#just!!!!! he felt so safe and comfortable there

[hvbris]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Violet couldn't care less about the sweat. Unaware of her dad remembering the harsh rules of the ward, she hugged him back, holding him tight. She felt safe in his arms. "You couldn't have remembered," she replied, still sobbing. Violet knew that Theo was going to forget her after he left, that the memory of the ward would become distant and fuzzy, because of the medications.

That was when it hit her. Why her dad was so shaken, why he had fallen to the floor. He remembered her, which meant he probably remembered the ward, too. The seven months he had spent in this hell, tormented by cruel orderlies, and harrassed by dangerous patients. Seven months all alone in a terrifying place, worried that his parents would think he was a killer. She held him even tighter, trying to comfort him, too.

His thanks brought more tears to her eyes. "Thank you," she replied, "you kept me safe, you protected me." 20 years ago, before she was even born, he had tried so hard to protect her. "Just like you do today." They had stuck together, and they had fought a monster together. They had done a stupid, reckless escape plan together. It was all so precious to Violet. "And you kept your promise. You closed the ward."

He shook his head at her apology but didn't have the breath nor energy to formulate that reassuring dismissal that none of it was her fault. He just squeezed her hand again and considered putting his head back on the floor and just literally grounding himself in the moment, in the reality of the room and nothing else. However, Violet was upset, Mauve was upset and after so many years of not understanding what had happened to her felt he owed her his comfort.

His heart was still thundering away in his chest and his ears were ringing with the sensation, he felt too hot and shivering with the cold at the same time. He was nearly soaked but he kept himself sat up and gently went to pull Violet into a hug, unapologetic for the stickiness that might come with that. He just wanted to comfort her while his mind played on the memories of Mauve and how such a thing would have resulted in a very harsh beating. His muscles were still horribly tense to the point they were aching and there was so much more he knew he would have to endure and process but in the moment, Violet was what mattered.

"I didn't know. I didn't remember." He told her sadly while he still tried to catch his breath, to calm down. "It's not your fault. I'm sorry I didn't know. I never wanted you to see." He had never wanted himself to see it all again either but there they were. A different phrase formed in his head though, so many years later he finally had the chance to say it to Mauve and he wouldn't miss it now, "Thank you."

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 10

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9

It takes a bit for Steve to go to pick up Eddie’s letter. A part of him is afraid of what he’ll find. It’s just, this will be in reply to the first letter he’d written that felt wholly like his own. So, he hesitates, afraid the words will condemn him, or there won’t be any at all. So, he stalls.

Chrissy never asks him about it, just follows his lead the way she always has when it comes to Eddie.

When he does finally go to the library to pick it up, he goes alone. Steve knows Chrissy’s going to be upset, and he gets that. It was stupid, and childish, and dangerous. He trusts Chrissy, he does, but he doesn’t want to share this response with her.

Not yet.

It’s safely tucked into his backpack; the library had felt too open—left him feeling exposed—for Steve to feel comfortable opening it there, without Chrissy there as his shield.

He’s about to enter the bathroom, ready to hunker down in a stall and read the letter when a snide voice coming from behind stops him in his tracks.

“You know, it’s fucked up that you’ve been following your girlfriend around like that.”

Steve turns, stunned. He’s stuck in the entrance to the bathroom, the swinging door hitting him in the back as he stares into the angriest set of eyes he’s ever seen.

He only recognizes her in the nebulous way everyone in a small town recognizes each other, but she’s glaring at him like he ran over her puppy without telling her.

“What?” Steve asks, already lost in this interaction after one sentence.

She huffs. “Chrissy can have friends,” the unknown girl spits. “And, get this, she can even have guy friends.”

She gasps showily once she’s done speaking, hand over her mouth and everything. Steve almost wants to smile, it reminds him so much of Eddie. But, her eyes are still hard, and her hands are fisted tight like she’d rather hit him than talk to him.

“I know that.” Steve says for lack of anything else to say.

Both of the girl’s eyebrows raise and she laughs condescendingly enough that a couple girls walking down the hallway look over and giggle at his predicament. No one else pays them any mind.

“Do you?” she asks, taking a step forward, forcing him back, a step into the bathroom. “Because you sure like to follow her around as she talks to Munson.”

Steve’s own brows are furrowed now as his confusion mounts. Is she here, what, defending Chrissy’s right to be friends with Eddie? Even if they were dating, Steve wouldn’t stop her from being friends with anyone. Hell, even at the height of their relationship issues, he’d never once tried to stop Nancy from seeing Jonathan.

He’s not following her around as some sort of fucked-up chastity chaperons. It’s about her safety.

“Jason—” he starts, but she cuts him off with such a disgusted scoff that he closes his mouth hard enough that his teeth clack together.

“Oh, so Jason was a dick-bag, so you’ve decided to follow in his footsteps?”

“No, that’s not—”

She laughs, and it sounds mean. “No, no, of course it’s not creepy when you do it,” she says, clapping like he’s the one putting on a little show for any passerby to see. “King Steve is above all that.”

She takes another step forward, and Steve, for some fucked up reason, can feel his hands shaking. As if this girl is really a threat. She feels like one, with her clenched fists and acerbic tongue and all her goddamn assumptions.

“You don’t know anything about me.” He wants it to come out assertive. It doesn’t.

He feels small.

She laughs again. “Everyone knows everything about you,” she replies. “Not much to know, is there?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but it still scratches into all of his hidden little insecurities. Maybe they’re not all that hidden anymore because he can feel his face crumpling in on itself, and can’t do anything to stop it.

“We’re not even dating,” he blurts out, quick and panicked, voice catching embarrassingly with emotion.

Steve takes a few more quick steps back, breath shuddering in his lungs as he lets the door swing closed between them. Just before it slams shut, Steve catches sight of the shocked look on the girl’s face. He can’t bring himself to care.

God, why did he say that? Some unknown girl is a little mean to him and he outs Chrissy’s secret, just like that?

It hadn’t felt just a little mean, though. It’d felt like he was being flambéed; it still does.

Because she’s right. Everyone always is, about him. Big house, no parents. Pretty, but the pool’s shallow. Not the sharpest tool in the shed. Bullshit.

Not much to know, is there?

He’s got an empty house, and an empty spot at his side to prove it. Nancy hadn’t stayed, and the wound's long since healed over, but Eddie’s been carving out a similar one in his own shape for months now. It grows deeper each time he smiles at Chrissy only to sneer at Steve behind her back.

It grows deeper each time he talks to Chrissy with Steve’s own words pouring out of his mouth.

The late bell rings just as Steve stumbles into one of the vacant stalls and slumps onto the dirty floor, too overwrought to care what filth he’s getting on his ass.

He just needs a second.

“Steve?” It’s the same girl’s voice, barely recognizable without anger punctuating it. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer, but his breathing’s still labored with emotions, so it doesn’t take her long to zero in on his location and swing the stall door open.

“That’s disgusting,” she says, but she shuffles into the stall with him and sits on the dirty linoleum across from him, close enough that their knees knock. “If I get salmonella, you’re paying my medical bills.”

When Steve finally looks at her, her nose is wrinkled in disgust, hands fisted around her knees like she’s trying to keep from touching the toilet or the wall.

“I don’t think that’s how salmonella works,” Steve replies quietly.

The girl rolls her eyes, but it doesn’t feel as mean, somehow. She just looks tired, ashamed almost, even as she replies, “like you’d know,” bitchily. Steve glares at her, and she slumps into herself with a muttered, “sorry.”

They stare at each other. He’s close enough that he can see all the freckles on her cheeks, the eyeliner smudged beneath her eyes, the frizz of her unconditioned hair. And suddenly, it’s all too much.

He laughs, loud enough that it echoes strangely off the vacant bathroom walls as the girl stares at him like he’s lost his mind. It’s just—he’s sitting in the bathroom, knee to knee with a girl who’s name he doesn’t know after arguing about a girlfriend he doesn’t even have.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, waving his hand in front of his face like that’ll somehow dry up the tears of hilarity creeping down his cheeks. “It’s just, I don’t even know your name.”

She scoffs again, but the tap of her knee against his takes the sting out of it. “Robin Buckley,” she says, smiling crookedly at him. “We’re supposed to be in Clickity Clack’s class together right now.”

Steve narrows his eyes, staring hard at her as he tries to match her face to the class. He comes up blank.

“I sit behind you,” she says, interrupting his deer-in-headlights moment with an answer instead.

He squints at her, barely comes up with an impression of frizzy hair and dirty shoes. “Sorry,” he says.

“You borrowed a pen, like, last week.”

Steve pouts. She’s just making fun of him now, smiling as his discomfort grows. “Sorry!”

He shoves her knee, and even though it’s gentle, she shrieks as more of her jeans come in contact with the boy’s bathroom floor. As if she has any right to complain; with her taking up so much space, he’s pressed right into the toilet.

As if to retaliate against him, she asks, “so, you’re not dating Chrissy?”

It’s a probing, nosey question, He shouldn’t be surprised. After knowing Robin for a sum total of five minutes, he can tell she’s a picker. She picks at people, and secrets, and skin, only to be surprised when the spot starts bleeding.

It’s all spiraling out of his control, anyway. First Chrissy, then Jeff. Who’s next, his Mom?

So, here, in the dirty boy’s bathroom, he snaps.

“She’s just helping me with Eddie, okay?” he says, words coming out harsher than he means them to.

Robin’s squinting at him again as she asks, “Munson?”

“She has better handwriting.”

It shouldn’t mean anything to her. But her eyes widen a second later as she stares at him like she’s never seen him before, eyes blown wide, mouth gaping open unattractively. He feels like a zoo animal, caged into this stall so she can gawk.

He’s three seconds away from standing up and leaving the bathroom entirely to flee this situation he no longer understands, when she says, “you’re the one who left Munson the note!”

 *** 

The reaction is immediate. Steve slams himself back hard enough that his head thunks hollowly against the stall. She’d make a joke about empty skulls if he didn’t look three seconds away from having a full-blown panic attack. Robin’s not equipped to deal with that, she’s usually the one panicking. So, she reaches out to squeeze his knee hard enough that his rabbiting pupils meet her eyes.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she says, unsure exactly what secret she’s keeping.

There’s a web of information here, and she’s not spinning the narrative together correctly. The facts are this:

  1. Chrissy dropped a note into Eddie’s locker when she thought no one was                   looking.

  2. Eddie smiled as he read the note.

  3. Soon after, Eddie started spending a lot of time with Chrissy.

  4. Steve started following her around like some sort of over-eager attack dog. 

But, if Steve had written the note, what does that mean? Chrissy’s always seemed nice, but are they playing some sort of cruel joke on Eddie? Does she need to warn her fellow outcast that he’s about to be Carrie’d?

“Who told you about the notes?” Steve asks, voice dead beneath all the shaking.

She holds her hands up. Afraid, suddenly, that he might hit her. “I saw Chrissy drop one in his locker,” she responds, even as she adds another known fact to her list:

  5.   There are multiple notes.

Steve shrinks further away from her, withdrawing his feet like she’s the one that’s the threat. Her leg’s cold where his was pressed against her. She’s always been shit at reading people, but this is starting to look like more than a prank found out.

She goes over her list again, adds a few more things on it:

  6. Steve needed “help” with Eddie.

  7. Steve is afraid of someone finding out about the notes.

He’s curled his arms around his knees and drawn them up to his ribs, containing himself into a much smaller ball than she’d imagined a fully-formed teenage boy could manage.

It’s the familiar posture that drives it home for her; she’s putting her evidence together, and creating a picture she’d never expect.

“I thought you were playing a prank on him!” Robin cries, too loud if Steve’s flinch is anything to go by. She can’t help it— there’s something manic running through her as she stares into Steve’s scared, heartbroken eyes.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he murmurs into his knees, and god help her, she believes him.

