracing a slow, grateful line against your skin. He leans in, presses his lips to your temple, lingers there for a moment longer than necessary.

You tilt your head just slightly, leaning into him the way Bug leans into you, and that’s all it takes. That’s all he needs. His family, his girls wrapped up in the kind of love that’s steady and sure and so achingly pure that he doesn’t know what he did to deserve it.

You sigh softly, shifting just enough to look up at him, your features soft in the dim light.

“You okay?” you ask, like you can sense it — how full he feels, how something inside him is stretching, expanding, trying to make room for all the love pressing against his ribs.

Quinn just nods, thumb still brushing lazy circles against your skin.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice quieter than he intends. “I just… I love you.” His gaze flickers down, taking in the way Bug is tucked against your chest. “Both of you.”

Your smile is small, knowing, like you already understood before he even said it. Like the secret language you and Bug share, that unspoken understanding, somehow it extends to him too.

“We love you too,” you murmur back, your free hand reaching for his, fingers threading together, squeezing gently. “So much.”

Quinn leans in again, kissing you slow, deep, the kind of kiss that lingers, and Bug stirs between you, sighing softly. You both pull back, sharing a quiet chuckle, and Quinn shifts, slipping off the armrest to settle beside you properly, his arm curling around both of you.

The three of you sit like that for a while, wrapped up in warmth, in love, in the quiet certainty that there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.

Because if there’s one thing Quinn Hughes knows for certain, it’s this:

Bug has the best mom in the world.

And him?

He’s the luckiest man alive.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Ex Step “Kids” x Reader

Where the man you're dating and soon to marry have their reservations about you. Considering you're closer to their age and their father has millions in his name...

Thinking about the Step-family in question being adults; well established and acting on their own from their aging father

Unknowingly letting him fall prey to you 

Walking Temptation with a hunger for deep pockets and a smile innocent enough to make anyone swoon

It’s a shock when the next time they see their dad for the holidays he’s got you on his arm

Just a little bit older than them (half his age) and with a giant engagement ring on your finger

“You like it? Your dad got it for me when we were in Dubai!” 

“Uh Dad can I have a word? Alone?”

Taniya, his eldest is the hardest to grill you

Being incredibly open with her suspicions about you

And she’s the most vigilant when it comes to reprimanding her father for spoiling you

“Dad think about it (Y/n) doesn’t need another sports car! You’ve already gotten them two!”

In no uncertain terms, you’re sure Taniya hates your guts

If the way all the restaurants your future husband has worked with for some reason can’t serve you has anything to say about it, that’s likely the case

But you don’t mind!

That way you can take your man to the best place to get croquettes

Yeah it’s sketchy but that’s what his bodyguards are for

The second worst is his youngest, Titan

Classic attention-hungry influencer son who thinks pranks on you are going viral because everyone enjoys your misery as much as he does

“Your misery” is the curious tilt of your head when you find the leather seats of your range rover decorated with glitter 

Doesn’t really bother you though, so you’ll show off your new interior to all your new followers on socials 

Wonder where they came from

Finally the middle son Tariq always forgotten but not quite estranged doesn’t seem to dislike you too much

After all, he did start coming around the villa more since you’ve moved in

“Oh hey (Y/n) I heard those flowers my dad got you went missing, it just so happens to work out that I brought you some.”

“Those are my favorites! How did you know?”

“Lucky guess. Anyway, I heard you got the latest VR tech, want to show me how it works?”

For a while you fall into a cycle with your fiance and his family

Eventually tying the knot in a luxurious venue in front of hundreds of masked billionaires

Of course, all your older husband’s kids decide to be civil

And all is well…until it isn’t

All too soon are the siblings gathered again when their father dies two weeks later

It’s all so sudden

With heavy hearts, their knowledge of his decline makes it better for the siblings to take on the funeral preparations

Begrudgingly Taniya takes it upon herself to try getting the funds from you, coming to the Villa prepared to argue

Instead, she’s met with one of her father’s most loyal bodyguards

Woefully opening the door

“(Y/n) has been too distraught to leave their bed since the…last hospital visit.”

“What?”

She would have expected someone like you to have been jumping for joy

Having tied the knot with a man who’d pay for any tuition you might’ve needed paid Taniya doubts it she expected you’d be as bubbly as others in your…profession

But instead of partying you were glued to the giant California bed clutching an old shirt of his

For once Taniya feels bad for you

“Uh hey (Y/n) I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come to the first meeting with the mortuary staff. We’re looking to pick a coffin and–”

Instead of something snarky or even an agreement, you throw a black card in her direction and pull the covers over your head

Barely smothering the crying sounds

“You know what? Maybe it might be best if I stay back here..with you.”

It’s all too easy for her to lend her shoulder as you wail about your late husband–her father

Its awkward for awhile and then it’s not

She weirdly looks forward to pulling your tear-stricken face into her chest she wore the v-neck for a reason while you discuss the funeral arrangements

Purposely making her meetings online so she can rub your back off screen

Finding that the lingering security guard–your unofficial butler is getting more and more on her nerves

Taniya doesn’t even realize she’s gotten this bad until she’s hoping the chandelier will fall on her brothers when they eventually show up

“Wow. You two are here. In-person…why didn’t you call?”

“I don’t need your permission to see (Y/n)! But you know I would’ve come sooner if my company wasn’t dealing with a major crisis by some mysterious corporate giant!”

“Don’t look at me, I told you working for a shady company would get you no where.”

“I cannot with you right now–”

“I also came-!”

“Shut up Titan.” “Please Titan we’re talking.”

Titan isn’t all that worried about his old man being dead except his allowance stopped

And technically he shouldn’t be staying in the Villa anymore…but his followers are asking questions

“And in here we have the–whoa crying widow alert!”

“W-what?!”

He gets a lot of hate for that one

And while his siblings circle around you like vultures he’s finding it hard to insincerely apologize so that you can do a follow-up apology video with him

He’s following you around so much and observing all your little quirks 

he worries it might be important when ‘apologizing’ so maybe he should record it…

Thus begins his long and greatly popular series of getting to know my dead dad’s spouse

He records as much as he can–what you eat, how you talk, how you whisper promises to the pictures of his dad you put up

It weirdly makes him question everything

It also has him posting to a new platform…a more hidden one

“Alright, guys! I actually got into their closet without issue we’ve just got to hope they won’t need to come in here anymore. OMG They’re back! I wonder what they’ll do…next. Uhm…sorry chat but I’m going to shut off the camera for awhile….I think this is just for me.”

Unlike Taniya who will hesitate, thinking of her father while cuddling up to you Titan does not think

Because after his copious amounts of stalking streaming with you

He's decided you will be his inheritance from dad

Clearly the old man wasn’t strong enough to handle you

So Titan would be the hero to sweep such a camera worthy beauty off their feet

Tariq doesn’t hesitate either 

he’s gotten over that the day he met you

Sure he misses his dad a lot less than he expected+ but he does miss the privacy he used to have with you

“Hey (Y/n) do you want to go out for a ride like we used to do.”

“Oh Tariq I’d love to but I already told Titan we’d do a muckbang with him.”

“And after that, we’re going to film our feet ASMR!”

“Titan I said I’d need to think about that–”

“What?! You already said no to the hot-tub stream, how much more of a Karen can you be?!”

“Okay okay, but I’d rather it not be live.”

“Duh, I may not ever want to post it.”

Tariq is so tired of everyone else realizing just how much you’re not like any gold-digger he’s ever known

In fact, you’re so bad at it that he doubts you were ever a gold digger in the first place

“Hey Tariq the lawyer had a question about the life insurance money, should I just write you a check or do I keep it? I’m so confused.”

“Wow uh, that’s a lot.”

“Yeah, but your dad always told me what to do with this kind of stuff. So what do I do?”

“Uhh, how about we open our own bank account and put it there!”

“Oooh like a married couple’s bank account?”

“Yeah just like marriage. It’s a little too early to ask right?”

