#so I don't know if I'll get a bottle of it

[midnite-c6]

we need desperate withdrawal needy namgyu smut🙏🏻🙏🏻

he was begging and EVERYTHING. like he was looking up at someone half of the time and it was so HOT. no proofread :<

｡⁠☆ you got thanos’s "special" cross necklace, hiding it from nam-gyu, and when he finds out you have it, he'll do anything for you to give it back!

warnings: 18+, sex, nam-gyu x fem!reader, needy!nam-gyu, dubcon, degradation || ♡

⊂•⁠.⁠✧ you find the cross necklace during the hide and seek game, right there on the floor. you knew nam-gyu had taken a hold of it ever since thanos got eliminated, but maybe it was for the best if he didn't have it, he was way too crazy and blood-thirsty when he was consuming those pills anyway.

without those pills, he was a mess! hands constantly rubbing on his blood-stained face, ruffling his own hair, and finishing his water bottle in a matter of seconds, he lived for those pills.

and when he sees you, during lunch time, eyeing a familiar piece of metal right on-top of your bed, he was speeding to get to you. you immediately notice him, and the best thing you could do was hide it in your pockets.

"fuck, i-i know you have it." you shake your head, feigning ignorance, "what?" you tilt your head to the side. "the- the pills! the fuckin' necklace, i know you have it! just give it to me!" he grabs your hands, though he was fairly weaker without the courage of ecstacy. you shake your head again. "we can share? c'mon just, please." he gets on his knees, knuckles clenched as he looks up at you with pleading eyes, you'd almost feel bad. "please, i'll do anything, anything!"

"well, can you do me a favor...?"

"what do girls like you even want in return?" you want to win. you want to live. you want to get out of these games alive. "y-you lookin' for uh- uhm, pleasure? yeah, can fuck you real good, just... just give it back in return." you were actually thinking about him being your guard to win the final game but— "really, is that the only thing you think girls want?" he manages to smile, "what else?"

"you look deprived. tired," he continues, ironic how he was the deprived one. "and i think you choose to be stubborn about giving it to me," he places both of his hands on either side of your legs. "cuz' you know i can force it outta’ ya..." you furrowed your brows, looking down at him, he was still in control. "i can make- make you feel good, just give it. you're so fucking difficult."

"m'having a fucking hard time." "we all are-" "yeah, but i'll die, might die without it, so please.. are you telling me you'd kill me?" you don't answer. "you're a heartless bitch, you're better than that, please?" he was so persistent in begging, like he'd forgotten how egotistical he was just a few hours ago, just because of withdrawal and sobriety.

what's the best next thing to drugs? sex. what were you supposed to do when he was so good at pleading his case?

you both manage to go inside the bathrooms, sharing a single bathroom stall. he's fucking you into the wall, hands gripping your waist, guiding you against his bucking hips. dick ramming in and outside of your dripping cunt. it wasn't hardcore or rough, it was sloppy and needy. the perfect amount of fast and pleasurable. he for sure needed to taste the drugs again, the feeling of your cunt is just an added bonus. "yesss... i bet- i bet you're feeling just as good as i do when i drug out." the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, for some reason it felt more pleasurable than painful than you'd originally imagine. maybe you were actually hungry for dick. nam-gyu was just the perfect guy for it.

he fucks you desperate, and it's honestly a win-win situation for him. he's glad you're the one who got it, since you're so easy, so easy to please and play with. "you're g'nna.. give it to me-" plap! plap! plap! "right after this-" plap! "yeah?" plap! "m'so good for you, and you're so good to me... fuck!"

he continues to fuck you, with no proper rhythm, just whatever feels right. mouth latched onto your neck, leaving not-so-subtle hickies all over, he's suddenly claimed you. "hope— they hear you, the guards- hope the other stupid fuckin' jerks hear you, moaning-" sometimes, he'd pull out his dick all the way, just to shove it all in again, just for that ecstatic feeling, he knows you like it, what else are you moaning for? "guess i know why stupid thanos would keep talking about a bitch like you- you feel good."

