#my brain is so broken from thinking all the time lol

[oddberryshortcake]

MY DEAR i apologize for the random drabble request pls don't feel pressured to do this if you do not wish🩵

but as u know, I love how you write the Dia gang🥺 and I crave crumbs of Lilia being put in a scenario where he actually needs to drop his 'ufufu' act and be protective over a one Silver Vanrouge

which is something I have not found yet in canon materials, very sadly, (but pls correctly me if i am wrong bc I am not in-the-know of all the vignettes and such)

There is one great moment in Book 7 where Lilia literally gets shot by a cannon while shielding Silver and he didn't even remember Silver was his son, his body just reacted on its own. Such good angst 😭 and then Jade's lab vignette has a pretty cute moment between the two with Lilia thinking Silver was getting poisoned.

But yes, I have written something for you (sorry it took so long lol) please enjoy and thank you for asking!

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

‘Shouldn’t he be taking less naps by now?’ Lilia thought to himself. 

In all of the human parenting books he read, most of them said that young humans tend to stop napping regularly at around four years old. Unless Silver was in the 30% margin of human five-year-olds needing naps, Lilia couldn’t find rhyme or reason for Silver to be this tired so frequently. 

When Silver was a baby, Lilia often praised him for his ability to go to sleep easily. It was a far cry from Malleus, who hated naps even when he was a wee little dragon. For a while, the only problem Silver really had was something called ‘colic’ and that thankfully passed by the time he reached 6 months. 

He had his suspicions it could have something to do with the state Lilia found him in…Lost in the throes of a protective sleep spell for over 400 years. The spell should’ve broken by now, otherwise Silver wouldn’t be here with him at all, tottering about in their front yard. 

He felt in his gut that some of Silver’s quirks weren’t normal, but he had no way of knowing for sure. He never lived with a human before nor took care of one. He kept telling himself that maybe human children would fall asleep standing up. 

He was brushing up on his reading because of his anxious observations. It was his way of dissuading himself from worrying. That’s when he heard what sounded like a heavy object being dropped down the stairs…The stairs that led up to Silver’s bedroom. 

“Silver? Are you causing any mischief up there?” He asks playfully, but he got no response which was odd. 

He went to inspect the sound and found Silver collapsed at the bottom of the stairs, limbs contorted in ways he’d see the deceased on the battlefield lie, not befitting for a little five-year-old. 

After a moment of standing there, in shock at what he was seeing, his senses finally came back to him and he rushed over to investigate. There was a cut just above Silver’s delicate forehead, and blood was gushing out. 

“Silver! Please speak to me!” He attempted, but got nothing. Then panic set in, those colorful little bandaids he had on hand wouldn’t be enough to close up this wound, and he had no healing potion on hand.

The blood reached down to his white eyelashes and wasn’t stopping. Was he gravely injured? Was he dying?

He already knew humans were fragile, but could stairs really kill him?

All these unknowns swirled in his brain and he felt like he did when Silver first got ill as a baby. Completely blind, making stuff up on the spot, a novice in the ways of raising a human, guilty of not handing Silver over to willing humans who would’ve taken him in and raised him better. 

He took Silver into his arms, not caring that his blood stained his newly cleaned white shirt, and took to a broomstick to fly all the way to the nearest human clinic. 

When he arrived, there was someone new at the front desk, a human employee he had never seen before instead of someone familiar. 

“This child fell down my stairs. He’s bleeding and he isn’t responding, I need help.” Lilia told her with urgency. 

“Sir, where did you find this child?” She asked, not knowing. 

He had fallen into his usual habit of referring to Silver as ‘the kid he looked after’ like he would around Baur. This woman took one look at him and knew they didn’t match.

“He’s mine.” Lilia asserted.

“But you’re-“

“Yes, I know I’m a fae, but he’s my child and he needs help! Where’s the doctor?!” He quickly lost his patience with her. 

His heart was already pounding out of his chest, feeling unworthy of calling Silver his own. The judgmental reaction he was met with had validated his feelings of inadequacy. 

The usual doctor stepped out and recognized them, apologizing for his new employee’s reaction. He took one look at Silver in his arms and took him to the back where Silver would normally get his annual check-ups. 

The doctor wiped the blood away to reveal that the cut Silver got across his hairline was not as deep as it looked. 

“There are many tiny arteries around the head, that’s why the bleeding was so profuse at a small cut,” the doctor explained, “With some gauze, it should heal up like normal.”

“But he’s unconscious,” Lilia told him, “that’s dangerous for humans.”

“This wound isn’t deep enough for that. Children often get more hurt when they try bracing themselves for a fall, but I believe Silver went limp before he fell down the stairs as you described.” The doctor told him as he wrapped the bandage around his son’s head. 

Silver didn’t necessarily look in pain, just asleep as he normally was…Except that wasn’t normal, was it?

“What do you mean? Are you saying he wasn’t conscious when he fell?” Lilia asks. 

The doctor turns to him, a serious expression on his face. 

“I know you’re new to this and as you’ve told me before, you haven’t interacted with humans much before adopting him…But excessive sleepiness is not normal for a child his age.” The doctor said, and Lilia felt the pit in his stomach grow. 

“It’s not?” He repeats dumbly, of course, it’s not! Why did he allow so much room for doubt in his mind, pushing his concerns aside, believing that he was making up it being an issue. 

“No, and the fact that his injury hasn’t woken him up is concerning. I think you should look into consulting medical mages or human doctors closer in the city about this.” The doctor recommended, “It could be an underlying neurological disorder.”

‘Or a blessing turned curse,’ Lilia thinks in his head. He couldn’t tell the doctor that, though, he couldn’t tell anyone. Not even Malleus, nor Silver even when he’s old enough to understand. This is his secret to keep close to his heart. 

“If you have any recommendations, please let me know.” Lilia requests, “I’ll take him to whatever doctor or mage he needs to go to solve this.” 

Would anyone be able to find out what’s wrong, though?

Ancient magic was seeped into his bones, there was no known cure for that. But if someone could find anything, then…

Silver stirred and was understandably disoriented from his change in surroundings. He started to tear up, which he hadn’t done in a long time, and Lilia pulled him into a hug where he could muffle his soft cries into his shoulder. 

“Thank you for always helping me.” He thanked the human doctor, who returned similar sentiments. 

“I was surprised when Dr. Zigvolt referred you to us,” he said, referring to Baur’s son-in-law, “A fae raising a human isn’t exactly common, but I can tell you both care for each other. You have a good kid, I’m sure you raised him to be that way.”

“So you’ve noticed,” Lilia replied light-heartedly. Silver turned his face to the familiar doctor, now ashamed by his tears, and wanted to thank him for patching him up. “What do we say, Silver?”

“Thank you sir,” Silver says in a small voice. 

“You two take care.” The doctor bids them farewell on the way out. 

As they left, Silver looked up at him with his side, auroral eyes, and tilted his bandaged head in curiosity. 

“Papa, you’re gripping my hand really tight. What’s wrong?” He asks, “Is it cause I hurt myself?”

Silver could be strangely perceptive, almost wise beyond his short years. Yes, Lilia had Silver in a tighter grip than usual, afraid a possible second slip up would send them right back to where they start. 

Lilia could never tell Silver about who his parents truly were or where he came from or even why he is the way he is. He would keep having to lie about that, and lying to that sweet little face was already so hard. 

Silver didn’t even know he was adopted yet, it’s like everything about their little life was one big secret. 

But he couldn’t lie about this. 

“I’m a little worried about you, that’s all. The nice doctor told me that your sleepiness isn’t normal.” He broke the news, to which Silver looked down at his tiny feet in shame, “But it’s alright because I’m going to take you to many doctors so we can find a cure.”

“That’s good!” Silver looked up with a smile, “Then I can still be a knight, right?”

“Yes, you can.” Lilia said, swinging both their arms back and forth, “And Silver?”

Silver looked back at him. 

“Please try not to scare your papa.”

[doublesidedgemini]

tw: you know the drill

When you’re feeling :( about your bod and then you want a snack but you don’t eat the snack and then feel :) about your bod

[sysig]

By the skin of your teeth (Patreon)

[sensitivedead]

.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[arminsumi]

🔞 bed breaking ft. gojo

warnings : minors do not read/interact : smut, creampies, "princess", daddy kink, dirty talk, no plot just pure horny from my melted 1 am brain!!

mmm gojo is fucking crazee 😖

so duh... sex with gojo is crazy too. erratic. sweaty. he has u in all imaginable positions all over the bed in the span of an hour. oh... two hours. oh ok... three hours. jesus... four hours? does he run out of stamina? uhhh... yeah if your pussy milks him too good, then he collapses to ur side. refuses to lay in the wet patch. spoiled prince. but he spoils your princess pussy with lots and lots and lots of creampies. and my fucking god he is CRAZED for creampies. loves stuffing u full!! loves seeing your pussy quiver when his cockhead pops out and ur hole spits cum out. he watches it dribble down your slit like its a wildlife documentary. makes stupid jokes during sex so u break down giggling in the middle, he slows and stills inside and laughs with you, feeling his dick throb, apologetically kissing u and thennnnnn he snaps u out of those giggles by shoving his cock up into ur guts n pounding away... grunting and gripping ur hips which are really truly his most favorite thing in the world. he goes harder bc he sees ur body jiggling under his imposing frame. such a big boy with a stupidly big dick to match. yk!! big cock for a cocky boy!! and he knows how to use it, which makes him so lethal in bed; he can make those legs shake then go numb and laugh abt it... "oh ur so fuckin' weak baby, yeah? too fuckin' weak to take this dick? aw my pretty little princess... she can't even take daddy's dick..." n he just fucks u deeper into the mattress while u weep n sob into the pillow, too full of pleasure to think. too full of his dick to think :( he has genuinely broken ur bed... MULTIPLE. TIMES. and he doesn't apologize for it because he doesn't think he's at fault. no it's not his animalistic thrusts when he's reaching balls deep inside u that's the problem... it's just a cheap bed that can't support him!! blame the bed!! "oh... lol i think u need a new bed... 🤭" he thinks its sooo funny that ur bed cant take his pounding and yet ur pussy happily takes the abuse. "wow... i broke ur pussy and ur bed in one night!! :) i deserve a medal."

[acid-ixx]

gets fucking stabbed by damian and my last breath still be like "it's not his fault ! he is ten and was raised to be murderous since he was born ! kid entered a household where everyone ignores my existence, i don't blame him for assuming that to be the norm and acting evil to me so that he assimilates to his new environment ! bro literally went through the worst all his life so of course the way he expresses himself is harmful to others !"

and then i get stabbed again lol

— masterlist !