Nonetheless, all three siblings are beginning to realize just how ‘bad’ of a gold digger you are

And they’re more than eager to show you the right way…as long as you change your allegiance to them.

Rules | Kofi | Masterlist

[angstywaifu]

If I Catch You - Garrick Tavis

A/N: This was meant to be a Kinktober fic, but better late than never right? We can just pretend it's still october.... Thanks to the anon who sent me some unhinged Garrick thoughts that finally pushed me to write this. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Stalking/Chasing. Pet Names. Praise. Dominant Garrick. Oral M Receiving. Fingering. Slight choking. Masterlist | Links

“Bloody hell Garrick! You scared the crap out of me.” I squeal as he chuckles at my reaction.

”Not my fault you’re so damn jumpy.” He teases as he reaches around me to get a drink, his other hand coming rest on my hip, his fingers grazing the exposed skin where my shirt has ridden up.

I can’t help but shiver at his touch, craving more of it despite how he’d scared me. If anything, I’d like how he’d scared me. And as he turns his attention back to me, I can tell he notices. His eyes focusing on mine while a knowing smirk graces his lips. There had always been this tension between Garrick and I. One neither of us had pushed further than some implied comments and small touches here and there. But at the end of the day we both ended up in someone else’s bed.

“You snuck up on me, hardly my fault.” I tell him as I grab my own drink.

”No, but something tells me you liked it.” He murmurs into my ear, causing me to shiver in response.

Gods he knew how to work me up. It’s like he could read me like a damn open book. But with how my body was reacting to him it really wouldn’t be hard to tell what he was saying was working. And he was good at reading my bodies reactions.

”And what make’s you so sure about that?” I say as I turn and face him, trapping myself between him and the table.

His eyes slowly take me in, taking his time as he looks me up and down. I hate how much it makes me want to squirm. Give into whatever he wants to say. I’d like to blame it on the alcohol that we’re all drinking, but this is all Garrick. Finally he drags his eyes back to mine, looking into me as if to gauge my reaction.

”Your body gives you away little one. Your body shivering at my touch.” He moves his free hand back to my hip, his fingers grazing over the exposed skin again and making me shiver and lean into his touch. Shit. “Your eyes are glossy and blown out, something you only do when something turns you on. And you look like you’re about two seconds away from pulling me up to your room.”

I square my shoulders, doing my best to not show him how right he is. “Maybe there’s someone else I want to drag up to my room Tavis.”

He chuckles and smirks down at me. “I’d believe that but you’ve not talked to a single male tonight besides me, and I know girls aren’t your thing. So what do you say little one. Want to have some fun tonight?”

He’d given me a head start. Something I wasn’t sure I needed, but as I get to the path leading down into the forest I am suddenly very glad for it. I hadn’t been down here since my first year for Threshing. During the day it was beautiful down here. The forest lush and vibrant with colour. But now in the pitch black, it felt like I was being watched. Like danger was waiting behind a tree for me. Not danger. Garrick. He could be anywhere down here once he came after me. And I had stopped trying to keep track of how long it had been. Which meant he was after me.

*”Five minutes. That’s all you get to get as far away from me as you can.” His voice low and husky as he steps into me, raising his hand to cup my cheek.

”And what happens if you get me?” I ask nervously, my body tingling with the anticipation of what's to come.

The smirk he gives me should have me running and getting help, but instead if sets my whole body alight. ”I get to do whatever I want to you.”*

I pump my legs harder at the thought of him coming after me. I wanted him to catch me, but I wasn’t going to make it easy for him. To catch up to me he would have to run to. Something I would surely hear behind me due to his size. I should be quieter. There was no telling if anything else was out here with us. Dragons generally only came down here during Threshing. That I knew of. But there was no guarantee they avoided this place any other time of the year.

I turn my head to look over my shoulder to see if I can catch any glimpse of Garrick, but I don’t. And the choice costs me as my foot catches on a tree root, pitching me forward and crashing noisily to the ground. My momentum sends me rolling along the forest floor. Sticks and leaves catching in my hair as I roll along the rough ground. I put my hands out, pushing me to my feet as I look around hastily. I can’t see him, meaning I still have a chance. Still have the head start despite my incident. Though with how loud my heart is beating it’s hard to hear if he is gaining on me. Thunder claps over head as rain starts to fall from the sky. Great, now I’d have no chance of hearing him. I take deep, long breaths in an effort to calm my racing heart and chill the fuck out. I strain my ears as I slowly walk forward, trying to hear for any twigs snapping or foot falls. I hear rustling from my right, snapping my head to the right. Lighting streaks across the sky, illuminating the trees. But no one is there. Shit. He had me on edge already.

I set off in my original direction, trying to get as much distance between where I was. I might not have seen Garrick, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t there hiding out of sight. As I jog forward a twig snaps to my left. But yet again when I turn to look there's nothing there. Another snaps to my right. Nothing there. Again. I was starting to think there was something else out here with me. But rustling ahead has my head whipping forwards, just as a large shadowy figure emerges from a tree far ahead of me.

There was no way. He had given me a five minute head start. How the hell had he gotten past me. Surely I would have heard him. He would have had to run past me to get that far ahead of me. I turn and run with everything I have. Pushing myself as fast as I can to get away from him. But somehow despite the distance he steps in front of me, his hands grasping my upper arms tightly a I crash into him. I push on his chest, doing whatever I can to get away from him. But he’s far stronger than me. He’s probably barely breaking a sweat. As if to solidify my thoughts he spins me around, pulling my back to his chest as he wraps an arm around my hips, pinning me to him. His breath fanning over my neck, causing heat to pool between my legs.

”You did good little one. But you can’t get away from me. I will always find you.” He whispers in my ear, nipping lightly at my neck causing my to gasp and arch into him.

Despite knowing I’m caught, and want to be caught I still struggle against him. Doing what I can to get away and start the chase again. But as his hand goes under my shirt, trailing up my stomach and palming my bare breast. I can’t help but moan and relax into his touch as he rolls my hard nipple between his fingers. Fuck. He uses the distraction to spin me around to face him, gripping my thighs as he hooks my legs around his waist before dropping to his knees, causing me to yelp in shock. He grabs my wrists, easily grasping both of them in one of his hands as he pins them above his head while he pins my hips to the ground with his. He adjust his position, his hips rolling into mine and I can’t help the way my body arches off the ground and the moan that escapes my lips.

“Someone’s needy.” He murmurs from above. “And to think, not long ago you were trying to tell me it was someone else getting you all riled up.”

”Maybe I’m imagining you as someone else.” I tease as I roll my hips against his, a sharp hiss coming from him.

He leans down, his nose barely touching mine. “When I’m done with you, you won’t want anyone else but me little one.”

I open my lips to respond, but instead a gasp comes out instead as he takes a dagger and cuts my shirt open right down the middle, exposing me to him and the cool night air. He releases my hands as his roam my now exposed torso, pulling the ruined shirt from my body. His touch is sending me into a frenzy, craving and wanting him more. He leans down and places kisses up my exposed stomach, lightly nipping at the skin as he makes his way up to my neck. I moan as he kisses the sensitive skin there, but a breathy scream leaves my lips as he bites down on my neck. My hand flies up and tangles in his dark curls, keeping him buried in my neck as he moves to the other side.

He moves away, resting back on his knees as his hands move to the ties of my pants. His fingers making fast work of it before moving to my boots. Also making quick work of those before tossing them to the side and removing my pants with ease. I reach out to undo his pants, but he swats my hand away instead. Message loud and clear. He’s in control. He shrugs off his flight jacket, discarding it to wherever the rest of my clothes have gone before rolling up the sleeves of this black shirt.