“No, you wouldn’t,” she says, hoping her grin doesn’t look as deranged as it feels. “Not with your big gay crush on him.”

She slumps back against the stall, sighing with contentment. She’d always known that there must be other queer people in Hawkins, rule of law, statistics, and all that. But, now she has a name and a face and it’s King Steve of all people! She’s so excited she might just shake right out of her skin.

But, when she opens her eyes, Steve’s gone white as a sheet, a sweat breaking out along his brow like he’s in the middle of a basketball game and not sitting stationary.

Robin can’t tell if he’s even breathing.

She reaches out, trying to pat his knee consolingly. He jerks back, smacking into the wall again in his desperate bid to get away from her.

It’s only then that she realizes what she’d said. Robin slaps her hand over her mouth and curses into it, muffled, shit, shit, shits leaking out around the seal of her fingers. What’s she supposed to do now?

Inversely, the more Robin panics, the more color blooms back into Steve’s cheeks until he’s leaning away from the wall to peer into her face. “Are you okay?” he asks, sounding downright concerned, as if she hadn’t just outed him thirty seconds before.

God, was Steve Harrington actually a nice guy?

Robin flaps her hands around and feels like scum as he leans back away.

“I’m sorry!” she cries, finally reaching out and making contact with his kneecap. The awkward patting doesn’t feel like enough to make up for her careless words.

She’d been so busy seeing herself in him that she’d forgotten he wouldn’t know to look for the same thing reflected back.

“I only noticed because I was always looking at her, but she couldn’t stop looking at you.”

Steve’s brows are furrowed as he asks, “who?”

Robin rolls her eyes even as her heartbeat shudders in her chest, and her own anxiety sweats start moistening her armpits. “Steve, come on.”

He stares at her, and she stares back, trying to beam the information into his head. She doesn’t think she can say it aloud. But, his hands are shaking, a light tremor running through them from fingers to palms. She did that. The least she owes him is a little honestly in turn.

It must work because his eyes damn-near pop out of his skull as he whispers, “Chrissy?” quietly enough that it barely carries to her ears. She nods, her own hands now shaking up a storm until she tucks them into her armpits to settle them down. “I’m not dating Chrissy.”

Robin nods, “I know that now.”

They sit in silence, a couple of mirrors reflecting back at each other with shaky breathing and sweaty bodies. In tandem, they settle, feet tangling in the space between them until Steve’s knee is slotted with her own, foot nudging dangerously close to her ass.

“You like her?” he asks, and he’s smiling now. She almost gets what all the girls see in him.

Robin nods. “Unfortunately.”

“Hey!” Steve says, laughing as he rocks their legs together. “That’s my best friend you’re talking about!”

“Straight best friend,” Robin says, voice droll to cover up all that hurt.

“Maybe,” Steve says, then grimaces. “Probably.”

Robin sighs, slumping into her own stall wall as she whines, wriggling around on the floor despite all the scum on it. Steve laughs at her, squeezing his calves together tightly enough that she’s forced to stop moving. Damn jocks.

“Kind of a cliche though, huh?” he asks, voice teasing. “You’re, what? A drama kid, and you’re crushing on the head cheerleader?”

Robin kicks out at him, narrowly missing what she assumes are his balls. “Band nerd, thank you very much!” she corrects, putting on haughty airs to disguise the blush blooming on her cheeks. By Steve’s smirk, it must not be working. “Besides, what about you? King of the jocks in love with the king of the freaks?”

He kicks her back, and soon, they’re all out scuffling on the boy’s bathroom floor in the middle of class over crushes on people that’ve never looked their way. It ends with her holding his precious hair over the dirty toilet bowl, threatening a swirly until he calls uncle.

“To crushes on straight people?” Steve asks, unfairly un-winded from their impromptu match as he holds out his pinkie finger like they’re little kids again, sharing a secret.

She has her doubts about Munson’s supposed straightness, but she knows an olive branch when she sees one. She’s low on friends, and Steve’s starting to seem like a good one.

Disheveled, out of breath, and feeling lighter than she has in years, Robin links her pinkie with Steve’s, and they shake on it, a silent toast to untenable crushes.

*** 

“There’s another one.”

Chrissy whips her head back, taking a hasty step away from Jeff at the sound of Steve’s voice. “You’re late,” she says, smoothing down the lapels of her skirt like it wasn’t Jeff’s hands that had ruffled it all up.

Does this count as cheating?  The thought enters her brain unbidden, and she has to bite her lip against a laugh that would undoubtedly alert the whole library to their presence. Cheeks aching from the strain, she finally looks up to where Steve’s standing.

All levity drops from her when she sees Steve’s face. It’s too pale for his normal complexion and his eyes are puffy and red like he’d either been crying or making a concerted effort not to. Most telling is his hair, ruffled all to hell atop his head like he’d been running his fingers through it for hours.

“Steve,” she breathes, forgetting all about Jeff and his big, strong hands around her waist as she rushes to her best friend, palms cupping his face. “What happened?”

Steve snorts and asks, “did you not hear me? There’s another one.”

He gestures to his side and only then does Chrissy notice the girl. She’s got mousy brown hair that’s in just as much disarray as Steve’s, and when Chrissy looks her way, she gives a dorky little wave. Chrissy nods back, palms still clutching Steve’s cheeks.

“Another—“ Chrissy starts, looking between the pair, before the meaning of Steve’s cryptic words sink in. “Oh. She knows about—” she starts before trailing off, unwilling to say the rest out loud with a stranger nearby.

“About Eddie, yeah,” Steve says, nodding his head, her arms shaking up and down with the movement.

“I’m Robin, hi!” the girl says, too loudly for the hushed atmosphere of the library.

“Hi?” Chrissy replies, eyeing her distrustfully for a moment before looking back at Steve. “And it went okay?”

Steve nods again, and this time it’s Jeff that laughs, stepping up beside her. Chrissy, suddenly realizing the position she’s in, drops Steve’s face with a blush, hiding her hands behind her back like that would stop anyone from having noticed the awkward hold she’d just had on him.

 “Three for three on accidentally getting outed to people who aren’t going to send a lynch mob after you,” Jeff says jokingly, before continuing in a far more serious tone. “You’ve gotta be more careful, man.”

“I know,” Steve groans. “But, hey, I got three great people out of it.”

He smiles at Jeff and Chrissy, and even loops his arm with Robin’s and yanks her closer like he’s going to initiate a group hug, right then and there. Robin puts a stop to that by elbowing Steve in the side until he drops his hold.

There’s a small, wriggling part of Chrissy that seethes with jealousy as she watches them squabble like siblings. But, Jeff’s warm at her side, and she’ll probably go over to Steve’s again this weekend, and Robin seems pretty cool, so she pushes that feeling down and bumps into Jeff right back.

“Did you also tell him this whole thing was stupid?” she asks, looking at Robin.

Robin, who’s got Steve in a headlock, drops her hold suddenly enough that Steve collapses to the carpet. “Uh, I—“ she says, not even acknowledging Steve as he grumbles beneath her. “Me?”

Chrissy snorts. “Yes, you.”

“Oh!” Robin says, flushing at the misunderstanding. “I mean, no. Us lesbi—I mean, wait.” Steve laughs, and Robin kicks him in the side until he flips from his stomach onto his back, finally sitting up and hauling himself off the carpet. “I mean, I don’t think we’re close enough for that yet?”

Chrissy’s got her eyebrows raised, and the longer she looks, the redder Robin gets, clearly embarrassed about her fumbling words. “I don’t know, you guys seem pretty close,” she finally replies, putting Robin out of her misery.

“You’re the only one for me, Chris,” Steve replies, wrapping her in his arms because he’s the absolute worst.

She hums, letting him rock her back and forth right here, in the middle of the library for anyone to see. “You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had, you know?” she asks, ignoring the way Jeff coughs to hide a laugh somewhere behind her back.

“I know,” Steve replies, kissing her forehead.

*** 

Robin’s surprised when she’s invited over to the Harrington house, but she dutifully follows Steve to his car, sliding into the passenger seat. Parked beside them, Jeff is doing the same with Chrissy’s car, and when she squints through the two panes of glass separating them, she’s pretty sure they’re holding hands.

“What’s going on with them?” she asks, tilting her chin in their direction.

“Hmm?” Steve asks before following her line of sight. “Oh, they’re totally dating, but no one’s told me yet.”

“Oh,” Robin says, looking away, unwilling to see the way the couple is smiling at each other.

Not wanting to think about her own hurt feelings anymore, Robin adds that to her list. This time, it’s not a list of clues, but a list of ways that this is the messiest situation she’s ever seen.

Steve has a crush on Eddie Munson and is writing him love notes.

Eddie clearly thinks Chrissy is the one writing the notes, and,

Eddie??? Probably has a crush??? On Chrissy???

Chrissy is dating Jeff, Eddie’s best friend, but hasn’t told anyone.

Steve Harrington is queer.

The last item on the list is less of these people making a mess, and more a dangerous add-on that has her heart ratcheting up at the thought of any more people finding out, even Eddie. Maybe especially Eddie.

“Sorry, Buckley,” Steve says, reaching over to pat her knee consolingly. “Maybe they’ll break up?”

Robin looks back at Chrissy’s car only to see a pink blush painting the other girl’s face. She looks away, groaning as she bends over to bury her face into her raised knees.

“You guys are all the worst,” she mutters into her jeans, rubbing her face against the rough fabric.

Steve laughs but reaches over to smack her in the leg hard enough that she automatically flinches them back down. “No shoes on the upholstery.”

“Yes, Mom,” she mocks, but settles her feet onto the carpet anyway.

It’s not a long drive—the high school is located centrally to Hawkins, so you can reach pretty much anywhere within fifteen minutes. Loch Nora is only about ten, and within those ten minutes, Robin fiddles with the radio dial incessantly enough that Steve reaches over and flings his glove compartment open so she can rifle through his tape deck instead.

It’s a surprisingly varied collection. She’s just settled on a Pat Benatar cassette when he pulls into the driveway and cuts the engine.

His house is big—two stories and wide, too, but aside from the porch light, there are no lights on, nobody home.

Chrissy pulls into the driveway right behind them, jumping out of her car and rushing to the front door before anyone else has even made it out of their cars. She’s already grabbed a rock out of a potted plant, snatched a key from beneath it, and stuffed it into the imposing front door before the rest of them have stepped out of their seats.

“Yeah, Chris, show everyone where the hide-a-key is, why don’t you,” Steve grumbles, walking beside Robin up to the porch, Jeff on their heels.

Chrissy just swings the front door open, turning around to stick her tongue out at him. “You mean show all your wonderful friends where it is?”

Steve scoffs. “You’re all assholes, and you know it,” he replies, but he’s smiling, small and secret as he follows her into his own house.

Robin stops at the threshold, eyes wide. She’s heard all about Harrington’s ragers, even if they’ve dropped off to nothing recently, but this isn’t at all what she’d pictured. The house is big, but it’s emptier than she’d expected. Not much on the walls, nothing on the coffee table, no signs of life at all. Chrissy goes through the entire first floor, turning on every light in the place until it’s lit up like a beacon.

Only once she’s done does Steve seem to relax; he uses the toes of his opposite foot to kick off his shoes before bending down and lining them up by the front door. Robin follows his lead, sitting down on the cold hardwood to untie her own high-tops and put them neatly beside his. Jeff takes his own sneakers off while Chrissy tromps through the place in her clean white sneakers like she owns the place.

“Shoes, Chris,” Steve chides.