OH MY GOD PLEASE 😭 the gaslighting yourself is real, i'm telling you.

unfortunately, the reader's toxic mindset of justifying everything your family does is a common scenario for every time one of them fucks up; only in the past though. the present chapters will have you slowly realize just nothing really is ever your fault. that you've never once been in the blame for the actions of your youngest brother.

but right now, i want to focus on why you just seem to let damian go about his own crazy path of targeting you. and it's either it's because you have nothing, nobody else to fight back with you, or it's purely because you allow him to.

to destroy you, to make you suffer, to make you learn that you have no place, or standing in the family. and if you do have a place, it is at the rock bottom.

this is what damian is taught: the weak should be eliminated before they fester into some type of unnecessary cancer.

you're weak, when he first saw you, when you first approached him with your tail tucked behind your legs and an invitation to hang out together with the scent of cookies wafting in the air— he knows that it is you who will make him weak.

you give him temptations to be a child, he's raised to fight against it. he ignores the unwelcomed feeling of wamth that blooms in his chest, those are feelings that gets you killed.

so it's how the story goes: he brings his sword up to your neck, and sways his hands swift enough to make a small cut to ensure that the first thing you associate him with is fear. and for someone vulnerable like you, it doesn't take much before you quickly submit to the prospect of your place beneath a trained assassin like him.

he ignores the sudden pang of his heart and the aching, gnawing dread that chews at his mind at the memory of your widening eyes and the wobble in your steps.

it's already damaging enough to have the youngest be introduced and immediately accepted into the family, but it's worse when he's significantly younger than you, a boy nearly half your age; someone you've always wanted to have, to care for, to help raise and cherish... despises you from the start, before you two even formed a connection.

someone you once called your younger brother, now became an enemy in opposing lines in a place called home.

what would've been fine-tuned jealousy towards him because he was given everything in a silver platter turned into shame that you couldn't even face him, not right after he threatened to kill you, no... and especially not after you've convinced yourself that if you couldn't even prove your worth for a young boy like him, then you really have nothing good to offer.

you give him the autonomy to think it's alright, that due to his upbringing, alongside your naive brain always justifying that your other siblings are right, and you are in the wrong— he was given every opportunity to torment you when you even go as far as being in the same room as him.

and i have my receipts on why you're just like that; all in the grace of low self-worth and self-esteem. past you reasons out that it's because it's always your fault.

you couldn't even find a way to save your mother, you couldn't even establish your place in the manor, you couldn't comfort bruce when he was still not over jason, what more could you be when all you see damian as is a young, broken child like you? that behind that veil of threats and weapons ready to attack you, is someone you knew could've been different, if he was raised right...

if he'd given you a chance to help nurture the softer, more humane part of him.

you've always wanted a younger sibling, not only from back when you were just with your mother, but also when you were introduced to the manor. because not only did it mean that you'll know how your mother felt when she raised you, but because you thought you'd have somebody by your side throughout the silent torment you've went through.

and when you're graced with one, who doesn't even consider you his older sibling; you let it be.

you let him be himself.

damian wayne, demon's granson, the son of the bat.

so many titles he's called, but never one where he's your younger brother.

it doesn't help that you justify his past, because the man you idolize, dick, does so too whenever you try to complain. his excuses are never out of malicious intent to have you suffer further— it's just that he never once actually considered you as important enough to bat an eye on, like how the rest of them treat you.

because you know that even dick has his limit towards the youngest member of the family; he just never reaches it when it comes to you.

so if you have a person allow another to act terribly towards you, but have another, a friend or family, who teaches you that it's not right, who fights by your side; it wouldn't take long for you to also learn how to defend yourself then. you'll gain confidence that you're at least not alone, that your actions are completely valid.

... but if you have an entire family that couldn't even scold the boy for leaving a scar on your neck, who brushes his mean comments about you aside, who isolates you even further with malicious words that you know becomes crueler when targeted at you—

then you have no basis for what is right, and what is wrong.

and that makes your authority, your trust in yourself dwindle like your already crumbling relationship with all the others the further you try to fight back.

that's when you learn what it's like to give up, all over again. if you accept his vidictive insults, if you know your place to turn back if you see him in the same room, if you knew from the start that sometimes trying doesn't equate to succeeding; then it'll at least numb the pain that comes after.

for the entirety of your life from when damian was introduced, that was how you coped—

but your life after the manor, after damian matures and learns softness, about empathy (that he's buried long ago during his training from when he was all but a toddler) on your situation; reading your journal entries because he still felt entitled to due to some hidden, twisted trait of possessiveness... that's an entirely different story.

would you still be as understanding as you were back in the past towards him? would you still force yourself to love the demon you saw as just a little boy? or would damian finally understand that it's too late to turn back time, to correct all his mistakes?

either way, if you were capable enough to change (at least, in his eyes), becoming an independent person (you think, huh? your place is at the manor), then maybe you could give him a chance too, to fix your relationship and build a bridge to an even stronger one.

one where you could finally baby him, like what you've desired. one where he could feel vulnerable, when he learned that it's valid to feel weak— it cuts back to the previous points: you make him weak.

and when he's out to find you after going through every single diary, every entry, after deducing that there's still a small spark in your that'll forgive him if he tries; he refuses give up any sooner if it meant replicating the same warmth he felt when he stood by your presence.

so... you wouldn't want to leave your youngest brother waiting for you, don't you?

after all, it's just like what your entries told him, right? this is what you always wanted, right?

a/n: everyone is entitled to their own feelings about how i portray damian and mc's relationship!!! i love how all of you guys have different conflicting reactions to this. it's all so complex for me, how damian sees you as someone who's weak and makes him weak (he's just a stubborn little guy), and you, who sees yourself in damian, alongside the added desire to just have someone to care for (because you want to so badly honor your mother's memory), and that person also caring for you is ARGH!!?!

i apologize for my long rambles (if anyone wants me to cut back on posts like this, just tell me), i'm sure everyone is anticipating chapter 5 and possibly (soon) chapter 6 (since the drafts, not the final work is becoming too long). but right now, all i could provide are my depictions of the reader's relationship with every member of the family. i love to churn scenarios where it feels like you're actually part of the family so i'm actually manipulating all of you guys to become attached to the characters too, just to add an extra layer of angst, hehe...

[maskedbyghost]

Stalker - part 2

https://www.tumblr.com/maskedbyghost/761077146667139072/stalker <- part 1

NSFW, MDNI

(simon is a bit possessive in this part too, a lot of you're mine exclamations lol, idk if I like this honestly)

"What are you doing here?" You asked, breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t seen him in months, not since the divorce papers were signed, and yet here he is, standing right at your doorstep. The man you once loved, the man you thought you’d never see again.

"Simon?" You managed to whisper, but when you saw a bouquet in his hands, from the same flower shop your stalker frequently visited, it all came to you. Simon was your stalker. Or something like that. You didn't know what to call him anymore.

He took a step closer, but you instinctively backed away, your hands shaking.

“You—” Your voice faltered, and you struggled to find the words. “You’ve been watching me?”

He stepped into the house—the house you once shared, now heavy with memories. "Please, love, let me explain." He closed the door gently behind him, leaning back against it with flowers still in his hands.

You stood there, arms wrapped around yourself, your body stiff with tension. His presence felt suffocating, filling the small space between you, just like the memories of all the times you had waited for him to walk through that same door. But not like this. Never like this.

“Explain?” You scoffed, unable to hide the bitterness in your voice. “How can you explain this, Simon? How do you explain any of this?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off before he could say a word. “You ruined our marriage, Simon! You left me here, alone in this house. You didn’t fight for us! You didn’t fight for me.” Your voice cracked, but you forced yourself to stay steady.

Tears threatened to spill, but you blinked them away, refusing to show weakness now. “And now, after you’ve already broken everything, you come back as my stalker?” You could barely breathe through the rage, your head spinning with disbelief. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Simon?”

Simon stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, before he slowly set the flowers down on the table beside him. Then, he removed the mask from his face, revealing the features you once knew so well—the face you had caressed countless times in the past. Damn it. He was still as handsome as you remembered.

Not now, brain! Focus. His looks couldn’t save him this time, not after everything he had done. Not after all the damage he had caused.

He took a step toward you, but when you instinctively backed away, Simon froze. He let out a heavy sigh and stopped in his tracks. "Please let me explain, and then I promise I will leave you alone."

“You have five minutes,” you said, your voice firm, “and then I want you out.” You turned on your heel and walked toward the living room, Simon following closely behind.

Simon sat down across from you, his expression a mix of desperation and regret. He took a deep breath before he started talking. “I need you to understand something,” he began, his voice steady but strained. “When I left, I was on a dangerous mission, one that I couldn’t discuss with you. I was cut off from communication, and forced into secrecy. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to contact you; it was because I couldn’t.”

He paused, looking down at his hands before meeting your gaze again. “During that mission, someone discovered that I had you. They found out about us and used that information against me. They threatened me, they said that they would kill you, and I had no choice but to stay away. I thought if I kept my distance, they wouldn’t have any way to find your exact location. Instead, I sent a few people here to look after you, and eliminate any possible threat."

Your heart ached as you listened, but you remained silent, letting him continue.

Simon continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I had to deal with those men before I could even think about coming back.”

He swallowed hard, clearly pained. “When you sent the divorce papers, it felt like the final blow. I knew you deserved better—better than the life I was dragging you into. I signed the papers because I thought it was what you wanted. I thought you’d be safer without me.”

Simon’s eyes were filled with sorrow. “I should have fought harder, but I was afraid of making things worse for you. I thought you didn’t want to see me, so I stayed away, even when it was killin' me inside. I started keepin' an eye on you from a distance, trying to make sure you were okay.”

He leaned forward, his eyes pleading. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I know I’ve caused you so much pain. But I swear, I never meant for any of this to happen. I’m here now because I need to fix this, to make sure you’re safe and that you know the truth.”

The emotions poured inside you—betrayal, fear, love, and a desperate need to understand how everything had spiraled so out of control.

"Why now?" You asked, voice surprisingly calm. "Why didn't you show up earlier?"

“I got tired of dealing with the guys who tried to hit on you,” Simon said, his voice tinged with frustration.

You were left even more confused than before. You knew he could be jealous, but you hadn’t realized how far his possessiveness could reach. “I went on a date, you know?” you said, trying to prove some point at the moment, like he couldn't keep all of the suitors away.

“I know,” Simon growled, his voice tight with frustration. “Your friends were sneaky about setting you up with that fucker, I’ll give them that. I had to sit there for three hours, watching you smile at him, before I could do anythin'.”

"Should I even ask?"

"No." Simple as that. "Fuck, I know my wife is fuckin' perfect, but dealin' with all of them was more exhausting than I ever imagined.” I small smile appeared on his face, and you didn't know what to say. This was all messed up.

Simon slowly approached where you sat and lowered himself to his knees. He took your hands in his, pressing his lips to each knuckle. When his gaze settled on your ring finger, it was empty of course, you had removed the ring the moment he signed the divorce papers. He lingered there, his expression full of regret.

As Simon stared at your bare ring finger, the weight of his actions seemed to hit him all at once. His shoulders slumped, and he looked up at you with eyes full of sorrow.

“Seein' you without the ring,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “it’s like a reminder of everythin' I’ve lost. I didn’t realize how much I’d hurt you until now.”

Simon's grip on your hands tightened, his fingers gently tracing the veins on your wrists. “I'm beggin' you, love,” he pleaded, his eyes searching your face. “Please give me another chance. Let me prove to you that I can be the man you deserve.”

"Simon....I don't know."

"You're mine," he hissed, "You belong to me."

His grip tightened as he pulled you even closer, his body pressed against yours. "And I'm not lettin' go of what belongs to me," he growled in your ear.

Simon could see the mixture of emotions playing out on your face. His grip on your arms loosened, but his eyes remained intense, staring deeply into yours.

"I know I've hurt you," he continued when you didn't say anything, his voice a mixture of frustration and pleading. "I know I've made a mess of things. But I've never stopped loving you, not for a single moment."

“Simon, I understand that you’re trying to explain yourself, and I can see that you’re hurting, but your actions have caused a lot of pain, I don't know if I can trust you anymore." You said as the tears filled your eyes.

"I know," he said, his voice wavering. "And I don't expect you to trust me right away. I hurt you, and I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you give me the chance."

He gently wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, his touch soft and tender. "Please, love," his own eyes welling up, "just give me a chance to prove it to you."

You sighed as Simon moved closer, placing a tender kiss on your cheek. When you didn’t pull away, he continued with gentle kisses down your neck, each kiss light. His lips traveled slowly up to your own, pausing just before they made contact. He lingered there, his breath mingling with yours, as he gazed intently into your eyes, his lips hovering near yours as if waiting for permission.

Your breath hitched as he paused, his lips hovering a hair's breadth away from yours. His eyes were filled with a mix of tenderness and raw desire. He waited for a moment, the anticipation hanging in the air. Then, finally, he closed the distance, his lips claiming yours in a kiss that was equal parts gentle and desperate.

But the kiss lasted for a moment only, he pulled back, and leaned his forehead on yours, before whispering "You are mine."