I can’t help but take him in. Despite the fact he’s fully clothed, I can’t help but admire him. There was something about a guy kneeling between your legs, looking over you with all the control that just did things to me. I’m pulled from my thoughts when Garrick’s fingers slide between my legs, parting me for him as he slide a finger into me. I cry out as I arch my back off the ground, my legs hooking around him again, locking him in place as he adds another finger, and then another. Pumping them in and out with ease as he brings me closer and closer as I start trembling beneath him, starting to come undone on nothing but his fingers. His thumb reaching up and rubbing circles on my clit, biting my lip to muffle to moan. Fuck. I was already a mess and he’d barely touched me. I was doomed once he fucked me properly. Garrick curls his fingers inside me, as if beckoning my body to come undone. And it does. I cry out as my body goes rigid, my eyes slamming shut at the intense feeling, moaning out his name as I come undone on his fingers. He continues his pace, using his fingers to prolong the orgasm he pulls from me. Eventually he pulls his fingers from me, causing me to whimper at the loss.

”On your knees.” He tells me, my eyes opening to see him standing before me.

I nod, shakily pushing onto my knees as I look up at him. Watching as his hands move to undo the pants he’d stopped me from undoing earlier. I nearly choke on my breath as he pulls down his pants, his hard cocking springing free from its confines. Holy shit. I’d heard rumours about Garrick, but seeing it in person was very different. My mouth waters as I take him in. He reaches out, grasping my chin as his thumb brushes over my lips. He pushes on my lips, my mouth opening with ease as he slides his thumb in, my lips clamping around it as I suck on it, rolling my tongue over the tip. He pulls it back, a pop echoing in the now eerily quiet forest.

”You ready little one?” He asks as he grasps his cock in his hand.

”Yes, sir.” I say, now using the fact he out ranks me against him.

I part my lips as he pushes the tip against them, causing me to gag around his size. I feel his body vibrate as he groans as the feeling, forcing his cock deeper. I tentatively bob my head back and forth, getting use to his size, using my hand to take care of the part I can’t find in my mouth. It’s not long before Garrick’s hips take over, thrusting in and out of my mouth, causing me to rest my hands against his thick thighs. I roll my tongue over the tip when he pulls back, a guttural moan coming from him. His hand grips my hair tightly causing me to hiss around his cock as he holds my head in place. It’s the only warning I get before he starts fucking my mouth. The tip of his cock hitting the back of my throat as I moan around him. I hollow my cheeks, causing his hips to stutter as I suck on his cock, rolling my tongue around him when I can.

”Fuck, that’s it little one. Doing so good.” He murmurs above me.

He continues to give me words of encouragement, but I barely register them over the lewd sounds coming from my mouth. I nearly choke around his cock as he crouches down a little bit, the hand not tangled in my hair grasping my neck, making my feel every inch of him down my throat. Something tells me he can feel himself fucking my throat as he moans loudly above me, his pace picking up. Tears sting my eyes as he pushes deeper, my throat constricting around him. Seconds later Garrick’s body goes rigid as his hips stop, his body leaning forward as he leans a hand against the tree behind us, his body twitching as he comes undone.

Garrick steps back, his cocking popping free as I sag back to the ground, scooting back as I close my eyes and lean back against the tree and catch my breath. I shudder as Garrick’s hands grab my leg, but I relax when I feel him sliding my clothes and shoes back on. Well what’s left of them. I no longer had a shirt after he cut it from my body with his dagger. I open my eyes as his fingers caress my cheek, Garrick crouching in front of me as he holds his jacket in his hand. His fingers trail down to my shoulder, tugging on my shoulder as he pulls me away from the tree. He drapes the jacket over my shoulders before placing my arms in the sleeves, securing the jacket around me as best he can to cover me.

”You did so good little one.” He murmurs as he caresses my cheek. “Don’t get lost on your way back.”

I blink and when I open my eyes Garrick is gone, leaving me alone and desperate for more

[luckypunklemonade]

| "I'm Going Nowhere You Won't Find Me."

[Smut MDNI 18+; Established relationship; fem!reader; 3k words] BackwardsCap! Stiles Stilinski didn't mean to worry you. Don't worry, he'll make amends.

This work belongs to me, luckypunklemonade (Minte_Condition on AO3). I do not give anyone permission to distribute or share my work without consent.

“You could’ve gotten shot?!”

You slapped the table, standing up as Scott spouts excuses. All “I didn’t even want to go in!” and Stiles counters with “Scott found the key! And he wasn’t gonna shoot me!”

You shake your head, trying not to overreact and deciding between if it’s okay now that they’re here and safe or if you should freak out. “Are you kidding?”

Stiles followed your unsure train of thought, “Look, we talked to him, and we left. He was never really gonna shoot us.”

You brushed him off and uncomfortably kept your eyes out the window into the dark. Imagining a gun pointed at your boyfriend and his best friend was already scary, given how often it could happen. He didn’t seem to understand your anxieties being on the outside. He thought the fact that it was over would calm you down. You did, too. 

Your big issue was that he didn’t tell you he was about to enter a dangerous situation. You knew what you signed up for in being his girlfriend, but that was one of your requests. That he at least told you so you weren’t left with nothing. He promised you would never be in the dark if he could help it. It was a mutual agreement that you could help, so he’d trust you, and you’d trust him You weren’t mad, but you couldn’t articulate just how you felt. You figured you’d be able to after a night's rest and then some.

“You guys need to get home. It’s late, and your parents are probably worried and clueless.”

Scott nodded and grabbed his coat, but Stiles stood firm in front of you.

“C’mon, can we talk?”

He stepped up to you, hands sliding around your waist and asking for your attention.

You ignored the ploy, “Did you drive Scott here?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, get him home. It’s too late to be out in this town. Please.”

“Okay, okay,” he noted the frantic tone in your voice, emphasized by how much you knew about the supernatural in this town from him. Stiles grabbed his keys and walked with Scott outside. “Love you, honey.”

“Love you.”

And then he came back. You were lying in bed, taking deep breaths and winding down when he knocked. You shot up, sifting through what you know about the supernatural for something that could mimic his knock. You padded over the cold floor to the door and looked through the window at the top. It was Stiles. Of course, it was Stiles.

You opened the door, and Stiles stepped inside without hesitation. As you were closing and locking the door, he pulled you by the waist into him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Don’t be mad at me.”

“Stiles, I’m not mad. I just- I wish I weren’t left so clueless. I hate looking stupid, and then you come to me with something like this. I would feel much better if I had known you were going into that, I could’ve been prepared.”

Stiles smoothed your hair behind your ears, “I know it was stupid, and you should not have to suffer because of it.”

“I’m not saying you can’t go out and do whatever you want like you did before. I won’t ever want to change that. I don’t want to be the overbearing girlfriend who mothers you. I’m just– What if you go out there and get shot or hurt or worse, and I’m not there to help? I don’t want to be clueless and helpless when it comes to you. You know I’ll always be here for anything, and I can try to chill out, but-“

“Listen, you don’t need to do anything. I didn’t text you. That’s my fault. I agreed to let you know if I had planned anything stupid and failed. I wish you wouldn’t have to worry, but I’d do the same thing if it were reversed. I’m glad I have you on my side, okay? I’ll do better, I’m sorry.”

You huffed, not satisfied with him taking the full weight of shame that comes with an apology. “I just care about you. And Scott. I guess.”

He smiled and kissed your cheek, “Thank you.”

Another kiss, followed by several more peppered around your face, punctuated with, “Thank you, thank you, thank you-“

You cracked a smile and limply attempted to push him away. He shook his head, languidly walking you back from the front door into the kitchen. His lips followed in pace, listlessly pressed against your temple. 

“I should’a known better. Should’a known you wouldn’t be satisfied with that.” He mumbled as he guided your hips to the counter. “Not my girl.”

“Well, it’s your girl’s bedtime.”

Stiles kissed behind your ear, just where he could reach, while he spoke in your ear. His voice was the same tone he used when he spoke up an innocent excuse, just a few octaves lower and so, so close. “Is it?”

“Yes, and you know how I get without sleep.”

You could practically hear him bare his teeth in a grin, his fingers tracing just beneath the hemline of your shirt, “How do you get?”

