#just reflecting on my old stuff and giggling

[heybaetae]

my gif skills in 2011 when the tumblr gif limit was 500kb:

my gif skills now:

[ari-ana-bel-la]

baby (like 4) loving the wags cause they’re so girly and since landos a single dad she didn’t have that mother figure in her life, so all the wags love taking care of her during the races and events and stuff

Different kind of mother

It was a bright, sunny day at the racetrack. The buzz of excitement was palpable in the paddock as teams prepared for the race weekend. The air was filled with the hum of engines and the chatter of team members and journalists. Amid all this energy, one figure stood out: Lando, carrying his four-year-old daughter, Yn, in his arms.

Yn was a little bundle of energy, her golden locks bouncing as Lando walked. She was dressed in a cute McLaren dress, matching her father's team colors, and her little sneakers kicked the air as she wriggled in her father’s arms. Yn was very much her father’s daughter. With her sparkling eyes and cheeky smile, she was a reflection of Lando's fun-loving spirit.

Lando was a single dad, and he had done an incredible job of juggling both roles: mom and dad. As much as he loved his little girl, he was also realistic. There were things he just couldn’t teach Yn, things a woman might understand better. So, when it came to race weekends, he was thankful for the support of the WAGs, who loved having Yn with them. They were always so gentle and kind with her, teaching her little things about being a girl that Lando couldn’t offer.

Today was one of those weekends, and Lando was grateful for the women who would take Yn under their wing. As they approached the entrance to the paddock, he saw Kika waiting for them, a smile already on her face.

“Hey, Kika,” Lando greeted, grinning as he walked toward her.

Without saying a word, Kika opened her arms to Yn, her expression full of warmth. Lando hesitated for a moment, but then, with a sigh, he carefully handed Yn over to Kika.

“You’re in good hands,” Lando said, his voice full of trust. He watched as Kika effortlessly cradled Yn, who had no hesitation in cuddling up against the woman.

Kika smiled down at Yn, her affection for the little girl obvious. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you something nice,” she cooed, turning to walk toward the VIP area.

Lando stood there for a moment, watching the two of them walk off. The small pang of anxiety in his chest quickly faded. He knew Yn was safe, happy, and in good hands. It wasn’t easy being a single parent, but he had a village of support around him, and the WAGs were a huge part of that.

The VIP area was buzzing with energy. Rebecca, Carmen, and Lily were there, chatting and laughing. When they saw Kika and Yn approach, their faces lit up.

“Yn! My darling!” Rebecca exclaimed, immediately rushing to hug the little girl. Yn giggled as she was enveloped in Rebecca’s warm embrace.

Carmen was next, scooping Yn up in her arms and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “You’re getting more and more beautiful every time I see you,” Carmen said with a smile.

Lily, ever the practical one, quickly moved to prepare a snack for Yn. “What do you want, sweetheart? Apple slices? Or maybe some cheese?” she asked, kneeling down to Yn’s level.

“I want apple slices, please,” Yn said, her voice soft but clear, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Rebecca smiled as she helped Lily with the snack. “You’re spoiling her, Lily,” she teased.

“Anything for her,” Lily replied, her voice warm.

Meanwhile, Kika had Yn settled on her lap, rubbing the back of the little girl’s head as they chatted. The WAGs all gathered around, sharing stories, and it was clear that Yn was thoroughly enjoying herself. The conversation drifted to a lighter topic as Rebecca leaned in, a playful smile on her lips.

“So, Yn,” Rebecca said, her voice full of curiosity. “Tell us, do you have a crush on anyone?”

Yn’s eyes lit up as she leaned in, eager to share. “There’s a cute boy in my kindergarten group. His name is Lukas,” she said, her voice so serious it made everyone chuckle.

“Lukas?” Carmen repeated. “What’s he like?”

“He’s nice,” Yn said, nodding. “He always shares his crayons with me and lets me sit next to him when we play.”

“Aww, how sweet,” Lily cooed, and the other women joined in the adoration.

“Do you think he likes you, Yn?” Kika asked, smiling down at the little girl.

Yn paused, looking thoughtful. “I think so,” she said slowly. “But I don’t know if I like him like that. I just think he’s nice.”

The WAGs laughed, sharing knowing glances. “She’s already got boys in her life,” Rebecca said, mock-shocked.

“Just wait until she’s older,” Carmen teased. “Lando’s going to be in trouble.”

Yn looked up at them with wide eyes. “I won’t tell Daddy. It’s a secret!” she whispered, giggling.

The WAGs all shared a laugh, and Kika leaned down to plant a kiss on Yn’s forehead. “It’s our little secret, okay?” she said, winking.

The day went on like that. The WAGs doted on Yn, laughing with her, feeding her, and playing little games. At one point, Carmen pulled out a pair of playful sunglasses and slipped them onto Yn’s face.

“Oh my goodness, Yn, you look just like your dad with those on!” Rebecca said, gasping.

The others agreed, laughing at the uncanny resemblance. Lando was known for his goofy sunglasses, and it seemed that Yn had inherited that sense of style.

“You’ve got the same mischievous look, too,” Carmen added, and they all laughed again.

The women quickly snapped a picture of Yn in the sunglasses and sent it to Lando, knowing it would make him smile. They all joked about how much the little girl resembled her father, and Yn grinned proudly, completely unaware of how cute and hilarious she was.

Later, after a busy day full of laughter and fun, it was time for the men to come and collect their girlfriends. Lando arrived, looking for Yn, and the moment he stepped into the VIP area, his eyes immediately landed on his little girl, sitting in Kika’s lap.

Yn spotted her dad and immediately stood up, running toward him. “Daddy!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him.

Lando smiled, bending down to scoop her up. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, kissing her cheek. “Did you have fun today?”

Yn looked up at him, her face serious. “I can’t tell you,” she said, shaking her head dramatically. “It’s a girls’ secret.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “A girls’ secret? What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, pretending to pout.

The WAGs burst into laughter. “You’re going to have to wait, Lando,” Rebecca teased, smiling at him. “It’s a secret, after all.”

Lando grinned, but he wasn’t about to let it go. “I see how it is. My own daughter, keeping secrets from me. That’s the thanks I get for letting her spend the day with you all?”

“You know we’re just spoiling her,” Carmen said with a grin. “She’s a little star.”

“More like a mini Lando,” Lily added, shaking her head in amusement.

Kika, who had been cuddling Yn all day, seemed reluctant to let the little girl go. She squeezed her tightly one more time before reluctantly letting her down. “I don’t want to let you go, Yn,” Kika said softly.

“I’ll see you soon, Auntie Kiki,” Yn said, her voice full of sweetness, and Kika smiled, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

“Take care of my girl, Lando,” Kika said as she stood up. “She’s a treasure.”

Lando gave Kika a nod, his gratitude clear. “Thanks again, Kika,” he said, his voice full of appreciation.

As they walked out of the VIP area, Yn chattered excitedly, telling her dad about everything she had done, but Lando wasn’t in any rush. He listened to every word, smiling at his little girl who was growing up so fast. Despite everything, Lando knew one thing for sure: Yn was surrounded by love, and that was all that mattered.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-💙🦋

[dollyswishingwell]

Hi sorry to bother but could you do a version where they have a baby boy and is competing with the lads guys for mcs attention? I think it would be so cute

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Mama’s prince

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff and adorable rivalry. i love that all of us are thinking on the same wavelength! i feel like i found my people ₍₍⚞(˶˃ ��� ˂˶)⚟⁾⁾

> ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ The boys and their mini copies love fighting for mommy’s attention

Masterlist

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The sun pours in through the curved glass walls of your sea-facing villa, casting shimmering reflections across the marble floor. The air smells faintly of ocean breeze, mango, and expensive packaging paper. Again.

You’re standing in the living room in your nightgown, well, trying to, anyway, because in front of you are six white garment bags, four shoe boxes, a stack of velvet boxes, and two clingy boys locked in a silent war of affection.

Rafayel is lounging lazily on the seashell-pink couch, legs crossed, shirt unbuttoned halfway like always. His pink-blue eyes gleam with mischief as he motions to the open boxes.

“All for you,” he says, smug. “Thomas was furious I skipped the shoot, but I think spending the morning buying out Ileana Versé’s new drop was a far better use of my time.”

“You skipped the shoot again?” you ask, peeling back the layers of tissue paper to find a sheer lavender gown embroidered with tiny starfish. “Raffy—”

“You’re missing the point, cutie,” he interrupts, voice sing-songy. “Put that one on. I want to see it. It’ll match the shell earrings from last week.”

Just as you’re about to step behind the screen to try it, a soft little voice pipes up:

“I made sumfing, too!”

You turn.

Your two-year-old son, who looks like a miniature version of Rafayel down to the middle-parted waves and pouty lips, is standing beside the couch with his arms full of paper, ribbon, and crayon-smudged cloth. His cheeks are pink, part shyness, part fury. He marches up to you and thrusts his gift into your hands.

“Dis one’s for you. Not daddy. Only you.”

You crouch down and carefully unfold the chaos bundle. It’s… sort of a dress? A makeshift halter gown cut from gauze, with shell buttons (some glued on sideways), a messy crayon heart scribbled near the neckline, and “MOMEE” written in wobbly baby handwriting.

It’s clearly been stapled together in places. There’s even a belt made of rainbow ribbon.

“I made it by myself,” he adds fiercely. “’Cause I love you more than Daddy.”

Rafayel sits up straighter, a hand over his chest like he’s been personally wounded.

“You traitor,” he gasps dramatically. “I showed you how to mix pearl dust into paint and this is how you thank me?”

“He helped me cut stuff,” the baby mumbles, wobbling over to your side and wrapping his arms around your leg. “But I made it. So Mommy loves me more now.”

You look between them: Rafayel, still shirt half-undone, looking offended but amused, his gaze flicking between you and the toddler with a smug tilt of his head… and your tiny son, clinging to you, glaring daggers at his dad.

You hold up both dresses.

“…Do I try on both?”

“Obviously mine first,” Rafayel says.

“No, mine!” your son shouts, nearly in tears.

You sigh.

Ten minutes later, you emerge from the walk-in closet in your baby’s handmade “dress,” which is already unraveling at the seams. The shell buttons clink together softly as you walk.

“I’m two steps away from being naked” You deadpan.

Rafayel drops his wine glass.

“…Okay, that is criminally cute,” he mutters.

Your son lights up like a sunrise and runs over to spin you around. “You’re my pwincess,” he giggles, arms up for a hug.

You crouch to hold him, and he buries his face in your shoulder like he’s won.

Except—

Rafayel slinks over and kneels beside you both, pressing a kiss to your temple with a whisper:

“My turn next. I’m buying you a crown.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

Your home is quiet, too quiet, considering you live with two Zaynes.

You step into the sunroom, the warmth of the afternoon lighting up the pristine space. The air smells faintly of coffee, books, and lavender floor cleaner, Zayne’s usual routine. On the low table is a teacup waiting for you, your favorite lemon biscuit carefully plated beside it. You already know he placed it there.

But what you weren’t expecting is your baby sitting upright on the sofa, his little legs crossed primly, and a stern expression that mirrors his father’s to perfection.

He holds up a clipboard.

“I’ve reviewed your schedule, Mommy,” he says with an adorable lisp. “You forgot to take your 1:30 rest time. I’m escorting you to the couch.”

“…You’re four.”

“Rules are rules, mommy,” he says gravely.

You chuckle and let him lead you to the couch, where he fussily arranges a pillow behind your back and tucks a blanket over your lap. Then he retrieves a medical toy kit and begins tapping your knee with the fake reflex hammer.

“Vitals: perfect,” he mumbles. “But you should eat more fruit. Daddy says you’re ane-anenic.”

“Anemic, my snowflake”

From behind you, a low voice hums:

“You’ve been reading my reports again.”

Zayne walks in, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled from his shift at the hospital. He sets down his briefcase and pushes his glasses up as he surveys the scene, his son taking your pulse with a toy stethoscope like it’s the most serious operation in the world.

“He’s mimicking you,” you murmur, hiding a laugh behind your hand.

“I noticed,” Zayne replies, sitting beside you. “His penmanship is better than mine.”

Your son scowls slightly and tucks closer to your side, clearly not enjoying the intrusion.

“I was here first, daddy!” he declares.

Zayne raises an eyebrow, gaze flicking to the spot where the boy’s tiny hand is wrapped around yours possessively.