You trembled slightly as he tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling gently in that familiar way he used to do. With his lips brushing against yours, he whispered, “No matter what, you will always be my girl, fucking mine. No one can take you away from me, and I'll grovel at your feet for eternity if it means you’d forgive me.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers in your hair, his breath on your lips, and his words leaving you overwhelmed.

"Simon..." you breathed, feeling the mix of emotions swirling inside you. "It's not that simple. You hurt me. You broke my trust."

His grip tightened in your hair, pulling your head back slightly, and his lips pressed against the exposed flesh of your throat. He nipped at your skin, his breath hot on your skin.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion as he nuzzled against your neck. “I can’t undo what I’ve done or make up for the pain I caused, but I want you to know that I’m committed to doing whatever it takes to rebuild your trust. I’m willing to wait, to earn your forgiveness, and to prove that I’ve changed. Just please, don’t shut me out completely. I need a chance to make things right.”

Your heart ached at his words, the pain and the love battling within you. The familiar feeling of his body pressed against yours added another layer of confusion to your conflicting emotions.

You reached up and gently ran a hand through his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers. A shiver ran down your spine as his breath tickled your skin, a small part of you surrendering to this need for him.

The feel of your hand in his hair and your body close to his sent a shot of desire through his body. He groaned deeply, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you even closer, his body molding to yours.

His lips moved up your neck, his tongue tracing a fiery path up to your ear. "I need you," he whispered, voice thick with need. "I need to touch you, to feel you, to know that you're still mine."

"You know where the bedroom is."

Simon smiled as he got up with you in his arms, he wasted no time in carrying you to the bedroom, his strong arms holding you effortlessly. The air in the room was thick with a complex mix of emotions. On one side, there was the unresolved tension of past hurt and betrayal. On the other, there was a delicate, hopeful sense that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to reconnect and rebuild what you once had together.

[hyewka]

I just read your public vibrator gyu. GOOD LORD I NEED A TYUN ONE, but like in the car where the both of you were supposed to go on a late night drive and every time the stop lights go red, the vibrator goes into its highest setting this goes on until poor little tyunnie is sobbing and needs to fucked dumb in the car PLS PLS PLS I NEED IT I NEED IT SO BAD I take one look at tyun and my brain immediately goes "I need to fuck him"

im obsessed with usually composed subs that get bratty when you start to push and push, taehyuns perfect for that lol

idk why but him specifically in work business attire, tie perfectly adjusted, black framed glasses propped up as he stirs the wheel with one hand is sooo attractive but whats even more attractive is getting him to lose his shit when hes not supposed to. i know this isnt exactly what you asked but i think an enemies with a fuck buddy situation going on would be sooo hot here, so easy to get him agitated

he shifts in his seat like it’s nothing when you turn it up a notch. “really?” he scoffs incredulously, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “you’re gonna try that again?”

you twirl the lollipop between your fingers, not even looking at him. “focus on the road, taehyun,” you say, sounding almost bored.

he barely reacts. barely. but you catch it from your peripheral vision-- the way his jaw clenches, how his fingers grip the steering wheel just a little too tight. he’s pretending—he always pretends like he can handle it, like he’s composed, but you know better.

first red light. you turn it up, and he immediately jolts in his seat, biting his lip so hard you think he might draw blood. “s-stop… i’m trying to drive—are you insane?!” he grits.

“and doing such a good job of it,” you chuckle, leaning over to trace a finger along the line of his tie. "i'm just dying to know how long you’ll last like this.”

“fuck off,” he growls, but the effect is ruined when his hips jolt as you poke at his crotch. the gasp that escapes his lips is so sudden, so embarrassing, you can’t help but grin.

“what was that?” you tease, poking him again, watching his body spasm. “can’t handle it, can you? poor tyunnie.”

it's pissing you off slightly that taehyun's still holding onto that facade, eyes focused straight ahead like he’s actually going to make it through this. he's making this tougher than your patience allows.

the light turns green, and he slams on the gas a little too hard, jerking the car forward. you snort, watching his legs tremble under the strain. “you look so pathetic. can’t even keep it together on a simple drive. how’d you even get your promotion acting like this?”

“s-shut up—” he tries to snap back, but he's barely holding it together. you hate admitting it, but he's so god damn attractive it drives you up a wall. he keeps adjusting his tie and his eyes keep glancing around the road. he’s a mess, glasses slipping down his infuriatingly perfect nose and all.

next red light. you crank it up again. taehyun’s head drops back against the seat, his chest heaving, hips bucking helplessly as he lets out a low, broken moan. “shit—please, stop, i c-can’t—”

then, as if giving in to the desperate haze clouding his mind, his hand shoots down, fingers fumbling at the waistband of his slacks like he’s going to jerk himself off right there.

before he can even start, you smack his hand away, hard and fast, making him gasp and look at you with wide, desperate eyes.

“bad, bad boy,” you chide. “don't you dare touch yourself, keep your hand on the wheel.”

he stares at you, incredulous, his breathing heavy, but he’s too wrecked to come up with a response.

you tug on his tie, pulling it tight against his throat. "bite down."

taehyun surprisingly doesn’t hesitate, sinking his teeth into the tie, his moans muffled as he tries to grind down into the seat, his hips moving on their own.

when he starts driving again, your finger circles his crotch, enjoying the taste of the artificial sweet cherry flavor on your tongue (and of course, how loud he's shamelessly being). “you act like a brat at work because you like being put in your place outside of it, right? no wonder you’ve been such a pain lately. guess this is what you’ve been wanting all along.”

he chokes on his own breath, a strangled noise escaping him, his cheeks flushing red. spit starts to drip down his chin, wetting the tie he’s biting down on. you roll your eyes. "disgusting."

third red light. you turn the vibrator to its highest setting. his body jerks violently, a sob ripping from his throat as he slams the brakes, forehead resting against the wheel. “no, no, fuck, fuck—i c-can’t—”

you reach over and slide your hand down, palming the hard length of his cock through his pants, feeling the wet spot where he’s already leaking. “so fucking wet for me,” you murmur, your fingers pressing into him, making his hips jolt. “you’re such a fucking mess.”

he’s sobbing now, still biting on his tie, completely ruined, tears streaming down his cheeks as he begs, practically shaking in his seat.

you just smirk, watching him unravel. “poor thing,” you coo, leaning closer to his ear. “so desperate to cum, but you don’t deserve it, do you? look at you, sobbing like a little bitch.”

“plthse,” he slurs through the fabric, the words barely audible, muffled and wet. “i’ll b-be good—just lemme cum, plthse—i can’t take it anymore.”

you press harder against his cock, feeling him throb under your palm. “you’re not cumming until i say so,” you whisper, your hand sliding down to cup his balls through his pants, squeezing just enough to make him gasp. taehyun’s hips jerk up, chasing your hand like a dog in heat. “but keep begging. i like it when you beg."

[planete777]

BAD INFLUENCE・⁠｡♪ LN4 [+ OP81]

( lando norris x fem!reader ft. oscar piastri)

READ PART 2!

IN WHICH. getting high was never on oscar's roster. getting high and enjoying it with y/n and lando wasn't either, but that just makes it much more... exciting. (based on this ask)

WARNINGS. 16+, suggestive content, drug use (as per), high hotness pt 875443, oscar cameo (woop woop 🥳), make outs, first time getting high, oscar being whipped for lando and y/n? wbk, a bit of mxm content between drivers, shotgunning coz it's my most favourite thing ever

NOTE. LANDOSCAR!! this may probably be my favourite fic and is my longest so im looking forward to you guys reading it!!! well overdue in my humblest opinion, but i delivered hehe. enjoy my luvs and a very happy new year in advance mwah mwah mwah 😚😚 i appreciate all of you readers, thank you for all your support 💓💓💓

SIDENOTE. my askbox is now closed for requests 🤍

‧₊˚✩彡 taglist @laciijane @ferrarrigirl @norrizzandpia @mimi-luvzyu (use askbox above if you'd like to be added!)

frankly speaking, a 'you up?' text from oscar piastri, whose entire persona was an antithesis of what that type of message usually pertained to, isn't something lando was expecting at 1am after a tedious race weekend. knows oscar to be one who sleeps in too early, as if his circadian rhythm was built upon the foundation of a restrictive curfew, and even fathoming the fact that he is awake past 12 is rather peculiar.

yet, with the mutually pre-established sense that lando would be awake (he's probably an insomniac, but it's not too concerning for him to actually check), and that oscar was asking if he was just for the sake of, most likely because he's, unusually, unable to sleep, lando replies with much sluggish vim.

fingers moving as if they played in a dream, he's able to reply with 'yh, why????' and sends it off before throwing his phone on the bed. he thinks, if he's sober, he would care more that this is oscar!!!! who is normally adamant about getting sleep!!! and not looking more sleep deprived than his naturally downturned eyes already make he seem to be!!!! but his mind feels like gooey viscous, and he counts about 3,000 peaks and troughs of the popcorn ceiling above before losing count and seeking solace in the spliff that burns his throat like a madman. he ponders if he's going crazy.

it's not long after that the undulating, monotonous buzz from his phone tickles his skin and with a sigh he goes to reply. and as he does so, his girlfriend, curiosity piqued, perks up from the foot of the bed.

"who's texting you this late?"

she looks ridiculously amusing: head hanging off the edge, loose and completely yielding like a dead body, and the only thing that reassures lando of her consciousness is the occasion movement of her arm to take another drag.

he wedges the joint between his reddened lips, lips curling awkwardly to speak, "piastri. dunno what he wants th- oh shit."

he's never felt such a sinking, crippling feeling of his high escaping him like a broken dam before. it's weirdly chilling, and for a good second, he feels brightly and vividly sober again. the texts just... stare at him and he almost wants to hurl his phone at the wall and watch it rain a litany of debris.

osc: just... forgot to give you back your stuff that i borrowed

osc: found some green leaf stuff in it lol im a bit concerned

lando's read it so many times, he's more than certain he knows just how many letters it consists of. fingers hover above the keyboard but it looks like they're weirdly swimming in air as he debates just what to write, and y/n is suddenly hissing his name, having sat up.

"— lan'! fucking hell, what happened?"

he moves on autpilot, back resting up the headboard, "he's found my weed."

y/n— y/n snorts. she sighs, moves back to her original pose, and lando's brain feels like static.

"love, i thought it would be worse."

lando splutters, "worse? babe, this is already bad! he could tell management for all i know." the mere thought of that makes lando's mind congeal. nevertheless, high out of his wits, he thinks he would somehow find a way to continue even if he was implored to stop.

she's disagreeing and laughing, and lando doesn't know what to make of it.

"nah, you're good. oscar wouldn't tell a soul," it's silent as he sees a burst of smoke ascend from the edge of the mattress, "tell him to bring it over."

lando fights with himself in his head. it's hilarious, really, watching his face morph from one emotion to another, and after 5 minutes with no whooshing affirmative of a message being sent, y/n exhales.

the bed curves in as she crawls up towards lando, before plucking the phone from his grip.

"it's really not that deep, lan'," her voice feels like cotton in his ears, "oscar isn't like that."

her fingers fly across the keyboard, how she does so in her inebriated state, lando has no clue, and just as quickly as she snatched the phone, she's sliding it back between his fingers.

"how— how do you know that?"

all presumptions, really, lando thinks. they may be good friends, him and oscar, but they've still got many, many steps to go before he's reassured that the other wouldn't go running his mouth to management because he found *fucking weed* in his bag.

the little voice at the back of his mind seeths, 'you shouldn't be smoking anyway', but he ignores it. what the hell does it know?

y/n goes to straddle him, crotch digging into his. its a soft wave of pleasure that oozes from the pressure, and lando lets a small moan mix with the puff of smoke he blows out. they would've fucked if only his limbs didn't feel like they've been detached and re-stitched; maybe they'd end the night with a lazy ride.

his girlfriend smirks, all cunning and undeniably hot, sucking in as much smoke as she can before blowing it all on his face. if anybody else had done this, he'd turn feral, but there's something alluring when y/n's exhale tickles his skin like feathers.