You laughed and pulled his hands away from your stomach, holding them in yours. He looked down at you, barely hiding how his eyes flicked to your lips every few seconds before ducking his head down into your neck. He subconsciously leaned into you, pressing your lower back into the counter. You felt him inhale deeply, his lips pressed into a spot just under where you applied your perfume. He went after the scent, however faded it was, and you felt him push his face deeper. His nose, his broad smile, his eyelashes all against your neck. He licked that spot on your throat before kissing it gratefully. His head dipped with each movement of his jaw, sucking at the point where he could feel your pulse on his lips. His fingers aimlessly tangled with yours on the counter behind you.

You had to give it to him. He could be reckless. Sometimes, it was hard to be his girlfriend, but he always made it up to you. He’d realized how little he’d been getting a hold of you and spend the next few days and nights with you, making sure you could see how much he loved you. He was erratic, but he wasn’t inconsistent with that part. He wasn’t on and off checking texts or stopping by; he was always committed to that, and it never stopped, but there were exceptions. Of course, you knew what you signed up for. He was worth it, you trusted him, and he was really good at making it up to you.

You brought your hand to the back of his neck, knocking his baseball cap sideways on his head. “M’sorry.”

Stiles bent slightly, hooking his hands on the backs of your thighs and lifting you up to sit on the counter. His smile hooked at the side, making every look of insane emotion sort of playful. He reached up, taking the hat off when you stopped him, “Keep it on.”

“Yeah?” His smirk grew more confident, a look you didn’t often see on the genuine side.

“Mhm. It’s hot.”

Stiles’s smile broke into a grin, although he was sort of distracted by the hickeys he’d left on your neck. Repeating what you say as fact, he let his eyes wander, “It’s hot.”

Your laugh pulled him back in, along with you grabbing a fistful of his flannel, “Very hot, sweetheart. Can you please fuck me now?”

It took him a second to think of a response, of course, after every thought he had was replaced with your words. “I can definitely do that.”

You helped him take his shirt off, repositioning the hat backward on his head after his shirt hit the floor. He smiled as you kissed his cheek and hooked your thumbs under his jeans, Mumbling against your lips as they traveled across his face and down to his neck, touching down every so often. Mumbling about how he’d wear whatever you told him if you liked it. Stopping you from doing any heavy lifting, he gently withdrew your hands from his waistband and led you to crawl into your bed. Instructing you to just sit there and look pretty, he slowly stepped out of his jeans and kneeled on the bed to help you with your shirt. At the pace he had going, by the time he had his eyes glued to your chest, you were already pushing your shorts down. When he saw your impatience, he chuckled and watched you struggle to maneuver them off underneath him. You huffed and gave up, moving your arms out of the way. 

“Atta girl.”

Your interest in his new look made him cocky. The attitude that came with it was no doubt attractive. You found yourself searching for more openings for him to use his confidence and for you to encourage it. You started by humming at the praise, watching him drop your shorts off the side of the bed. At the same time Stiles leaned down to kiss you, your hands flattened against his lower stomach, against his happy trail. You both let out respective sounds of need, and Stiles’s hips lowered between your legs. With the feeling of his dick through the thin material of his boxers came your hips bucking softly. He opened his mouth and closed his eyes slowly, huffing out what was going to be a grunt. “Shit, honey. You make it so easy, don’t you?”

You hummed in response, letting him press himself into you and tell you fondly exactly what a guy like him should do to keep a girl like you happy. “I didn’t just know what I should just do with you, y’know. I thought about it a lot.” Stiles’s mouth turned up when he saw you weren’t really focused on his words. He leaned in, “Like a lot.”

“Mhm, just—“

“Alright, I know. You like it when I talk to you, though, right?”

“Yeah, honey. I like it.” You smiled up at him, the gears turning in his head. Stiles slowly dipped his head to your chest, sucking another mark into where the skin got plush. His eyes tracked yours, doing as much as he could while keeping your eyes on him. You’d been so frustrated lately, not just with Stiles. School issues, problems at work. The stress was irritating, but you couldn’t imagine what Stiles was going through. That understanding was a bare minimum in your mind, but for Stiles, you were the most considerate person in the world. He didn’t want to make you feel like he was just using you because you were available. So, he made sure to check every box he could for you. 

“Fuckin’ love you.” He bit the breath coming out into his lip, and his eyelashes fluttered. He was doing everything to keep his eyes open and watch you. You mumbled it back, eyes squeezed shut as he thrust steadily, but he leaned his way into kissing your temple. “What was that? I’m sorry, honey, I can’t hear you.”

You cracked a smile; that’s all he wanted, but you ventured to use your hand buried in his hair to push his head back down so that his ear was by your lips. You held down a moan, replacing it with, “I love you, too.”

It came out with the same needy tone, though, and he found your mouth to kiss his smile onto yours. While he took a second to hold himself up and take a deep breath, your cheek rested against his wrist. When he felt you gently take his wrist between your teeth jokingly, he looked down and chuckled. “I deserve that. I’ll be a better boyfriend, promise.”

“Honey—“ You began, not wanting him to wallow in self-created guilt.

“I know, but still. Just let me…” Stiles’s smile opened as he moved his hips forward, hand molded around your thigh. He pushed himself deeper into you, eyes erratically trying to find something to focus on. Your face, your chest, your hands, down to where you took his dick so well, his eyes got overwhelmed. But he wasn’t going to close them. He’s not an idiot. He couldn’t figure out which would make him cum first. Closing his eyes and imagining you doing the thousand other things you had talked about, or keeping them open and watching you try to smile up at him through the haze, also struggling to keep your eyes up. It didn’t help that you tend to whine for him, showcasing how blank your mind really was. His thumb was less circling your clit than just trying to savor how messy he’d gotten you. He fed into his curiosity, which he would’ve done regardless of how good it made you feel, but especially because you arched your back off of the bed and pushed your hips up, meeting his thrusts, letting him bury himself deeper. 

He encouraged you, feeling the need start to deepen, pushing him harder. He was driven, you’d told him, thank god he didn’t gamble. Anything verbal was hopeless. He just mumbled emphatically at each movement. He opened his mouth, a clue he was almost there. He just needed a little more. Just having him like that made you clench yourself around him, moaning when he almost lost his hold of himself above you. 

“You gotta…” He almost ’woofed’ out his breath. “Fuck, honey, y’take it so good.”

His voice cracked on ‘honey,’ and you could see it sort of shook his confidence. He’d never really said anything like that with you. He was the first in the relationship to be vocal about most things. He said he loved you first, despite all the inner turmoil, even if it was sort of an accident. It was your encouragement that made him say it, your reaction to his confident demeanor. You saw an opening to make him feel good about himself; you took it. His eyes closed, gears turning and undoubtedly overthinking what he just said, but you said his name, prompting him to open his eyes and look at you.

With a sort of assured grin, you nodded at him, “Keep going. Wanna hear how well I take it.” 

He mirrored your smile, getting shy about it, but his next thrust had him to the hilt and holding it there. You yelped a little at the feeling of him holding you, of him driven into you and bracing you while you squirmed. You moaned, and he twitched, hearing it sound like he’d knocked the wind from you. “Look at you. Fuck, you’re doing so good. Just like that for me.”

Mewling his name, extremities limp, you let him see exactly how much you liked seeing him try new things. He liked the way you tightened around his dick when he pushed himself inside little by little until you started to reach for his arm, and he’d stop there. You strained a little, taking deep breaths, the muscles in your stomach contracting and squeezing your cunt around him. You came around him, cursing and fawning. Stiles let out a groan that turned into useless and incomprehensible praise. His hips slowly retracted, slowly met yours again, speeding up until he found the release he was chasing. He struggled to keep the pace, though. He’d revert back to his other method, get restless, and try to keep up with his needs. 

When Stiles came, his chest was pressed down against yours. All he had to do was turn his head, and he was kissing your neck again, breathing harshly. He built up the strength to roll over beside you and rest his head on your shoulder. He looked up at you with a little exhaustion when you sat up and brushed your fingers through his hair, the baseball cap forgotten for the time being. His fatigue was clear in his voice when he spoke, and he let his head roll off of your shoulder. “I’ll be better.”