“…Territorial. I wonder where he gets it from.”

“I don’t hog Mommy,” he says, voice clipped and dignified, “I just don’t share.”

Zayne leans in, brushing a kiss to your temple. “I don’t either.”

And just like that, it’s on.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

It starts like any normal afternoon in your oddly serene home, Xavier curled up like a sleepy cat in the middle of the couch, a book half-finished on his chest, the ever-present faint hum of classical music playing from the ceiling speakers. The city below buzzes quietly beneath the glass floor of the sky-high penthouse, but inside, everything feels wrapped in clouds.

You’ve just returned from a quick outing, grocery bags in hand, a breeze in your hair, and not even one foot in the door before a soft thump echoes through the space.

“Mommy!”

The words are as measured as they are high-pitched. Your three-year-old son comes speed-walking out of the hallway, looking exactly like Xavier but smaller, puffier, and with even less regard for normal toddler expressions. Silver hair in a sleepy halo, oversized cream sweater sliding off one shoulder, and those familiar pale blue eyes blinking up at you like you’re the sun.

He clings to your leg with quiet urgency.

“You were gone,” he states simply.

“For twenty minutes, my baby,” you say with a smile, crouching to ruffle his hair.

“That’s eighty-one thousand milliseconds.”

You blink. “…Did your father teach you that?”

“Obviously.”

From the couch, Xavier lifts a hand without looking up.

“She forgot her scarf,” he murmurs, voice low and smooth. “Neck exposure is dangerous this season.”

“Snitch,” you whisper as you walk over and flop onto the cushions.

He smiles, just slightly. “I’m your favorite snitch.”

That’s when it begins.

No sooner have you leaned against Xavier than your son wedges himself between you like a determined little wedge of butter.

“Middle spot’s mine.”

“You were gone,” Xavier mumbles, adjusting his arm around both of you with terrifying efficiency. “Territorial rules apply. I had claim.”

The toddler narrows his eyes. “You’re always asleep. You don’t need Mommy.”

Xavier opens one eye. “Incorrect. Her warmth improves my REM cycle.”

You raise your hands in surrender. “You two do know I’m a person and not a contested heating pad, right?”

“We know,” they say in tandem. They do not let go.

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You’re curled up on the velvet chaise in Sylus’s private study, the one with the glass ceiling and one wall covered entirely in ancient weapon displays. Moonlight filters down through the glass, illuminating your silk robe, your tea, and your current situation: no

Two Syluses.

One full-sized and glowering, sitting in his leather armchair like a brooding god.

And one miniature version, three years old, smug as hell, with messy silver hair and glowing red eyes just like his father’s. He’s standing proudly beside you, showing you a paper dagger he made out of blueprint schematics from one of Sylus’s latest prototype vaults.

“Do you love it, Mommy?” he asks sweetly. “I made it for you.”

Sylus’s smile curls like smoke. “Is that one of the blueprints I left in the sealed briefcase?”

“…Maybe,” the boy replies. “But Mommy’s happiness is a higher priority than Daddy’s boring rules.”

You hold up the paper dagger, and pretend not to notice the bomb diagram drawn on the back in crayon.

“It’s beautiful, sweetheart.”

Sylus leans forward, elbows on his knees, voice dangerously smooth. “Do you know what this little devil did this morning?”

“I told Mommy already,” the boy cuts in innocently, climbing into your lap and curling into your chest. “You were just being dramatic.”

“He replaced the AI in one of my combat drones with a video loop of himself… giggling. For six hours.”

You blink.

“That’s actually kind of impressive.”

“Thank you, Mommy,” the boy says sweetly, nuzzling your cheek.

Sylus’s eye glows red.

They drag you to bed, it’s cuddle time they say.

You’re lying in bed, reading, when Sylus leans down to kiss your forehead and says, voice low, “Sleep, Kitten. I’ll be back after a quick call.”

But the second the door clicks shut… your son pops up from under the bed with a flashlight and an entire arsenal of plush toys dressed like knights.

“Time for the real bedtime story. I rewrote it.”

He lays next to you, pulling the covers over you both like you’re about to storm a castle. The plush knights are aligned at your side.

“Once upon a time there was a beautiful mommy and she was very loved by her tiny general…”

You laugh quietly. “And the dark crow king?”

“Banished to the war room.”

Right on cue, Sylus returns, his brow twitching when he sees the plush knights flanking his side of the bed.

“I was gone for ten minutes.”

“She said I could be king,” the toddler says immediately.

You pause. “…Did I?”

“Probably,” he answers confidently, wrapping his arms around you again.

Sylus glares, but his voice is still amused. “Traitor.”

“Your bloodline is weak, papa.”

“I made you.”

“You made a new enemy.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

The Skyhaven penthouse is a war zone.

Or at least, that’s how it feels when your three-year-old son comes barreling down the hallway in a neon-orange, custom-built hovercraft. His pilot goggles are tilted, his flight jacket is too big, and the expression on his tiny face is pure, righteous determination.

“Passenger Princess Protocol initiated!” he yells, skidding to a dramatic stop in front of you, where you’re seated on the couch.

He slaps the little seat behind his cockpit.

“Mommy. Get in. We’re going to the Moon Garden. I’ll fly slow so your hair doesn’t get messy.”

You smile, already getting up.

“Wow, I get a personal pilot today?”

You don’t even make it a full step before a familiar arm loops around your waist, tugging you gently backwards.

“Negative,” Caleb says smoothly, voice warm and annoyingly smug in your ear. “My passenger princess doesn’t ride second-tier hovercrafts. Sorry, bud.”

Your son’s eyes go wide with outrage.

“I built her that aircraft myself! With wings that flap!”

“My sweet innocent babyboy,” Caleb replies with mock solemnity, leaning down to ruffle his son’s hair, “I built her an orbital glider when we were nine. You’ve got a long way to go, co-pilot.”

Your son stamps his foot. “But I made cupholders! And a snack pod! And—and—seat cushions shaped like hearts!”

You bite back a laugh. Caleb just smirks harder.

“That’s cute,” he says, scooping you up bridal style before you can react. “But I’ve been her official flight partner for twenty years. I’ve got seniority, tenure, and a monopoly on her in-flight kisses.”

“Daddy!” your son wails, little fists clenched. “That’s cheating!”

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” Caleb hums, already strolling down the hallway with you in his arms.

You manage to wiggle free from Caleb’s arms just as your son sniffles behind you, his tiny pilot jacket trembling with the sheer betrayal of it all.

“I just wanted to fly her around the lounge,” he mumbles, wiping his eyes. “She said I was a better pilot last week…”

You kneel and gather him into your arms immediately.

“Baby,” you whisper, “you are. You’re my cushion-certified, snack-approved, heart-seat professional. You’re the coziest flight I’ve ever taken.”

He sniffles harder. “Then why does Daddy always win?”

“Because Daddy cheats,” you say pointedly, loud enough for Caleb to hear.

“Nope, Pipsqueak” Caleb calls lazily from the kitchen, pouring himself coffee. “I just have the deluxe marriage upgrade. Full emotional access. Zero cooldown. Comes with permanent boarding priority.”

“I’ll build Mommy a bigger plane!” your son shouts, eyes blazing with renewed resolve. “With a chocolate fountain and mini pillows and her own nap room!”

Caleb nearly chokes on his coffee.

“She’s not living in your hovercraft, cadet.”

“She might if I add a book room.”

“…Okay, now I’m threatened.”

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Dick Grayson was so abnormal as a child but so normal as an adult which leads me to believe he’s a liar.

Like 8yro dick stared into the abyss (Bruce Wayne’s entire personality as viewed through the windows of one’s eyes to the soul bc he’s a creepy 8 yr old ofc he can tell ur life story from the amount of light reflected in your eyes don’t be dumb) and instead of running away screaming he just nodded like that made complete sense and then went

I need to look like a traffic light to fight crime bc the big guy is into thematics and that all makes perfect sense to me

And Dick as an adults is like

“What are you doing?” *pinches no bridge* “no that’s stupid don’t be stupid”

“No I don’t think dead bodies are a healthy escalation”

“Idk man when I’m sad I call Clancy ya know my therapist I don’t traumatize random strangers?”

Like yeah sure he has anger issues I would also have them if I had his life

And he’s like suffered hallucinations sometimes (after living in Gotham who wouldn’t?)

But he has like friends and hobbies and seems like the type of dude who’d wear flannel and take you to a dog friendly farmers market for organic lavender honey but also the best pulled pork sandwich of your life for a first date.

Like normal guy with quirks

Vs

Might be the anti Christ

So he’s lying

(But it’s also funny to think that Dick accidentally developed himself into being a normal dude and then him and Bruce fought bc Dick no longer matched is insane- I disagree with this bc no they just can’t communicate also nothing in Dicks internal monologue bodes well for his mental health)

Like 1000% lying

Like he still does the creepy giggle to scare criminals when no other hero’s are around

He definitely does like ventriloquy stuff where he’ll make people think there are children’s ghosts trapped inside cargo

Like he absolutely has made the riddler cry out of sheer wtf

[mrs-delaney]

1st Year Down

🏈 Joe Burrow x Reader | 3.3k-ish words

Request: hi my love!! hope you are doing well. i was hoping to get a joe burrow imagine where his wife and him celebrate their sons first birthday with the whole team, but joe is reminiscing on the past one year of his sons life from newborn stage till his 1st bday.

✨ my masterlist ✨

💌 want to be tagged in future fics? join my taglist here 💫

🌙 ask box is open — come keep me company, i’m around tonight 💌

Author’s Note:

This was a sweet request for a Joe imagine where he celebrates his son’s first birthday with the team, while reflecting on the first year of fatherhood. I loved the idea of framing it around a backyard party, with all those little milestone memories woven in.

Big thanks to my new beta reader @crazytheoriststrawberry for the thoughtful feedback and fresh eyes, this one’s better because of you.

Also, Hide is coming (I promise). There are a few time jumps in the next chapter, so I’m just making sure everything lines up before I post. 🧡 

The matcha bar was her idea, of course. 

Joe stood near the setup, multiple milk options, little jars of honey, lavender, strawberry, and vanilla, watching his wife explain brewing techniques to Sam Hubbard. Orange and black balloons bobbed in the afternoon breeze, and a custom “1st Year Down” banner stretched between two oak trees, tiger stripes woven through everything.

His attention kept drifting to the tiny figure in the custom Bengals jersey crawling across the grass.

His son wore a miniature version of Joe's jersey, the number 9 stretched across his back. Orange and black striped socks completed the look, though one had already started sliding down his chubby leg as he made his determined journey toward where Ja'Marr and Tee squatted on the grass.

"Look at him go," Ja'Marr called out, grinning as the baby bypassed every carefully arranged toy to head straight for him.

Tee was already reaching into his pocket. "I got goldfish if he wants some—"

"He can't have those yet," Joe's wife called from the matcha station, not even looking up from the elaborate setup she'd created. "He's still working on puffs."

The baby reached Ja'Marr and immediately grabbed for the chain around his neck, tiny fingers surprisingly strong. His giggle—high and bright—cut through the party chatter.

"Bro, your kid's got good taste," Ja'Marr said, gently redirecting little hands toward a soft football. "Goes right for the good stuff."

It was surreal, watching his teammates—these massive, intimidating athletes—melt around a one-year-old. Sam was still asking detailed questions about matcha preparation. Tee had grabbed a handful of baby-safe snacks from the snack station and was carefully offering them one by one. His son was completely in his element, like he'd been charming football players his whole life.

Which, Joe supposed, he had been.

His wife caught his eye from across the yard, that smile spreading across her face—the one that still got to him after all this time. The one that said can you believe this is our life?

A year ago, Joe never could have imagined this scene. The house, the matcha bar, his teammates arguing over who got to hold the baby next.

A year ago, he'd been standing in a hospital room at 3:47 AM, holding seven pounds and two ounces of pure terror and beauty.

* * *

Twelve months ago...

Joe had been staring at his son for the better part of an hour. Ten fingers, each one barely the width of a pencil eraser. Perfect fingernails that looked like they'd been painted on.

The baby was finally sleeping. The crying had stopped around 3:30, and Joe hadn't moved since, afraid to disturb whatever peace they'd found. His wife was dozing too, the epidural still working its way out of her system.

He counted things. The baby's breaths—steady at about forty per minute, which the nurse said was normal for sleeping. How many times his tiny chest rose and fell. The way his lips moved slightly in his sleep.