"how do i know? well, oscar, he kinda reminds me of you—" lando interrupts with a raised brow and a questioning stare, but y/n proceeds, "both of you are- you were- itching for a release. him not as much as you, but i still see it."

and lando can't really deny that, because he sees it too. in the way oscar's eyes seem to dart with dreaded uncertainty, and the way his shoulders are always up and tense, as if he has been tied like a puppet.

"that's what i call 'destined to get high'," y/n banters. it makes lando snort and roll his eyes (ultimately omitting to dwell on the sliver of seriousness that leaks through).

"dunno why you're rolling your eyes, you were basically begging me to give you a spliff," y/n taunts, and even though he groans at the reminiscence, he doesn't deny it. doing so would be like calling himself michael schumacher.

"yeah, whatever," he takes a lazy drag, a hand sliding up and down y/n's thigh, "at least i'm sexy when getting stoned."

y/n cackles, dissolving into a small giggle as she twirls her fingers through lando's curls; she never wants to let him go.

"damn right, baby."

another ping sounds from lando's phone, and subconsciously, his hands snakes to get it.

when he turns it on, he doesn't think he can be gobsmacked with such intensity twice in a day.

landooo: yh just bring it over

landooo: you can join us if you'd like

landooo: 😉

osc: uhm sure..

"y/n."

-.-.-.-.-

weed.

he'll be fucking damned.

the laugh that is punched out of him is one of disbelief, and, quite frankly, sheer horror.

he'd only wanted to borrow some shaving cream, after all, he's not one to favour the prickly itch of stubble. and in perfect, restless lando fashion, he was given the whole essentials bag and tasked with finding it himself.

which then leads him to now, palm burning with the weight of three spliffs that had somehow tumbled out of a flat metal tin.

he stares at them for so long that he might as well have burned holes into them (ironic), and in a flurry of movement, he's stuffing everything back into the bag, zipping it closed. if he doesn't see it, then he doesn't know it's there. cool.

but he's just standing, in the middle of his hotel room, completely clueless and delirious. he doesn't know how many times he wipes perspiration off his palms and onto his shorts, neither does he know how he's able to text lando about his findings.

originally, he thought that sending the infamous, suggestively connotated 'you up?' would've trimmed a bit of the tension away, yet it seems like lando, without fail, waters the situation with a fuck-ton more.

"'join us'? fucking hell."

oscar feels absolutely scorched from the wisps of his hair to the tips of his toes, and a spark of something curls in his gut.

no, absolutely not.

it's- he flips his watch to check the time- one am for fuck's sake, and lando's— getting high. smoking weed. [most likely] with his girlfriend.

whatever it is that makes his gut its abode curls even more as he shoves his feet into the nearest shoes he can find, and tames his hair in the mirror by the doorway. finding the night already too hard to bare, he doesn't dwell on what he'd done, and heads off to lando's room with sickening anticipation swirling within the grooves of his skin.

the walk is only a few seconds long, and oscar curses the fact that they weren't roomed further apart (impractical in usual circumstances, but the current predicament is anything but usual). he guesses he stands there, navy blue wash bag clutched in a vice grip, for many minutes (his concept of time tonight is royally fucked— how has he stayed up this late?) before he musters up some courage to knock on the door. in the quietude of the night, the sound is magnified to the point where he winces and hopes that no one else on their floor wakes up.

he hears a quiet rustle from behind the door, sighs for the umpteenth time that day (honestly, he could have a smoke for himself to- no.) before it's swiftly open.

y/n stands there, no sign of a spliff in sight, but her heavy lidded red eyes (that must hurt, right?) and the pungent smell of weed is enough to tell.

"ah, golden boy is here," y/n's grinning, as much as she can do without it looking robotic, and oscar blushes.

"g-golden boy?"

"i said what i said," she opens the door wider, and oscar's vision catches a limp leg hanging off the side of the bed, "you coming in or what?"

he's never been in such a mind-tearing crossroad before. wants to be reasonable and say no, afterall his job is on the line here (just because lando hasn't been caught, doesn't mean he won't, too). but then he's thinking that he's played angel's advocate for too long, and, as if the universe wants to commit a double homicide, lando is walking over, countenance lackadaisical and bends down as he wraps his arms around her waist.

he asks for forgiveness, because such a temptation before him is completely unforgiving , and oscar finds his vascillations come to an end the second he makes eye contact with his teammate.

it's then he realises that the something that had been driving his intestines mad was sheer want, and, having a mind of their own, his feet shuffle into the room, decision finalised by the click of the door shutting behind him.

he just hopes he doesn't regret this is in the morning.

the couple, with eased familiarity, move back to the bed, leaving oscar standing there, lost and expecting. lando regains possession of the spliff, back flat against the bed and arm bent behind his head.

he's turning to oscar, several beats later, with a heated look that just pulls the australian right in.

"put the bag down, osc," he's demanding— oh fuck, "and come over here."

oscar feels rather mortified at the effect lando's assertiveness has on him. his heart curdles, drips away like goo, and he can't think straight.

toes off his shoes, sliding them out of the way with his foot, before dumping the bag on lando's luggage and tentatively making his way to the bed.

it's excruciatingly daunting, must he say, and he's sure it's blatant because y/n is grinning softly and beckoning him closer with the wave of a hand.

"you're good, oscar."

then he's fully on the bed, a thin sheen of gray blurring his vision and the stench of smoke so thick, he could get high off it alone.

lando's splayed in front of him, watching intensely as his fingers accomodate a joint between them, and y/n's at his side, right at the foot of the bed, fiddling with a metal tin of her own.

he wonders just how long they've been doing this for.

"for me, since i was 18/19 maybe. lando started about a year ago."

oscar's brain fucking spasms.

his head whips to y/n, then back to lando, who just smiles and takes another drag, "a year?!"

the girl beside him giggles, turning back to him with a freshly rolled spliff of his own, "yeah. practically drooling to take a hit."

his teammate groans, dragging a hand down his face before sitting up, they seem to go through this ordeal once or twice before.

before he can question any more, y/n points the joint at him, "you sure you want to do this?"

funny, he's asking himself this. has been ever since he read the proposition that lando (y/n) had sent, and he had replied with a seemingly confused 'sure'. heat feels like a thousands ants crawling up his body, and the silence is even worse because he's certain his ears are filled with cement.

"am i— am i gonna get addicted to... this?"

lando shakes his head just as y/n shrugs, "depends, love. if you've got good enough self control and don't rely on it too much, you'll be fine."

oscar gives a sigh of relief, but turns tense again as he looks at lando. almost telepathically, he knows what oscar is thinking.

"no osc, i'm not hooked on this. i only do it every couple of weeks or so."

his hands raise up in defense, "just asking, mate."

"and you have every right to, baby," y/n says, then scoops his hand into her grip and puts the spliff in his hand, "now take this and let lando teach you."

oscar doesn't know what to do with it. he just stares at the green stick in his hand and wills up some courage to look back up at lando. for the first time in 22 years, he's going to experience what it's like to get high, and the excitement that crawls up his spine is chilling.

"take this," lando pushes a bottle of water into his hands, and oscar looks at it in confusion.

"it's your first time, so it'll probably make you cough a ton. drinking water helps."

oscar nods, gently taking and unscrewing it open. he gulps it down like a starved animal, and almost chokes when he notices his teammates girlfriend staring bullets into his face. his heart jumps and he stops drinking.

"now put the spliff in your mouth and let me light it for you."

oscar does so, feeling the weight of the rolled joint between his lips is completely maddening.

his teammate fishes a black lighter from the bedside table, then scooches closer to oscar's crossed legs. lando's body is like a furnace of drunken heat, and it only gets worse when his hand lands right on oscar's bare thigh.

it feels perfect and oscar thinks he's surfing on the waves of euphoria already.

"this good?" lando questions his touch, and oscar doesn't waste time to nod, "alright— when i light it, you're gonna try and inhale as much as you can. don't let it stay in your throat or you're gonna cough."

oscar bobs his head affirmatively.

"if you can't, just take it in small amounts, not too much that it hits your throat."

then lando's leaning in, flame swaying from the lighter, and oscar's eyebrows scrunch as he follows it closer and closer to the spliff.

it's instaneous, the heat that fills his mouth, and in a hurried succession, oscar is inhaling and spluttering like a madman. his eyes are burning, they may already be red at this point, and his nose feels ripped off.

"take it easy, love," a hand- y/n's- rests upon his back and he finds himself needing composure, and not only from his failed attempt to smoke.

"wow uh that was— uhm..."

lando rubs his thigh, with the intention to comfort, but oscar finds himself more pent up than before. the weed is already kicking in and his mind feels chopped into pieces and mixed with cake batter, and every touch feels like a punch.

"you good to go again?" lando queries. oscar nods, his throat feeling too rough to speak up, "okay then, take your time and calm yourself down. small intakes, yeah?"

the spliff goes back between his lips, and with lando watching him like he's the best movie he's ever seen, he's sucking in the smoke cautiously and— fuck, it feels so so good. he's unravelled everywhere, not a kink left in his joint nor a knot remaining in his muscles, and when he breathes the smoke out, he lets his head fall back with a smile on his face.

"there you go," lando's voice sounds loose and airy in his mind, and oscar finds himself loving it.

"look at him, babe," y/n chimes from beside him, and his head rolls to give her an inebriated grin, "told you he was meant for it."

lando hums, agreeing, from in front of him, "gonna shotgun with him."

whatever that is, y/n is eager to see it happen, and oscar gives lando a confused look. it only evokes a cute grin from the other, who plucks the spliff from oscar's fingers.

"i'll take a hit and blow it in your mouth, if that's cool with you."

and— oscar moans involuntarily. he doesn't know where it comes from but it's practically punched out of him with how loud it is, and lando smirks widely. all oscar can do is watch as he fills his mouth with smoke and shuffles closer to him. his heart palpitates, beating like a drum piece, and his skin is damp and flushed from the intensity of it all.

lando assesses oscar's decision, confirming his consent as he nods, and slowly, lando snakes an arm around his neck, pulling him closer. oscar is compliant, body wanting and downright desperate, mouth opening on autopilot.

the second lando's lips attach to his and the smoke is pushed into his mouth, oscar fucking loses it. his eyes roll to the back of his head, and he's grabbing lando's hair and pushing his mouth deeper.

he's kissing his teammate with all he has to give, and lando— he's reciprocating it, lips hungry on oscar's, biting and licking everywhere. for a second, oscar can't think about anything, mind filled with just lando, as his tongue slips in and turns the kiss filthy.

oscar hasn't made out with anyone with such ferocity. he's encompassed in scorching heat, and the euphoria just gets better as lando trails his lips down his neck. the bites and licks are inclement, and oscar's sure there'd be marks tomorrow, angry and purple, but right now, he doesn't care. not when lando's hands creep up his shirt, and run up his torso, resting upon his nipples and twirling them around his fingers.

"oh fuck, lando," his moan is so high pitched it sounds foreign and it's almost hard for him to believe that it comes from him. but he's sure it does, because another is forced out as soft hand turns his head to the side and there's another set of lips on his in an instant.

he thinks he could hooked on y/n's kisses, warm, wet and so fucking sensual, he feels worshipped. not an inch of skin is missed by her tongue, and with every drag of her lips against his, he's concluding that this would be the perfect way to die.

oscar's so hard in his jeans from lando's stimulation, y/n's kisses, and the heightened sensation of everything from the weed, that he almost cums in his shorts. he can only imagine how plump it could be, and how a mouth on it would have him sobbing for days.

but he doesn't have to, because lando creeps a hand to his crotch and squeezes. the whine that leaves oscars mouth and into his teammate's girlfriend's is criminal.