Chrissy rolls her eyes, but she dutifully kicks her shoes off in Steve’s direction, laughing as he mutters to himself while he cleans up her mess. They remind her so much of siblings that Robin wonders how anyone was ever fooled that they were dating. It’s like all it takes to convince the masses is a letterman jacket and standing a little closer than conventionally allowed.

Had the pair even ever said they’d been dating?

They sit next to each other on the couch, Jeff taking a nearby chair, and Robin settling for the empty space on Steve’s left, too afraid to take the spot next to Chrissy.

She feels awkward, like an intruder in their little inner circle despite Steve inviting her along. The feeling’s only amplified when Chrissy asks, “you didn’t pick up Eddie’s letter yet, did you?” causing an all-out fight between the pair.

Jeff and Robin make awkward eye contact as their voices grow louder, grimacing in commiseration. She won’t say it, but secretly Robin thinks Chrissy is right—it is a stupid risk to pick up the letter himself. Hell, it’s a stupid risk to do this at all.

“Well, can I see it?” Chrissy asks, holding her hand out like it’s a foregone conclusion that Steve will put it in her palm.

He hesitates, looking over to where he’d left his bag by the front door. “Not—” he starts, cheeks turning a faint pink as he searches for words, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Not yet, okay?”

Chrissy blinks, clearly surprised. Before she can respond, Jeff cuts the tension with a, “that good, huh?” which has Steve’s blush darkening to a bright scarlet and Chrissy throwing her head back and laughing.

Something in Robin warms at the teasing. She’d known that Jeff and Chrissy were accepting, but it’s different to see it in front of her—proof of concept. There’s a knot in her mouth that Robin swallows down, afraid that if she doesn’t, her own confession might burst out of her.

I’m a lesbian.

She’s never said it aloud to anyone but her own face in the mirror. She wants to taste it on her tongue. Maybe someday, with these people, she’ll get to.

[beloveds-embrace]

More fairy reader pretty please!!!

Fairy reader post

Enjoy!! :D

In the end, your wings make the decision for you; still far too weak to properly and safely fly for long-term, you stay with them and thus with the passage of days, you become a fixture of the cottage. The four men adjusted seamlessly, weaving you into their routines. Mornings began with the quiet bustle of preparing tea, coffee, and breakfast. Johnny always saved you a few sweet crumbs from the food they’d made, setting them on a tiny dish for specifically bought just for you with an exaggerated wink. “Here you go, wee lass, breakfast for you too.” he’d say, making you giggle.

You grew more comfortable exploring the cottage, gliding from shelf to table with wings that were growing stronger every day, and thus brighter. They marveled at the subtle sparkles of light trailing behind you. It was as if tiny stars followed your every move. Simon, for all his quiet observation, had taken to leaving out curious objects- a shiny coin, a small piercing- just to watch your eyes light up with interest at seeing the shiny, human trinkets you’d normally not find in your routes in the forest. Coins especially were your favorite; you’d make the happpiest squeaks whenever you’d find one.

One rainy afternoon, as droplets drummed against the windows, you perched on the edge of a mug, watching Kyle and John play a game of cards. Their banter was familiar and comforting by now, a low murmur that mingled with the crackling of the fireplace you steered yourself a safe distance away from. When John noticed your intent gaze, he grinned. “Want to play, little one?”

You nodded eagerly. He handed you a card with great care, its weight surprisingly manageable. Determined, you mimicked their expressions of deep thought despite not really, fully understanding what was so special about these cards or how the game was played, earning a soft, rumbling laugh from John. “She’s got a poker face better than yours, Gaz. Might give you a run for your money.”

As weeks turned to months, your presence transformed their quiet lives and you remained, even once your wings were fully healed. No longer were you just a guest; you were family. Together, you then showed them the forest, and all the hidden nooks and crannies that made for perfect places to rest and have a picnic there. Sometimes, you’d catch lights flickering within the depth of the forest but yet… you didn’t want to return to your kin.

One evening, as the sky blushed with a beautiful, reddish sunset, you sat on the windowsill, watching the woods. Simon stood nearby, still and thoughtful. “You could leave, you know,” he murmured, voice soft, almost hesitant yet too curious to stop. “If you wanted.”

You turned to him, youe wings lazily around your body instead of your usual mini-blanket. “I know,” you whispered, your glow flaring gently. “But I… don’t want to.”

His head dipped in a nod, and though he said nothing more, you could feel the relief in the air. You leaned back and dropped the blanket, flying up to curl in his palms, and felt a warmth bloom deep inside you. Here, you’d found a place to rest your wings—and you were happy to stay.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Sunshine & Shadow

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley X Female!Reader

Warnings: fluff, reader is the sunshine to Simon’s shadowy self (think of it as girly!reader x guard dog!Simon)

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy, i just had to write for him, he’s perfect for this

Word Count: 1.6k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

Simon Riley wasn’t used to color. Not in the literal sense—he’d seen it all, but his life had been painted in dark tones, an endless palette of blacks, greys, and the muted browns of grime. The quiet, the shadows—those were his comfort zones, safe from the bright, chaotic world outside.

So when he met you, his “sunshine and rainbows” girlfriend, it was like someone had thrown open the windows and let a flood of color spill into his life.

Simon never thought his evening coffee stop would be anything more than routine. It was a small café he’d found, quiet and out of the way, perfect for unwinding without distractions. And then, there was you.

You’d stood out from the moment he walked in. Dressed in a pastel cardigan and holding a sparkly pink notebook, you had an aura that practically radiated warmth. He felt your gaze on him the instant he entered, and as he moved to take a seat in the corner, you surprised him by flashing a big, friendly smile.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you here before!” you said, waving a little as he sat down.

Simon froze, unsure of how to respond. People didn’t normally approach him, and certainly not like this. He gave a quick nod, hoping it would signal the end of the interaction. But you had other plans.

“Are you reading anything good?” you asked, eyeing the worn book in his hand. Simon didn’t look up, but he could feel you staring. Relenting, he held up the book to show you the cover.

“History,” he muttered.

“Ooh, history,” you mused, nodding with genuine enthusiasm. “I don’t know much about history, but I like learning new things. What’s this one about?”

And just like that, he found himself talking to you. Simon didn’t know why, but the way you listened—eyes bright, smile wide—made him feel at ease. What started as an accidental conversation turned into an exchange of phone numbers, and soon after, into regular meetings. You, with your pastel colors and genuine kindness, had broken through his guarded walls in a way he didn’t see coming.

It had taken Simon some time to work up the courage to ask you out for a proper date. The idea of dressing up, going somewhere crowded, and acting “normal” was daunting. But when he finally asked, your eyes lit up, and you’d agreed immediately, looking as excited as he’d ever seen you.

He’d chosen a small, dimly-lit restaurant that seemed perfect for a quiet evening. However, as soon as you both arrived, everything seemed to go wrong. The place was overbooked and loud, and they’d somehow lost the reservation he’d made. After an awkward ten-minute wait, he looked over at you, tense and apologetic.

“Should we… just leave?” he asked, voice low. He hated that the date wasn’t going as planned, especially when he saw the way your expression fell slightly.

You forced a smile, clearly trying to hide any disappointment. “Maybe that’s a good idea. It’s a bit… hectic here.”

Simon nodded, relieved you weren’t too upset. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got a place nearby we can go back to.”

Once you were out of the chaos of the restaurant, he slipped his hand into yours, his thumb rubbing gently over your knuckles in apology. When you both got back to his place, you plopped onto the couch, sighing.

“Okay, what do we do now?” you asked, glancing around his sparsely decorated space, your eyes sparkling with that familiar curiosity.

Simon shrugged, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Fancy some takeout?”

Within minutes, you were settled on his couch, sharing boxes of takeout in your nice clothes, a laugh slipping past your lips at the situation. This was not the evening he’d planned, but somehow, seeing you there, comfortable in his space, made it feel better than he could’ve imagined.

As the night wore on, you took off your heels and pulled your legs up under you, completely at ease. Simon watched you, his usually stoic expression softening as he felt an unfamiliar warmth spreading through him.

“Thanks for not making a fuss about tonight,” he murmured, looking at you. “I wanted it to be… I dunno. Special.”

You laughed, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand. “Si, this is special. It’s just… us.” You smiled up at him, sincerity in your eyes. “Besides, I like this. I’m getting to know the real you.”

He looked away, but you could tell he was smiling. As the night went on, you fell asleep curled up against him, your head resting on his shoulder as he watched you, wondering what he’d done to deserve a moment like this.

Since that night, staying in with you had become his favorite thing. You often brought little pastel decorations, throwing a pink blanket over the couch or adding a flower-scented candle that he pretended to ignore but secretly loved. Tonight, you’d snuggled up beside him, pulling the pink blanket over both of you.

“Si, why don’t you come sit with me?” you asked, giving his sleeve a gentle tug. “You look like you could use a break.”

He didn’t argue. Sitting with you meant a reprieve from the chaos of his thoughts, even if he’d never say it out loud. He let you pull him to the couch, where you immediately curled up against him, your warmth seeping through his shirt.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you tilted your head up to look at him, eyes sparkling. “You know, I think the pink really suits you.”

Simon scoffed, though his arm instinctively tightened around you. “I look ridiculous.”

“Not at all,” you insisted, lightly poking his side. “You’re just not used to being adored, that’s all.”

His gaze softened, and he let his hand rest on top of yours. Being with you, it was like getting a second chance at something he’d thought was beyond him—a chance to feel a little brightness, to have someone who cared about him for more than just his skills in the field.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, watching as he tried (and failed) to hide a smile. “Come on, Mr. Guard Dog. Let me be your sunshine for a while.”

He exhaled, a rare, genuine chuckle slipping through as he looked down at you. “Don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he muttered, voice low but full of warmth.

With a soft grin, you squeezed his hand. “Just keep being you, Si. That’s all I ever need.”

The first time you met his team, Simon felt a familiar weight of unease. He was used to keeping his personal life private, but he knew it was inevitable that you’d meet his colleagues. That night at the pub, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you, wondering how you’d fit into his world.

Soap was the first to notice you, nearly spilling his drink when he saw the pink scarf draped over Simon’s shoulders.

“Oi, Ghost!” Soap said, laughing. “Didn’t know you had such… colorful tastes.”

You, completely unfazed, turned to Soap with a grin. “I’m the one responsible for that! I’m his bit of color.”

Simon shot him a look that could kill, but you slipped your hand into his, giving his fingers a reassuring squeeze. The others chuckled, though their teasing was lighthearted. They’d never seen Ghost—stoic, silent Ghost—look at anyone the way he looked at you, and it was both amusing and a little shocking.

When you noticed the curious looks, you only beamed and waved. “Nice to meet you all! I promise, I’m the chatty one.”

The team took to you immediately. You didn’t shy away from their gruff personalities or rowdy banter, joining in with ease and charm that seemed to leave everyone grinning. Even Simon, who normally kept his distance, found himself leaning closer to you, letting your presence smooth out his edges.

At one point, Soap leaned in, smirking. “So, what’s a lovely lass like you doing with our Ghost, eh?”

You chuckled, throwing an arm around Simon’s shoulders. “Oh, he’s got a soft side, don’t let him fool you.”

Simon let out a deep sigh, feigning exasperation but unable to hide his smile. His teammates exchanged glances, a few eyebrows raised at this surprising revelation. They were witnessing a side of Ghost they never thought existed, and it was clear that you were the reason behind it.

One night, you convinced him to go out with you—a cozy pub with live music, a little tucked away but busier than Simon would usually tolerate. As you led him through the crowd, your hand firmly in his, he felt strangely… excited. For you, he’d go just about anywhere.

Once inside, you ordered your usual: a bright, fruity cocktail adorned with a slice of pineapple and a pink umbrella, while he opted for a simple beer. The contrast between you two couldn’t have been more obvious, but he secretly loved it. While you talked, laughed, and even dragged him to the dance floor for a slow song, he stayed close, like a guard dog, eyes always scanning, protective.