"and, after we win, yes, we're teammates now," he grins, looking down at you as he continues to mark your neck, the stinging pain being somewhat aided with his tongue licking the bites. "...don't forget it. since you're so sweet— wanna fuck you again, okay?" he gets the cross necklace from your pockets, fixing his pants and everything as he leaves you. poor you all messed up on the floors of the men's bathrooms.

in the end, he wins. he always does.

oh namgyu fans were fed this season . writer freedom is cray.

[formulafanfics13]

She's the Only One Who Gets Him - MV1

Masterlist

Everyone always assumed Max Verstappen didn't give a fuck. About manners. About people. About press. About anything outside of lap times and championship points.

He snapped at engineers. He rolled his eyes during meetings. He barely looked up from his phone in hospitality unless someone said something directly to him — and even then, you had to be lucky. He hated unnecessary conversations, small talk, PR events, waiting around, and especially being told what to do.

So it was deeply confusing to every single person in the paddock when he showed up to the garage on Saturday morning holding your hand.

Because you looked like shit. Pale. Wrapped in a hoodie three sizes too big. Sniffling. Hood up. Eyes puffy from barely sleeping. The kind of mess you normally wouldn't dare show in a paddock full of cameras and chaos.

But Max didn't care. In fact, Max didn't let go of you for even a second. He brought you into the Red Bull motorhome with a grip on your waist and his free hand full of tissues and a water bottle. He kissed your forehead in front of two mechanics and did not flinch when they double-taked.

"Are you okay?" one of them asked cautiously, like maybe Max had been body-snatched.

"She's sick," Max said. "No one touches her. No one bothers her. No media. I'll kill you."

"...Right. Got it."

You laughed weakly into his chest. Max looked down at you and his entire face softened. Like night and day. His thumb came up to wipe under your nose without a second thought. It was unsettling. Everyone was staring. He didn't care.

When Christian walked past and did a double take at the sight of you curled up on the couch in Max's driver's room, blanket over your legs, Max crouched in front of you helping open a packet of paracetamol, he blinked like he'd walked into the wrong fucking dimension. "Max?" he said slowly. "Everything alright?"

"She has a fever," Max said, not even turning around. "Don't let the cameras in here."

Christian blinked. "Right. Sure."

Max popped the pills into your hand and held the water for you like he didn't trust you to lift it yourself. You drank. He brushed your hair back. Kissed the top of your head. Sat next to you and pulled your legs over his lap, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and muttering something in Dutch under his breath. "You don't have to baby me," you mumbled.

"Ja, I do," he said without hesitation. "You're my baby."

You groaned into his hoodie. "Shut up," you muttered.

"You shut up," he said, pulling the blanket higher around your shoulders.

It got worse from there. At least, for the people watching.

During FP3, when you insisted you could sit in the garage chair for a little while, Max walked you there himself. Carried your tea. Moved the headset off the hook and adjusted it onto your ears with both hands like you were a goddamn glass sculpture.

When the cameras pointed at him, he shielded your face with his shoulder. When Lando walked over to ask if you were alright, Max stepped in front of you. "She's fine," he said, calm but firm. "Don't make her talk."

Lando's eyebrows practically flew off his face. "Okay, Jesus."

"She needs rest," Max added. "Not your voice."

Lando gave you a little wave and disappeared. Max sat beside you, arms crossed, murder in his eyes for anyone who came near.

Pierre passed by ten minutes later and nearly tripped over himself doing a double take. "Bro," he muttered to no one. "Who is that? And what did she do to him?"

Someone in the media pen whispered, "I thought he didn't have a girlfriend?"

Max wiped your nose again mid-whisper. He didn't even blink when a team photographer caught it on camera. By midday, it was full paddock knowledge:

"Max Verstappen is in love." "And apparently he turns into a functioning human being when she's around." "No but like... he smiled. He kissed her nose." "She was wearing his socks. They were falling off her feet and he fixed them for her." "This is not the Max I know. Who is she??"