"gonna suck you off so good, osc," lando moans in his ear, breath warm and words dirty, "you like that?"

and as oscar begs him to, he thinks that maybe getting high with lando and y/n isn't so bad afterall.

[parfaitblogs]

loml ❀ s. reid x reader

in which even six years apart isn’t too much time for spencer to come see you.

pairing: ex!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst/comfort sort of tags: that freaky shit (soul crushing angst). a lot of nothing. approximately the time morgan left the bau (it's mentioned). spoilers for 5x9 (‘100’) if you haven't watched it yet... fade to black.  word count: 1.2k a/n: heyyyy… enjoy my the contents of my sad brain lol. this can kinda be a waiting room pt. 2 if you squint. i’m super sick right now so here’s a draft i wasn’t going to post until august (although it’s july 31 so is it technically august?) because i have no energy to write rn. whoops. enjoyy

Your mother once told you she doesn't think you can be just friends with some people. 

They're either there to be in your life forever, souls so deeply woven together that you have to be more than friends. Or they're fleeting, and your lives will line up for a short enough period of time that they'll impact you, and then you'll never see them again. 

You wished Spencer Reid was the latter.

Not at first. No, at first he was the man you were going to marry. You were certain of it. Discussing your wedding with your friends because it was going to happen, and you were picturing him at the altar. You had fantasised what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life so many times, dedicating so many hours to the concept of it, that when you lost it, you mourned the loss of it as much as you mourned the relationship. 

But Spencer Reid was the former. Unfortunately so. Losing so many years to a man you didn't even speak to anymore, because you just can't get over it. Can't get over how you could give someone so much of you, and they will still throw it all away for a narrative they've made up in their mind. Can't get over the narrative he made up of you. 

It was justifiable, you supposed. His boss had just lost his (ex) wife because of the job. It was tough for everyone on the team. You didn't think it was so bad he would freak out as much as he did, though. 

Because in his mind you were next. He was going to lose you as well. And even that stupidly large brain of his couldn't see how ridiculous that sounded. He refused to listen to you when all he could hear was the screaming in his head of you being next, and the statistics of female abductions. Statistics that were no different between the day before the incident, and the day he broke up with you. They were just louder to him.

An achingly long amount of time had passed from the last time you spoke to him. A pathetic meeting you had requested two months after the breakup, because your life was falling apart and maybe seeing him would make it better.

It didn't. 

You wondered if you'd still be shedding tears over him if you hadn't met him that night.

You heard your name, and so your head lifted from your lap. Right, you thought, bitterly. He was here. In your apartment. The same one he used to sleep at, for days on end.

You knew triggers like the back of your hand. They were usually things that made sense. Loud noises, blood, anniversaries. Could you justify your trigger being a whole person? 

You hadn't known he was a trigger until that evening, when he had showed up at your apartment door with a bouquet of flowers that you didn't really want, and an insultingly pretty smile. You had broken down, right there in your doorway, crumpling to the floor in a hyperventilating, miserable heap. 

He had held you, and frustratingly so, it helped. He didn't speak when he had done it, until you were calmer and were muttering apologies to him, embarrassment replacing the upset. 

At which he shushed you. You listened. 

"Why are you here?" you broke the silence that followed his calling of your name, voice shaky.

He exhaled audibly. "I wanted to see you."

"No, Spencer," you sniffled. "You don't get to come over with flowers just because you wanted to see me. Why are you here?"

He fell silent, and you wished you could crawl into his brain to see what he was thinking. You presumed a million things. 

"Morgan left," he said, quietly, and you felt your mouth go dry. 

"Oh."

Then; your eyebrows furrowed. Because did he really have no one to go to? You stared back at him for a few seconds, and for a moment, you let yourself forget about the weight between you two. Staring into his eyes was an easy way to forget that, apparently. It was comforting for you, but perhaps uncomfortable for him. 

Because he cleared his throat, and adjusted his position on the couch. "I didn't know where to go. And you said if I needed anything, you would be there and—"

"—People say that as a courtesy, Spencer," you breathed out.

"I know," he said, quickly. "But I really needed someone, and I genuinely didn't know where else to go."

You couldn't slam the door in his face even if you wanted to. Because now you were registering more than just your own emotions. The red rimming his eyes, the dusting of pink on his nose and above his lips. 

So, you nodded your head. "Okay. Come here," you said, opening your arms, and took him in between them. Albeit hesitantly. On both ends. 

This time he broke down, and you let him. His face pressed into the crook of your neck, your fingers entangled in his curls, scratching at his scalp in the best soothing motion you could. 

He cried until he had dehydrated his body, and your arms had begun to cramp from the position they were in. When he pulled back, your heart cracked a little more at the sight, his face wet with tears that stuck his hair to his cheeks, that you cleaned up. 

"I miss you."

You froze. He did as well, but for an entirely different reason. At the idea that he had said it. Not you. Him. The words decorated the air and hung there for minutes as you fell silent. 

Finally; "You don't mean that."

"Yes I do," his response was quick, as if expecting you to deny him of his own feelings.

"You're upset, and I'm comforting you. You miss Morgan. Not me. Transference," you mumbled, hands dropping from his face. 

"This isn't transference."

"Spencer."

You were right. You knew it in the way his shoulders sagged in defeat, and his lips parted as if to say something, only to clamp shut in mental defiance. 

"Maybe," he finally said, quietly. "But I do still miss you."

"It's been five years," you answered. He nodded his head in agreement. You exhaled. "I miss you too, Spencer."

He lips twitched, but never reached a smile. "You aren't seeing anyone, then?" he asked. 

"You can deduce that, I'm sure."

You were right, he could, and he nodded his head, lips reaching a smile, albeit sadly. "Yeah. Me neither."

"I also figured," you said. "You would've gone to your girlfriend if you had one."

"I would've," he nodded his head, laughing a breathy, awkward laugh. "Instead I went to my ex-girlfriend."

"You did." More uncomfortable silence, before you let out a sigh. Again. "Movie?"

"What?"

"Do you want to watch a movie?" you say the full sentence, a little slower than what was probably necessary. You knew him well enough to know that he hated talking about his feelings, he was an awful communicator. Had been, your brain screams at you. He could've changed. 

It seemed he hadn't, because he nodded his head, a smaller, more genuine smile painted his lips. "Yeah. Okay."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

I was thinking and wondering about how 141 and könig would react if their s/o started breaking down whenever they dropped a plate or fucked up in some way like leaving something on the stove and their s/o completely breaks down. Apologizing and crying and saying “pls don’t be mad at me” stuff like that.

Or reader accidentally says “ok” I’m a kinda of snippy voice and they genuinely didn’t hear reader, and say “what?” And reader responds with “yes sir” or some shit like that as a trauma response? Srry if this is confusing lol

If this makes you uncomfortable pls ignore

Hey there! I can do this, no problem.

141 + König Reacting To Reader Having A Breakdown From Past Trauma

Warnings: mentions of past trauma, abuse, crying, feelings of unworthiness, swearing - ENDS IN FLUFF!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simon Ghost Riley-

Nothing was going your way today. You spilled coffee on yourself first thing this morning, stepped in a muddy puddle with your brand new shoes, and your boss was in a horrible mood, and you were his target.

You made it home later that night, and it took everything in you not to break down. Simon would be home soon, and you knew he'd be hungry, so you mustered what energy you could to head to the kitchen and start cooking.

~

"Hey babe, I'm home." You heard Simon's voice call from the front door.

"Hey, dinner is ready." You turned a bit too quickly to greet your husband, and the plate of food in your hands slid from your grasp, smashing to the floor.

You both stood there for a moment, staring at the mess on the floor, before you let out a choked sob.

Simon quickly threw his gear to the floor and carefully made his way around the broken shards to you. "Baby, what's wrong? It's okay. We can clean it."

"Please don't be mad at me, Simon." You sobbed into his chest. "I didn't mean to it, it slipped."

Simon's eyes widened as he looked down at you, grasping your cheeks in his hands softly. "Sweetheart, why would I be mad at you? It was an accident."

"Because I broke the plate! And you were probably hungry, and now dinner is ruined, and I'm a terrible spouse." Your brain was going a mile a minute as the word vomit continued to pour out. "I'm so sorry, Simon. I'll be better."

Simon pulled you back into his chest as he tore through the thoughts in his head. Why were you so upset? It was just a plate. You two could order takeout? What kind of person would be mad over....oh. A lightbulb went off in Simon's head as he looked down at you.

"Y/N, sweetheart, look at me."

You slowly peeled your head from his chest as you looked up at him, your eyes puffy and red from crying.

Simon rubbed his thumbs along your cheeks gently before he spoke. "I'm not him. And you are a wonderful spouse. I couldn't have asked for anyone better to be by my side every day. I don't give a damn if you dropped a plate. We are all human, kid."

You let out another sob, your bottom lip quivering as you took in his words. It was known, Simon was a man of few words, but he always, always knew what to say to help you in the moment.

"I love you, Y/N, always. I'm always going to be here for you, and I promise you, I'm never going to get mad about trivial shit like this. You're okay."

Simon stayed holding you for some time, rubbing soothing circles in your back as you started to calm down. "Why don't we order some takeout, yeah? My treat."

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

You and Johnny had just finished up dinner, and he was currently finishing up the dishes as you got the show you two were binging ready on the TV.

"Do you want any popcorn or anything babe?" He asked as he placed the last dish in the cupboard.

"Nah, only you and a buttload of cuddles." You said, turning to him with a warm smile.

Johnny leaned back, admiring you, as his hands rested on the stove behind him.

"FUCK!" He cried out, as there was a searing pain emitting from his hand. "Is the stove still on?"

You jumped up from your spot on the couch, alarmed at Johnny's cry of pain, and you went white as you realized you'd forgotten to turn the stove off after cooking dinner.

"Oh my God, Johnny. I'm so sorry." You mumbled, your heart beginning to race as you made your way over to your boyfriend slowly.

"Shite, that fucking hurts." Johnny waived his hand in the air, trying to shake away some of the pain, not realizing his quick movements had you hunched down in the corner, your arms over your head defensively.

"Y/N?" He asked, the pain in his hand long forgotten. "Baby, did you..did you think I was going to hit you?"

"I...I... I'm sorry, Johnny. I didn't mean to, I forgot I thought I turned it off." You cried out, tears now falling down your cheeks, your hands shaking violently.

"Did that..did that fucker hurt you?" Johnny began to put the pieces together in his brain. Before him, you were in a relationship with a man who liked to hurt you whenever you made a mistake.

You gave a small nod, your bottom lip trembling as you tried to prevent a small sob from escaping. Johnny slowly moved to sit on the floor next to to, and grabbed your hands gently.

"Y/N, I will never, and I mean never lay a finger on you like that. Any man who does has no right to be called a man. I am so sorry you went through that." Johnny rubbed soothing circles into your wrists as his eyes stared lovingly into yours. "Don't worry about the stove being left on. It happens. I do shit like that all the time. Plus, I've gotten way worse burns than this, this is child's play."

You let out a soft chuckle as you exhaled deeply. "I love you, Johnny. Thank you. Let me at least grab the burn cream for you."

"I love you too, babe." He have you a warm smile as you walked over to the medicine cabinet and watched as you fumbled with the contents.

Johnny made a silent promise to himself that day, that if he ever saw your ex, he'd teach him a lesson of his own.

John Price-

"Hey, have you seen my white dress shirt? It's not in my closet." John asked, as he rummaged through your shared room. He had a gala tonight he was supposed to attend, and he couldn't find his favorite white shirt.

"Oh! I washed it, I knew you wanted to wear it, let me go grab it from the dryer." You called back, making your way to your laundry room.

You rummaged through the dryer, trying to find his shirt, and your heart dropped when you saw it. You pulled it out, revealing a giant ink stain on the front, and looked over to find a pen that had gone through the dryer along with it.

Your hand flew to your mouth as you let out a muffled sob. "No, no, no."