The curve of his son's ear, folded perfectly against his head. The dark hair sticking up despite the nurse's attempts to smooth it down. The birthmark on his left shoulder that looked like a small comma.

Details he knew he'd never forget.

His phone buzzed intermittently—texts he hadn't read, calls he hadn't answered. Everything could wait.

The baby's eyes opened briefly, unfocused but alert, scanning before settling somewhere near Joe's face. Not really seeing him yet, but aware.

"Yeah," Joe said quietly. "I'm here. I love you."

All he could manage. All that needed to be said.

* * *

"Joe! You good, man?"

Ja'Marr's voice pulled him back to the backyard, to orange and black balloons and teammates' laughter. His son had made it across the yard and was now gripping Joe's jeans, pulling himself up with the concentration of someone attempting their first field goal.

"Yeah," Joe said, reaching down to steady his son's wobbly stance. "Just... thinking."

"About what?" Ja'Marr asked, though his attention was already shifting back to Tee explaining peek-a-boo to Sam Hubbard.

The same dark hair, still sticking up in impossible directions. The same eyes, though they were focused now, alert, tracking everything around him.

Twelve months. Seven pounds, two ounces to whatever he weighed now. Joe realized he didn't actually know his son's current weight, which felt like something he should know.

"Dada," his son said, clear as anything, looking up with a grin that showed off his four teeth.

* * *

1st Night Home

Three days since he'd been born. Their first night home. Joe had changed four diapers in the past three hours. He'd counted.

The baby was crying again—had been crying for twenty minutes—and Joe was running out of options. He'd tried feeding. Changing. Burping. Walking around the living room while making what he hoped were soothing sounds.

Nothing worked.

His wife was finally sleeping after three days of barely closing her eyes. Joe had insisted on taking the night shift, confident he could handle whatever came up. He was good under pressure. He could read defenses, make split-second decisions.

But his son wasn't responding to any strategy.

The red-faced, furious bundle in his arms was getting louder, more insistent, and Joe felt useless. He'd googled "why won't my baby stop crying" twice already.

"What do you need?" he asked quietly, knowing he wouldn't get an answer. "I'm trying everything here."

The crying continued.

Joe sat carefully on the couch edge, adjusting his hold. Maybe the baby could sense his nervousness. Maybe he was doing something wrong. Maybe he wasn't cut out for the figuring-it-out part that seemed to come naturally to his wife.

He'd watched her earlier, the way she seemed to know what their son needed before he even started fussing. Joe felt like he was guessing at everything.

The baby's cries softened slightly, more whimper than wail. Joe stayed perfectly still, afraid to move and set off another round of screaming.

"Okay," he said under his breath. "We're figuring it out."

He wasn't sure if he was talking to his son or himself.

* * *

First Smile

Six weeks. Joe had only been gone for two days, his first road trip since the baby was born, but it felt longer. He’d spent most of it checking his phone between meetings and practices, scrolling through photos his wife sent. Sleeping, eating, more sleeping.  He’d gotten home after midnight, letting himself in quietly, dropping his bag without a sound. The house was dark and peaceful. His wife was asleep, and the baby was in his bassinet, one tiny fist curled near his face.  Joe stood there for a while, just watching. Wondering if two days were long enough for a six-week-old to forget someone. Wondering if he’d have to start over.

He'd finally fallen asleep around 2 AM, but when the baby woke at 5:30, Joe got up. Let his wife sleep. She'd been handling everything alone for two days.

"Hey," he said quietly, lifting his son from the bassinet. "It's me. I'm back."

The baby blinked up at him, unfocused eyes trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Joe held his breath, waiting for crying to start, for the stranger-danger reaction he'd worried about during the entire flight home.

Instead, his son's face changed. Not the grimace Joe had mistaken for smiles before. Something different. Intentional.

A real smile. Slow and deliberate, like recognition dawning.

"You remember me," Joe said, his voice rougher than expected.

The smile got bigger.

Joe looked toward the bedroom, wanting to wake his wife, wanting her to see this. But it felt private somehow. Just between them. His son's first real smile, and it was for him. After two days away, after all those middle-of-the-night doubts about whether he was doing any of this right.

His son knew him. Had missed him, maybe.

"Yeah, buddy," Joe whispered. "I missed you too."

* * *

1st Laugh

Bath time had become Joe's thing without him planning it. His wife had handed him the baby one evening after a long day and said, "Your turn," and somehow it stuck. He'd gotten good at it—right water temperature, supporting the baby's head with one hand while washing with the other, ignoring the inevitable splashing that soaked his shirt.

Tonight was no different. His son sat in the little bath seat, slapping at the water with both hands, sending droplets across the bathroom tiles. Joe worked quickly—shampoo, rinse, soap, rinse again—while keeping up a steady stream of commentary.

"Alright, buddy, we're almost done," Joe said, reaching for the hooded towel. "Let's get you dried off."

He lifted his son from the bath, wrapped him in the soft towel, and set him down on the changing pad. The baby looked up at him, water still clinging to his dark eyelashes, serious eyes tracking Joe's every movement.

Joe draped the towel over his son's body, covering him completely.

"Where's the baby?" Joe asked, his voice exaggerated. "Where did he go?"

He pulled the towel away with a flourish.

"Peek-a-boo!"

His son's face lit up—eyes wide, mouth dropping open in surprise. Then it happened.

The laugh.

Not a giggle or gurgle, but a full, belly-deep laugh that seemed to come from somewhere much bigger than his tiny body. Loud and pure.

Joe froze, towel still in his hands.

"Did you—" He draped the towel back over his son. "Where's the baby?"

Another pause, then the towel away again.

"Peek-a-boo!"

The laugh came again, even louder. His son's whole body shook with it, arms flailing, legs kicking.

"Babe!" Joe called toward the bedroom. "Come here, you gotta see this!"

Footsteps, then his wife appeared in the doorway, hair in a messy bun, looking curious.

"What's going—"

Joe draped the towel over his son again. "Where's the baby?" He whipped it away. "Peek-a-boo!"

The laugh erupted again, and his wife's face broke into the same ridiculous grin Joe was wearing.

"Oh my god," she said, moving closer. "How long has he been doing that?"

"Just started," Joe said, already covering his son with the towel again. "Watch this."

Another pause, another reveal, another burst of pure joy that filled the bathroom and made both parents laugh just as hard.

* * *

Learning to Sit Up

The practice sessions started by accident. Joe had been trying to get his son to sit up during play time, and it became their routine. Every day after work, they'd spread the soft play mat on the living room floor. Joe would position his son carefully—back straight, legs out front, hands planted for balance—then slowly reduce his support. Hand on the back, then just fingertips, then hovering close but not touching.

The baby would wobble, overcorrect, and topple backward into Joe's waiting hands. Every time.

"Almost," Joe would say, setting him upright again. "You're getting it."

His wife would watch from the couch, sometimes offering encouragement, sometimes just smiling at Joe's patient persistence. Neither was in a rush, but Joe found himself looking forward to these sessions. The way his son's face scrunched in concentration, totally focused on not falling over.

Today felt different. The baby seemed more stable, more confident. Joe went through the usual routine—hands on his sides, then just fingertips, then...

Nothing.

His son sat there, perfectly balanced, for five full seconds. Then ten. Chubby hands resting on his thighs, back straight, looking around the room like he'd been sitting up his whole life.

"Look at that," Joe said quietly, not wanting to break the spell.

His wife's head snapped up from her book. "Is he—"

"Don't move," Joe said, still crouched behind their son, hands ready to catch him. But he didn't fall. He just sat there, proud and steady, reaching for a toy just within his grasp.

When he finally did topple over—gently, sideways into the cushions Joe had arranged—he was grinning. Like he knew exactly what he'd accomplished.

"Did you see that?" Joe asked, though he knew she had. "He just... sat there."

"All by himself," his wife said, and there was something in her voice Joe recognized. Pride, yes. But also the faintest hint of bittersweetness.

Their baby was learning he didn't need them to hold him up anymore.

* * *

"Hey baby, you having fun over here?"

His wife's voice, amused. Joe blinked, realizing he'd been staring at his son for who knows how long. The baby had made it back to the center of action, sitting confidently in the grass while Tee attempted to interest him in a football nearly as big as he was.

She slid up beside him with a matcha latte. "What's going on in your head?"

Joe glanced around the backyard. Sam was deep in conversation with one of the other wives about proper matcha whisking technique. Ja'Marr was filming their son's attempts to gnaw on the football. The "1st Year Down" banner fluttered in the afternoon breeze.

"Just thinking about the year," Joe said. "How much he's changed."

His wife followed his gaze to their son, who had abandoned the football in favor of trying to eat grass. "He really has, hasn't he?"

"Remember when we were scared to leave him alone for five minutes to shower?"

She laughed. "Now look at him."

Their son looked up at the sound of her voice and grinned, one hand still full of grass, before turning back to Tee, who was now lying flat on his back making exaggerated groaning sounds that the baby found hilarious.

"Should we do the cake soon?" his wife asked. "Before he gets too tired and cranky?"

Joe nodded, though part of him wanted to stretch this moment out longer. His teammates scattered across their backyard, his son in the middle of it all, his wife beside him watching it unfold.

"Yeah," he said. "Let's do the cake."

* * *

Six months.

Sweet potato puree on a tiny spoon.

Joe had been optimistic. How hard could it be to get a baby to eat? He'd watched videos, read articles, had the bib ready and camera rolling.

The first spoonful landed on his son's chin. The second on his forehead. The third got batted away by a flailing hand, sending orange puree across the kitchen counter.

"Come on, buddy," Joe coaxed, wiping his son's face for the fourth time. "It's good. Look." He tasted the puree himself, immediately regretting it.

Twenty minutes later, there was sweet potato on the high chair, the floor, Joe's shirt, and somehow on the ceiling. His son had managed to consume maybe two actual bites.

But those two bites—the way his face scrunched up in surprise, then curiosity, then something that might have been approval—made all the mess worth it.

* * *

Eight Months

The living room floor.

Joe had left his son on the play mat, surrounded by toys, perfectly content. He'd gone to the kitchen to refill his coffee. Two minutes, max.

When he came back, the play mat was empty.

"Buddy?" Joe called, scanning the room. A soft thud from behind the couch answered him.

He found his son there, army-crawling with determined precision toward the electrical outlet Joe had forgotten to cover. His technique was terrible—more wiggling than crawling—but he was moving with purpose.

"Oh no," Joe said, scooping him up. "We gotta baby-proof everything."

* * *

Nine months.

Crawling

It happened overnight. One day his son was doing the army crawl, the next he was up on hands and knees, moving across the room like he'd been doing it his whole life.

Joe came home from practice to find his wife in the bathroom doorway, looking slightly frazzled, their son sitting on the floor beside her.

"I found him in here," she said. "I put him down in the living room, went to fold laundry for five minutes, and he was just... gone."

The baby was sitting contentedly next to the bathtub, trying to pull himself up on the edge.

"How did you get in here?" Joe asked, though his son just grinned up at him like he'd accomplished something impressive.

Everything changed after that. Gates went up. Cabinets got locks. Joe learned to scan every room like a defensive coordinator, looking for potential hazards his son might find and destroy.

But watching him move—confident, curious, unstoppable—Joe couldn't help but be proud of the little person his son was becoming.

* * *

"Alright everyone, cake time!" his wife called, emerging from the kitchen with a small round cake covered in orange and black frosting. A single candle shaped like the number one sat in the center, unlit for now.

Joe watched as his teammates gathered around, phones already out, everyone positioning themselves for the inevitable photo op. His son was back in his arms now, having been retrieved from his latest adventure attempting to eat decorative rocks from the garden bed.

"You ready for this, buddy?" Joe asked quietly, settling into one of the chairs they'd arranged in a circle. His son looked up at him, then at the cake his wife was setting on the small table, eyes wide with curiosity.

Ja'Marr was crouched with his phone already recording, grinning in anticipation.

His wife lit the candle, then stepped back. "Okay, everyone sing."

The singing was loud and enthusiastic, if not exactly melodic. Joe found himself grinning as his son looked around at all the faces, clearly overwhelmed but not upset by the attention.

When they got to "Happy birthday, little man," his son clapped his hands together, which sent up a cheer from the entire group.

"Make a wish!" someone called out, though obviously his son had no idea what that meant.