At one point, someone tried to flirt with you while he went to the bar. Simon’s sharp gaze caught the moment, and he returned, moving in beside you with a casual possessiveness. One look from him was all it took for the guy to retreat, hands raised in surrender.

“Si, are you jealous?” you teased, poking his arm as he slipped his hand around your waist.

He grunted, his gaze softening as he looked down at you. “Just keeping you safe, love.”

You gave him a warm smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Well, I’m already taken. Can’t you tell?”

He leaned in close, his voice barely above a murmur. “Couldn’t miss it if I tried.”

In that dimly lit pub, under the soft glow of fairy lights, you shared a quiet moment that felt almost surreal. You, with your vibrant colors and effortless joy, brought him something he hadn’t thought he’d ever feel again—a sense of warmth, of home.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[purinfelix]

didn't you believe in me? ⋆.˚ - franco colapinto

summary: following São Paulo, it's your job to remind Franco that one tough race isn't the end of the world w/c: 800

a/n: just wanted to write a little something following the brazil gp cus i just felt soooo bad for my boy

Ever since your boyfriend became a Formula One driver, there hadn't been many quiet moments in your life. From his excited ramblings as the two of you drove onto paddocks, to the endless chanting of his name from crowds of fans. It was exciting, mostly for him but for you as well, to watch the boy you loved become a man loved by many, many more.

But the drive home from São Paulo had been silent.

It's not like you didn't know why, you had been there the entire weekend - through the crash, his meetings with teams and everything else that had been going on. The crash had been scary for you, and your only care had been whether he was safe or not - but Franco didn't seem to share the same sentiment.

The rest of the afternoon had been tense, you were only able to watch from afar as he struggled through interviews that hounded him with uncomfortable questions. His professionalism through it all impressed you though, maybe his media training lessons were beginning to pay off. Still, you could tell he wasn't enjoying a single second of them from the way he stormed out of the media area and straight past you.

This car ride had been the only time the two of you were alone since the crash. Every so often you would glance over nervously, only to see your boyfriend looking out the window, silently.

"Franco," you say softly, less of a question and more of a call to his attention, but he doesn't give in. He only shakes his head slightly, a silent not right now which you recognise immediately.

You sit back with a soft sigh, though a soft tap on the leathered seat between you draws your attention towards where Franco's outstretched hand lays. Silently, you take it in yours, intertwining your fingers and rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb - it seems to be the most you can do at this moment to comfort him.

After what seems like an eternity, the car stops in front of the hotel where the two of you are staying. Still, in silence, the two of you file out, and head up the elevator to your room. The only noise that fills the space between you is the soft hum of the elevator and the noise your keycard makes when you unlock the door to your shared room.

You let him in first and shut the door softly behind you. The tension that had seemed to follow the two of you home from the paddock finally seemed to dissipate as you watched him kick off his shoes and sit down on the edge of the bed with a huff.

You make your way over to him quietly, wedging yourself to stand in between his legs. He hangs his head with a soft sigh, his hands fiddling at the fabric of your shirt as he pulls you a little closer.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you whisper, and he shakes his head.

"Not really," his voice is hoarse and it hurts your heart a little to hear. Still, you bring your hands up to start combing through his hair softly, a motion you know brings him comfort. There's another moment of silence and when you hear him sniff, you almost think he's crying. But he looks up at you, eyes a little watery. "I just really want to do well."

"You will," you say soothingly, "you are doing well." He nods, though you can tell he doesn't seem convinced.

You move your hands down to cup his face, forcing him to look into your eyes. "I mean it." You lean down a little, pressing soft kisses across his forehead. When you stand back up, you feel his arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you towards him, burying his face into your stomach.

"I'm sorry for being an ass to you earlier," he sighs, and you can tell just how much he means it.

"Don't worry about it, I understand."

"And you're still here with me."

"Franco, baby, you're going to have to do a lot worse than that to get rid of me."

He lets out a soft laugh, muffled against the fabric of your shirt but still you feel yourself internally let out a sigh of relief at the sound.

"Thank you," he says softly, "for staying."

"Of course," you reply, intertwining your fingers with his curls once more. The two of you return to silence once more - though now you're relieved by the fact that it's one not out of sadness or anger but comfort, and quite honestly, one you wouldn't mind spending forever in.

taglist: (reply/send me an ask if you'd like to be added!)

@spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk @presleycaudle

[ruewrote]

𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑒.

PAIRING: josh washington x gn!reader WARNINGS: josh breaks down to you, no use of y/n GENRE: angst but more fluff SONG INSPIRATION: lay it all on me by rudimental WORD COUNT: 2k REQUESTED: yes

navigation | ask | josh washington masterlist

it was well past midnight when your phone rang, disturbing the silence of your apartment. you groggily fumbled for it on your nightstand, squinting at the screen. josh. your heart dropped into your stomach.

he never called this late unless something was wrong. the sound of his name, even in the dead of night, was enough to pull you out of sleep.

“josh?” you answered, sitting up, suddenly wide awake.

he didn’t respond immediately. you could hear his breathing, ragged and uneven, like he was struggling to catch his breath. it was enough to send a spike of worry straight through you.

“josh, hey, what’s going on? are you okay?”

“i–” his voice cracked, and the sound broke something inside of you.

“i need you. please… can you come over?”

you were already moving, tossing off your blanket and grabbing your coat from where it hung on the back of your chair. “i’m on my way,” you promised, your voice firm despite the fear creeping into your nerves. “hang tight, okay? i’m on my way right now.”

the drive to his apartment felt like it took hours instead of minutes, the city lights blurring past as you pressed harder on the gas. your mind raced, a thousand scenarios playing out, each one worse than the last. you knew josh had been struggling lately.

old memories resurfacing, the weight of the past dragging him down. but he rarely asked for help, let alone called you in the middle of the night sounding so... broken.

when you finally reached his building, you sprinted up the stairs two at a time, barely pausing to knock before pushing open the door to his apartment. it wasn’t locked, and that only made your chest tighten with worry.

“josh?” you called out into the darkened space. the only light came from the city’s glow through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor. you found him in the living room, curled up on the couch, clutching his head in his hands.

he didn’t look up as you approached, but you heard the sharp intake of breath as he realised you were there.

“hey, hey, it’s okay,” you murmured, dropping to your knees in front of him. your hands hovered over his, not wanting to overwhelm him but aching to touch, to comfort. “i’m here now. what happened?”

josh’s head snapped up then, his eyes wild and glassy. “i saw them,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. “they were right here. i swear i could hear them screaming... i can’t–” his words dissolved into a choked sob, he squeezed his eyes shut as if that could block out the images.

your heart clenched painfully at the sight of him like this, so raw and vulnerable. you’d seen josh put on his bravado before, cracking jokes and averting how he was feeling by making sure everyone else was okay. but this was different. this was the real him, laid bare and hurting, and it killed you to see the man you loved like this.

without thinking, you reached out, cupping his cheek in your hand. he flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away, leaning into your touch like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

“they’re not here, josh,” you said softly, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone. “it’s just us. you’re safe.”

he shook his head violently, his breath coming in shuddering gasps. “no, i can still see them. it’s like they’re… they’re blaming me. i can feel it.”

“look at me,” you pleaded, moving closer until you were almost nose to nose, your other hand finding it’s way to his shoulder, squeezing gently. “it’s not real. it feels real, i know, but you’re here with me now. you made it through, josh. you survived.”

“i shouldn’t have,” he rasped, his eyes welling with fresh tears. “they didn’t, and i did. why do i get to be here when they don’t?”

“because you deserve to be,” you said sternly, letting the words hang in the space between you. you swallowed thickly, the love you held for him swelling in your chest, making your voice tremble. “i know you don’t believe that right now, but i do. and i’m not leaving you to fight this alone.”

his eyes searched yours desperately, looking for something to hold on to. “why are you here?” he asked, the question slipping out so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. “why do you keep coming back?”

you exhaled shakily, the truth sitting heavy on your tongue. you’d been hiding it for so long, burying your feelings under layers of friendship and concern, but now, looking at him like this, it felt right to tell him the truth.

“because i love you, josh,” you confessed, your voice breaking. “because i can’t stand to see you like this and not do anything about it. i love you, even when you’re hurting like this, especially when you’re hurting like this.”

for a moment, everything went still. you could hear the rain pounding against the windows, the distant murmur of the city outside. but between the two of you, there was only silence, a tense, fragile thing that felt like it might shatter with the next breath.

something in his expression softened, and his hands reached out, grasping your wrists like he was afraid you might slip away. “you love me?” he whispered.

“i do,” you nodded, feeling tears stinging your own eyes now. “and i’m not going anywhere. not tonight, not ever. i’m here, josh. i’ve got you.”

he let out a strangled sound, something between a sob and a laugh, and before you knew it, he was pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. you clung to him just as tightly, feeling the way his body shook against yours, the way his breath hitched as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“you’re too good to me,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your skin.

“no,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple, lingering there as you stroked his hair. “i’m just what you need.”

for the first time that night, you felt him relax, the tension slowly draining from his body as he melted into your embrace. you held him there, rocking gently, whispering soothing words until his breathing evened out, his grip on you loosening but not letting go.

“i’m here,” you repeated, the promise sinking into the silence of the room. “i’m not letting go.”

and you meant it, more than anything you’d ever said before.

the tension in josh’s body slowly faded away in your arms, replaced by a heavy, exhausted weight as the last of his sobs quieted. he clung to you as though you were the only thing keeping him anchored to the present, to reality. 

his breathing was still ragged, but it had started to even out, the frantic edge fading into something softer.

you shifted a little, your fingers still tracing up and down his back, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “let’s get you to bed,” you murmured, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

josh tensed for a moment, he wasn’t ready to let go, but when you started to pull back. he released you reluctantly. he wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand, sniffling. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice small and raw. “i didn’t mean to–”

“hey,” you cut him off, cupping his cheek and guiding his gaze back to yours. “you don’t have to apologise, not for this. you needed me, and i came. that’s all.”

he nodded, swallowing hard, his eyes glistening in the dim light of the room. you took his hand, squeezing it gently as you helped him to his feet. he swayed a little, unsteady, and you tightened your grip, steadying him. his fingers intertwined with yours almost as if he was afraid to let go, and it made your heart ache.

“c’mon,” you said softly, guiding him toward his bedroom. you led him to the bed, pulling back the covers before easing him down. he sank into the mattress, looking up at you with a vulnerability that made you want to wrap him up and shield him from everything that had ever hurt him.

you tucked the blanket around him, smoothing your hand over his chest as if you could soothe away the remnants of his panic. his eyes fluttered shut at the touch, a shiver running through him.

you slipped off your shoes and climbed into bed beside him, the mattress dipping under your weight. he rolled onto his side, facing you, and without thinking, you reached out, your fingers threading through his hair again. you combed through the soft, messy strands, gentle and rhythmic, he let out a deep sigh, finally letting himself start to relax.

you began to hum quietly, the familiar tune of a lullaby you knew he loved. a song you’d sung together on countless road trips, or played during quiet moments when the world outside didn’t matter. you felt the tension melt away from his body bit by bit, his sniffles becoming further apart, until they were just occasional, quiet sounds.

josh’s eyes fluttered shut, his breathing slowing, you thought he might be asleep. you kept stroking his hair, even as your own eyes grew heavy. the love you felt for him was a tangible thing, filling up the space between you, wrapping around him like a blanket.

you pressed one last, lingering kiss to his forehead, lingering just a moment longer than you probably should have.