"Were you able to find it? I appriciate you washing-" John's voice was cut short as he took in the scene in front of him. "Is that my shirt?"

"John...I... I didn't know that it was..there was a pen." You started rambling, your voice trembling with each word.

John took a deep breath, trying to calm himself as he took in your state. "It's alright, love."

"No! No you're mad, I fucked up and now you're mad. I'm so sorry. I didn't know there was a pen, and..and.. please don't hate me." You sobbed, falling to your knees, your hands flying to your face.

John felt his heart shatter as he watched you crumble to the floor. He was very aware of the past you had with your family, a family that allowed for very few mistakes, and one that would punish you for any said mistakes.

"Y/N. Baby. It's okay." John crouched down beside you, pulling you into his lap. "I've got you, it's alright."

You choked out a sob as you threw your face into his chest, staining his shirt with your tears. "No, no, it's not. This was your favorite shirt and I fucked it up."

"Love, I was the one who left that pen in my pants. It's my fault, not yours. I promise you, honey, I'm not mad." He rubbed at your arms soothingly as he pressed kisses to your forehead.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding as you continued to clutch onto your husband's arms. "I should've looked, still. I'll buy you a new one."

"Aye, screw the shirt. I'm kind of glad it's ruined. I didn't want to go to that silly dress up party anyway. I'd much rather stay here with you."

"Really?" You asked, wiping away your tears.

"Really. I don't need some to be at some party with stuffy stuck-up pricks when I can be here with my pretty little partner. I'm gonna go order us some takeout. What do you say we get our pjs on and watch a movie, yeah?"

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

"Hey, babe. Can you keep me alive in this game for like 5 minutes? I have to go run to the bathroom, I can't pause it." Kyle called out.

"Oh, yeah, sure. I'm not very good at those kinds of games but I can try." You gave him a sheepish smile as you walked over to him.

"It should be super easy. Just walk anywhere, but where the guys with red bars over their heads are. Those are the enemies." Kyle said, before placing a kiss on your head. "I'll be super quick, I promise."

You swallowed thickly as Kyle walked away, your hands shaking slightly as you held onto the controller.

You managed to do pretty well at first, avoiding all of the enemies that were wandering around you. Luck, however, was not on your side for long.

An enemy came out of nowhere as you were pacing back and forth in one of the corners of the map and managed to kill you with one hit.

"Thanks for watching it, babe. I hate how I can't save my progress in -" Kyle stopped mid sentence as he saw the "YOU DIED" message flicker across the TV screen.

"Kyle, I'm so sorry. He...he came out of nowhere, and I.. it was one hit, and there wasn't anything I could do." You started to hyperventilate, your breathing increasing rapidly as tears brimmed in the corner of your eyes. "I was doing well, and I didn't see him I.. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, hey, it's okay!" Kyle was quick to come over to you, taking the controller from your hands. "I'm not mad, baby."

"But you losy your progress and I fucked up, and now you hate me." Your thoughts were racing through your head faster than you could process, and you threw your face into your hands as you let out a sob.

"Y/N. Baby. I promise you, I couldn't ever hate you. It's a stupid video game. It's okay. You're safe. You're with me, not him." Kyle gently pulled you into his lap as he began to press kisses to your hair. "It's okay, sweetheart. Besides, it gives me a chance to go back and loot better shit anyway."

You looked up to him through your bleary eyes, and gave a wobbly smile. "I don't deserve you, Kyle Garrick."

"Bugger off with that, love. If anyone doesn't deserve anyone, it's me who doesn't deserve you."

König-

You and König were cleaning up in the weapons/gear locker at the end of a brutal mission. The two of you moved in slow motion around the room, removing your gear and laying down your weapons to be cleaned.

"Maus, can you help me get this vest off? I can't seem to get the buckle." Königs voice shook you from your thoughts, and you turned to help your lover.

The strap of the vest seemed to be stuck, so you gave it a little tug. You evidently had put too much pressure, and it caused you to tear a hole in the fabric, leaving the strap useless.

Your mouth flew open, and you quickly ran over to grab one of the sewing kits on the table. You returned to him, and immediately started to thread at the fabric.

"Hey, hey, it's fine. It's just a tear. We can look at it later." König said, trying to grab at your frenzied hands.

"NO! No, I have to fix it!" You shoved him away as you continued to stitch at the torn fabric of his vest. "I have to fix it."

König watched helplessly as tears began to stream down your face, unable to do anything to console you.

He knew of your past boyfriend and how weak he made you feel. Any mistake you made would end with you being on the end of either physical, or mental abuse, and it made Königs blood boil thinking that anyone could harm someone like you.

"Maus." His voice was firm, catching your attention immediately. "Stop, please."

Your bottom lip wobbled, a whimper barely escaping your lips as you looked up at him. "But I ruined it."

"I don't care about the vest, schatz, it's military issued I can get another." He said gently, as he pulled your hands away from the vest. "I just need you to be okay."

"I'm..okay. Please don't me mad at me." You cried softly, looking back to the vest.

"I couldn't ever be mad at you for something like this. I'm not, and will not ever be like him, okay? You're alright, I promise you." His hands dropped yours and landed on the back of your neck, as he turned your head back to him.

"Tell me you're okay." He said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"I'm okay." You repeated, your eyes fluttering shut.

"Tell me you're safe." Another kiss was pressed to your cheek.

"I'm safe."

"Tell me you're loved." A kiss was placed to your forehead.

"I am loved." You repeated once more as a final kiss was placed to your lips. König had started this "mantra" of sorts one of the very first panic attacks you had with him, and it had become a comfort for you ever since. He was always the best at calming you down.

"You are so beautiful, Maus. I love you so much. Let's get the rest of this gear off and go to sleep, alright? I've got you."

And he did, he always had you. He'd never, in his life, ever let you feel like you were anything less than wonderful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: thanks for reading!

[thenerdyalien]

My headcanon about Arthur's mortality (or how I think he was able to survive before Merlin came to Camelot)

"(The griffin is a creature of magic.) It is born of magic, sire, and it can only be killed by magic." - Gaius, S1E5

Alright, since Merlin is trending again for no reason I'll share one of my lastest headcanons I came up with during my last Merlin rewatch.

There was something about this line from Gaius and the way the camera then directly pans out to Arthur that made me think of an interesting headcanon that would explain how Arthur managed to survive so long without Merlin.

You see, according to this logic, because he was born of magic, Arthur can only be killed by magic (or weapons forged by magic *winkwink*). So he could never really die from simple illnesses or battle wounds unless those were directly inflicted by magic. And, since Uther started the purge against magic right after Arthur was born, he probably wouldn't have had much contact with it in his early years (at least until he became a knight and started going out on quests, raids, etc).

That would explain why (much like Merlin) he seems able to endure so many injuries (broken ribs, poisoned arrows, etc) that other knights can't. (I mean, just the fact that this man didn't sustain some severe brain damage from all the times he's been knocked out is impressive lol)

What I'm saying is that being born of magic must have given him some sort of endurance that other mortals don't have, because by Gaius' logic the circumstances of his birth in itself made him a sort of creature of magic (just like Merlin).

It would also make for a good Canon divergence fic in which this was the reason that made Uther start the purge in the first place (to protect his son from the only thing that could kill him)...and it can get even more angsty if you add in the fact that Merlin is literally magic itself, but I digress.

Anyway, I'm probably reading way too much into this. I doubt the writers would've thought so far ahead as to put foreshadowing so early on in the series. But I just thought it was an interesting headcanon and just another fun parallel between Merlin and Arthur.

[kisseobie]

Can you rank P1harmony on who is most likely to get pussy drunk and why 👀👀

who in p1harmony is most likely to be pussy drunk

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

warnings: nsfw obvi (mdni)

a/n: well yes! this is in mtl, so most to least! (although i can see all of piwon as munches that all get pussy drunk tbh..)

༘⋆₊˚ jongseob

might be a controversial take and might be spurred on by a seob work i am currently drafting out but.. fuck it i’m putting jongseob as the most likely to be pussy drunk! i’m just sooo fixated on the idea of him never experiencing anything before meeting you, and just becoming obsessed when his fingers, lips, and cock all make contact with your cunt for the first time.. so eager to please, and the fact that he’s able to draw out waves from you is enough for him to feel pleasure as well. definitely a service dom that can spend hours analyzing each reaction he can pull from you.. when he’s particularly stressed out in the midst of comeback preparations he’s spending his nights lapping at your pussy until all the worrying thoughts dissipate from his pretty head :3

༘⋆₊˚ intak

just a loser puppy bf obsessed with his girlfriend and her glistening cunt :(( he’s sooo desperate 24/7, is always pulling you away from whatever or whoever you’re currently occupied with, just so he can worship you and your pussy. he’s the typa bf to rut his hips against the bed whilst eating you out, eagerness evident in the way he groans into your cunny .. he’s def begging you afterwards to let him stuff you with his dick .. pleading with big eyes and nasty words like “just the tip? please angel, wanna feel you around me” and you’d never admit it to him, but his never-satiated desire to worship your pretty pussy drives you absolutely crazy :( please please rut your hips onto his face and pull his hair when he’s eating you out.. he deserves it!!

༘⋆₊˚ jiung

another hot take but i think a serious little nerdy introvert like ji would have a crazyyyyy sex drive; and an even crazier need to constantly be inside of you. once the pair of you have sex for the first time, it literally alters jiung’s brain chemistry. he’s particularly obsessed with overstimulating you just to witness the familiar frothy white ring of his and your cum placed around his dick every time he lifts your pelvis up and pulls in and out.. literally takes pictures of your pussy like it’s the finest piece of art he’ll ever see, tucking said photos into a locked folder on his phone that he visits quite frequently. is not as vocal about just how pussy drunk he gets, but his actions and stares make it obvious :DD

༘⋆₊˚ theo

now now.. i know people are gonna say yangie should be higher on the list, but personally, i think theo—whilst very much obsessed with eating you out—would get more drunk off of receiving pillow princess treatment? i know most people write him as a service dom but this man is lowkey the brattiest sub to exist in my eyes lol. can see him being greedy as hell. being fourth on this list and leaning submissive doesn’t mean he’s never pussy drunk tho! but i do think it’s less of a trait during sex, and more of a feeling he gets when he’s needy and missing you. i can see taeyang sniffing your unwashed panties and getting off to that like a little perv hehe

༘⋆₊˚ soul

now this was a bit difficult.. and shota is an enigma so it took me awhile to properly place him where he belongs. kind of like theo, i feel like he isn’t really the type to get pussy drunk during sex or foreplay or anything like that. instead, i think he’s just more obsessed with your other body parts and processes, like the way your tits bounce when he’s rutting into your heat, how you clench around his cock when he’s more vocal with you, how your moans eventually morph into little broken gasps. i think my main impression of being pussy drunk is being so obsessed, dazed, and brainless, but i just think soul would be a lot more aware when intimate, and not so easily lost in the sauce as the others lol

༘⋆₊˚ keeho

i can already hear the disgruntled keeho truthers making their way but before yall kill me.. hear me out.. i think of kyo as a hard dom majority of the time, so i really don’t think he would make it aware to you even if he was pussy drunk. i also think making you feel good would be his priority, and he wouldn’t pay much mind to his own pleasure until his girl was satisfied, so i just don’t think he’s got the time and drive to be pussy drunk! he’s on a mission to have you trembling with want, and he can’t really achieve that if he’s drooling with lust for your cunt :/ maybe it’s just the way i characterize him.. but i just think he and shota are more focused on other things during intimacy

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @t3ssamoodboard @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @sundancearchives @chuuswifereal @seisyiss @fishsquishh @sunnyyangie

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

༘⋆₊˚

[daphwritesworld]

Chapter 3— Fool.

a/n: welcome back to the Be My Baby series! Sorry y'all, I left with some with friends and it went on waaaaay longer than I thought it would lol. I'm gonna break this chapter up into 2 parts so I can get it posted tonight. So an extra chapter will be added!! Chapter 4 will just be the part 2 of this one, and after that it'll be back on schedule. Oh and don't worry— chapter 4 will be out tomorrow btw!! that's where the big boy angst comes on. so y'all are safe until then. thank you for your support and happy reading < 3

(p.s. sorry I didn't proof read this again, lol. I will later & edit any details that need touching up. Again sorry this is late, but I hope getting part two and the Keira fic tomorrow will make up for it haha.)

content: sick!Reader, caretaker!Leah, straight up no smut (CRAZY I KNOOOOOW), mostly fluff, and some angst.

warnings: talks of not hydrating & eating properly, the flu, A&E/ER, confusion caused by sickness

synopsis: You wake up sick and you call the only person you can think of for help.

word count: 3.0k

Series Masterlist: here.