You tilted your head, about to comment how what he just did was pretty damn good, but more than grateful he could recognize how stressed his being in danger made you. You leaned down to kiss his nose, laughing when he tried to croon his neck so that you met his lips. You reached over the side of the bed, your fingers finding the soft material of Stiles’s shirt and pulling it over your head. You managed to find his boxers as well, frowning when a hand took them from you. Stiles put them back on, still lying down and tired. You moved to sit on your heels next to him on the bed, your hand softly tracing shapes into his chest. Stiles tried really hard to keep his eyes open, but you ran your hand over his torso and up through his hair in a way you knew would put him out. He tried to keep talking, but every “mhmph” felt like a monumental effort from his entire body. He ended up letting you trace the veins on his arm while he listened to you, being soothed to silence and held just over the edge of sleep by your voice and your hands. When you finally lay down next to him, Stiles had fallen asleep. He liked waking up to find you had slid yourself into his arms after making him so pliable. Of course, you got a notification and had to check it before you went to sleep for the night, and, of course, it was Scott. He was asking why Stiles hadn’t been responding to his calls or texts and that he had a few ideas they could look over with Derek. You messaged him back that he’d been busy. That you both had been busy with heavy implications in the message. You sent a picture of Stiles fast asleep to help explain how you had put him to bed. Scott’s plain reply of “oh” was enough closure for you to put the phone down for the night. 

[cuubism]

this instagram reel made me think so strongly of a human AU viktor that I had to write a little ficlet about it

--

Normally, the fact that Jayce is such a light sleeper is a problem. Being easily awoken by any rain, wind, traffic, Cait traipsing in at midnight after going to see Vi, his own anxious thoughts--it's not beneficial to his sanity. Today, though. Today, he's grateful for it, because it means he wakes up at 4am when his phone buzzes with two Snap messages in quick succession.

Blearily, he opens the app, squinting against the bright light of the screen. There are really only two people in the world who send him snaps, and Cait is asleep in the other room of their shared apartment. Which means it's Viktor.

It takes him a second to even comprehend what he's seeing.

Viktor seems to be reclining in a hospital bed, shirt open over his bare chest which is covered with various wires stuck to the skin, an IV in the back of his hand and a heart monitor clipped to his finger. Despite all this, he's throwing up a peace sign with his free hand and the look he's giving the camera is downright sultry, his dark undereye circles almost giving the impression of a smoky eye.

I lived, bitch, the text over the photo says.

Jayce rapidly taps through to the next one.

Similar photo, but now the text reads, It's giving Consumption core, whatever the fuck that means.

It doesn't sound much like Viktor but hopefully that means someone's there with him, even if they're just taking photos instead of, you know, helping.

Nevertheless, Jayce vaults out of bed, pulling on the nearest clothes and grabbing his keys and-- because Viktor is sick or hurt or having a flare up or God knows what-- rushing out of his bedroom.

He's scrambling so much that he trips over the rug in the living room and goes down, hitting a side table with his shoulder and knocking the lamp on it onto the floor with a clatter. Fuck. He pushes himself to his feet again and--

The light in Cait's room goes on. Vi opens the door, rubbing her eyes. "What the fuck, man."

"Sorry," Jayce says, abandoning the fallen table in favor of shoving his feet into his shoes. "I gotta go, Viktor's in the hospital and--"

"What?" Cait emerges behind Vi. "Is he okay?"

"I think so? He sent me a snap so--"

Vi picks up Jayce's phone from where it's fallen to the floor and studies the picture. "Sounds like Jinx is with him." She tilts her head. "Kind of a good photo. Hot."

"Vi." Cait takes the phone and gives it back to Jayce. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, he wouldn't want everyone crowding." Viktor hadn't even specifically asked Jayce to come but like hell is he not going to. "I gotta-- I need to go--"

"Alright, be safe," Cait says, and Jayce is already rushing out the door.

While on the bus to the hospital, he texts Viktor directly. Are you okay??

The singularity is near, Jayce, Viktor writes back. I'm ever closer to transcending biology. I am composed of so many wires now; soon they will replace my veins entirely.

Jayce can't tell if the fact that he's typing in coherent sentences means he's okay or if the fact he's expounding on futurology at four in the morning from a hospital bed means he's not okay.

I like you not composed of wires, he replies.

Too late, Viktor says. I did try to explain to them that this is normal but they insisted on all of the wires.

Pretty sure it's not *normal*, Jayce says.

On the plus side, this hospital isn't stingy with the good drugs.

Jesus Christ. That explains the philosophizing.

Excuse you, I can do it perfectly well sober.

Should have brought you your Fuller novel the way people bring stuffed animals to the hospital. You could hold it for comfort while you fall asleep.

You are coming? says Viktor.

Yeah, Jayce says, of course I'm coming.

~

Technically, Jayce is Viktor's emergency contact, but there's still been issues getting in to see him in the past since Jayce is "not family." But apparently, Viktor had Jinx tell the hospital front staff that he was allowed in, because this time they direct him right to Viktor's room when he arrives.

Viktor is sitting up in bed when he gets there, indeed attached to a lot of wires, though a nurse is taking some of them off so they must have finished some tests. This is a different hospital bed, an actual room rather than the temporary ER situation he seemed to have been in in the photo before, which is not a good sign, though at least it hopefully means Viktor will be discouraged from leaving before its safe for him to do so.

The nurse passes Jayce in the doorway as she leaves, and Viktor turns to him, offering a wan smile. He looks tired, but then, he always looks tired lately.

Jinx is indeed there, perched on the end of the bed like a gargoyle. She waves at Jayce. "See, I told you my messages would get him to come."

"Some messages," Jayce says, sitting in the chair by Viktor's bed. Viktor looks at him curiously, and Jayce hands over his phone.

Viktor studies the snaps, and rubs his forehead tiredly. "Jinx, I asked you to text Jayce, not send hospital boudoir, or whatever this is." He peers closer at the messages. "Hm. They are good photos, though."

"Told ya."

"Viktor. Are you okay?" Jayce asks, pocketing his phone again. He takes Viktor's hand between both of his own, rubbing his knuckles.

"Just a flare up," Viktor says. Sure, Jayce thinks, 'just.' "Truthfully--do not gloat--I've been up too late and I got dehydrated, and I'm sure that exacerbated things."

"We were on a roll," Jinx complains. "There's no time for sleep when you're in the zone."

"Hm, until there suddenly is," Viktor says brightly. "I am okay, Jayce, truly."

"Alright. I was worried." And, carefully, he lifts Viktor's hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles.

This thing between them--it's still new and tentative. More tentative from Jayce's end, really, he's always worried about mucking it up. But he tries to remind himself that nothing's really changed, they're still the same friends that they've always been. They just... do other stuff, too.

Well, and Jinx is now sending him photos of Viktor looking like the star of a vampire romance film.

"I'm going to get snacks," Jinx declares unsubtly, climbing off the bed and heading for the door.

"The vending machine has Taki's," Viktor calls helpfully as she leaves.

"How do you know that?" Jayce asks.

"I've been here before."

Of course.

Jayce sighs, pressing his forehead to their joined hands.

"You know," Viktor says, "if you were not able to bring me a book to cuddle. Am I allowed a you to cuddle?"

"I'm pretty sure that's against the rules."

"Meh, rules," Viktor says, dismissively. "What will they do, kick me out?"

"Kick me out," Jayce says.

"They won't," Viktor says, with such certainty that Jayce somehow believes him.

So he climbs into the hospital bed beside Viktor, arranging him carefully around all the wires and connections. Viktor curls into his side, resting his head on Jayce's shoulder.

"Thank you for coming," Viktor murmurs.

"Of course." Jayce can't imagine not coming as soon as he got that message. Even if Viktor thinks it's all unremarkable and normal. Viktor being in pain is never not going to make him drop everything and run. Even if that means he has to do a hell of a lot of running.