“goodnight, josh,” you whispered against his skin, your voice filled with a tenderness you could no longer hide.

you waited a beat, your heart squeezing in your chest, before slowly beginning to pull back. you slipped out from under the covers, careful not to wake him as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. you had just managed to stand up when you felt a hand wrap around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“don’t go,” josh mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. his grip on your wrist tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you there, to keep you from leaving. “please stay.”

you turned back to him, your eyes meeting his. he looked up at you, his face half buried in the pillow, his eyes glassy and pleading. “i… i don’t want to be alone.”

your resolve crumbled in an instant. how could you possibly leave him when he needed you like this? 

you squeezed his hand in return, you nodded. 

the way he looked at you, the raw plea in his voice... you couldn’t say no.

“of course,” you whispered, a gentle smile tugging at your lips. “i’ll stay as long as you need.”

you crawled back into bed, settling beside him, and this time when you wrapped your arms around him, he pressed closer, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. his breath was warm against your skin, a soft, steady rhythm that matched the beating of your heart.

he let out a contented sigh, his entire body relaxing against yours. “thank you,” he breathed, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it.

you kissed the top of his head, your fingers resuming their soothing pattern through his hair. “you don’t have to thank me,” you replied. “i’m right where i want to be.”

he didn’t say anything after that, just nuzzled closer, the last of his sniffles fading into silence. you felt his breathing slow, becoming deep and even, and it wasn’t long before you could tell he was asleep.

you kept combing your fingers through his hair, even as your own eyes grew heavy, the sound of his steady breaths lulling you into a peaceful drowsiness.

you’d meant to stay awake, to make sure he was okay, but the warmth of his body against yours, the comfort of having him so close, made it impossible. you pressed one last kiss to his forehead, a silent promise that you weren’t going anywhere, before letting your eyes flutter shut.

and for the first time in a long time, you both fell asleep easily.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ @joshwashingtonmybeloved

© ruewrote 2024.

[hannieehaee]

What do you think about svt members dating a autistic/neuro divergent s/o ?? (Don't havets do all members but maybe woozi hannie and cheol? Tysm I literally love your writing ❤️🎀🍓)

dating a neurodivergent s/o

content: non-specific neurodivergence, established relationship, fluff, etc.

wc: 758

a/n: thank u so much<33 i discussed this with two of my besties on the spectrum, so i hope i did this justice!! neurodivergence is very broad so i kept this a little ambiguous btw<3

masterlist

seungcheol -

he's kind of used to being babied by his family, but he'll flip the script and baby you instead. super nice and understanding, engaging in any of your interests and always encouraging you. he'd literally move hell and earth to ensure your comfort at all times.

jeonghan -

very sweet and loving. he has this personality where he babies everyone around him, and i think he'd use his kindergarten teacher voice a little extra on his s/o. gets familiar with any habits you may have and engages in them wholeheartedly. steals any fidget toys you may have bc he must touch at any and every object in his vicinity.

joshua -

he'll learn everything there is to learn in order to support and love you in the way you most deserve! he's very emotionally intelligent and empathetic, so he'll often just kinda sit there and listen to you rant about whichever special interest you had at the time, even taking some of his free time to learn about it on his own.

jun -

cutie is the sweetest boyfriend alive, falling into any habits or behaviors of yours without even realizing. he's super touchy but if you're not into that he'd just settle for playing with your hands and fingers in a reassuring manner (both for himself and you). does his best to understand and relate to you in order to ensure your comfort.

soonyoung -

i picture him acting very similar to jun as a bf. he may instinctually mimic some of your behaviors or habits without realizing. if you have trouble focusing or maybe any compulsive behaviors, he'd somehow match those behaviors just from how much time he spent with you.

wonwoo -

he's literally the perfect boyfriend in every capacity so i think he'd assimilate to you and your needs without even thinking about it. makes himself fit into your life perfectly and provides you all comfort possible. does his best to understand every aspect of your life and has very open communication with you.

jihoon -

he has a ton of little fidget toys in his studio ready for you to play with. if you have any sensory issues, he'd also have some amazing quality noise cancelling headphones in his studio for you to use, anddd he would also make sure to turn off the lights at the universe factory if they ever bothered you. you'd never have any issue with him changing his lifestyle to fit your needs, he'd just do it w/o question.

seokmin -

he's such a sweet and empathetic guy, he'd be thoroughly educated on whichever part of the spectrum you were in. he'd remind you to take any medications (if needed), cook you your safe foods, keep you out of social situations if you felt like going nonverbal, keep things tidy at home to keep you at ease. he'd basically do anything in his power without you even having to ask.

mingyu -

he's a househusband at heart so he's basically just prepared to mother the hell out of you at all times. takes care of all your needs and keeps track of them at his own accord. needs an open line of communication with you to understand your needs and preferences and adapts his life to fit them.

minghao -

he's so insanely emotionally mature i think he'd utilize his amazing communication skills to make sure he's doing everything he can as a bf to make you feel comfortable and at ease with him. entertains and encourages any of your habits and needs. researches anything necessary to understand you as best as he can.

seungkwan -

if u ever go nonverbal or lose your social battery, he'll take complete charge of it, so dont u even worry!!! he loved and respects you more than anyone, so he does his best to adapt to any habits or necessities you may have. the best person at lending a sympathetic ear when you let him know of your needs.

vernon -

very understanding and subtle with his affections. he's the opposite of overwhelming, so he never pressures you and tries to make you as comfortable as possible, doing his best to understand your habits and levels of comfort in order to assimilate to you and ensure your happiness in the relationship.

chan -

he'll match your energy always. if your social battery is gone, so is his! if you feel a little extra energetic, guess what, so does he! wants you to communicate what he can do to ensure your comfort or to be the best bf he can be.

[ravenstargames]

I hope everyone in the team is safe! <3

I was just wondering, what terms does Envy prefer to be called? if they were in a relationship, would they be comfortable being called "boyfriend" or "partner"? I noticed they're always referred to as sibling and not brother in the demo, so it made me curious about how he felt about gendered terms. should I call them beautiful or pretty or handsome... cuz they're all of those...

We are! 💜 Thank you so much for asking! ; v ; Work on repairing and cleaning my town is going great!

✦ What term does Envy prefer to be called while in a relationship?

Honestly, he's fine with whatever! Boyfriend works, partner works, significant other works...And you may call them handsome, pretty or beautiful and he's going to be embarrassed anyways! Beautiful will surprise them even more than the rest, tho!

As for the sibling vs brother, they don't hate being called brother at all, but they do prefer "sibling" :^)

[stxrslut]

STEPBRO!JOHNB HEADCANNONS ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡

— he feels the need to look after you. after his dad died and your mom went on a trip with no intention of returning, he’s all you’ve got.

— he loves to be domestic with you. sometimes when you’re in the kitchen cooking he imagines that you’re not his stepsister, you’re his wife and you’re both all grown up with kids and pets and a big house.

— he gets cuteness aggression, sometimes he just grabs you and squeezes you as hard as he can out of nowhere and you never have any idea why.

— he’s so very protective of you. whenever you go to parties he’s always lurking behind you the moment he sees a man approach. he’s also always quick to step in to any conversation he decides is going south.

— once you asked him to teach you how to have sex but he felt so bad touching you that he decided his solution would be to get jj to do all the touching whilst he talked you through it.

— he learns to braid your hair because he knows you find it frustrating having it in your face, and you don’t like doing it yourself.

— sometimes, when he’s more comfortable with the idea of you two, you just crawl into his lap and start grinding on him, no questions asked, no words spoken until you both cum and then go back to normal like nothing happened.

— normally he does it raw, he prefers it that way, but with you he always insists on wearing a condom like he’s suddenly some expert on safe sex.

— he eats all the food you make him, even though some of your “signature recipes” aren’t as amazingly delicious as you think they are. he’ll never insult your cooking, he knows you’re trying after all.

— he only ever lets you go to parties or large gatherings if you’re glued to his side. the moment you’re out of his sight he’s ready to fight whoever took you away, even if you just happened to wander in a different direction to him.

— he hates when you go out on missions with him and the pogues, he’s always on high alert that you might get injured or worse. he’s always killing the suspenseful mood by telling you “be careful!”

— if he notices you’re uncomfortable with someone he goes batshit on them, always, think how crazy he went on topper in s3.

— he teaches you all sorts of survival skills and first aid techniques in case you ever need them, especially after you’ve started going out on missions with them.

— sometimes you go against his direct wishes, like do something dangerous when he’s expressly told you not to. it’s on those occasions that he gets angry with you. he has to tie you up and fuck you hard to give you punishment, all throughout he’ll tell you how he doesn’t want to do this, but he has to. you need to learn your lesson.

[demonic0angel]

Another Anger management idea:

Jason is going through his own First Burn, but unlike Hamilton, he didn't do it. The evidence, though fake, is damning. Hopefully, Jason can get Vicki Vale to give up her sources easily, or there will be hell. He just wants his wife back.

(… did you want comfort, bc it’s only angst tbh. Also, I’m assuming that Jazz doesn’t have Shadow, because this would’ve been fixed so fast otherwise lmao)

Jazz didn’t turn to face him, as she just hugged her plushie, a little plush toy of Red Hood. She sat on their bed and just curled around the toy, her brilliant hair scattering over the sheets and covering her face.

“Jazz, please. Please listen to me. I don’t know how this was taken, but it isn’t real. I didn’t cheat,” Jason said, almost begging. He moved forward to be in front of her so she could face him, but she turned her head away, tucking her face into the plushie and clutching at it.

Not for the first time, he was horrifically jealous of the toy he had won for her.

“Princess, please. I love you,” he said urgently, “I love you so much.”

Jazz shook her head softly, and he could see a peek of her face through her curtain of hair, horribly blank and empty. She didn’t cry, she would not cry while he was here. She was strong like that, and hated showing weakness unless she felt safe. She hadn’t shown such strength in front of him for years.

“I know,” she said, her voice tiny.

It broke his heart in two.

Jason clenched his fists and tried to breathe.

Just a few days ago, Vicki Vale had released news of him cheating on Jazz with another woman. No matter how much he could deny it, the evidence was so damning that he had nothing to say. But he didn’t really have an excuse. He knew he hadn’t done it, but the evidence all pointed towards him.

Even his family were giving him odd looks. Only Jazz’s warnings had prevented her own siblings from brutally murdering him.

There was no alibi he could give, no witnesses to see where he was, nothing to show that he hadn’t done it.

But he really hadn’t done it! He knew, because he had been in the midst of a reconnaissance mission alone. But he had no excuses, because the video was so well done, the photos were so clear, and the information was so detailed that he couldn’t say a word.

“Jazz,” Jason said, his voice cracking as he felt the lump in his throat grow, “I didn’t do it. Please believe me. I promise, I didn’t cheat on you. I swear on my life. I love you, please.”

Jazz still didn’t face him. Her hands tightened on the doll and then she said slowly, “I need time to think. Can you call Dick and Dani please?”

Jason wanted to grab his guns and start shooting up Gotham, or better yet, sink the whole damn continent into the ocean. His rage and frustration was so strong that he almost felt blood leak up through his throat. He wanted to kill Vicki Vale more than ever, but if he did that now, it would only make him look more guilty.

“Okay,” he said comfortingly. He did not reach out to touch her. If he did, he knew she would’ve shut down further. “Do you want me to call Valerie too?”

Dick, Dani, and Valerie were often part of Jazz’s counsel. Dick and Dani would’ve been too nice to immediately leap to Jason cheating, but Valerie was ruthless enough to be a good voice of reason and if he offered, then maybe Jazz would think that he was being honest.

Jazz nodded silently and Jason immediately called them up as he moved to the kitchen to make the calls.