Joe leaned forward, his son on his lap. "Help me blow it out?" he whispered, then blew gently on the candle. The flame flickered and went out, and everyone erupted in cheers.

His wife cut a small piece of cake and placed it on the plastic plate in front of his son. For a moment, he just stared at it, then tentatively poked it with one finger. The frosting stuck to his fingertip, and he brought it to his mouth.

His face lit up.

What followed was less "eating cake" and more "cake destruction." His son grabbed handfuls of the soft vanilla cake, squishing it between his fingers, smearing orange frosting across his cheeks, getting it in his hair. Some of it actually made it into his mouth, but most of it ended up on his custom Bengals jersey, the table, and somehow on Joe's jeans.

"Look at him go," Tee said, taking pictures of the mess.

Joe didn't try to stop it. His son was laughing, completely delighted with the mess he was making, and everyone else was cracking up watching him. Even when a particularly enthusiastic handful of cake went flying and landed on Ja'Marr's pristine white sneakers, he just shook his head and kept filming.

"This is exactly what I expected," his wife said, but she was laughing too, already reaching for the wet wipes.

Joe looked down at his son—cake-covered, orange frosting in his eyebrows, grinning like he'd just discovered the best thing in the world. Not the overwhelming terror of those early days, not the careful protectiveness of learning to be a dad. Just... happiness. Simple, uncomplicated happiness.

This was his life now. Cake-covered mess and teammates in his backyard and his son destroying his birthday cake with pure joy.

Joe looked over at his wife, who was attempting to clean frosting out of their son's hair with a wet wipe.

"So," he said quietly, so only she could hear. "You wanna do this again?"

She paused, looked at their cake-covered son, then at the chaos of their backyard party, then back at Joe.

"Ask me after we get through the terrible twos," she said, but she was smiling.

It was perfect.

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Red Mercedes

George Russell x fem!reader

Summary: Perfect married life sometimes hides the rotten truth of lies.

Warnings: cheating, slight manipulation, George getting what’s his at all cost, curse words and smut implication

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: After a frustrating week of not having any good ideas, I had a dream, so I finally had something to pour my heart into. It was so intense that it didn't let me eat my lunch, how fast my fingers drummed at the keyboard and my thoughts flew out of my brain. Enjoy it! :) wanted to include my favorite pregnancy trope, but i decided to not go that way this time

———

“Dad, I’m trying to tell you that mum is acting weird.” Your twelve year old son was travelling with George to Cayman Island for this event he was invited to, to speak about his ongoing career path as a leading F1 champion. 

George glanced at him, his hands gripping the steering wheel, regally upset about the fact that even your son noticed that something isn't right with your marriage.

“Mum is just tired. That’s all.” he tried to brush it off, but he knew. 

“You know, dad, I’m not stupid. I saw her with some man a week ago, sitting at the restaurant when we were out on a bike with boys. She was smiling at him like… Well, not like she’s smiling at you.” his son continued to ponder with his thoughts, pouring his mind out, making George feel uneasy. Pulling over at the hotel they were supposed to stay at, engine off, he turned his body to face his son.

“Buddy, I know that you love your mom, hell, who could not love her.. But she’s- it’s just a phase. I’m gonna figure it out, and you have nothing to worry about.” he tried to reassure him with his soft smile, his eyes betraying him, reflecting the weight of the growing lies.

———

“I see that you’re here with your son, he grew so much throughout the years, aren’t you afraid that he’s gonna be after you soon, you know, with racing and stuff?” 

George chuckled, moving his gaze at his giggling son in the first row, his sweaty palm wrapped around the microphone. “Well, there is the possibility, but his hobbies are different. He’s much more of a cyclist, so I think that Tadej Pogacar should be scared of having another rival.” 

“Oh, that’s great! Guess the Russell’s family is spreading through the field of sports. It’s a shame that your wife isn’t here with us, we had planned to have a family photo shoot for you, also spending some time on the yacht with the staff here.” 

George was professional at keeping his composure, so he just chuckled again, looking at the crowd of people in the small room.

“We can do that anyway, we don’t need my wife for that. She’s busy with some of her other projects, so…” 

Everybody seemed to be happy about it, not noticing the slight frown on George’s face and his son’s.

You were staying at home in Monaco, texting with your lover. Your naive brain was living in an illusion that nobody knows, you sneaking around with someone else, secret meetings at the old restaurant on the other side of the town, your red luxurious Mercedes parked in front of it very often. You were really dumb in some aspects and being so careless about getting after your own desires, you hurt your family in the process.

All those years of your marriage you heard it around you all the time, how George is a gentleman, kind guy, loving and caring husband and father, how every other woman would die for having him just for at least five minutes. But nobody saw that toll that had an impact on you, your life when you fell pregnant unexpectedly, and how George married you just because of it. Feeding you with all those empty promises, but leaving you alone through all that maternity shit because he was at the peak of his career while you were breastfeeding his restless son at night.

Yeah, there were times you were genuinely happy as a family, somewhere between the three to ten years of your son, George was more present, you accompanied him at races from time to time, depending on how his and your parents were willing to look after your kid. 

But the last two years felt like a nightmare, because George won another two championships after five years of no luck, his fans being literally everywhere, even breaking into your home. You spent a lot of time on the go, changing your location and you grew tired of this. Intimity between you and George was long gone, and you yearned for something he couldn’t give you, the tension, secrecy and passion. Even if it meant to destroy everything you have.

———

Darkness overtook the docks in Monaco, rain washing away the summer heat wave. George stood at the huge ass window of your penthouse, sipping on his whiskey, even though he did not favour the liquid that much, he got used to it from time to time. Your son was away for the holiday cycling camp, and with summer break in F1, it left him home alone with the lingering scent of your expensive perfume you saved for your not so secret lover. His mind wandered over divorce, but he was too prideful to let it happen. He didn’t care about your needs, shameful desires, he wanted to keep his family together. Even if it meant to ruin your sweet secret life. And he knew his plan was working the minute you stepped into your home through the threshold, sobbing quietly, with your dress soaked through, droplets of water dripping down your hair. His lips curling into smirk, he took the last sip of his drink, leaving the glass on the coffee table in the living room, walking slowly to the hallway.

You kicked off your heels, running your hands through your wet hair, wiping off your tears along the way, your mascara staining your cheeks. Feeling how your dress is sticking to your body, you let out a frustrated sigh with a whine, finally noticing George standing in the doorway, his arms folded over his chest wearing an unreadable expression.

“What’s the matter baby?” his tone was laced with smugness, he couldn’t hold it back anymore, seeing the mess you were.

“Nothing.” you muttered, trying to walk around him to get to the bathroom, but he was after you.

“You’re clearly distressed. Tell me what happened. You were supposed to have a night out with girls, if I remember correctly?” yeah, he was playing dumb.

“I was. But my car left me in the parking lot, because the smoke started to go out of the engine and I needed to call the towing service and-” you stopped in your rant abruptly as you got to the part you wanted to erase from your memory and you didn’t want to talk about it with George.

“And? Tell me darling.” his tone was firm, demanding, he caged your body against the counter in the bathroom.

You looked up to see his face, locking your gaze with his, reading his mind. He knew. And yet he was still there.

“He left me.” with your head slumped down you whispered feeling deeply ashamed. 

George smiled victoriously as the memory from earlier this week flashed through his mind, him paying that pathetic lover of yours loads of money to leave you, to ruin you, to destroy you.

“Oh baby.” he cooed sweetly, cupping that mascara stained cheeks of yours, listening to your sobs. And that was the last straw and you broke down in tears, all of the suppressed emotions flowing out as you wrapped your arms around him tightly, remorse and guilt building in your heart. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” you whispered into his chest, your tears staining his shirt. 

“Shhh… I’m right here baby. It’s okay.” his fingers brushed through your hair affectionately, making you relax.

“You should be disgusted with me…” 

“Believe me, I was at first. But from your point of view I somehow understood it.” 

“How… How long have you known?”

“Since the first time you giggled at your phone.”

“I thought that I’m good at hiding it.” 

“Oh, you were so naive that I won’t notice. You weren’t even creative at hiding your car properly. That exclusive red shade of it doesn't go unnoticed. Even our son saw you many times.” 

You shuddered when you felt his lips ghosting against your temple. The mention of your son stabbed you through your heart. 

“George, I-” 

“Shhh, darling. Your stupid boyfriend ditched you, so let your husband, the man who truly knows how to devour you, take care of you.” George whispered with a soft hum, his lips pressed under your ear.

The way he talked made you feel ashamed. But it ignited something within you, the lust and desire for him. And it made you curse internally at how dumb you were for the past years.

“I’m gonna make sure you remember who you belong to.” 

After the night to remember when George really took you like a slut you were, listening to your whines and moans, making you tell him how that lover made you feel, what he did to you, he made sure that you won’t escape his embrace again. Watching you sleep beside him, your body covered in love bruises and marks he hasn’t seen on you for months, he brushed the strand of your hair from your face, smiling proudly at how easy you were. All those years he thought you’re this soft and reserved girl who likes vanilla in bed, only to find out that you loved to be cock drunk all the time, overstimulated to the madness to keep your mind from wandering outside of the wedlock. 

“You were so wrong to think that I’d let you go, my beautiful wife…” and his whisper lingered through your sleeping brain like a lullaby.

-

Please don't use my writings without a permission. Pictures found on Pinterest.

Tags: @chilling-seavey

[littlelovelunette]

I love your writing so muchhh🩷🩷

Can you write some holiday stuff like they went to go celebrate Christmas with vanders family and then after they go home fuck possibly, but like make it messy and nasty

It's The Holidays

Contains smut, fingering, squirting

Everyone's sane and alive AU!

Someone complained I didn't mention ages here, so let me just state the obvious— this is smut so Vi and Reader are obviously 18 or above.

Thank you, Anon, and nice req, I gotchu

Snowflakes drifted lazily through the crisp Zaun air as you and Vi walked hand in hand down the bustling street, the glow of lanterns reflecting off the wet cobblestone.

Vi’s breath puffed in front of her, cheeks tinged pink from the cold, but her fingers squeezed yours, a silent promise of warmth.

"Vander's got the whole place decked out," Vi said with a smirk. "Bet you anything Mylo rigged up something stupid again."

When you reached The Last Drop, the scent of spiced cider and roasted meat spilled out into the street, a stark contrast to the chill outside.

The tavern was unrecognizable—garlands of evergreen and twinkling lights stretch across the rafters, mismatched ornaments dangled from hooks, and a battered old wreath hung proudly on the door.

Inside, Vander stood behind the bar, arms crossed, watching as Claggor struggled to lift a massive pot of stew onto the counter.

Powder darted between them, a bundle of homemade paper snowflakes in her arms, giggling as she flung them into the air.

"Hi!" Powder exclaimed, barreling toward the two of you, her arms wrapping around your waist in a tight hug. "You're finally here! I saved you guys a seat next to me!"

Vi ruffled Powder’s hair before grinning up at Vander. “So, what’s the damage?”

Vander chuckled, shaking his head. "Let’s just say Mylo tried to string lights up outside, and now half of ‘em don’t work."

"I told you it would work!" Mylo yelled from across the room, waving a half-eaten roll in his hand. "Claggor just dropped the damn power source!"

You and Vi exchanged a look before bursting into laughter, the warmth of the tavern settling in your chest.

The night unfolded in a blur of joy. Powder dragged you to the small corner where a tiny, uneven Christmas tree stood proudly, decorated with makeshift ornaments—glass bottle shards wrapped in ribbon, gears polished to a shine, and Vi’s contribution: a crooked metal star she welded herself.

Vander made his rounds, ensuring everyone's plate was full, his hearty laugh filling the air as he shared stories from past holidays.

Dinner was loud and chaotic, a mix of clattering plates, teasing jabs, and warmth that makes the world outside seem like a distant memory.

Vi kept stealing bites from your plate, smirking whenever you swatted at her hand, and Mylo nearly choked on his drink when Powder launched a spoonful of mashed potatoes at him.

As the night winds down, you found yourself curled up on the worn couch near the fire, Vi tucked against your side.

Powder dozed off, her head resting on your shoulder, while Claggor and Mylo argued over who had to clean up.

Vander watched over them all, a mug of cider in hand, his expression soft with something like pride.

Vi leaned in, her lips brushing your ear. "Told you it’d be fun."