"You know," Viktor says. "The future of disembodied cloud consciousness does have a shortcoming."

"Oh, yeah? Only one?"

Viktor tsks, poking his arm. "It occurs to me that without a body it would be difficult to appreciate my personal furnace here."

Jayce squeezes him tighter. "Maybe your future disembodied consciousness will just have to have a temperature sensor. Might as well give it a pressure sensor too... oh wait, I think we might be circling back around to a body..."

"Perhaps it is not all bad to have a body," Viktor sighs. "Only mostly."

"Only mostly," Jayce agrees, kissing the top of his head.

--

two books referenced obliquely in this:

The Singularity is Near by Ray Kurzweil

Operating Manual for Spaceship Earth by R Buckminster Fuller

I think Viktor would be into them.

[weinq]

kiss me thru the phone

idol!anton x reader synopsis: After a concert, Anton texts you late at night. Despite the distance and time difference, a sleepy FaceTime call turns into a tender moment of love, laughter, and longing. genre: fluff, angst if you squint (?) word count: 1.1k authors note: i wanted to make this very angsty and fluff but this is what i’ve got for now. also, I haven't stopped staring at the pictures / videos of Anton from this live, he looks soo good huhuhu~ not proof read! masterlist

It was well past midnight when Anton finally made it back to the hotel; the pulse of the concert was still thrumming in his veins.

He sank into the chair, the weight of the day pressing down on him. Reaching for his phone, he unlocked it and instinctively scrolled to your messages. A smile curled at his lips as he read the texts you had sent earlier. Normally, Anton was glued to his phone, constantly keeping you in the loop. But as the tour stretched on, each stop had become more demanding, leaving him with fewer moments to share with you. He wished he could do more, but tonight, at least, he had this.

y/n: Have fun out there, rockstar~! y/n: Text me when you get back tho :)

A soft laugh escaped his lips. There was a warmth in your messages that Anton couldn’t ignore. He glanced at the city clock on his lock screen—it was already dawn where you were. He knew you would probably be up soon, starting your day. Despite the time difference, a little part of him hopes that you would be awake as he types out a response. 

anton: Just got back to the hotel, baby. anton: I’ll shower and go to bed. anton: I hope you slept well.

anton: Good morning, baby.

He paused for a moment before hitting send, knowing you’d likely still be asleep. He added the last message felt like a gesture of warmth, something to hold onto until you woke up. Not expecting an immediate reply, he set his phone down on the table and headed for the shower, his mind still lingering on you.

As Anton adjusted the shower's temperature, steam began to swirl in the air, enveloping the room in warmth. He stood there, waiting for the water to reach the right heat, his mind drifting. The quiet was interrupted by the sharp ping of his phone— “A message at this hour?” He paused, momentarily distracted. Anton wondered if it was one of the older group members sneaking out for a late-night snack, or maybe a work-related message? But his gut told him it was something else entirely.

He stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom, drawn to the glow of his phone. He glances at the notification on his phone, which to his surprise, it was yours. You had responded. His heart picked up a little as he stared at your message, a grin spreading across his face. Instinctively, his thumbs moved to type, eager to reply.

anton: Why are you awake at this hour? 🤨

He hit send and leaned back, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. The minutes seemed to stretch as he waited, anticipation thick in the air. Moments later, your reply lit up his screen.

y/n: I couldn’t really sleep. :( I kept thinking about you, and then… I saw you in my dreams.

Anton’s heart skipped at the thought of you dreaming about him, his smile widening. He paused for a bit, before sending the next message. 

Anton’s heart swelled at the thought of you dreaming about him. He couldn’t help but smile wider, warmth spreading through him. He hated how far away you were, how much he longed to be with you at that moment. His fingers hovered over the screen, a deep pull in his chest urging him to reach out.

anton: If you’ve got time now, lovely, do you want to FaceTime for a bit?

He hit send, the words feeling almost too easy to say—too simple, but exactly what he needed. He missed you more than he’d admit, and hearing your voice was the closest thing to being with you. You responded with a call, and Anton picked up in a heartbeat.

“Hello, baby,” Anton said softly, his voice warm as he gazed at your sleepy, yet smiling face. His heart tugged at the sight of you, so close yet so far away.

“Hi,” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep, still caught in the haze of dreams.

Anton couldn’t help but smile as he set his phone down on the desk and leaned back in his chair. “How’s your morning?” he asked, his voice laced with affection.

“Hmm, not bad,” you replied, rubbing your eyes as you tried to fully wake up. “I’m just trying to shake off the sleepiness, though.” Then you yawned, your voice quieter. “How was the show?”

Anton let out a tired sigh, leaning back further in his chair. “Honestly, I’m kinda exhausted,” he confessed. “The tour’s really starting to catch up to me. But when I’m on stage... it’s like I forget everything. I love performing.” He paused, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips. “I wish you could’ve been there today. Wonbin hyung played this sick solo on his bass. It was incredible. Briize lost their minds—one of them almost fell over the barrier.”

You laughed softly, the sound warm and soothing. “That sounds crazy. I hope she’s okay, though.”

“Mhm, yeah. Wonbin hyung went down to check on her while greeting the fans in the front row,” Anton said, his tone lightening a little.

There was a brief pause as you stretched your arms, making yourself more comfortable. “I think I’ve got a busy day ahead of me,” you said, your voice quiet. “Well, maybe not too busy. I have a work meeting first, and after that, I’m meeting Yumi and Jia for coffee.”

Anton nodded attentively, but his mind couldn’t quite shake the thought of you being so far away. He listened to you excitedly talk about your plans, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the exhaustion that weighed on him.

After you finished, the conversation fell into a comfortable silence—one that didn’t need to be filled. Just hearing each other’s presence was enough, even if it wasn’t the same as being together.

“Anton?” you said quietly, breaking the silence, your voice softer now.

“Yeah?” His voice was gentle, full of warmth as he leaned closer to the screen, his heart tight in his chest.

“I miss you,” you whispered, almost as if you were afraid to say it out loud.

Anton’s heart skipped, a soft smile spreading across his face. The ache of longing was palpable, yet his love for you flooded in, making the distance feel even harder. “I miss you too, y/nie,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes stayed locked on yours, as though he could reach through the screen and hold you. “I wish I could kiss you right now. God, I really do.” His words were shy, vulnerable, but filled with such longing. 

You smiled, your eyes locking with his. For a moment, it felt as if you were just a breath away, close enough to close the distance. “Kiss me through the phone” you whispered teasing him with the lyrics of the song, your voice barely above a breath, the sadness of missing him wrapping around your playful words.

[yesimwriting]

Phantom Lurking

A/n This is a story set in the bestie reader verse that I briefly mentioned in an ask, but there's no specific context needed outside of the fact that reader and louis are extremely close best friends

Warnings: nothing too crazy (especially when compared to the source material) but there's mentions/implications of someone putting something in reader's drink but, within the fic, reader is never actually in danger of being physically hurt, reader feeling sick/anxious, Armand being emotionally manipulative as a way of expressing affection

Summary: After an argument with Louis, you decide to go out with an old friend. Once you're home again, you're forced to deal with two realizations. The first is that you feel a lot worse than you should, and the second is that Armand isn't the worst at being helpful when he wants to be.

----

The world feels flat, like one of the three dimensions you're used to being able to perceive has slipped into nonexistence. You frown, letting the thought inch its way up your spine.

You blink. Once and then twice, as if the familiarity of the gesture will be enough to remind you of what you were doing--of the reason for the phone in your hand.

"Woah," the voice is sharp enough in its happiness to jab at your stomach. You lift your head, ignoring the rigidness of the movement as you look to the source of the sound. Grace--your friend, Grace. A part of you is almost complacent enough to be eased by the realization that she's here. "You look so sad."

You can feel your eyebrows draw together. Do you? And then, as your fingers tighten around your cell phone, a second thought latches itself onto the first: Are you?