Dick agreed instantly and told him that he would come over as fast as possible. Dani was clearly disdainful of him, but tried to be polite and agreed the moment she knew that Jazz wanted her presence. Valerie cursed him out for a whole fifteen minutes before he could get a word in, but eventually agreed without hesitation when he asked.

Jason hung up the phone when he was done and buried his head in his hands as the soft sounds of Jazz crying alone in their bedroom filled his ears.

The urge to kill Vicki Vale grew more and more tempting.

He didn’t know why he was being targeted. Or how she had gotten such good falsified photos. Hell, he hadn’t even done anything in the last few weeks to deserve this.

He sat there in the kitchen, eyes clenched tight as he resisted the urge to go into the bedroom to pull his wife into his arms and hold her. He wanted to bury himself in Jazz’s hair, hold her tight to his chest, feel her heartbeat and her warmth, and settle her in his embrace as if they could somehow merge themselves into one.

Jason opened his eyes.

He knew what he had to do to clear his name.

He would have to find Vicki Vale’s sources and investigate for himself. He’d be damned if some hack reporter tore apart his blissful marriage with his wonderful wife. And god only knew what lengths Jason would go to for Jazz.

[fratttymatty]

Roots Changed

(All characters are 18+)

Ryan Thornton had always been the quiet, bookish kid. At 18, he was still the same shy, nerdy teenager who spent most of his time buried in science fiction novels, comic books, and the occasional video game. Ryan had come to terms with his place in life: an outsider in high school, an openly gay teen with few friends and even fewer social opportunities. His world was small but comfortable, a safe little bubble in the predominantly white suburb of San Diego where he’d lived his whole life.

But when his mom got a new job and the family moved across the city to a much more diverse, predominantly Latino neighborhood, Ryan didn’t know what to expect. The change was jarring. The new school was like nothing he’d known — crowded, full of energy, and with a culture that felt loud and foreign. The kids here were different, the language they spoke, the way they dressed, the confidence they carried — it was all so much more alive than what Ryan was used to.

In the first few days, Ryan stayed under the radar. He was determined to finish high school without any drama, just getting through the final year before heading to college. But that plan quickly unraveled when a group of the popular kids — the jocks and cheerleaders — took notice of him.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. He tried to keep his head down, but he couldn’t ignore the whispers in the halls, the way people looked at him — the way they sized him up. His pale skin, messy blond hair, awkward stance — all of it screamed “outsider.” It didn’t help that Ryan was the only openly gay kid in the school, and he often felt like an alien in the sea of confident, straight students.

One afternoon, during lunch, the inevitable happened. He was sitting alone at a table when Luis, the captain of the football team, and Sofia, the head cheerleader, approached him with their usual entourage. They towered over him, their presence intimidating, but Ryan couldn’t find the words to excuse himself.

Luis looked down at him, a smug grin on his face. “Hey, you’re the new guy, right?”

Ryan swallowed hard. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“You don’t really fit in here, huh?” Sofia’s voice wasn’t unkind, but it was sharp. She appraised him like a project. “You’re a little too... quiet for this place. Too nerdy.”

Ryan felt his face flush. He had been used to this kind of thing before, but not quite like this. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wanting to disappear.

Luis smirked. “Well, we can help with that. Make you more... like us.” He exchanged a quick glance with Sofia, who gave a small nod.

“I don’t really—” Ryan began to protest, but before he could finish his sentence, they grabbed him by the arms. He struggled, but the group was too strong. Their laughter was loud and mocking, echoing in his ears as they pulled him away from the lunch table, past the curious eyes of the other students, and out to the school parking lot.

“What the hell is going on?” Ryan managed to say, panic setting in as they shoved him into the back of a van.

“We’re gonna make you one of us, gringo,” Luis said, the edge to his voice unmistakable.

Ryan’s heart pounded as the van started moving. “What are you doing? Let me out of here!” But the more he shouted, the less anyone seemed to care. They ignored him, speaking in rapid Spanish, laughing, joking, as if they’d done this before.

The van came to a stop in a neighborhood unfamiliar to Ryan, and they led him into a house that felt more like a base of operations than a home. An older man with tattoos covering his arms stood waiting for them, his expression serious, as though this was just another job.

“Sit,” the man said, gesturing toward a chair in the middle of the room. “We’ve got work to do.”

Ryan’s heart raced in his chest, but he was powerless to fight back. They tied him down, but it wasn’t painful; it was more like they were preparing him for something. The man — who spoke little — went to work, using strange tools and substances on him, altering his appearance in ways that made Ryan’s head spin. His skin, once pale and freckled, slowly darkened, turning a rich olive tone. His features shifted subtly — his jawline more defined, his nose more pronounced. But it wasn’t just his skin that changed.

The most dramatic transformation happened to his hair. Ryan’s once-messy, light brown curls were smoothed out, darkening into a deep, glossy brown. They styled it into a perfectly straight, sharp middle part. It was perfect, almost too perfect. His hair, which had always been unruly, now lay in neat, controlled waves on either side of his head, framing his face in a way that made him look... different.

When the process was finished, they released him from the chair, and Ryan was led to a mirror. He barely recognized the person staring back at him. The face was familiar, but the features were sharper, darker. His hair — sleek and controlled — was no longer his own. The new, confident posture, the athletic build, the deep brown eyes looking back at him — it was like he was staring at someone else.

Luis stood behind him, clapping him on the back with a grin. “Welcome to the team, hermano,” he said, his voice low and proud.

Ryan — or whatever was left of him — looked at himself in the mirror. The old Ryan Thornton was gone, replaced by someone else. Someone new. Someone who looked like he could be a football player. Someone who looked like he belonged here, in this world.

Luis wasn’t finished. “You’re Mateo Hernandez now. We’re not calling you Ryan anymore. You’re one of us, hermano.”

Mateo Hernandez. The name felt strange at first, foreign even, but when he said it aloud, it felt right, like it had always been his. Mateo felt stronger, more confident. He felt like someone who had a place in the world — a world where people like him didn’t get pushed around, a world where his old self didn’t matter.

Over the next few days, Mateo settled into his new life with surprising ease. His old identity, his old life as Ryan Thornton, began to fade. The change was too thorough. The way he spoke was different now. His accent was smoother, more natural, the slang coming to him effortlessly. His new friends, the jocks, the cheerleaders, they accepted him without hesitation. He was one of them now, and they treated him like family.

It didn’t take long before Mateo found himself walking the halls of his new high school with the same confident swagger as Luis or any of the other jocks. He laughed, joked, and participated in everything — the football games, the parties, the casual flirting with the girls in his classes. It all felt so easy, so right. The old Mateo, the quiet, awkward kid who once spent his days hiding in the library, was gone.

Mateo Hernandez was a high school jock. He was strong, he was popular, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel like he was pretending. He was who he was supposed to be.

And as for Ryan Thornton?

Well, Mateo didn’t even remember who that was anymore.

Mateo Hernandez had found his place. And he wouldn’t change it for anything.

[gothamhappiness]

I like to flirt with you, Red Hood! (Jason Todd x f!reader)

This is part 2 of this imagine

Warnings: no proof reading, fluff

Red Hood insisted on bringing you back home that night. He had no idea how to thank you for what you did for him, so making sure you arrived safely at your place was the least he could do. Your presence was bringing him a new kind of peace he never felt before as well.

If you always felt safe on his territory, you felt even better by his side. You felt like nothing could happen to you. You were at ease with him, you just hoped Batman didn't hurt him too badly. You walked as close as possible to him without touching him. The warmth of his body was smoothing you in the cold night surrounding the two of you.

You both stayed silent as Red Hood was following you home. Once you arrived at your building, you offered him to come upstairs with you because "he was a great bodyguard", and then you offered him to get inside because "he needed to get some rest".

Red Hood stayed a few instants without reacting, as you were gesturing for him to get inside. He peered inside your flat before his eyes went back on you.

"You really trust me" Red Hood quietly commented

"You're the only person I trust in this city" you proudly admitted "But you, do you trust me?" you asked

Red Hood entered your home, without thinking. It was rare to be able to trust someone so quickly in Gotham. But you both wanted to take the chance.

Or maybe it was simply love at first sight.

You closed the door behind him, giddy he was there, in your home. You always had a crush on him, he was so tall, so strong, so violent and yet so kind. He had this aura of danger and yet, now he felt like a protector. A guardian angel.

"Can I take care of your wounds? Or at least offer you some food?" you asked

"Food would be nice yes" he hummed

"No worries. Settle on the couch while I cook something away. You can play with my switch or watch the TV meanwhile" you replied

Jason had pushed his luck by accepting the food. He half wasn't believing you were truly going to make something for him. It all felt like a dream anyways. None of this could be true, so he should enjoy it while it lasted, he thought.

He removed his helmet, and a black domino mask greeted you. You smiled at how smart the man was.

After a little while, he helped you dress the table and you both settled to eat the food you prepared. You usually were too tired to cook anything after work, but it was different with Red Hood in your home. You wanted to look after him, like he always looked after the people living on his territory. It was the least you could do.

You waited for him to taste the food, before starting to eat. You were ready to get him something else if it wasn't to his liking.

"This is good" he praised you as he brightly smiled at you

"Glad you're enjoying" you replied and you started to eat as well, hoping he didn't notice how flushed your cheeks got at his compliment and smile

You finished to eat in a comfortable silence. Red Hood had too many thoughts swirling inside his head to hold a conversation, but you didn't mind. You were happy he was here.

You didn't find him intimidating at all.

Especially not when he insisted to help you with the dishes, no matter how much you protested. You both liked the sort of domestic vibes it had to it. Your shoulders touched at some point too. Red Hood almost broke a glass then and you teased him.

Before letting him go back outside, you gently put a hand on his arm:

"I know we don't know each other, but my home is always open to you... If you need somewhere to crash at, just knock at the door or at the window" you smiled

"Keep your window open then" he replied as he put his helmet back on to hide the blush appearing on his cheeks.

You nodded and smiled even more. You couldn't express how excited your were getting.

Without any warning, he softly grabbed your hands and gave you a little device with a red button on it. You looked up at him with a curious look written all over your face.

"If you're in trouble, push the button. I'll find you and keep you safe" he instructed you and your eyes lit up

"What if I just want to see you again?" you cheekily asked

"Push the button too" he hummed before looking away

Even with his helmet on, he couldn't hide the effect you were having on him. He thought it should be illegal for sure an attractive woman like you to flirt with him like that. How was he supposed to no completely become putty in your hands?

Damn, he couldn't be falling in love so easily. So quickly.

And yet, here he was.

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

@silverklaus

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch

@tatsuri-zomushiki

@navs-bhat

This part 2 was requested by @jasontoddsthunderthigh, hope you enjoyed!

[foolishbirb]

couple dispute || Sylus Qin

[ sylus x f!reader. drabble. slight!angst. comfort. unresolved fighting. established relationship. mentions of pregnancy. soft husband sylus. ]

The argument had gone on far longer than either of them would like to admit. Hurtful words exchanged, pride bruised, and the tension hung heavy between them, a palpable force that threatened to suffocate the room.

Unable to quell your anger any longer, you grabbed a pillow and stormed out of the bedroom. Lips pressed into a thin line, you struggled to calm the rage boiling within you, deciding to leave the argument before you do or say something you might regret even more than you already had. You plopped down onto the couch in the living room with a huff, wrapping your arms around the pillow as if it were a lifeline.

Sylus watched you go, a mixture of frustration and concern etched into his features. He couldn't just let you walk away like this, not again. With purposeful strides, he followed after you, his presence filling the room as he stood before the couch.

"Sweetie." He sighed, his deep voice calm yet firm. "We need to talk about this."

You refused to meet his gaze, hugging the pillow tightly as you closed your eyes shut. "There's nothing left to say." You bit out, your fingers digging into the pillow. "Go away, Sylus. I'm tired."