You smiled, lacing your fingers through hers. "Yeah… best Christmas ever."

And as the fire crackled, casting warm flickering light across the room, you knew there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

"Wanna take this to my room?" Vi wiggled her eyebrows and you couldn't help laughing.

"Sure." You wrapped your arms around her neck, as she picked you up. Vi walked through the narrow corridors and reached her room. You opened the door for her as she carried you inside bridal style.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you." Vi put you down on the bed after locking the door and hovered over your figure.

"Just fuck me, yeah?" You smiled a little, reaching up and pressing a kiss against Vi's temple.

Vi's ears turned red slightly but she composed herself and gently tugged your panties down, pushing the skirt of your dress up.

"Ready?"

"Mhm." You hummed out.

Vi's fingers rubbed over your pussy lips and slowly dips inside to tease your slit making a small throaty moan break out of your mouth.

"Shhh," Vi's other hand clasps down on your mouth, "Powder's room is close by mine, don't moan too loud or she'll hear it."

You flushed a little, getting wetter at the thought of getting caught. You nodded either ways and moaned against Vi's hand.

Vi's fingers slowly delved inside your slit rubbing against your inner walls and scissoring through the tightness. "Is this your first time?"

"Mhm." You hummed behind her hand making her laugh softly.

"Im your first?"

You nodded again making Vi blush a little redder and continued gently pulling her finger back and inside.

You mumbled her name through her hand making her remove it. "Yeah?"

"Fuck me roughly. Please, take my virginity, be harsh with me."

"Oh, my love." Vi pressed a kiss on your forehead. "Are you sure?"

"Mhm..."

Vi got up, shifting to take all your clothes off and taking hers off too. You smiled at her naked frame and spread your legs.

Vi leaned down and shoved her fingers back in your pussy, putting one of your legs over her shoulder. You gasped and used one hand to muffle your moans. Her fingers were so fast and so hard making your hips buck up for more.

Vi bit down on your neck, leaving hickeys all over your skin for everyone to see. You knew you'd need makeup to cover it.

Your hands encircled around Vi's form as you desperately hung onto her. Her fingers thrusted in and out of you at an incredibly high pace.

Your juices were spilling all around Vi's fingers and sheets, the room was filled with the squelching sounds issuing from your cunt.

"V-Vi, I feel weird." You whispered in her ear, Vi smirked a little, adding a third finger making your toes curl as you squirted around her digits.

"Oh, baby, you squirt?" Vi smirked making you blush.

"It's never happened before." You whined softly.

Vi just smiled down at you before engulfing your lips in a soft kiss, tongue slipping past your lips.

Now, you were sure— this was the best Christmas ever.

[unluckilyimnot]

Hii love your writing sm! Can you write how would rin,sae,karasu and otoya react if them and the reader went on a date/stroll around the park and a lady who is selling roses approaches them and asks them if they woud buy one for the reader??

roses – rin, sae, karasu

m.list | rules

Note: hiii thank you for your request ! Here it is hihi for the fun fact, it happened to me once on a date with a guy (he didn’t say yes btw, it was like our second date something like that) sorry I couldn't think of eita's reaction ;-;

Rin Itoshi

Rin blushed a little and if he could, he would’ve turned his face away for you not to see this. You patted his arm sweetly before locking your arm with his. You were sure that his nervous self would panics at this situation.

“Sorry ma’am, that’s maybe too soon for that –” but Rin cut you off.

“Here.” He handed cash to the lady and she let you choose one of them with a smile.

You let go off his arm while looking a little. Your eyes met with hers and she flashes you a big smile. “You find a good one here.” she said with a wink.

You could feel your cheeks heat up as well and wave her goodbye with your fresh flower in hand. It smells so good, you were kinda sure it was from her garden.

Looking up to Rin, you pushed it under his nose ass well. “It really smells good.”

Sniffing a little, Rin only nods, still not looking at you. You almost started to feel bad.

“Thank you.” you whispered, laying your head on his arm. It wasn’t early in the relationship in fact, you just knew Rin was uncomfortable with this type of things. You never expected him to say yes. That for sure made your heart flutter.

She was totally right, you had to keep him.

Sae Itoshi

As soon as the lady came closer, Sae turned her off with a strict gaze. He’s not into this kind of stuff anyway, and it’s not a flower that can reflect how much he loves you. It fades away at some point, and he wishes to offer you the best things in life, not something that dies anyway.

He was about to go on with his day and forget about it already when the lady spoke to you.

“If he doesn’t even consider it, maybe you should find someone better.”

“Maybe you’re right.” you added, giggling with her to tease him a little.

You forget for a little how Sae takes things seriously. If you think that you have to reconsider his love over a flower, he’ll make sure to prove you wrong. Mostly her, in fact.

Turning around on his heels, he looked dead in her eyes and said, without even thinking twice this time, “I’ll take them all.”

You gasped before laughing out loud this time, tears already showing in your eyes. You grabbed his arm, shaking your head.

“Come on Sae, I’m kidding it’s fine !”

“No. I take it.”

That’s how you end up with around fifty roses and you were already thinking about where to pt them around your place .

Tabito Karasu

The second Tabito saw the old lady, it clicked in his head. He just had to find something to keep you occupied for a few minutes. 

Bringing back the fact that you were hungry a while ago, he let you wait in the line for soame waffle and ice cream, faking that he had to call someone back quickly before he could come back. You didn’t ask anything about it, it happens quite often with his job. You understand that. 

Little did you know, he rushed to the old lady the second your eyes fell on your phone. She wasn’t expecting him, he could tell when he heard her gasp.

“Sorry I surprised you, but he would really like one for my s/o without them knowing,” he explained, eyes wide open enough to make her giggle. She nodded of course, handing him two flowers.

“The second is a gift, they’re very lucky to have you, young man.” Her tender smile, showing him how age marked her yet never touched her kindness, made him soft as he thanked her with a warm smile as well. He’ll make sure to let you know. 

You covered your mouth in shock when he tapped your shoulder before handing you the two roses. You didn’t expect him to find her himself for you.

“You didn’t have to !”

“One is from her, it’s a gift.” he chuckles, greatly appreciating the kiss you laid on his cheek to thank him.

I hope you liked it !

[bellestalesoffiction]

Got Time? Steve Rogers x Mom!Reader

Summary: Steve comes back early from a mission and stops in to see his favorite neighbors

Warnings: none, domestic fluff, mom!reader, female reader, use of Y/N, descriptions for longer hair, named child, anxious Steve

A/N: another dive into Alex's world with his momma and Steve! Written up through a long weekend and some family stuff going on. I kinda went through and edited the story each time I opened it up in my notes so sorry for any errors. Enjoy another 5ish minute ficlet. Also updated a couple paragraphs that I re-read that made no sense 😅💛✨️ Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Got Fries?

Y/N smiled, sitting on the living room floor, folding tiny laundry and watching Alex toddle back and forth between his drawing table and his toy bin. Alex had been walking for a month or so now and his steps were getting more confident every day, Y/N just knew he'd be running around causing more chaos sooner than later. She shook her head at the thought, the pride and love she felt made her smile. Alex giggled as he plopped down with one of his soft interactive books, setting in beside her, right on top if the pile of unfolded sleepers.

A knock interrupted her thoughts, causing her to slowly drag herself up off the floor, using the couch for support, "One Moment!"

"No Problem!" Steve's comforting voice came back muffled through the door. The smile quickly spread wider on Y/N's face as she got up with a bit more enthusiasm, making a quick pit stop at the entryway mirror to check the state of her appearance. With a roll of her eyes at her reflection, she swipped the pads of her fingers under her eyes trying to rid herself of old flecks of eye liner and mascara that she had been too tired to remove the night before. Deciding to let down the messy bun her hair was trapped in, lead to a second decision after cringing as she hurried to put it back up in a way that was semi-presentable. Steve ran a hand through his hair anxiously as he stood waiting, holding a small bouquet of flowers and some toddler crayons he found for Alex. Having spent enough time around the two in between assignments, Steve knew the little guy already loved coloring with all the different kid safe stuff Y/N gave him.

Y/N pulled open the door and smiled brightly at Steve, "Hey, what are you doing here? We thought you were out of town until Monday..."

Her voice trailed off as she took in the flowers and Crayola box in his hands, along with the nervous smile on his face, watching as he wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans.

"I got back early and wanted to suprise my favorite neighbors, so I uh, I figured I'd bring a little something with me too" he stumbled through his words, "Ya know, for the both of you..." he trailed off smiling lopsidedly a bit nervous realizing he had truly shown up unannounced. He took a deep breath and let his eyes settle over her for a moment, drinking her in after 2 weeks of being on an ops mission in South Africa.

Steve thought she always looked adorable with her hair up on top of her head in whatever it was she called it. The oversized blue tshirt with a roughed depiction of his sheild on her chest made his heart flutter, a small pair of sleep shorts on as well with what looked like sleepy stars, moons and suns and fuzzy mismatched brightly colored socks that seemed so uniquely Y/N allowed him to slowly relax in her presence. He slowly made his way back up to her flushed face, realizing as she was staring back at him, he had been caught.

Within seconds, both of them broke into laughter overhearing Alex squeal from the living room having spotted Steve in the doorway. Steve watched over Y/N's head as Alex rolled to all fours and quickly pushed himself up to his feet.

Y/N thinking quickly, stepped aside to pull Steve into their chaotic apartment as gently as she could by the collar of his jacket and closed the door locking it behind him before her son could play his second favorite game, escape artist. Y/N watched as Steve knelt down to catch the little boy in his arms before he could run past them out the door. Steve abandoned the gifts on the ground in favor of lifting Alex up into the air without a second thought as though it was second nature.

"Look at you buddy! You're walking so good!" Steve praised the little boy as he pulled him close to his chest, shifting him into one arm to tickle his belly. Alex squealed again with full body giggles, which in turn caused Y/N to burst into a giggling fit as she picked up the crayons and flowers off the ground, pausing to smell them happily. Y/N laughed into the bouquet of colorful daisies caught in the pure happiness of her sons laughter, unaware of how content Steve was admiring her as she moved towards the kitchen.

Alex giggled and babbled up at the super solider, happy to have his friend back and see his mommy happy.

"Feel free to settle in the living room, we were watching some old Scooby Doo cartoons and doing laundry" Y/N called from the kitchen, pulling out a rarely used vase for the daisies happily.

Steve nodded and made his way into the smaller living room of the 1 bedroom apartment. It was definitely a different layout than his own 2 bedroom corner unit, the living room was half the size and from what he had seen the bedroom was a fair size smaller too, maybe a 10 by 10 room with a closet and a bathroom that came out into the bedroom and by the dining area opposite the entry way. He felt bad, knowing the space would be hard to maintain as Alex got bigger.

As he settled with Alex on the couch, he watched as Alex giggled happily and wiggled out of Steve's grip. The little boy proceeded to then slide expertly off the couch, swiftly knocking over a pile of his tiny folded pants as he made his way over to his toy box on all fours. Steve chuckled and shook his head as he settled back into the sofa, relaxing in their space, feeling like he truly belonged there.

Y/N came back and settled back down on the floor with a huff, Steve's leg to her right as she went back to folding Alex's onsies and fixing the pile of little sweatpants with a soft smile on her face.

"How was your trip?" Y/N asked nonchalantly folding a pair of tiny socks. Steve snapped out of his train of thought and relaxed into their couch, giving her some vague details that he could, relaxing with them and falling into comfortable conversation.

As the afternoon moved on, the 3 of them felt frozen in time as Steve had helped with putting the laundry away and feeding Alex so Y/N could shower and eat something as well, enjoying the feeling of being needed, wanted for more than just his abilities as Captain America.

Alex rubbed his tiny eyes as he chewed up his last bite of mac & cheese. His little arms stretching up into the air, fingers pointed out as he let out a full body yawn in his high chair. Y/N smiled softly, wet hair braided along one of her shoulders, as she came out into the kitchen, leaning against the back of Steve's chair. "I should get him down for a nap, I'll be right back ok?" Y/N smiled at him softly.

"Of course, I'll be right here" Steve smiled at her, rising from his seat as he watched her gently wipe off Alex's hands and face. He moved to take the tray from Alex's high chair to wash it off while Y/N moved the tired little man into her room to lay down in his crib.