You were still curled up in the motorhome when Lewis popped his head into the door. "Max?" he said, blinking. "You in here?"

Max looked up from where he was running a hand down your calf, legs tangled on the little leather couch.

Lewis saw you and paused. "...Oh," he said. "Sorry. I didn't know you were-"

"She's sick," Max said. "You can come in if you're quiet."

You peeked out from the blanket. "Hi, Lewis."

"Hi, love," Lewis said, stunned. "You okay?"

"She has a fever," Max repeated. "But she's getting better."

Lewis blinked again. Then slowly smiled. "You're taking good care of her."

Max shrugged like it was obvious. "She takes care of me."

Lewis's entire brain short-circuited. After that, the grid was never the same.

Because once you've seen Max Verstappen spoon-feeding his feverish girlfriend soup in the Red Bull motorhome, patting her knee and whispering, "Almost done, baby, then you can sleep," into her hair, the image does not leave you. And once you've seen him fall asleep with his arms around her, forehead pressed to hers, heat pack resting on her stomach, you can't pretend he's just an unfeeling bastard anymore.

He still yelled on the radio. He still snapped at journalists. He still hated being told to smile.

But when you were around? He opened her doors. Carried her bags. Tied her shoes. Kissed her forehead like it was instinct. And god help you if you ever made her cry.

Because Max Verstappen might not be soft to anyone else. But for you? He always was. And everyone in the paddock knew it now.

[hitomisuzuya]

one odd way scaramouche says i love you. fluffy fluff fluff. soft but grumpy scara. fatui!scaramouche x fem!reader.

i'll link part one under a cut at the end, but i suddenly got an idea for a part two. so here is some fluff instead, i have had a few asking me when i would write fluff<3

scaramouche hovers around the fatui medical support assigned to the area he was in. he knew he could've had dottore look you over, but he really, really didn't want that man touching you.

with narrowed eyes, he accepted their assessment, and carried you still fast asleep back to camp. you were very injured, but no broken bones. bed rest was ordered for you for the next few weeks.

he was going to spend the night here in camp with you, then take you back one of the rather expensive safe houses pantalone invested in where he would oversee your recovery.

scaramouche sighs as he sets you down on the bed in his camp. "you are all banged up," he scoffs quietly, fluffing some pillows around and tucking you in under some blankets. "i don't like it when people break my toys."

for hours he sat, occasionally reading a novel before nodding off himself without noticing. he immediately snaps awake hearing the blankets rustle as you stir awake.

"sc-scara?" your voice cracks for a moment, weak and pain tinged. but there was also something else in your voice. something that shakes.

"did you have a nightmare?" he asks, frozen for a moment as he watches you. he is waiting for you to move first so that he knows how to handle it.

scaramouche is incredibly particular when it comes to you.

you shook your head, a soft sound of pain coming from you as you gingerly move yourself across the bed closer to him. "no, i didn't," you didn't get very far on the bed, having to stop because of the pain.

but, you didn't seem to want to let pain deter you.

he almost winces watching you. you are the one in pain, but it was painful for him to watch you. "stop," he barks softly, sighing as he reaches for a bottle on the dresser. "if you insist moving, take a little bit of this," he tips the cup to your lips, "the doctor on call gave it to me to give you for pain. take half of it now. it will make you sleepy."

you make a face as you drink the gross tasting liquid. once you swallow it, you close the small gap between you and him on the bed as haziness sets in, ebbing away your pain. he catches you before you fall back down onto the bed, steadying you against him.

"you weren't going to be satisfied until you were here, were you?" laying down to accommodate you comfortably, he puts an arm around you as you curl up against his side. "i told you to stop moving, didn't i?" he glares down at you for a moment, "don't make me make it an order. i don't like it when someone breaks my toys."

"huh?" you stare up at him, confused for a moment. you thought you may have heard him say that whenever you were coming to earlier. his breath hitches quietly in his throat as tears suddenly well into your eyes.

"stop that," he is frozen again. "i hate it when you do this," he says this with evident distaste in his voice as he catches one of your tears on his finger, "if you had a nightmare, quit beating around the bush and just tell me."