Sylus let out another sigh, the sound heavy with exasperation. He kneeled by the couch and reached out, gently prying the pillow from your grasp and setting it aside.

"Look at me, please." He pleaded softly, waiting until you finally yet reluctantly met his eyes. "I know we both said things we didn't mean. But running away isn't going to solve anything."

"Then what is?" You snapped, sitting up on the couch as your angry eyes flashed with defiance. "You always think you're right, Sylus. You never listen to me! Never cared about my opinion or feelings when issues like this happens!"

He felt a twinged in his heart at your biting words, a flash of hurt and guilt flickering in his red eyes. "That's not true." He countered softly, cupping your face with one large hand. "I listen more than you know. I'm trying to understand, sweetie. I really am. But I'm just so so worried about you.. and our baby."

Your eyes softened, guilt immediately washed over you at his words. Seeing the deep worry and pain in his eyes made your heartache and you let out a shaky breath, some of the tension slowly leaving your body.

"I just want to keep you and our child safe. I never meant to dismiss your feelings whenever we get into arguments like this." Sylus continued, one hand coming to rest on your small baby bump, his thumb gently caressing through the fabric of your nightgown. "I hate fighting with you so please don't push me away."

You fell quiet, torn between your stubborn pride and the undeniable pull you felt towards your husband. But inevitably, you gave in with a small nod as a tentative peace finally settling between them.

Sylus smiled, relief washing over his features as he gently pulled you into his arms. "Come back to bed." He whispered lovingly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I promise, I'll make it worth your while."

Despite yourself, you felt a smile tugging at your lips. "You're insatiable." You accused, but there was no heat behind your words.

"Only for you." Sylus replied, his voice low and full of promise as he scooped you up into his arms, carrying you back to the bedroom for the night. You leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body against yours as you let out a soft sigh, allowing yourself to finally relax in his hold.

The argument may not be fully resolved, but for now, they were content to stay close together rather than spend the cold night away from each other.

And that was simply enough.

[mustainegf]

being pregnant at around 6 or 7 months with sheriff james’ baby ^3^

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐀

The summer heat had settled heavy over the small western town, droning in the far off crickets and the wind sweeping across the dusty streets. I swayed in the rocking chair James had set up on our porch just last week, my hand resting over the swell of my belly, feeling the easy kicks of our baby. Seven months now, and with each day that passed, it felt more real. My child, strong and growing inside of me.

James was down by the barn, fixing a busted fence panel. I watched him from afar, the way his strong shoulders shifted with each strike of the hammer, the lines in his weathered face softened in the late afternoon sun. At sixty, James wore it well, his strength and kindness even more apparent in these later years. He'd had a life before me, plenty of it, but now he was mine, and I was his. And this baby? This baby was the promise together.

He looked up, catching me staring, and a grin broke out across his face. He smeared the grease off his hands onto the rag, headed up onto the porch. Climbing the steps, he set the rag down then knelt in front of me, his face aligned at my belly. He laid his hand against it softly, almost like he was afraid of placing his weight upon it.

"How's my little one doin' today?" he whispered, his voice all low. Teased, I could feel his warm breath against the fabric of my dress. He leaned in further down and pressed a soft kiss against my belly, resting his forehead there for a moment. "You keepin' your mama comfortable, I hope?"

I smiled, my hand moving to cover his. "Your little one is full of energy today. Been kickin' up a storm all afternoon."

James laughed, a sound that always seemed to come straight from his chest. "Just like their mama then, huh? Full of life, can't sit still."

His eyes found mine, and for a moment there was nothing but peace between us. He moved his hand from my stomach up to my face, his thumb tracing over my cheek. "You look tired, darlin'. You restin' enough?"

"I am," I replied, knowing he'd hover over me regardless of my response. "It's just hard to get comfortable with all this weight up front."

He nodded, something serious settling into his eyes like it always did. James had this way of listening like every word weighed an amount to him. "Maybe tonight I'll make us a little tea, that one with the peppermint and lavender," he said. "Ease some of that weight for ya."

I nodded, He always did know exactly what I needed before I even knew it myself. When I'd first told him I was pregnant, he'd been so excited, even more than I'd expected. But as the months passed, his joy had turned to something much more serious. I knew that he felt the responsibility, the same way I did. In towns like ours, life wasn't guaranteed and a safe birth wasn't promised. But he was set upon giving us the best opportunity, no matter the cost.

"Come on, let's go inside," he said, reaching out for my hand. "Can't have you sittin' out here catchin' a chill when the sun goes down."

I took his hand, and he pulled me up easy, his arm sure around me as we walked inside. Once we were settled in the front room, he fetched a quilt from the back of the couch and slung it over me. I sank into the softness, watching as he moved around the space, lighting the lanterns, pulling the curtains closed. Every movement was considerate, every glance he sent my way filled with something tender.

He came back and sat beside me, his hand finding my belly once again. "Little one's got a good strong kick," he whispered, smiling as he felt another movement. "I hope they got your spirit, that fire in you I fell in love with."

My heart melted, and I leaned my head against his shoulder. "I hope they've got your heart," I murmured. "The world could use more of that."

We sat in that comfortable silence for a while, his thumb tracing slow circles over my belly. Sometimes he'd speak to the baby in a soft voice, telling stories of his childhood or tales of the wild recounts of his ongoing job as the town sheriff. I knew that he was already planning the teaching of them to ride, to fish, to appreciate the beauty in a simple sunset.

Eventually, he got up to make the tea he'd promised, humming a low tune as he moved around the kitchen. The scent of peppermint and lavender filled the room, and I felt myself relax, even before the first sip. He brought me a cup and sat close, his hand finding its way to my belly once more.

"You know," he began, a soft smile on his lips, "I never thought I'd have this. Spent so much of my life thinkin' it wasn't for me. But I'm glad to be havin' a baby at 60 rather than never...." He paused, his gaze transfixed to the soft swell of my belly. "But then you came along and gave me hope."

I set my tea down, reaching out to take his hand in mine. "You're everything to me, James," I whispered. "You and this baby… you're all I ever wanted."

The baby kicked again, this time harder, as if in agreement. James chuckled, placing both hands on my belly, his face alight with pride. "Hear that, little one? You got a mama who's braver than any sheriff out there."

James. This man, the gentle, strong, endlessly loving man, was my heart. Soon he would be the heart of our child too.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

I would love a smut koing x reader,

Where like they were childhood friends to lover thing

Rekindled Flames

Pairing: Konig x reader

Warnings: FLUFF WITH SMUT

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy, this is my first ever request and I genuinely hope you liked it (I’ve never wrote so much oh god) (also my birthday is in 2 days so I’m excited!)

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

You couldn’t help but glance at your watch again, your heart thudding with each passing minute. The train was late. Typical, you thought, even as your mind tried to focus on anything but the reunion about to unfold. König was coming home, and you hadn’t seen him in person in years. Letters and phone calls had connected you across the distance, but nothing could quite fill the void he left behind.

You shifted on your feet, tugging the hem of your shirt nervously. Would he look different? Would he see you differently? The questions hung in the air, refusing to leave your mind until a shrill whistle pulled you back to the present. You turned, eiyes searching the crowd until you found him—towering, broad-shouldered, and unmistakably König. He scanned the platform, his face softening as his gaze settled on you.

A shy smile crept across his face as he made his way toward you, and for a moment, you were transported back to those sunlit days of your youth, when things had felt so much simpler.

It all started with your mothers’ friendship. Best friends since college, they’d practically planned your childhood for you. König was only a year older than you, and from the moment you could walk, you were both destined to be together, in some way.

You remembered the first day you met. He’d clung to his mother’s hand, hiding behind her leg and peeking out at you with wide, wary eyes. You’d been bolder, grabbing his hand with a grin and pulling him along to the sandbox in the backyard. From that day, he was by your side.

As you grew older, the two of you became a package deal. You were there for his scraped knees and awkward stammers, and he was there for your wild ideas and adventurous spirit. Nights were filled with hushed laughter as you lay side by side, pointing out constellations and dreaming of the future. In some ways, you had always been each other’s safe place.

By the time you hit high school, you couldn’t deny the spark that had always lingered between you. Sometimes it was in a gaze held just a second too long, or the comforting warmth of a hug that lasted just a bit longer than it needed to. You’d both dated other people, of course. It was never the right time. When you were single, König wasn’t, and vice versa, and somehow the right moment always seemed just out of reach.

Konig gazed at you from across the room, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief just like when you were kids. But there was something different now - a heat that made your breath catch. You'd been best friends since childhood, always inseparable. Now, after years apart at different colleges, you were finally reunited.

"Remember when we used to play knights and dragons in your backyard?" Konig asked with a grin, moving closer his blue eyes lighting up with a playful glint.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the memory bringing a fond warmth to your heart. "How could I forget? You always insisted on being the dragon."

“Of course,” he said with mock gravity. “Dragons are misunderstood creatures. The knights just don’t see it.”

You rolled your eyes. “You were a little too convincing, König. You made a pretty scary dragon, stomping around and growling. Sometimes I’d forget we were playing, and I’d get so scared.”

König’s grin widened. “Good, that was the plan. Besides, I was only trying to convince you to join me and be a dragon, too.”

A memory surfaced, making you chuckle. “There was that one time I managed to tie you to the tree with my scarf. Mom was horrified when she found you.”

He laughed, the sound filling the room. “I think I still have a scar from that battle,” he joked, rubbing his arm with mock seriousness.

“Serves you right for kidnapping me,” you teased. “You were always taking me to your dragon lair, stacking up pillows and chairs as your ‘fortress.’ I thought I was such a brave knight, charging in to rescue myself from your ‘evil clutches.’”

“Little did you know, I was just waiting for you to join my side,” he murmured, a hint of something deeper in his voice, “dragons always had tricks up their sleeves, and I’ve grown since then.”

“Oh? Have you now? What does that mean Mr. Dragon?” You’d asked him with your voice still holding that teasing tone to it.

"Well, I've learned some new tricks since then," he murmured, his voice low. König’s gaze settled on you, his expression softened by the warmth of the memories but there was something else lingering in those crystal hues —a quiet intensity that made your pulse quicken.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence, “do you ever think about those days?”

“All the time,” you replied honestly, your smile fading into something softer. “It was so simple back then. We just… fit.”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a look on his face you couldn’t quite place—hopeful, maybe even vulnerable. It felt as if there were countless words and emotions swimming just beneath the surface, things neither of you had ever said.

“Remember when you’d chase me down, shouting about ‘brave knights’ and trying to ‘rescue’ me from my ‘evil dragon plans’?” he asked, his grin wide and boyish as he leaned in closer jumping back to the previous memory.

“Oh, I remember,” you replied, meeting his gaze, a laugh slipping from your lips. “You took your dragon role very seriously. I always enjoyed the way we played.”

“You were the only one I ever wanted to play with, The only knight I wanted to take. Maybe I just wanted you for myself,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Suddenly the air between you felt charged. Before you could respond, he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. His gaze held yours, and for a moment, the years and distance melted away. The warmth in his eyes was familiar, but there was a new intensity that sent a flutter through your chest. Your heart raced as years of buried feelings came rushing to the surface.

Your breath hitched at his touch. "Konig," you whispered, unable to look away from his intense gaze.

He leaned in closer, his lips just inches from yours. "I've missed you," he breathed. "More than you know."

Time seemed to stand still as you teetered on the edge of this moment. Part of you wanted to pull away, to preserve the friendship you'd cherished for so long. But a stronger part longed to close the distance between you, to finally act on the attraction that had simmered beneath the surface for years.

Konig's hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you gently towards him. Your eyes fluttered closed as his lips met yours in a soft, tentative kiss. A jolt of electricity shot through you at the contact. The kiss deepened as years of pent-up longing poured out.