"Don't worry," she says, voice so chipper it almost stings. "He'll be over it tomorrow."

Right. On instinct, you let your head fall downwards. You unlock your phone, eyes narrowing at the screen's brightness as you open your messages. No new ones. Just the last texts you managed to send to Louis before you started feeling too nauseous to type: Not feeling. Okkay.

The lack of response presses itself into your lungs, making it impossible to breathe right. Louis was upset , but you can't imagine him ever being mad enough to not text you back. "But Louis answers."

Grace watches you for a second, her head tilting curiously at your phrasing. "Maybe he's sleeping." When the suggestion doesn't seem to sway you, she places a hand on your bare shoulder. Your mind is aware enough to acknowledge the intentions behind the contact, but her skin is so warm and sweaty against yours it's nearly nauseating. "It's late."

Louis keeps different hours than the general population, but that's not something you can fault her for not knowing. Besides, maybe it is so late that the night is morphing into morning. It wouldn't be the first time you and Grace lost an entire night to partying, and it would explain why you feel so incredibly out of it.

And...if Louis was really upset, he might have gone to bed early. He mentioned once that sometimes vampires enclose themselves in their coffins to avoid dealing with discomfort. It sounds deeply dramatic to you, but it's possible he's doing something similar.

You exhale, nodding so slowly the motion feels like more of a caricature of a human response than anything else. She laughs, the sound full in its certainty. Your stomach doesn't know how to digest her easiness.

"You'll feel better tomorrow." Grace's hand pulls itself away from your arm. "Okay--keys." When all you do is stare at her, she sighs. "First, I have to stop you from going home with that weird guy you met while waiting for the bathroom..." She trails off as she reaches for your purse. "And now you don't even remember where you are."

Hm. Grace's chastising gives you something to focus on. You blink, lifting your gaze as you glance around the building. The pale walls and warm lighting are familiar...this is your apartment building. How did you get to your apartment building?

Grace rifles through your purse, the contents of your bag clinking together as she searches through it. After a second, she seems to find what she's looking for. She turns away from you and towards the door.

"Okay," she hums triumphantly, "We're in."

You take the words as a sign to step forward. Your thoughts don't align with your movements. The delay is enough to make you stumble, your foot missing the base of your heel.

Grace is next to you in a second, her hands latching onto your arms to keep you stable. "How much did you drink?" The question lacks her earlier amusement.

You're not sure you're meant to respond, but you think about it anyway. It didn't feel like that much...but you don't exactly remember every moment, every drink--and you were mad at Louis.

She watches you for a second, her eyes wide and much too focused. "Are you okay?" It's a question your mind refuses to dwell on. Of course you're okay. "Like--okay to be left alone."

"Mhm," the answer feels hollow, "Yeah." Grace continues to stare, her lips pressed together in a way that conveys her uncertainty. "I'm just gonna go to sleep."

She studies you for another beat, and then sighs, "Okay--but straight to bed. And no more texting." Easy enough to follow. Grace lets go of you slowly. "And maybe try to drink some water--and--and try to sleep on your side."

You nod blankly, your hands reaching for the door in front of you. "Water, side, no texting."

Grace sighs as she walks forward. "And call me in the morning, okay?"

You squeeze the side of the door in an attempt to feel more stable. Tomorrow morning feels so far...so impossible. "Okay. Yeah."

She turns her head to look at you one last time before continuing down the hall. You step into your apartment before shutting the door behind you.

The darkness of your apartment immediately pushes itself to the front of your mind, blending into your unease in a way that's dizzying. You exhale, letting your weight rest against the door. You shut your eyes, inhaling as you force yourself to focus on the concrete. The ground beneath your feet is steady, the wood against your back is stable.

"You turned off your location."

The tension that takes over your body is so sharp, so heavy it briefly leaves you paralyzed. You open your eyes, pushing yourself further against the door.

Wait. The voice. You know that voice. The recognition doesn't ease you until a familiar figure pulls itself away from the shadows enshrouding your living room in darkness.

"Oh my god," you manage a second too late, the words devoid of the necessary bite needed to turn the phrase into a warning. "I thought you were a serial killer."

Armand doesn't care about your reaction. He just continues walking towards you with slow, even steps. Your mind is too foggy for his theatrics. "What..." Your questions feel too inadequate for you to make them mean anything. "Is Louis--is he okay?"

He stills at that, but it doesn't really matter. He's close enough now that the darkness isn't obscuring his features. For a moment, you think the question might have softened his expression. "Now you can find it in yourself to worry about him? After the way you spoke to him?"

Of course Louis told him. The haziness clinging to your thoughts has turned everything into sludge. Your lips part, some barely coherent defense-apology hybrid attempting to crawl its way up your throat. All you can manage is a slurred, "He was--dramatic, and I--" You push a hand against the door in an attempt to make yourself stand on your own. "I'm sorry." You're not sure why you're apologizing. It's not like Louis can hear it.

Armand continues forward. You don't think about where he might be going until you feel his hand on your arm. He's a lot less careful than Grace was, but something about the feel of his skin against yours is also a lot less overwhelming. If anything, the coolness of his touch is almost alievating.

"I don't--" You're not sure there's much point in explaining anything. Not when the only thing tethering you to consciousness is your nausea. You can't remember ever feeling so separate from yourself. "I don't feel good. If you're gonna lecture me, do it tomorrow."

Tomorrow. It feels more like a concept than a date. Things would be so much better if you could just fade out of existence until then.

Armand pulls you away from the door. Your limbs are too stiff to protest. His eyebrows draw together, and something behind his expression shifts. "I'm not here to lecture you."

"Then why are you here?"

His thumb moves out of place, brushing against your skin soothingly. "After your argument--Louis came back to me, he told me about what you said, how you treated him, and then he went to bed. Hours later, you sent him a message saying you didn't feel well..." He squeezes your arm a little tighter. "And you turned off your location."

It had been an extremely petty move, but in the moment, a few drinks in, it had felt so reasonable. If Louis was going to see you as fragile, you'd have to show him that you felt no interest in being looked after. "I was mad."

"And now you're experiencing natural consequence." His hold on you morphs into something that borders on uncomfortable, his nails pressing into your skin. "Do you know what people see when they look at you?" You can't do anything but stare at him. "You refuse to acknowledge your vulnerability, and then you stumble home like this."

Okay--you're drunk, but not--not horrible. You’re standing (mostly), and you haven't said anything weird to him. "You're not clueless." The words almost feel like a compliment. "How much did you have to drink?" You don't have an answer. "You don't know? Because I've seen you with Louis, and even when alcohol makes you sick, it's never like this."

Your limbs seem to grow heavier at the implication of his words. Did someone drug you? There was that one guy that hung around you and Grace a little too long, but he never got you a drink.

"Maybe you'll learn to appreciate Louis's warnings instead of running off with the first girl that offers you something simple."

Louis--when he learns about what happened, when he learns that you tried to call him...and that he wasn't there. "Don't tell him."

He angles his head towards you. "You're asking me to keep a secret from my companion for you?"

Ugh. "No." You didn't mean it that way, or at the very least, you didn't want to mean it that way. You can't make sense of things for yourself let alone for another person. "I don't know." Your head is starting to ache. "I just don't--I don't want him to feel bad."

Armand lets go of you slowly, his fingertips brushing against your arm as he straightens. "We'll worry about him tomorrow." There's a certainty there that leaves no room for argument.

The thought of delaying your worry doesn't feel as simple as he's making it out to be, but you can't find the words or energy to disagree. You're not sure what you'd be arguing for, anyway.

He turns with no warning, walking down the hall like this is his apartment. His decisiveness might have bothered you if it didn't make things feel a little easier. Even with Armand serving as a guiding force, your mind seems to buffer. It takes you a second to think to act on the desire to follow him.

It shouldn't be surprising that Armand seems so comfortable moving through your apartment. He's nowhere near as familiar with this space as Louis, but you find it hard to imagine Armand uncomfortable anywhere.