"no," you sniffle softly, burying your face in his shirt for a moment. "i was scared. so scared i wasn't going to see you again," the tears starts to fall more, and scaramouche starts to get anxious about it. whenever he gets anxious, he gets a bit snappy. but don't hold it against him. he is just concerned.

"then why did you put yourself through that? you could've easily just left them all, and come back to me," he tilts your head up to look at him. "answer me."

your lower lip trembles for a moment. your hand folds over a chunk of fabric on his shirt, clinging to him. "i couldn't have done that. it would've been wrong," you swipe some tears away.

"wrong?" scaramouche scoffs, "why? you could've died. you got all fucked up, and for what? just to save their pitiful lives? you gave them the choice that should've been yours alone. and now look were it got you. a pathetic, crumbled heap on your superior's bed."

you are quiet for a moment, soft sobs shaking your shoulders.

"i can confidently say they wouldn't do the same for you," it was a cold, rational, and logical answer. but one he knew for certain.

you stood your ground though. "yeah, but at least they are alive and able to make that decision for themselves."

scaramouche's jaw almost dropped. he really didn't understand you sometimes. your answer completely blindsided him. you really are something else. you never cease to amaze him.

even now he can see you struggling to fight drowsiness just to stay up and be with him.

"how foolish," he hisses, carding his fingers through your hair. "i don't like it when people break my toys. and you, you are one i don't want to replace."

you cock your head again, confused by his words. sometimes, more often than not, you have to listen carefully to what he says. then sudden realization sets in.

"scara? did you just say that you love me?" the world fades to static around you as you lift your head, heart poundinf in your chest. you wait, holding your breath and it doesn't take long for scaramouche to react.

scaramouche grits his teeth, looking away as a blush dusts his cheeks. "quiet you," he gently pushes your head back down on his chest.

"oh my gosh, you are saying that," you exclaim, a burst of pain shooting through you from your sudden burst of excitement as you lift your head again. "you are. i love you too, scara. i love you so much."

"i said quiet you," he gently rests your head back on his chest. "and i said to stop moving didn't i? fuck," to cover up how flustered he feels, he grabs your medicine cup again. "take the rest of this and calm down. you can barely stay awake."

he is right. the medicine he gave you is making your head feel fuzzy, and you didn't realize how much you were struggling to keep your eyes open. trying not to make a face, you finish your medicine. "will you be here when i wake up?"

"mhm," he mumbles, making sure you are comfortable cuddled against him before you fell asleep. once he sure you are asleep, he presses a kiss on the top of your head, his arms tightening around you for a moment. "yes, my girl, that is what i said," he whispers.

he was hardly going to leave your side unless he has to leave and get you something. and you certainly weren't going out on any missions any time soon, even after you have recovered. and if you did, he is going with you.

he can't have you making brash and stupid decisions like that again.

https://www.tumblr.com/hitomisuzuya/781833959589003264/fatuiscaramouche-x-femreader-no-smut-scara-on?source=share

part one.

[cosycryptid]

Eddie has always enjoyed giving people nicknames, it’s just something creative he does that makes people stick in his brain. He’s never forgotten a face and it’s mostly because he has names to go with them.

Typically, he refers to acquaintances by their last name, friends by something jokey and embarrassing, and foes by nicknames that are a little mean and cutting.

Then there's Steve Harrington, who falls into his own category entirely.

Before, when he claimed to dislike Steve it would be:

“Perfect Harrington.”

“Steve Harrington the gorgeous with his flowing locks.”

“Guess what Mr. Hot Sports Man did now.”

“Can you believe Beautiful Steve Harrington and his merry band of assholes?”

“God, look at Mr. Distracting showing off his amazing chest again. He’s such a poser.”

“I was trying to order my usual, but then Steve ‘Dreamboat’ Harrington was behind the counter and he used his evil sorcery to make me say ‘1 scoop of vanilla’ by mistake. Now he probably thinks I'm boring.”