You leaned into his touch, your skin tingling where his fingers made contact. when you pulled yourself back from his feverish kiss words slipped past you for a moment before you recalled his previously mention of some ‘new tricks’ You found your voice, though it was barely a whisper. “You mentioned something earlier… about new tricks?”

Konig's eyes darkened as he stepped even closer, the heat from his body enveloping you. "The kind that might make a knight surrender willingly to a dragon," he said, his lips curving into a seductive smile.

Your pulse quickened as memories flooded back - stolen glances, lingering hugs, the ache of wanting more but never daring to cross that line. Now, the years of separation had stripped away your hesitation, leaving only raw desire in its wake.

"I think I'd like to see these new tricks of yours," you said boldly, surprising yourself with your forwardness.

Konig's eyebrows rose, a mixture of surprise and hunger flashing across his face. He slid his hands down to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice husky. "Once we cross this line, there's no going back."

You wound your arms around his neck, reveling in the solid warmth of him. You nodded, your heart pounding. "I'm sure. I've wanted this - wanted you - for so long. I've never been more sure of anything," you breathed.

With a low growl, Konig captured your lips again in a searing kiss. His tongue swept into your mouth as his hands roamed your body, igniting sparks wherever he touched. You threaded your fingers through his hair, reveling in the softness as you pulled him closer.

"I've dreamed of this for so long," Konig murmured against your skin. His hands roamed your body, igniting sparks everywhere they touched. Konig broke the kiss, trailing his lips along your jaw to your ear. "I've dreamed of this," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “Of touching you like this, of finally showing you that dragons… never let go.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine as he nipped gently at your earlobe causing your breath to be caught as König's words sent a shiver down your spine.. You gasped, arching into him as his hands slid under your shirt, tracing patterns on your bare skin. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You tilted your head, giving him better access as your fingers tightened in his hair.

"König," you gasped, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.

He pulled back slightly, his blue eyes dark with desire as they met yours. "Say it again," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Say my name."

"König," you breathed, savoring the way it felt on your tongue after so long you breathed out his name once more, your head spinning with desire. "I want..."

"Tell me," he urged, his voice low and husky. "Tell me what you want."

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, seeing your own longing reflected in his eyes. "I want you," you said firmly. "All of you. No more holding back."

A slow, predatory smile spread across his face and a growl rumbled in his chest as he claimed your lips again, the kiss deep and possessive. His hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him. You could feel the heat of his body through your clothes, igniting a desperate need for more. He separates from you, pulling you into his arms, lifting you with ease over his shoulder and a gentle tap to your ass as he carried you towards the bedroom, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

He laid you gently on the bed, hovering over you with a look of pure adoration. His fingers trailed along your cheek, down your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his eyes roaming your face as if memorizing every detail.

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands. "I can't believe this is really happening," you whispered, a smile tugging at your lips.

König leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, before capturing your lips once more. This kiss was slower, deeper, filled with years of longing and unspoken feelings. His hand slid under your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your stomach before inching higher.

You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping you. König took the opportunity to trail kisses down your neck,

König's lips blazed a trail down your neck, pausing to suck gently at your pulse point.

You gasped, arching into him as pleasure coursed through your body. His hand continued its upward journey under your shirt, fingers skimming the underside of your breast.

"Is this okay?" he murmured against your skin, ever the gentleman even in the throes of passion.

"Yes," you breathed, tugging at the hem of his shirt. "More than okay."

He sat up, quickly pulling his shirt over his head before helping you out of yours. His eyes roamed your newly exposed skin hungrily, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

"Gods, you're beautiful," he said, voice filled with awe.

You reached for him, pulling him back down to you. The feeling of skin on skin was electrifying, and you both gasped at the contact.

This feeling was almost ethereal, just the two of you as König’s hands, rough with years of experience carved into every callus, explored your body. His lips travel down your neck, going further south down your body with his lips leaving marks everywhere on your body it made contact.

His hands traveled further to your pants as his tongue slides out and circles your nipple. Audible pops are heard as he undoes the buttons and he slides them off, his hands resting at the edge of your underwear as he switches now giving your other nipple his attention with your back arched at the feeling. He looks up at you through his lashes before releasing your nipple with an audible pop. He steps back as tiny pants escape from your lips, admiring you and the wet spot in between your legs. König's hands wander down your body, his touch leaving trails of fire in their wake. He pauses at the waistband of your underwear, fingers toying with the elastic.

"May I?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

You nod, breathless with anticipation. Slowly, teasingly, he slides them down your legs, revealing you completely to his hungry gaze.

A breath is sucked in on your part as he just stands and admires you before kneeling in front of you, gently wrapping his hands on your legs before pulling you to him.

"Exquisite," he murmurs, drinking in the sight of you. His hands skim up your thighs, thumbs brushing maddeningly close to where you need him most. A kiss is left on the inside of your legs refusing to give you more.

Relief isn’t immediate, instead he teases you. Kisses are left on your thighs, his nose nudged your bud before ignoring it once more and kissing around your waist. A whine leaves you as your hips thrust upwards towards his face before one of his hands pin your waist against the mattress and he says “I’ve waited for you for so long, I plan to take my time with you meine liebe”

His mouth follows the path of his hands, lips and tongue worshipping your skin. He takes his time, mapping out the curve of your hip, the dip of your waist, the swell of your breasts.

You writhe beneath him, lost in sensation. His hair tickles your skin as he travels lower, teeth grazing your sensitive flesh.

"König, please..." you whimper, hands fisting in the sheets.

"Please what?" he teases, breath ghosting over your core. "Use your words, Liebling."

"Touch me," you beg, hips canting upwards. "Make me yours."

A low growl rumbles in his chest. "As you wish."

His tongue delves between your folds, licking and stroking until you're trembling on the brink of release. Just as you're about to shatter, he pulls back, leaving you desperate and aching.

"Not yet," he commands, voice rough with desire. "I want to be inside you when you come undone."

He positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging your slick folds. You're so wet, so ready for him.

"Look at me," he demands, blue eyes boring into yours. "I want to see every expression as I claim you."

Slowly, inch by tortuous inch, he sinks into your heat. You gasp at the stretch, walls clenching around him. He groans, head falling forward to rest against your neck.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he pants, hips twitching as he tries to maintain control. "So tight, so perfect. Made just for me."

You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him deeper. He responds with a fierce thrust, burying himself to the hilt. You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders.

He sets a relentless pace, each snap of his hips driving you closer to the edge. The bed creaks beneath you, headboard slamming against the wall with the force of his thrusts.

"That's it, take it," he growls, angling his hips to hit that special spot inside you. "Take everything I give you."

Your orgasm builds, coiling tighter with each passing second. König leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You moan into his mouth, tongue tangling with his as your bodies move together.

"Come for me," he commands against your lips. "Let go, Liebling. I've got you."

With a final thrust, he sends you flying over the edge. Your vision whites out, pleasure consuming you as you shatter in his arms. König follows soon after, spilling himself deep inside you with a guttural groan.

For a long moment, you simply cling to each other, chests heaving as you come down from the high. König presses tender kisses to your face, murmuring words of praise and devotion.

"I love you," he whispers, voice rough with emotion. "I love you so much it hurts."

You cup his face, coaxing his mouth to yours for a soft, sweet kiss. "I love you too," you breathe against his lips. "Always have, always will."

“Be my knight?” He asks as he caresses your hair, admiring you.

“Anything for you my dangerous dragon. Just come home to me?” You say as you rest your head on his chest.

He smiles, the expression so full of love and contentment that it makes your heart ache. “I’ll always come home to you, even if it means I have to set a castle on fire” he says and you both laugh before kissing each other once more. This is everything you've ever wanted, everything you've ever needed. Your König, your soulmate, your forever, now he's finally yours.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[httpsdana]

Can I request from the hurt/comfort:

“You don’t have to hide anything from me. I want to know every part of you.”

“You’re not a burden. You’re my world.”

Where reader has trouble showing other people her emotions cause she always thinks she’s bothering people when she talks about them. But lately she has had too much on her plate and one evening she has trouble keeping it together and she just breaks down. Can you write it for oscar piastri?

<3

Safe Haven~Oscar Piastri

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist

・❥・who I write for

7-“You’re not a burden. You’re my world.”

19-“You don’t have to hide anything from me. I want to know every part of you.”

y/n sat curled up on the couch, staring at the TV without actually watching it. Her chest felt heavy, as though someone had wrapped a chain around her ribs and tightened it with each passing minute. It wasn’t a new feeling, but lately, it had been getting worse.

Work, family, friends, expectations—it was all too much. Yet, she kept it all inside. Sje had to. After all, who wanted to deal with someone else’s problems?

Oscar’s voice broke the silence. “Love? You okay?”

She blinked and turned to him, startled. He had just finished dinner and was drying his hands with a towel, his soft gaze fixed on her.

“I’m fine,” she replied quickly, her voice a touch too sharp.

Oscar frowned, but didn’t push. “Alright,” he said softly, setting the towel down. He came over to sit beside her, his knee brushing against hers.

She felt her throat tighten. Why did he have to be so kind? So attentive? It made it harder to keep it together.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the faint hum of the TV and the clock ticking on the wall. Her mind raced, every worry, every insecurity bubbling up to the surface. She wanted to tell him—God, she wanted to tell him. But the words wouldn’t come.

Suddenly, Oscar’s hand slid into hers, his thumb tracing circles on her skin. “I can feel you pulling away,” he murmured. “Talk to me. Please.”

The dam broke.

y/n's face crumpled as tears spilled down her cheeks. She tried to hide it, to turn away, but Oscar was faster. He cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, sobbing. “I’m sorry, I just—I don’t want to bother you. I don’t want to be a burden.”

Oscar’s heart visibly broke at her words. “A burden?” His voice was soft but firm. “You’re not a burden. You’re my world. Don’t ever say that again.”

She shook her head, trying to pull away, but he held her close. “You don’t understand. I—I can’t do this anymore. Everything feels like too much, and I don’t know how to talk about it without feeling like I’m dumping it all on you.”

His thumb wiped away her tears as he pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “You don’t have to hide anything from me,” he whispered against her hair. “I want to know every part of you. The good, the bad, all of it.”

She clung to him, her hands gripping his shirt as the sobs wracked her body. “I’m so tired, Oscar,” she admitted. “I’m trying, but it’s just so hard.”

He kissed the top of her head, then het temple, then her cheek. “You don’t have to do it alone. Let me help you carry it. Please.”

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, his hands soothingly rubbing her back as she cried into his chest. When her sobs subsided, Oscar pulled back just enough to look at her, his brown eyes filled with love and concern.

“You’ve been keeping this in for so long,” he said gently. “No wonder you feel like this.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “But you don’t have to keep it all bottled up. I’m here, okay? Always.”

y/n nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” he said, cupping her face again. “But you’re not alone. And you never have to be scared to talk to me. I’ll never get tired of listening to you.”

She felt a flicker of relief amidst the storm of her emotions. He didn’t just see her; he understood her.

Oscar smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “And for the record, I think you’re amazing. The way you handle so much on your own—it’s incredible. But you don’t have to be so strong all the time.”

y/n let out a shaky laugh. “I don't deserve you”

He grinned. “I think it’s the other way around.”

He kissed her again, this time on her lips, slow and tender. Then he wrapped her in his arms once more, pulling her onto his lap like she was the most precious thing in the world. Because she was.

As the night wore on, the weight on her chest lightened, little by little. She talked, pouring out every worry, every thought she'd kept hidden. And Oscar listened, holding her close, his whispered reassurances and soft kisses reminding her that it was okay to fall apart—because he’d always be there to catch her.