He finds your room. A more coherent version of yourself would have had the energy to worry about the last minute outfits you rejected and didn't have time to put away sitting on your desk chair.

The familiarity of your bedroom is enough to get you to move forward. You approach your bed, half-sitting-half-stumbling onto the mattress. You're not given the chance to settle before your muscles slump out of place. It's an unraveling of tension that offers you no peace.

Dread pools in your stomach. You blink, screwing your eyes shut before forcing them open again in an attempt to fight against the drowsiness blurring your vision. It's too sudden, too heavy.

"You can't fall asleep like that." The words are gentle enough to reach you through your panic.

You want to tell him that you can't be falling asleep, that falling asleep doesn't hold this kind of weight. Instead of struggling to piece your thoughts into something intelligible, you lift your head slightly and mumble a flat, "I'm not."

Armand's back is to you, his attention focused on your dresser. When he turns to face you again, he's holding a familiar piece of fabric. One of the oversized T-shirts you sleep in.

It takes much more focus than it should for you to press your elbows into your bedding. The edges of your vision grow spotty as you stand. You're managing, but everything about your positioning feels circumstantial, like the slightest shift could push you into unconsciousness.

He hands you your shirt. You squeeze the fabric between your fingers. Before you can think to do anything else, Armand's hand finds your wrist. You still at the contact. He moves towards you with slow, deliberate steps.

Armand stops directly behind you. He sets his palm against your shoulder, his thumb smoothing patterns against your shoulder. His other hand settles against your upper back. Something about the contact makes it a little easier to breathe.

You're just getting used to his proximity making things feel easier when he pulls his palm away from you. Before you can overthink the shift, you realize what he's doing. The zipper of your dress has been tugged out of its place.

Armand's slow to release you, his fingertips dragging against your skin as he steps away from you. He walks forward until he's in front of you again, his attention firmly focused on the wall. It takes you a moment to realize that this is him offering you privacy.

You pull the T-shirt over your head with a tact that feels similar to that of a toddler dressing themselves for the first time. You adjust the shirt's hem before pulling the straps of your dress off of your shoulders and down your arms. The material pools at your feet. You step out of the puddle of sequined fabric.

You tilt your head downwards, frowning at the discarded dress. You need to pick it up.

"Sit." The instruction is presented with a directness that leaves no room for resistance, and yet all you can bring yourself to do is blink at him. He turns to face you again. "The last thing you need is proximity to the ground."

His voice is implying a level of irritation you can't handle right now, so you step away from the dress and move to sit on your bed. Armand walks forward. He bends down, picking up the dress before approaching your desk. He lays the dress over the back of your desk chair neatly.

He approaches your bed again, this time sitting down next to you. The return of his proximity is strangely easing. When he doesn't say anything else, you give in to the need to break the silence, "Thanks."

Armand nods once in acknowledgement of the sentiment. "Lie down." The thought immediately digs at you. If you lay down, if you lose consciousness, you'll be letting go of the little control you still have. Anything could happen to you, and--and you'd be so alone.

When you don't move, Armand straightens, his arm extending towards you. His hand finds your shoulder. "I can stay..." The offer feels fragile, like the slightest mistake on your end could force it to crumble into dust. "But only if you listen to me." He turns his hand over as you let his words sink in. He drags his knuckles against your arm patiently. "Are you going to listen to me?"

You nod, if for no other reason than to keep him here. If your acceptance means anything to him, his expression gives no indication of it. "Lie down."

You give in with a sigh, pushing your bedding back as best as you can from your position on the bed. You move beneath your sheets before relaxing against a pillow. After a second, Armand begins to shift. You're not sure what he's doing until he's lying down next to you. The return of his proximity is unexpected, but not unwelcome.

He adjusts your comforter just enough to expose your forearm. Before you can think about the change, he begins to trace patterns against your inner arm. The gesture is oddly grounding...and considerate...which, even in your current state, you can tell is odd.

"Can I ask you something?"

He continues to drag his fingertips against your skin. "A lack of permission has never stopped you before."

A fair point. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

He tilts his head slightly as he considers the question. "Am I usually cruel to you?"

That's not exactly the difference. Armand is never particularly cruel to you. He's never made you feel like you're in physical danger, which means a lot when considering what he is. You've never even had much of a reason to fear arguing with him. However, you can't recall him ever being so understanding.

"No," you find yourself hoping he can feel how much you mean the answer. "But you're usually less patient."

His hand briefly stills against your arm. "I prefer a fair fight."

The sentiment roots itself in your chest, leaving your skin a little warmer than it was a moment again. "We can have one tomorrow."

"I don't doubt it," he says, voice much flatter than before.

Hm. The comment isn't exactly aggressive, but it implies an annoyance that doesn't suit his actions. Something uneasy wedges itself between your lungs and ribs. "Are you mad at me?"

You turn your head as best as you can, staring at him with an openness that a more sober version of yourself would have never allowed. "Mad at you, the darling sun?"

You sigh, letting your eyes fall shut. "Don't start."

"I'm not starting anything," his defense, though already weak, is further softened by the easiness of his tone. "I'm only recognizing what you are."

Opening your eyes, you turn your head to face him again. "What am I?"

He's quiet for a moment before angling his head towards you. It's a subtle shift, but something about it seems to amplify his proximity. Armand's eyes look a little softer than you remember them being, his irises closer to a brown-tinged ember than their usual amber hue. Maybe it's the limited lighting.

"Worthwhile suffering."

The answer feels much too soft to be considered an insult. You're not sure what to think of it. "You're very dramatic."

His hand stills against your arm. "I'm dramatic, when you're the one that turned off your location."

You don't have a decent response. Even as a teenager, you knew better than to completely turn off your location without letting anyone know where you were going during a night out. You're lucky that Grace was there and aware enough to get you back home, but things could have gone so much worse.

The thought of how incredibly stupid you've been burrows itself into your stomach, adding a sharpness to the underlying nausea you've almost been able to forget. Knowing that you're wrong and Armand's right isn't helping things, either.

And Louis--your Louis. Who cares if sometimes he worries so much it makes you feel like burden? At least he cares about you.

"I was mean to Louis."

Armand's hand stills against your forearm, his fingers pressing into your skin in a way that somehow feels both reassuring and resentful. "He'll let it pass."

You let out a self deprecating sigh. There's no reason to believe that Louis won't forgive you, but that doesn't make things okay. "He shouldn't."

"Don't be a martyr." His dismissal isn't enough to diminish your angst. You frown, shifting away from him so that you can lie flat on your back. He's quick to counter your resistance, adjusting his position so that he's sitting up a lot more than you are. He's practically leaning over you, and all you can think to do is stare.

"He loves you," Armand's voice is a lot quieter than you thought it'd be, "There isn't a single thing you could do that he wouldn't forgive."

His certainty is enough for both of you. After a second of blankness, you find it in yourself to nod. The gesture is stiff and uneasy, but it seems to be enough for him. He relaxes slowly, moving to rest his head against your ribs.

His closeness is more of a surprise than it should be. You and Louis have fallen asleep like this more times than you can count. The shock takes a moment to subside, but once it does, you realize that you're... not uncomfortable.

Slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, you move a hand to rest against his upper back. Neither of you move.

"You should go to sleep," he whispers after what could be a long or short stretch of silence, "You'll be yourself in the morning."

The suggestion is a lot less overwhelming now. Maybe it's because you feel a lot more concrete now. You shut your eyes, but before you can try to find rest, you remember where you are and who you're with.

"Wait," you mumble, "The window--" You're not managing the urgency you feel. While your room isn't exactly flooded with light in the morning, the sun does reach your bed in the mornings if you don't remember to fully shut your curtains.

"The curtains are fine." Armand shifts slightly, his hand settling against the arm not bent against his back. "Rest."

You close your eyes again, this time finding it in yourself to relax fully.

----

@joong-of-gold this is the fic i mentioned having in my drafts a little while ago!!