He said the names in a mocking tone, but it always ended with just a hint of something longing. His friends would shoot each other knowing looks across the room whenever he came up with a new one for one of his Steve related tirades.

Then they started to become friends and the names took on a more teasing, flirty nature, which then slowly gave way to softer and more tender names like 'Stevie' and 'sweetheart' and 'honey'. The knowing looks from friends became looks that said 'here we go again' and Steve's reactions went from intense, puzzled stares to warm smiles.

One day, when Eddie's running late for their fortnightly movie night, the rest of the party decide to say something about it.

"So, I have to ask," Mike says. "What kind of magic spell have you cast on Eddie?"

Steve looks up and sees that everyone is staring at him. "Huh?" he blinks. "Were you talking to me?"

"Yes Steve, he was talking to you!" Dustin exclaims. "Who else here in this room does Eddie regularly shower with mushy pet names?"

"Okay, they're not 'mushy pet names'," Steve argues, rolling his eyes. "They're just nicknames, he gives everyone nicknames. I don't see why it's a big deal."

"Steve, he gives everyone else nicknames. Yours are something else." Max points out.

"How?"

"How?" Lucas asks. "Steve, last week he walked into me by accident, said 'Sorry Sinclair’ and then turned to you and went 'Hey, angel. How are you today?'." He puts on a sickeningly sweet voice for the second one and Max laughs.

"Yeah and what about that time he threw a sunscreen bottle at Mike and said 'Stay safe, pasty', then saw you putting yours on and said 'Need help getting your back, darling?'" Max adds. Her and Lucas are snickering to each other by the end of it.

Mike frowns. "Don't know why he called me that. He's just as pale as I am."

Will pats him on the back. "Don't worry about it, he called me Bowlcut Junior two days ago when he was asking me to make a perception check."

"Oh so that's what the Bowlcut Senior thing was about," Jonathan mumbles.

"Steve, he likes you," Robin says, clearly spelling it out. "Or at the very least it's obvious you're one of his favourites."

"He does call you an awful lot of things even me and Jonathan wouldn't call each other," Nancy adds carefully.

"Eddie's just a sweet guy," Steve says.

"Eddie Munson is not a 'sweet guy'," Mike retorts, bewildered. "He killed off all of our characters in last week's session because we were ten minutes late."

"I mean if he went to all of that effort planning and preparing everything then you could have at least turned up on time."

"Thanks, mom."

"I did warn you guys he wouldn't be happy with us," Will points out with a grim expression.

Before anything else can be said, Eddie walks in with Gareth and Jeff trailing behind him. Everyone tries their best to look casual. Most fail. Luckily, Eddie's attention is zoned in on two people.

"Hey Sweet Prince, and Henderson and others," Eddie greets them. "I'll be right back, just gotta run to the bathroom because I was checking something under the van just now and it looks like I got into a fight with an octopus."

He lifts his arms, which are covered in oil.

"Oh shit," Steve says. "Yeah, no problem. Feel free to take a shower and borrow some clothes if you want, we'll wait."

"Thanks, sugar." He calls behind him.

The party's eyes are locked on Steve when he turns back to face them, causing him to flinch a little.

"What's up guys?" Gareth says as he and Jeff make themselves at home, finding a spot on the carpet.

"Yeah, you all looked super awkward when we walked in just now," Jeff adds. "What's that about?"

"We were just trying to get it through Steve's head that Eddie is basically in love with him," Robin fills them in. "Also, I don't know if I should be a little offended that we're 'and others'."

"Oh that," Jeff says, way too casual. "Yeah that's been a thing for years. Even back when he was pretending not to like Steve."

"Wait what?" Mike asks.

"Oh yeah, he used to call him things like 'Handsome Harrington' or 'Beautiful Steve Harrington' every time he talked about him," Gareth shrugged.

"Oh shit," Dustin says. "One time I tried to get him to hang out with us and he said no but he called you 'Pretty Boy Steve'."

"Can you guys just let this go?" Steve sighs, clearly getting annoyed. "It's just a thing he does, it doesn't mean anything."