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

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The sound of your alarm doesn’t jolt you awake this morning. You’re already lying wide awake before it rolls around this time. You’d woken up early and your mind drifted to Leah, your whole situation together, barca, and the inevitable moment when they all come crashing together like a high speed train accident. Is it severely toxic and self destructive? Oh for sure…but who’s gonna stop you?

You stretch out your limbs as you set up in bed, turning off your alarm as you settle back into your own skin. There’s a rolling storm of anxiety filling your gut, and as your feet touch the ground it flies up to your throat. You run to the bathroom and barely make it to the toilet in time, emptying out your stomach contents. Which at the moment is just your bile. The sweating must’ve started when you were in bed; because you quickly notice the dampness of your shirt from the temperature drop in the bathroom. The cold tiles seep through Leah’s sweats and chill your body down. You shiver after a few minutes, staying seated on the floor as you take a moment to catch your breath.

You make quick work of going to grab your phone and sending your boss a quick message. As soon as it's sent you make your way to the shower. It's only when you bend down to take your pants off that you realize how sick you truly are. Your vision goes blurry and your head starts floating in and out of dizziness. You slowly lower your body, your hands making contact with the floor as you set yourself down. It's then that the headache starts— like your brain is pounding against your forehead on repeat. It's sharp and never ending, leaving you to crumble down into tears.

You don't have a car, and even if you did— you are in no state to operate a vehicle right now, and you definitely don't feel confident enough to order a taxi like this. So you are left with one option. One you know you're gonna regret when you're not sick and delusional, but it's the one thing your broken mind can think of…You call Leah. You crawl across the tiled floor and get your phone off the counter, dialing her number as you pray she picks up. And of course she does, because by the third ring her voice is greeting you through the speakers. "I knew you couldn't resist me, darling. I've just been wait—"

"Le…" you cut her off with a sob of her nickname. Your head is painfully throbbing now, and your mouth is so dry your throat is scratchy. She can tell just from the small amount of your voice she hears.

"y/n, hey— what's wrong? I'm on my way, alright? I'll be there soon, just stay on the phone with me," Leah's moving before the first word even leaves her mouth. She's leaving her breakfast on the table as she slips mismatching shoes on her feet. Running out of her flat with nothing but her keys and her phone in her hands.

"Something's wrong, Le. I'm sick and I-I..I'm sorry. I didn't know who else to call," your voice breaks at the end. It's like a knife plunging into Leah's heart as she hears it; the absolute brokenness of your words. She knows there's a deeper meaning behind your them, but she won't push it. Leah knows any of the girls would come to help you in a heartbeat, so what's got you believing otherwise? Or maybe the better question is, who has you believing otherwise? She'll investigate that later.

"Hey, hey, calm down. You're alright, love. Take a deep breath for me, okay? I'll be there before you know it, and we'll get you to the doctor," Leah's voice would normally calm you down, but your brain is still running a million miles per minute…and it's only making you feel worse. It's like you can't focus on a singular thought, and the confusion only fuels your distress. Leah presses down on the gas pedal when she doesn't get a response from you. She can only hear your cries filling up the empty space of her car. She gets to your building in record time, and only then does she realize she didn't bring her wallet.

"God dammit," she chastises herself under her breath, trying to not let you hear her frustration as she searches for a on-street parking spot. She just had to forget you live in a fancy ass building with paid parking, today of all days. "I'm parking now, love. I'll be up in a few minutes." Thankfully she gets one across the street, rummaging through her center console for some change coins. She puts way more than needed in the parking meter, but that's not her main priority right now. "I need you tell me if the door's unlocked, okay? I know you don't feel well, but can you unlock it if it is?"

You close your eyes as you take a deep breath, gathering all your mental strength to answer her. "N-No. There's a key under t-the welcome mat though…I don't think I can walk by myself. I-I'm so sorry, Leah," you can't stop the embarrassment from filling your body. You hate having to ask people for help— especially when you need it the most. It makes you feel weak, helpless, and like a burden. It's a deep seated insecurity you can't seem to shake, but it's not like you've really ever tried to correct it. We all know Leah's stubborn, but you? You can be even worse than her. It's not like you mean to be, but you're just…broken. In more ways than even you would like to admit.

Leah sees right through it though— she always has. She is the one person in your life that sees you for who you are. Not the persona you put up for the rest of the world. You two may of only spent a short time together that year ago, but oh what an impact it made. Spending every waking second with a person for weeks on end does something to a person. You either ending up hating each other, falling in love, or whatever the fuck you two got going on.

"You don't need to be sorry, y/n. You definitely need a better hiding spot for your spare though, that's just bloody awful! You're asking for a break in!" Leah feels herself get a little frustrated as she retrieves your key. Her voice picking up into a scolding tone as she jiggles with your doorknob. You whimper out as you move the phone from your ear, the slight rise in her voice making your head hurt more. "Too loud," you say as she walks into your home. She makes sure to shut the door lightly, before smacking herself in the forehead for raising her voice with you. "I'm sorry, love. I just worry about you. Now which room are you in?"

"My bathroom," your voice sounds so small now. Like a child getting in trouble.

"I'm on my way to you now, okay?" Leah says as she climbs the stairs. Her eyes flit over your walls and she notices the lack of pictures. You have bare hallways and they look so, so lonely. She walks into your bedroom and she sees the void of no decor or really any of your things at all. It makes her sad, but mostly it leaves her wanting to ask more questions. Questions she knows she can't ask right now, but will get the answers to someway.

Nothing could have prepared Leah for what she sees behind the wooden door of your bathroom. You're clad in a mist of sweat, all the color drained from your face, and you're shaking like a leaf. It isn't until she's running up to you and falling to her knees that she sees the extent of your state. Your pants are still sitting halfway down your thighs, and Leah quickly moves to redress you. She makes sure not to look at you inappropriately, only doing what's needed to get you comfortable and less exposed. She knows how vulnerable you are right now, and she's doing everything she can to make sure you're okay. She sheds her Arsenal hoodie off, sliding it over your head as she encourages you to push your arms through.

“Hey love, let’s get you stood up– that’s it.” She helps you get to your feet, letting you lean all your body weight onto her. Leah guides you back towards your bed, sitting you on the edge as she goes to grab a pair of your shoes. It doesn't take her long before she's rejoining you and sliding some slip-ons over your feet. she pats your legs when she's down, looking up to see your disheveled appearance. "You ready to go?"

"Mhm," you nod your head along. Talking is only making your headache worse, so you've opted for noises instead.

With that, Leah is helping you back up. But before you can rest your weight back onto her side, she's picking you up bridal style. Your arms instinctively go to wrap around her neck, burying your face in the warmth of her embrace. You don't have the energy to argue with her, and honestly it's a relief to not have to walk right now. She carries you like you weigh nothing, shutting and locking your door like she isn't holding an entire human being. If you didn't feel like death you'd be obsessing over how hot she is, but right now you're just thankful.

You must've fallen asleep, because the next thing you know you're waking up in a A&E bed. You blink a few times to adjust to the lights above you, small groans slipping out as you try to stretch the cramped feeling out of your limbs. Then you hear her softly speaking on the phone across the room, and you go back to lying still. You close your eyes as you focus on trying to hear her conversation. "I know I should've called first, but you didn't see her. She couldn't even stand on her own, and she fell asleep in my arms before we even made it to her building elevator! She's in bad shape, and I'm not just gonna leave her here all alone in a country she doesn't fucking know. I'm the Captain and it's my responsibility to look after everyone— I don't fucking care that she's not a player! She's on our team, our crew, and she deserves our support. Call me back when you get your head out of your ass," and with that she hangs up.

You try and force yourself to just back to sleep and forget everything you've heard, but of course that's not how things work out. Your stomach starts turning again, complicating feelings swirling around with the uneasiness. The tears come falling down your cheeks before your eyes even open, your chest starting to tighten up as the sobs claw at your lungs to get out. It feels like you can't breathe, and honestly maybe you aren't. Not as you see flashbacks of Barca passing through your memory, a wave of dread blanketing over your body.

"What hurts, love? Do I need to get the nurse?" Leah's by your side the second she notices, a hand out grasping your forearm. Her fingers dance little patterns into your skin, and it actually starts to ground you. "Come on, take deep breaths with me again, okay?"

You nod your head, and then she's holding both your hands. You follow her lead as she sucks in a slow breath and holds it, before exhaling just as slow. She repeats the process with you until you're calmed all the way down. It doesn't take too long, but honestly Leah isn't going to leave you anytime soon anyway. "Nothing hurts," you say it so softly she barely hears it. Your eyes stay locked down onto the bed sheets below you, never making any eye contact with her.

"Then why were you crying, y/n?"

"Because I heard you on the phone…and I don't know. I guess I freaked out, and went spiraling into a self hate hole for a second. I'm okay, really."

"oh bloody hell! I'm so sorry you heard that, darling. I should've went into the hall or something—"

"It's okay, Le. I'm just sensitive, and really really delulu from whatever sickness I currently have…plus it was nice to hear you stick up for me, Captain."

"The mystery sickness is indeed just a bad case of the flu…but uhm, the doctor said it was made worse from you being dehydrated and probably not eating enough from the looks of your blood work. I'm not gonna judge you or yell at you. But I am taking you home with me when they discharge you. I'm your official caregiver until you're well enough to take after yourself again," Leah doesn't let go of your hand as she says it. She tries to connect your gazes, but you don't allow it. Actively avoiding her eyes as you feel them burrowing holes into your skull.

You wish you could argue with her and tell her she's wrong…but you can't. You've been skipping out on meals ever since you moved here. It's not been on purpose, you just haven't been able to eat. It's like your body hates the idea of eating, always growing nauseous after every few bites. So you've been drinking some meal replacements…not enough apparently. "Okay."

"…Okay? Really? That was a whole lot easier than I thought it would be," Leah is staring at you with her biggest look of, 'be so for real, bitch' written across her face. But you just shrug as you sink back into the uncomfortable mattress underneath you. You're so mentally and physically wore out right now, there's just no fight left inside you. Right as you're about to re-close your eyes, the doctor finally comes back in. After getting the run down from him, he lets you know that you can be discharged and to pick up your antibiotics before going home. Leah helps you redress again, and this time it has you giggling at the way she makes her eyes go anywhere but at your naked body.

"Hold on…how'd you get the doctor to tell you what was wrong with me before I even woke up? Aren't there some rules against that?"

"…I might have told everyone that you're my fiancé," Leah smiles at you nervously.

"Fuck you, Williamson! Take yourself on that date Thursday!"

"Oh, so you're finally agreeing that it's a date?" Leah smirks at you, only hearing the parts of what she wants to hear.

"Well, I guess we'll never know, now will we?"

She rolls her eyes at you for that, holding her hand out for you to take. And you do, still leaning against her some to walk. She helps you to the car, and once you're both secure she's driving you to your new home for the next few days…or weeks. God you hope only days. It feels weird to be back inside a house with another person, and it's extra fucking weird that it's Leah. You know this stay is when you have to put down some boundaries with her. To stop whatever there is between the two of you. It makes the previous pit in your stomach increase by double, because deep down you know you care about her...you're just lying to yourself about it. You can push every feeling down your throat, but they will all come spilling out at some point. That's what you've learned to be true over the years, but will you accept that as truth? Hell no! At least not anytime soon. Your worst problem is that you always get in your own way.