Once the tray was dry and Alex's lunch wash cleaned up, Steve moved to make some food up for Y/N, knowing she had refused before her shower, hoping that now that Alex was napping she'd relax for a bit and take care of herself too. That was OK though, Steve was happy to be there to support her. Maybe she wanted him to be her partner. That quick thought ran through him, putting a smile on his face. This time for sure, before he left today he was gonna finally ask her out. His palms grew sweaty again as he gathered up his courage, speaking to himself softly as he made up a bowl for Y/N.

"Hey, so I know you have a baby sitter but... no, ok so I would like to take you to dinner, when are you off next? So, Y/N got any dinner plans this Saturday? Maybe we could do dinner and a show" he sighed and rested his head against the cabinets. A small giggle came from behind him. Steve turned with a bowl that had Mac and cheese with some ground beef mixed in for a homemade hamburger helper, Y/N stood behind him smiling, wearing a pair of leggings and that same Cap sheild tshirt with a cardigan covering up her cold arms.

"Dinner sounds nice, you know any sitters you'd trust for Saturday night?"

Taglist for the Got Milk au

@vicmc624 @frickin-bats

Comment or message to be added for future one shots into the Alex!verse

[arminsumi]

I LOVE YOUR WRITING OMG ITS SOO GOOD !! 🤍🤍

i wanted to req doing a skincare routine w gojo, like asking him to lay down so you could do it. if that makes sense 😭😭

(i thought it would be so cutee !! pref a fem reader)

NIGHTS LIKE THESE

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

Satoru just enjoying getting pampered by his wife.

[ Note ] : ahhh u are so very kind 😖💗 i lovee the idea of skincare w gojo sm!! he deserves to be pampered like a royal puppy

He's all for it when you suggest doing a skincare routine on him. I mean, laying down and letting your soft hands work out the tension in his face with some nice smelling products? Yes, please. That's exactly what he needs on a Friday night after teaching martial arts to his students all day.

"What's this?" he asks for each product in your hands. He doesn't eye them out suspiciously, he just accepts whatever you're putting on his face.

He's in this love-ditzy state tonight... oh, maybe it's just the strong blossom scent flooding in through the windows putting him in that state.

"This is a face mask... I'll put it on, then peel it off in fifteen minutes..." you're murmuring slowly, voice soft as you focus on smearing the sparkly gelatinous liquid over the curve of his cheek."

"Mmm..." he hums in acknowledgement to what you said, eyes closing.

His hair is put out of the way by a pink makeup headband; it's the one he bought for you at the beginning of the year, that Sailor Moon one. It just has a crescent moon on the center.

Satoru wiggles his feet and rests his finger-locked hands on his stomach, relishing in the attention you're giving him.

There's a serene silence as you apply the face mask with carefulness — you're trying to make it that perfectly rounded mask.

"... you're so gentle." Satoru comments, smiling to himself. "It's nice... getting pampered by my pretty wife. I think this is the meaning of life." he says in a low rasp. You can hear how tired he is after teaching all day in the hot sun.

"What, the meaning of life is... getting a face mask put on you?" you chuckle.

"Being with you." he replies.

You soften your brows and look down at him with love. He's still got his eyes closed so he can't see your loving look. It's okay. He can feel your love radiating.

"Well aren't you sappy..." you tease. He smiles.

He knows he's sappy, but you like it, don't you? And he means it. His meaning of life is being with you.

"I'm done, by the way."

"OOH let me see."

He checks his reflection in his phone camera, and you know snaps a picture with you while he's at it. You complain that he's gotten your bad side, and that he has to take it again, but he's giggling like a mischievous kid.

You sigh and look at him. "Of course... of course you look good in a face mask."

"Uhhh yeah duh I look good in everything." he responds cockily, then adds, "... you look good in everything, too."

"Ah shut it!" you giggle, and the sound makes his heart lurch.

"Mmm, it's true." he leans in, giving you a lopsided kiss, "Thank you, baby. Anyways... this stuff smells so good... is it edible?"

"No, it's not. So don't eat it."

He eats a little to mess with you. Then scrunches his whole face at the chemical taste.

"Satoru why are you like this." you shake your head. "Anyways... I'll cut some cucumbers for your eyes." you say, turning to the tiny cutting board that you put on top of a pillow.

"Yay, cucumber time." he says like a five-year-old. "It's not bigger than mine, is it?" he eyes out the cucumber you're taking into your hands.

"Satoru!" you laugh scoldingly.

He lets you cut the cucumber in peace, not wanting to talk in case he distracts you. But the way he stares at you, with his fists tucked under his chin and that star-struck look in his eyes, he distracts you anyways, and you nearly slice your finger.

Satoru's a different kind of beautiful. That's apparent from the first time you meet him, but you realize it during times like this; when you're snuggled up in your dim-lit bedroom. The clear face mask glitters a bit, you can see it drying.

"Don't touch it. It's drying."

"Sorryyy."

You shake your head at him. Then you catch him trying to touch his face again.

"Ooh, I can feel the little stars in it."

"Satoru, let it dry. Lay back. I'm covering your eyes..."

"... ooh, kinky."

You sigh, he smiles — he's so happy that he can be an absolute idiot around you and yet you still love him. How'd an obnoxious idiot like him get a tender, loving woman like you? I guess, 'cause he's god's favorite, I mean... with the Six Eyes and Limitless bestowed on him, of course he'd be sent an earth angel too, just to protect his sanity. You're very much his sanctuary, the refuge he seeks when responsibility whips his back.

The soothing cucumber slices cover his eyes now.

Laying and letting you pamper him like this makes him feel so at peace, he's becomes drowsy, and soon falls asleep. Soft snores sound from him. He's so utterly soft and gentle while he sleeps, you wouldn't think he's the strongest.

You decide to not wake him, and just peel the face mask off him gently once the fifteen minutes passes.

He just sleeps like a baby while you finish the routine. A soft, radiant glow adorns his cheekbones. His chest rises and falls like a calm tide.

That's your husband; a hyper, sleep-deprived, overworked and overburdened man who lives for the nights you do these sweet things with him.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[nmakii]

‘Can I ask you to do something about Alastor×reader? About y/n being a modern girl (2023-2024), and she often has strange gestures or words towards Alastor. One time she talked to him in modern language, making him confused and very curious. (You can expand the situation as you like, sorry my English is not very good)’

NEW IS ALWAYS BETTER!

— alastor x modern!reader (platonic or romantic!)

— alastor calls reader “good girl” so mostly fem!coded

— I WROTE THIS AND THEN IT GOT DELETED I MIGHT KMS.

alastor gets slangs that are common such as LOL, WTF, IDK but doesn’t get some that aren’t as common like LMFAO, IDRC, or WTAF since they’re just making them longer, so it’s quite useless…

he also doesn’t quite get shortcuts for words. one time you left him a note “lol brb rq imma b back in like 20 min. j gon pick smt up” most of it was honestly gibberish to him, but at the very least, he understood you’ll be back in 20 minutes.

gets really angry when you say things like “stop reaching, gooner. you’re just pissed that you’re a beta.” because; one, you’re blatantly disrespecting the radio demon and telling him to shut up. and two, he doesn’t get what any of that meant. what’s a gooner?

also gets annoyed often when you start singing songs like “i’m the alpha, i’m the leader” or “sticking out your gyatt for the rizzler” because, it’s a reflection on modern society and how music quality in modern times have plummeted significantly.

what happened to those beautiful songs such as “the man i love”? has it been replaced by this rizzler nonsense??? honestly, you’re giving alastor more and more reasons to dislike modernity… you’re lucky he finds your company enjoyable

in a desperate attempt to connect with you, he asked angel about your humor, hoping he’d understand. alastor knows that if anything, velvette would know. but, he’d rather get beaten by lucifer than ask the vees for help…

sadly for him, angel is just as confused. although, he at least knew what this alpha bullshit was, vaguely explaining furries and the alpha-beta-omegaverse to him…

you were in the hotel den, scrolling on social media as alastor walked in. “s/o, be a dear and fetch me some chicken breasts from the butcher, would you? i’d like to prepare something for tonight’s dinner.” alastor smiled

“hmm… nah. go do it yourself, furry” you giggled brattishly. “hahah… what did you call me?” alastor asked sternly, his face now close with yours, antlers increasing only slightly in size. “ah…” you stuttered.

alastor was never this mad when you said stuff like that, what was so different today? maybe he was in a bad mood? “ah… ill get it…” you conceded, using your hands to lightly push alastor away, lest he decides you’ll be for dinner…………

alastor snickered before patting you on the head. “good girl. don’t call me that again, this old dog can still learn new tricks, y’know?” he teasingly sang out. “huh?” you asked. “did you learn what a furry is?” you bit your lip, holding back your laughter.

“indeed, i did. horrifying that you’d think i would indulge in such hobbies…” he sighed, looking a little uncomfortable through his stressed smile. “what..? i don’t think you’re a furry, alastor. it’s not that deep. furry is just something that i used to laugh about with my friends back on earth.” you shallowly laughed, copying his actions by rubbing his hair.

he has to admit, that little mistranslation was a little funny looking back on it. but, he is a little disheartened that he got you scared over nothing. you were just having your fun and he got all pissed off. he’d definitely try to instead ask you about your slang as to prevent such a thing again…

[deezee112]

The ending 3 : Fractured Reflections

Masterlist | Ending 2 | Ending 4

Yandere!Platonic!Deuce Spade x GN!kid!Reader

A/N : Hey, just wanted to say—whatever the ending is in the first part, that’s how it ends, whether it’s good or bad. Alright, time to get back to work.

Warning : emotional instability , toxic behavior , and accidental violence leading to severe injury.

Tags :

@sherryclover @creativecupcake @hsjdhehsjssj @neufora

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

" My name is Deuce. " he said, his voice awkward but warm, a hint of nervousness lacing his words.

You stare at him, still hidden beneath the blanket, your small hands clutching the fabric. He looks no different from a tall man with dark blue hair and an air of unease. His eyes are gentle almost kind but there’s something feral beneath them. A quiet storm struggling to stay restrained.

“ D-Deuce…? ” you whispered, and the name felt strange but comforting on your tongue.

“ Yeah! That’s me! ” He smiled, a little too wide, trying to seem friendly but ending up looking even more nervous. “ Uh…want me to help you with anything? I’m…I’m actually pretty good at stuff! ”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just nodded slowly.

And so it began. Deuce was like a clumsy but well-meaning big brother. He’d help you with your homework at least, he tried to. Most of the time, you ended up staring at the same math problem together, neither of you understanding it.

“ I-I think it’s, uh…seven? ” he’d say, scratching his head.

“ It’s multiplication, Deuce. Seven times four… ”

“ Oh, right! I knew that! It’s, um…twenty…twenty-eight? ” he’d finally get it, and you’d laugh, a small, shy giggle that always made his worried face light up.

He wasn’t perfect far from it. Sometimes he’d drop things, accidentally tearing your favorite book while trying to put it away. He’d promise to teach you how to draw, only to end up with messy scribbles that even he laughed at.

But he tried.

And whenever he messed up, he tried to make it right. When he broke your favorite glass in a fit of frustration, you stared, wide-eyed, as the pieces scattered across the floor.

“ Huh…? ” you mumbled, stunned.

Deuce’s face turned pale. “ I-I didn’t mean to! It just— I was just— ” His voice cracked, and he immediately grabbed a broom, his hands shaking as he swept up the broken glass. “ Don’t worry! I’ll—I’ll get you a new one! I promise! ”

The next day, he brought you a new glass. It wasn’t the same. It didn’t have the little stars etched on it like your old one. But he handed it to you, his eyes wide and pleading. “ I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to… ”

You wanted to be angry, but you saw how his hands trembled, how his gaze never left your face, searching for even the smallest sign of forgiveness.

And you smiled. “ It’s okay, Deuce. ”

His shoulders relaxed, and he grinned. “ Thanks, y/n! I promise, I won’t mess up again! ”

But he always did.

Deuce was good he really was. But only in his mind.

Sometimes he got mad. Mad at small things. Mad at you when you forgot something. Mad at himself when he couldn’t help you. His voice would rise, his fists clenching, his eyes burning with frustration.

But he always tried to apologize. He’d always come back, his head bowed, his voice trembling.

“ I didn’t mean it, y/n…I’m sorry… ”

And you always forgave him. Because that’s what friends did, right?

But then one rainy evening, everything changed.