When she finally gets you inside, Leah starts cooking and letting her mind wonder to think of you. More importantly to the phone call you overheard in the A&E. She'd been talking with her manager, and completely snapped on him. He'd said something about how Leah 'follows you around like a lost puppy' and well…. it hurt her fucking feelings. Of course she isn't doing all of this just because she's one sided sickly in love with you…right? Sure she thinks of you literally every second of the day, and she's been day dreaming of you for the past year, but that's all totally normal...RIGHT?

Leah doesn't get to spiral into her romanic crisis for too long, because before she knows it the timers going off. She drains the gnocchi before putting it in a bowel for you, making her way back to the living room where she left you. She laughs at the sight that greets her— you snuggled up asleep in her Arsenal hoodie she'd given you when she first saw you. Leah just sets the gnocchi aside on the coffee table, opting to cuddle you instead of waking you up. She pulls you onto her body, your face resting on her chest as she tries to adjusts you without waking you up.

She finds herself running her fingers through your hair, and before long they're running softy across the features of your face. Leah lets a deep sigh come out of her chest. She truly feels like a fucking fool. Leah doesn't chase girls— they chase her. So for the first time in this game, she is the one crying. She's clinging onto any crumb of attention you'll give her, and she'll keep doing it for as long as it takes. Leah has you sleeping against her chest once again, and it's nothing like she's day dreamed of. You two aren't confessing your feelings, running around town making memories, or god forbid actually dating…but she'll keep feeling like a fool and waiting on you. She'll keep searching for your love until she finds it, because she knows she's felt flashes of it. She knows that carefree, wild, truly happy girl from Ibiza is still inside of you somewhere. Leah doesn't know what took that extra bright sparkle out of your eyes, but she is determined to see it light up your face back up.

[eliza-and-her-monsters]

Perfectly Misaligned

Vi x reader

Summary: Vi has always been protective over you ever since you moved in next door to a less than savory part of town. Nevertheless though she still tries to play things cool though and not cross any boundaries. Whenever she hears the way your friend really talks to you though from the other side of the door, all bets are off.

Contains: very very au! still kind of new to the arcane/LoL universe so this will not be following canon or anything at all (obvs because it’s fanfic but still), sweet and soft vi, protective vi, depictions and discussions of abuse (physical and emotional), injuries, hurt x comfort trope, fluff fluff and more fluff!! <3

basically a vi version of my first jb one-shot but I still included some differences! once again my first time writing for her so please be gentle! i hope you like it 🥹🩵

(PSA: i’m writing this from experience! if you are in an abusive situation like this please take care of yourself 💙)

“Jesus, have you ever managed to recall a single thing right?!” My best friend seethed, someone who should’ve been my best friend at least as she slung an already chipped dirty plate across the dingy kitchen.

I should’ve kicked her out at the first sign of violence. I shouldn’t have even invited her over to think of it. Somewhere in my stupid brain I thought that talking about it in person would help us work things out more. Maybe because in some way I thought she was more biting over text messages so it wouldn’t hurt as much in person either. Every moment of rationalization got stupider by the second.

“That never happened! I never said any of that! You’re doing just what you always do! Pointing the finger and making me out to be the villian! You really think you’re the innocent one in all of this?!” I yelped as soon as she slammed her hand down on the emotional support water bottle I was currently clutching onto until it hit the floor with a loud thunk.

The sound of a knock on the door made me flinch again, the tears burning my eyes until they started to ache. “Hey, y/n? It’s getting kind of loud over there, are you okay?” The voice followed from the other side of the door. Violet, probably the best neighbor I could’ve asked for in one of the trashiest apartments. It was definitely a rough part of town we lived in, the only thing we could afford really. She always checked in on me though.

I hated how pathetic I felt hugging myself, eyes wide as I peered up at my ‘friend’ as if I was fucking asking for permission. Permission she clearly wasn’t giving me. “Didn’t know you two were so close. Is this someone else you’re hiding me from? Someone else you’re probably painting the worst picture of me to?”

“Y/n, I’m coming in.” Vi echoed, fuck I had almost forgotten I’d given her a spare key for whenever she needed it or just wanted company.

The moment the door swung open though I could feel the weight of my ‘friend’s push shoving me towards the ground. The sting of broken glass biting in my skin as I yelped in pain, bits of blood now streaking across the ground. And Vi had seen every second of it.

“Did you just put your fucking hands on her?” She practically growled as she made her way into the apartment, thick combat boots kicking aside broken glass to make a path.

“Oh c’mon, do I really look like I would hurt somebody? She clearly fell-”

“Yeah, you do. Because that’s all I’ve been hearing you do since the moment I came home and thank god I got here whenever I did-”

“Vi, please don’t-” I squeaked out with yet another wince of pain as I tried to push myself up to a sitting position. I knew how she was. The way she stayed bandaged up and covered in bruises didn’t hide exactly how she made her money. But I had never wanted to see that side of her myself. I didn’t think I could.

The words were lost to me though, lifting my hand as if to latch onto her own only to see a piece of glass protruding from the muscle below my thumb. Vi only took one wide look down at me before shooting a sea of daggers towards the culprit’s way. “I’ll give you a headstart before I break every last finger that you laid on her? How about that?”

“Vi-” I tried to protest again, but I should’ve known better than to believe she’d actually try and stand up to someone like Vi. Towering over both of us with a plethora of tattoos in black ink and enough muscles to put a bodybuilder to shame, she’d be intimidating to anybody. If it wasn’t for the fact that she had stumbled out of her apartment the day I moved in with a hopeful grin on her face as she offered to help me carry things upstairs I probably would’ve been intimidated by her too. But she had charmed me from day one.

“Damn it, doll, what’d she do to you?” She whispered, kneeling amongst the glass without a single care of it scraping her up too. “Is it safe to pull that out?” She wondered, bandaged and bruised fingers gently taking my wrist into her hand to examine the damage on my palm.

“I think so… it isn’t too deep.” I spoke, sucking in another yelp of pain as I yanked the glass from my hand and shakily tossed the now red piece aside. “It’s not that bad- she- she just pushed me.”

“No, y/n-” It was the first time she directed that glare towards me and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me wince at first. Only seconds later though I watched her icy expression soften with a shake of her head. “You can’t excuse it this time, doll.”

I didn’t say anything, even knowing she was right, she stared down at my scraped and cut knees while the tears dripped down my cheeks until they landed on the open wounds and made them sting. Knowing I would probably find some way, some reason to excuse what had just happened. I always did.

“C’mon, baby, let’s go over to my place and get you patched up.” She sighed, almost with a hint of disappointment before sliding an arm around my shoulders and another underneath my knees. I sucked in a breath of pain as I was separated from the pool of glass, microcuts now hitting the air as the pieces that had embedded themselves into my skin clinked to the floor.

My eyes felt heavy, my head already lolling to the side the moment I felt her sweeping me up with ease. My head ached from the amount of arguing, almost worse than the stings of the open wounds. Vi shoved open the door to her apartment next door, still the same chaotic mess it usually was whenever she invited me over. She never showed it, but sometimes I think she felt lonely. She was just the kind of person you could tell even by first glance that she had been through a lot. I never asked though. It never seemed appropriate to get too personal. She was a private person, and I respected that. Or tried to.

“This might sting a little.” She whispered once we made it to her tiny bathroom, leaving me propped up on the sink as she rummaged around for her first aid supplies. I tried to mask my expression of pain the moment she touched the antiseptic to my bloodied knees but ultimately failed as a whimper tumbled from my lips.

“I’m sorry.” I spoke through a sharp breath, “That y-you have to do this. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in our shit.” I lifted a shaky hand to try and wipe at my eyes, tears that seemed to have miraculously remained at bay until now.

“No, y/n, I got involved on my accord. Because it seemed like somebody needed to.” She shook her head, and I never knew that hands that looked so rough could be as gentle as hers were. Pulling them away from the wounds only to hold my chin in between her thumb and pointer finger. “Has she ever put her hands on you before, doll?”

I shook my head almost immediately, watching her expression harden, eyes icy enough to freeze. “Are you lying?” She asked again, a quiver setting into my bottom lip as she seemed to see through it all. Her anger was unmistakable, the way she pulled her hands away from me only to clench them into fists. Shoulders set like she was about to swing at something, anything. And still somehow I wasn’t afraid of her.

“Vi, Vi please… please don’t go after her right now. Please just- just stay with me. For a little bit, please.” I reached out to slide my hand around her bulging bicep just before she could put her fist through the wall.

I felt her swing around to face me, an arm sliding around my shoulder, fingers knotting through my hair as she held me to her broad shoulder. “You’re more important.” She finally spoke with another long breath that felt like she was loosening every muscle in her body. “She’ll get what’s coming to her though.”

“Promise you’ll be careful.” I begged into the fabric of her tank top.

“I can’t ever promise that, but I’ll always do my best.” The feeling of her fingers running through my hair was almost enough to pull the tears from my eyes again. Gentle touches I wasn’t familiar with. Gentle words I wasn’t used to hearing I almost couldn’t believe them. The feeling of safe muscular arms holding me to her warm chest as I clung onto her like I hadn’t ever done before. I didn’t even realize I was crying until I heard her softly shushing me from above, her chin propping up on top of my head. “Shhh, I’ve got you now. I’ve got you. Nobody’s gonna hurt you.”

She was careful whenever she inched away, gently drawing my body from hers. Calloused hands drawing down my bare arms as if checking for anymore tiny cuts the glass might have left. “Let me finish patching you up, and then I’ll hold you as long as you want me to.”

She wrapped my knees and hand in her bandages and placed little bandaids on every small wound. Whenever we made it back to my place though she didn’t hesitate to sweep up every last bit of the broken glass too before finally letting herself sit down.

“You didn’t have to clean everything, you know? I could’ve taken care of it.” I spoke into my lap, face drawn down as if in shame.

“I think you’ve cleaned up someone’s mess a few too many times.” Vi sighed before stretching an open arm out as if beckoning me in. “C’mere doll.” I was already moving into her arms, taking in her musky scent with just a tinge of iron that she always had whenever she returned from work. “I’m sorry I didn’t wash up first, I just heard the yelling and I came running and-”

“It’s okay.” I said with a shake of my head just before nuzzling into her chest. Her body could’ve swallowed me whole if she wanted it to, I felt like nothing more than a ragdoll curled up into her arms. And I normally would’ve hated it. But with Vi I felt like I could finally be small and sensitive and fragile and I’d be safe. It was just a matter of not having to be on guard 24/7.

Vi cleared her throat from above me, her fingers brushed underneath my chin as if nudging me to look at her. Blue eyes that I felt like were gonna send me into cardiac arrest, and with my hand bundled up into a ball against her chest I swore I could’ve felt her own heart kicking into gear. “Y/n, you know I really care about you, right?”

“After tonight, yeah, I- I think I do.” My cheeks felt like they were on fire, and all I wanted was to hide my face into her shirt again. But with the grip she had on my chin I knew she wouldn’t let me. “I- I care about you a lot too.”

“I know you do, I just feel like a lot of people don’t return the favor, you know? So I just… I want you to know that. I’ve got you. Regardless.” A long breath was shuddered from my lungs at her warm words. Feeling her cracked but soft lips drifting downwards to brush against my forehead just before she finally released my chin.

It felt like they held a lot of weight to them. Almost more than what they let on, than she wanted to let on. At least for now. They were enough though. Enough to get my eyes to tear up pathetically again as I burrowed my face back into her chest with a small sniffle.

“You’re my best friend, Vi.” I muttered just loud enough for her to hear.

She delicately slid her fingers around my wrist, softly stroking my pulse point until my teary eyes fluttered shut, “You’re mine too, darling.”