The sky was dark, raindrops tapping against the windows like a thousand tiny fingers. You were in the living room, trying to finish your homework. The numbers swam before your eyes, a dull ache pounding in your head.

“ I don’t get it… ” you whispered, your pencil tapping nervously on the paper.

Deuce leaned over your shoulder, his brows furrowed. “ It’s…just addition, right? You just… you know, add them together! ”

“ But I keep messing up… ”

“ It’s not that hard! ” His voice was sharper than usual. “ I mean, come on, y/n! Even I can do this! ”

Your shoulders tensed. “ I’m trying, but I don’t understand! ”

“ Then try harder! ” he snapped, slamming his hand on the table.

The sound echoed in the room, louder than the rain outside.

Your chest tightened. “ Deuce, please… ”

“ Please, please, please! ” he mocked, his voice rising. “ You always say that! ‘Deuce, help me! Deuce, I can’t!’ Well, maybe I can’t help you either! Maybe I’m just— ”

“ Stop it! ” you shouted, tears welling in your eyes.

But he didn’t stop. He didn’t see the fear in your eyes. He didn’t hear the quiver in your voice. He just saw red.

“ Fine! ” he yelled, grabbing the workbook and hurling it across the room. “ Fine! Maybe you’re just too dumb to— ”

His words froze in his throat.

You were crying. Quiet, silent tears streaming down your cheeks, your hands trembling.

“ I hate this…I hate this… ” you whispered, backing away from him. “ Why are you always like this…? ”

His expression twisted—shock, regret, but also something darker. “ I-I didn’t mean—y/n, I— ”

But you were already running. Running to your room, slamming the door shut. Curling up on your bed, pulling the blanket over your head, trying to drown out the thunder of the rain and the sound of your own sobs.

Outside, you heard his footsteps, his panicked knocking.

“ y/n! Please, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it! Please, let me in! ” His voice cracked, breaking. “ y/n… please… ”

But you didn’t answer.

The rain didn’t stop for days. Each drop was a steady, cold reminder of his voice, his anger.

You avoided him. Whenever he came into the room, you looked away. When he tried to speak, you stayed silent.

It was only a few days later that he finally broke.

“ y/n, please…I can’t take it…Please talk to me.. ” he whispered, kneeling by your bed. His eyes were red, dark shadows beneath them. “ Please… ”

And you looked at him, saw the guilt etched on his face, the way his hands shook. You didn’t feel angry anymore. Just…tired.

“ It’s okay, Deuce.. ” you whispered.

He smiled, but there was a hollowness in it. “ R-Really? You mean it? ”

You nodded.

But something was different. His smiles didn’t seem as bright. His jokes fell flat. Even when he messed up, you just stared, quiet, like you were waiting for something to break.

And then it did.

You were in the living room, trying to reach a book on the top shelf. The room was dim, the rainclouds outside casting gray shadows across the walls. Deuce was by the window, struggling with the old lamp that had been flickering for days.

“ Stupid thing…why won’t it just work? ” he muttered, jiggling the cord, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.

“ Deuce, maybe just leave it. We can get a new one.. ” you suggested, your voice soft, trying not to sound afraid.

“ No! I can fix it! I can do this! ” he snapped, tugging at the cord again.

“ Deuce, please, you’re going to— ”

“ I know what I’m doing! ”

The next second happened in a blur.

The cord snapped. The lamp, heavy and solid, slipped from his grip, crashing down. Instinctively, you stepped forward just as it swung, the base striking you hard across the side of your head.

A sharp, blinding pain exploded through your skull. Your vision went white, then dark. Your knees buckled, and the world spun.

“ y/n! ” Deuce’s voice was a distant echo, warped and panicked. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. “ No, no, no—this can’t—y/n! Open your eyes! Please! ”

The pain was sharp, but then…a numb, cold feeling settled over you. Your body felt heavy, your thoughts sluggish. You wanted to say something, to tell him it hurt, to tell him you were scared…

But nothing came out.

“ y/n…y/n, please… ” His voice was cracking, his tears dripping onto your cheek. “ It’s not that bad, right? It’s not that bad…please…I can fix it…I’ll fix you, too…just—just wake up! ”

But you couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Could only hear his desperate, trembling words, fading into a distant murmur.

Darkness crept in, a heavy, silent curtain, muffling everything.

And then…nothing.

Deuce sits beside your bed, his hands clutching a bloodstained towel.

“ Please…wake up…I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… ”

But you didn’t move.

No matter how many times he apologized, you didn’t answer.

No matter how much he begged, you never opened your eyes.

“ I killed you…again… ” he whispered, his voice hollow, his tears endless.

And the rain outside never stopped.

[whatdoyouwanttocallmefor]

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 - 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Genre: Romance, Bittersweet Angst, Long Distance, Slow Burn Warnings: Separation, Longing, Time Skip, Emotional Scenes, Idol Life Struggles, Nostalgia, Bittersweet Tension, Comforting Resolution

Note: I tried to write this as best I can but I got stuck in the middle ig? Like I don't know how to end it and stuff but in the end I still put the ending hihi...

---

The city skyline shimmered under a blanket of stars, casting silver reflections on the quiet river below. Felix stood at the edge of the bridge, his fingers wrapped around the railing as the cool night breeze tousled his golden hair

Tonight was the night he had to say goodbye.

"You're really leaving?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you stood beside him. Your heart felt heavy, knowing that Felix had always dreamt of traveling the world, chasing his passion for photography and storytelling.

Felix turned to you, his eyes deep pools of regret and longing. "Yeah… I have to," he murmured, his fingers twitching at his sides. "But I don't want to leave you behind."

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile. "I always knew this day would come. I just… I just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon."

For years, Felix had been your best friend, your safe place, your laughter on the darkest days. But now, the chapter you had written together was coming to a close.

---

You met Felix when you were eight years old. He had just moved to your neighborhood, a boy with bright freckles, a mischievous grin, and a skateboard that he swore could fly if he pushed hard enough. From the moment he scraped his knee and you rushed to get him a bandage, you were inseparable.

"You’re my best friend now," he declared, sitting on the pavement as you gently pressed the bandage over his wound. "Forever, okay?"

You giggled. "Okay. Forever."

The years that followed were filled with endless adventures—racing bikes until sundown, sneaking cookies from your mom’s kitchen, and lying on the rooftop, counting stars while whispering dreams about the future.

"One day," Felix had said, his voice soft in the night air, "I’m going to travel the world and take pictures of everything. And you’ll be there with me."

---

It wasn’t a grand moment. No dramatic realization, no sudden epiphany. It was quiet—like a secret you had known all along.

You had been sick with a fever, shivering under a pile of blankets when Felix showed up at your doorstep with a bag full of soup, medicine, and your favorite snacks.

"You look awful," he teased, setting the food down beside your bed before pressing the back of his hand against your forehead. "You should’ve called me."

"Didn’t want to bother you," you mumbled.

Felix scoffed. "Bother me? You could call me at 3 AM and I’d still show up."

And that was when it hit you.

You loved him.

Not just as your best friend. Not just as the boy you grew up with. But as the person you wanted by your side for the rest of your life.

But before you could tell him, before you could figure out what to do with the realization, he was already chasing his dreams, leaving you behind.

---

Felix reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. "This is for you," he said, pressing it into your palm. "Don't open it yet. Open it when you really miss me."

Tears stung your eyes as you clutched the paper, your fingers trembling. "Felix…"

He pulled you into his arms, his warmth soaking into your skin, his scent of vanilla and sea breeze imprinting in your memory. "I’ll come back for you," he whispered against your hair. "No matter what. I promise."

And just like that, he was gone.

---

The city hadn’t changed much, but you had.

You had learned to live without Felix, but that didn’t mean the ache had disappeared. You never opened the letter. It sat in your drawer, untouched, like a frozen moment in time.

Tonight, as you walked along the same bridge, you felt the nostalgia creep in. The way the stars shimmered above, the soft hum of the water below—it was all the same. But you were alone.

With a deep breath, you finally unfolded the letter.

*If you're reading this, it means you missed me just as much as I missed you. And if you missed me… then turn around.*

Your heart pounded. Slowly, you turned.

And there he was.

Felix stood a few feet away, holding a camera with his signature sunshine smile. His hair was a little longer, his features more mature, but his eyes—those warm brown eyes—still held the same tenderness.

"Took you long enough to open it," he teased, stepping closer.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, they weren’t from sadness. "You actually came back."

Felix grinned, reaching for your hand. "I made a promise, didn’t I? And I plan to keep it—for as long as you'll have me."

---

Months passed, and Felix was still by your side. He told you stories of his travels, the breathtaking landscapes he captured, the people he met, and the nights he spent missing you. But now, he wasn’t traveling alone.

"This is it," Felix said one evening, setting up his camera near a quiet lakeside where the stars reflected perfectly on the water’s surface. "Our first adventure together."

You smiled, watching him work. "First of many."

Felix turned to you, his expression soft and full of devotion. "I never wanted to chase my dreams without you. I realized that no place, no photograph, no journey would ever feel complete if you weren’t there."

The realization warmed your heart as you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. "So, where are we going next?"

Felix laughed, pulling you closer. "Anywhere. As long as it's with you."

Under the same starlit sky where your story began, you both stepped forward—this time, together.

---

SUPRISE! okay, genuinely I really want to make it sad ending or make it hanging but MY HEART say HAPPY ENDING so here we are. I guess I'll never write sad ending in my life :((

[pasdasin]

Wicked Game

wolverine x vampire!reader

an: can u guys tell im not working rn with the amount uploading! also currently working on ch 4! if you guys have any ideas feel free to send me stuff!! i <3 vampire!reader and wanna write more about her :3... also sorry if pacing is weird lol

ch 3

warnings: SMUT!!! fingering, erotic blood drinking, angst lol, prob like cussing lol, im sure there is more so just be warned in general, mdni lol

previous -- next

~~~~~

The proposition weighed heavily on your mind. A chance to return where it all started? You couldn’t stomach the thought. You’d have to ask Logan what he thought. He always knew what to say. You couldn’t dwell on it now, another task was at hand. You smoothed out your denim skirt for the millionth time and stared at your reflection. Nothing seemed appropriate enough. Nothing seemed right when it came to talking about your past. Two hundred and seventy-five years old and this was most nerve racking thing you’ve ever done.

talk in front of teenagers. 

Sighing you turned back to your closest when the door of your room slowly opened.

“y/n? Are you ready yet? My class is waiting” Storm entered your room. “Damn you look good! Honestly expected a full Bela Lugosi get up.”

“Very funny, but I am not a vampire.” You said, turning to her. 

“Okay yeah, and I don’t control the weather.” She snickered at you. She held out her hand and you grabbed it tightly, allowing yourself to be pulled through the halls of the mansion as the two of you giggled and talked friday night plans. 

The two of you reached her classroom and it seemed fuller than normal. You glanced around the room and noticed Logan standing near one of the walls closer to where you’d be presenting. You shot him a smile smile and he nodded back at you, causing your heart to race. You approached the desk at the front of the room and took a deep breath in. You could not only hear your heart pumping, but also every single person in that room. 

Turning around you smiled at everyone and sat sheepishly on the desk. You felt Logan’s eyes on you as you listened to Storm start her lecture. You glanced towards him and watched as he sent you a silent message.

You’ll be okay bub. I’m right here.

You turned back to the class and scanned the crowd. It seemed as though every single person was there, even though it was physically impossible. Your eyes zeroed in on Scott and Alex. Alex. Your mind wandered back to what Charles asked of you the previous night.

“I know you don’t do missions since the incident, but you could really benefit Alex.”

“I dedicated my life to medicine, and helping others. I cannot just leave that.”

“Just think about it okay? Its London afterall. Don’t think I don’t know about what the two of you did there”

You quickly glanced away and turned your full attention back to Storm. She was just about finished with her recap of the lesson plan. Her eyes met yours and she winked down at you. 

“Now that we have finished Dracula, I thought as a treat instead of a movie, we could hear about the real events from the person who inspired the book herself. This is y/n, your school nurse.” A small round of applause broke out as you stood up from the desk.

“Hi everyone! So yes I inspired Dracula, so please ask me any questions.” Immediately questions rang out towards you. Are you a vampire? How come you don’t sparkle? I thought vampires drink blood!

Typical questions that you usually got from new students that visited your office. You quickly answered them without even thinking about it. Alex raised his hand jokingly before asking you the question you dreaded the most.

“How exactly did you inspire the book?” You paused, silently remembering the events of the night. You felt a knot in your throat before you began.

“In 1895, I met Bram Stoker in a pub. He was strange but endearing. A flirt really, and I knew I was done for. In 1896 I confessed to him my mutation and how at that point I was twenty-five for fifty years at that point. He didn’t believe me of course and when I showed him my true nature, the book was born.” You paused, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. “The dedication was for me, and one of the brides had my name at the time and my description. I left Ireland and headed for London after the town found out about it. That’s actually where I met Logan.” 

The rest of the class period was full of laughter and more questions about your life in general, but you easily avoided those. As your presentation ended, you thanked Storm for the chance she gave you and promised to get drinks in the future. She walked away from you as Logan approached, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

“Good job bub. I knew you could do it.” You pushed his arm jokingly as the two of you started to walk out of the room, as Alex walked up to the two of you. Logan’s grip on your waist tightened.

“To my ever lasting beauty, an ageless angel, my queen of the dark. A book for your life. Wow you really made an impression on this dude. I didn’t realize you only dated what? Tall, dark and handsome. I’ll dye my hair ya know”

“Watch it Alex” Logan muttered, his claws starting to breach his knuckles.

“Woah big guy, I am just teasin. Anyways, y/n I heard the professor talked to you about Europe. What did ya think?” You made a face as you heard Logan’s blood race faster.

“I’m not too sure yet. I am still thinking about everything.” He nodded at your words before wishing you well and ignoring Logan. The two of you watched him walk away. 

“What the hell is he talking about?” Logan looked down at you, his face mixing into anger and confusion. 

“Lets go to my room okay?”

___

“What the hell do you mean a mission to London? And with him!” Logan snarled at you. You stared him down, not afraid of what he would do to you. 

“Calm down Logan! Its not a big deal I haven’t even decided yet!”

“Yeah I’m deciding for you. NO” He paced the left side of the bed as he muttered to himself.

“You don’t control me! I am my own person and I can’t die! Why don’t you trust me?” You felt your fangs push downwards in anger. If you weren’t careful you weren’t sure what would happen. 

“I don’t trust him. You won’t go and thats final.” His claws started to extend as he turned towards you. Fuck it.

The two of you lunged at each other and embraced as a tangle of limbs. Your lips crashed onto every piece of skin it met before you finally met his lips. He held you close to his chest and he messily made out with you, somehow managing to rip off your shirt, leaving in just the skirt and bra. His breath reeked of alcohol and his cologne filled your nose. The tobacco residue from an earlier cigar danced on his tongue as you deepened the kiss. You turned to straddle his lap, you pushed him down on the bed and, without thinking, you leaned down and sunk your fangs into his neck.

The warmth of his blood entered your mouth and the taste was euphoric. You continued your frenzy as you started to grind down on his growing erection. He groaned and panted as you nuzzled deeper into his vein. Your hot breath created a layer of pleasure to the holes in his neck and you pushed down harder on his clothed cock. 

“Please, fuck, don’t stop.” He choked out, moaning the last word. You didn’t think you could if you even wanted too. The taste of his blood made you whine in his ears as you picked up the pace of your hips, desperate for friction. His hand snaked down to your pussy, fingers slipping into your underwear and onto your clit. Your fangs sunk in deeper as he rubbed circles. “You’re so fucking wet for me.” He picked up the pace making you squeal from pleasure.

“Pl-ee-se-” You couldn’t think. The friction, his fingers, his blood. Without warning, you came hard on his fingers, allowing yourself to get lost in the heat of the moment.

Eyes half lidded you removed your fang from his neck and you looked down at the mess created. Blood stained the sheets, pillows, his shirt, and most likely everything else on the bed. Your mouth and neck was covered in a sheer layer of his blood. 

You snapped back to reality and realized what you had done. 

“Logan I’m- I can’t. I have to go.” Quickly you threw on a random shirt and left as quickly as you came, leaving Logan in the mess.

His neck already healing, his lifted his pants to stare at the mess left. Cuming in his pants was so middle school, but it wouldn’t be the first time this happened. Before being forced into the weapon x program, you fed on him regularly. Back then, your insatiable bloodlust wasn’t controlled, and he loved it. 

Trapped in the trance of euphoria, he didn’t realize you had gone. Slowly succumbing to sleep, Logan wouldn’t realize until the morning that you had gone. He ran through the mansion praying you’d still be in the confines of the walls. It was too late when he finally reached you. 

Watching as you left with Alex Summers to a mission to Europe. 

~~~~~

tag list: @captain039 @twinky-wink @fuckmachine42069 @honeybeedrabble

an: omg the drama!! also thank yall so much for ur support :3

[oracle-of-dream]

Submissive and huh?

Minors DNI

Summary: Your friend Taerae recently learned a new term and wants your thoughts. Explaining it might help him understand properly, but do you have the strength to tell him.

Warnings: Male Reader, Idol Taerae, Student Reader, Lewd faces/Ahegao, Mention of arousal and breeding

Wordcount: 1.2k

Math classes had been kicking your ass all semester and tutoring from the professor wasn't working out. You'd ended up being assigned a study partner. The program was meant for students struggling with the class to help each other. That's how you met Taerae. 

He didn't originally introduce himself as an idol, especially since it was an online class. No one had seen his face. But when you met up with him for the first time to study together, you instantly recognized him from TV. You hit it off over a shared hate for math and spent more time together outside class.

He'd complain about his idol life issues and you'd give him any notes from class he'd missed.

You'd just gotten home from a late-night study session at the library. As if it knew, your phone lit up with a text as you sat on your bed.

TR: Yo! Y/N, I met some fans while out with the members today!

YN: Cool. Don't you meet fans wherever you go?

TR: Well these stuck out!

YN: How?

TR: Well, I noticed them, a bunch of guys, giggling in the convenience store and pointing at me and Hao while we were shopping. I didn't want to embarrass them so I just played it cool and ignored them. But then they came up to me!

YN: Okay, some brave fans? That's it?

TR: Just wait a sec! 

TR: They came to me and told me they were fans. But more specifically, MY fans! Of course, I was happy to hear, but they were foreigners because they used a term I didn’t know.

YN: What term?

TR: Submissive and Breedable?

TR: I know what submissive means, they mean I'm not an aggressive person. That's not entirely true, but I'm submissive at times.

You looked at your phone, blinking a few times. Some "fans" dared to say that!?

TR: I can't find anything when I look it up, it's probably slang, right?

Maybe telling him that his fans want to breed him wasn't the best thing to tell your friend. He was just too wholesome for that.

YN: Yeah, it is, but it's not something cool. No one says it really, it's not the trend anymore.

TR: Really? I know trends, I'm not old, but I haven’t heard of that.

YN: See? There's no reason to worry, just fans being weird.

TR: Well, the photo they wanted was also...off.

YN: Off how?

TR: They wanted me to stick my tongue out and look up at the camera, which was super high above me. To be honest–it felt a little embarrassing to pose like that.

You shook your head trying not to imagine his cute self making lewd faces for a group of boys, but it was hard. And so were you.

YN: You should be more careful, they could use photos like that weirdly.

TR: What do you mean?

YN: Let's drop it. Subject change, what are you doing now?

TR: I'm getting ready for bed, I just got under the covers.

You looked at the clock, midnight was on its face.

YN: Oh shit, I didn't even realize. You should sleep!

TR: No, no, I'm pretty awake. Plus, it's nice talking to you. Did you want to video call while you get ready for bed?

You’d done it before, talking on video call into the night, but it was always a little like Taerae just wanted to see you.

YN: Sure, I'll call you.

You pressed the video call button on your phone. It showed your reflection as you waited, automatically you straightened your hair a little and kicked some stuff on the floor out of frame.

Taerae answered the phone with a smile, the camera close to his face.

You laughed as you set your phone on your desk, "Well hello to you too, why so close?"

"No reason, I just want to see you closely."

"Well, I can see you so closely I can count your pores," You scoffed as you went into your closet to find pajamas for the night.

"Is it weird I'm holding it so close?"

"A little, but it's no big deal. If you don't wanna show yourself then why'd you wanna video call?"

Taerae didn't answer.

"Are you still thinking about what those guys said?"

He shuffled in bed, "Mmhm."

"I promise it's nothing bad."

"Then why don't you just tell me?"

You sighed, "Okay, fine, I'll spill."

Taerae's eyes peered curiously at the camera as he waited for you to come out of your closet. You settled on wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt and shorts. You returned to find Taerae's eyes filled with impatience.

You swallowed awkwardly, "You already know what the submissive part means, but the other part..."

"Breedable," Taerae reminded you.

"Yeah–It means," You struggled to find a good way to break it to him with that look in his eyes. So full of trust and purity. "It means, they wanna do it with you."

Taerae's expression dropped into surprise, "Oh, that's it? I read about that kind of stuff of fans wanting me to have sex with them. That's not so bad."

"Well, breedable means, specifically where you'd be the one getting fucked. Likely by a man. Who wants to... finish in you."

You couldn't bring yourself to look at the screen to see his expression. He'd fallen silent, thinking of a response. It felt like ten minutes passed until he broke the silence.

Taerae's voice was deep and serious, "Y/n."

"Yeah?"

"Look at the screen." You looked at the screen to see Taerae in bed, holding the camera above him to show off his shirtless torso that was mostly covered by the bed sheet except for his collarbone and neck. "Am I breedable right now?"

You felt warm in your face as you answered, "Yeah, I-I guess."

"Submissive, too?"

"Sure," You said as you looked down at your hands.

"Yes or no! Sure isn't good enough, and look at me!"

You complied, looking at him. He smiled before making a face; his eyes looking up at the camera as he stuck out his tongue and held up a peace sign with his other hand.

"Jesus, Taerae!" You looked away quickly. Your heart was in your ears, pounding as the image of sweet Taerae's lewd face was plastered behind your eyelids.

He laughed loudly. "I am, aren't I? Submissive and breedable. I take it as a compliment, they like me that much! To be honest, you look all shy... You look a little submissive too."

You moved your phone so he couldn't see you anymore.

"I was kidding! Don't hide from me!" Taerae's muffled voice shouted from the speaker of your phone. 

After you calmed down, you turned your phone back over to see him still there. Still shirtless, and holding his phone at the same seductive angle.

"You're so weird!" You yelled at Taerae, who just giggled.

"And you still like me anyway. Even with all my breedable energy."

"I'm going to hang up–"

"What!? We gotta see you do the pose too, what if you're more breedable than me, we should test how–"

You cut him off as you pressed the red dial button. You turned your phone off before he could call you again. You lay in bed, alone in the dark, thinking about Taerae's face.

And in the privacy of your home, you test if you can also feel submissive and breedable, making Taerae's new iconic look. A secret he'll never know about... As if you didn't already have a big secret.

[schizopositivity]

i don't know if that makes sense, but whenever i start holding specifically a paranoid belief, it helps me to make up a fake counter-fact.

it's a little dangerous because i am still making myself believe in things contrary to reality, but so far it's worked without me losing myself in them.

a little example and of course tw for unreality, hallucinations and potentially paranoia inducing thoughts:

i always was incredibly terrified about something unknown being in my apartment - chasing me, watching me sleep, etc - to the point i started hallucinating it. but then i gave the "thing" a name and some rules, and now i'm (mostly) okay!

if i hear something at night, especially auditory hallucinations i can simply blame my "thing" flatmate, Adrien. he KNOWS he's not supposed to come into my room at night! he can roam freely when i'm out of the house, but once i'm home he has to stay in the other room.

he's also not allowed in the bathroom, which has greatly alleviated my reflection induced hallucinations (i barely get them at all anymore!)

I actually love this, it made me giggle. I'm such a fan of out-of-the-box coping strategies (as long as they aren't harmful of course). Especially with psychotic symptoms, they are usually nonsensical, so your own way of dealing with it can be kinda nonsensical too.

I myself have created similarly strange coping skills that have actually helped me a lot over the years. Like naming my cat Demon (what I called my old persistent hallucination). So now instead of being like "what's that noise at night??? Is it Demon??? >:0" I will be like "what's that noise at night? Is it my sweet baby boy Demon?! :D". I also love putting stuff like "creepy" dolls or a full size skeleton, and other Halloween decorations in my apartment, because that way the hallucinations can kinda just blend in, and I'm more desensitized to seeing random eyes staring at me in the dark lol.