"Yeah, sure," Jeff scoffs. "Keep telling yourself that. What are you trying not to get your hopes up?"

Steve is too quiet for too long, and he hates the way his friends expressions turn sympathetic toward him.

"All I'm saying is, do it back to him and see how he reacts," Gareth says with a knowing smile. "I dare you."

The opportunity doesn't arise until later, when Eddie gets up to go to the kitchen half way through the movie. He comes back with two drinks, one of which he hands to Steve while lifting the other to his lips.

Robin gives him a look that says 'what are you waiting for?' and Steve takes a deep breath before accepting the drink with a casual, "Thanks, babe."

And that’s all it takes.

Eddie’s hand jerks, his brain short-circuits, and the drink completely misses his mouth. A splash of soda hits his chin, and the rest pours out on the Harrington's expensive carpet. Then he just stands there blinking like he’s been hit with a stun spell.

His brain seems to come back online when he sees Steve's shocked gaze switch between him and the liquid soaking into the carpet.

"Oh shit! I'm so sorry!" Eddie shouts, no longer in control of his volume. He sprints to the kitchen and returns just as fast with paper towels, dropping to his knees to try and soak up the spilled beverage. His face is bright red in a way Steve's never seen on him before.

Steve is still frozen, half-standing, watching Eddie frantically blot the carpet like it personally insulted him. The rest of the group is silent for a beat—stunned into stillness by the sheer velocity of Eddie’s reaction.

Then Robin breaks the silence with a quiet, “Oh my god.”

Max snorts. “I think you broke him.”

“Like, for real,” Dustin adds, eyes wide. “That was a full system crash.”

Eddie doesn’t look up. “Don’t mind me, just ruining your house and my dignity in one fell swoop.”

Steve finally moves, crouching down beside him. “Eds, it’s fine. Seriously. It’s just soda.”

Eddie glances up at him, eyes wide and still a little dazed. “You called me babe.”

Steve smiles, soft and a little shy. “Yeah. I did.”

Eddie stares at him for a second longer, then groans and drops his forehead to the carpet. “I’m never gonna recover from this.”

Steve laughs, nudging him gently with his shoulder. “You’re doing great, sweetheart.”

Eddie lets out a muffled noise that might be a whimper or a laugh, it’s hard to tell. But when he lifts his head again, his face is still red, and his smile is blinding. And Steve forgets they have an audience.

"I think I know a way you can make it up to me," he grins.

"How's that, babydoll?" Eddie asks, confused, but hopeful.

Steve pulls Eddie in for a quick kiss and says, "Take me out tomorrow night, when I finish work?"

"Absolutely," Eddie beams.

Their moment is ruined by fake gagging noises from the kids. "This is worse than Dustin and Suzie serenading each other with Never Ending Story," Lucas comments, receiving a middle finger in response from Dustin.

"I'm assuming band practice is off tomorrow then?" Jeff smirks.

"Sorry guys," Eddie says still looking at Steve with a tender smile. "Something incredibly important just came up."

[svt-ivy]

─────── NANA TOUR Trailer

⸝⸝ DESCRIPTION: A glimpse of the fun and full of adventure show that was able to catch both the members of SEVENTEEN and their company in shock when one early morning, they are woken up by NA PD and a crew of cameramen.

["Let's Go Together: Nana Tour with SEVENTEEN" First episode on January 5th (Friday)]

"Guys, gather around!" Hoshi called out to the other members that were still busy in their own worlds, admiring the view of the sunset.

"Wait," Ivy suddenly said posing funny with a phone on her hand, "need to take the perfect picture of DK for the 'Gram!"

"What a pro, you are..." NA PD said arms crossed and head shaking, DK posed dramatically and Ivy going from one position to another her hand taking multiple pic in one.

"It's so much fun whenever we're together." Joshua said as a clip of them played in a boat, dancing around to 'Holiday'.

"Noona," Seungkwan called out from the back of the boat. "stop putting on Sunscreen and dance."

"Nope." She only answered while carefully and evenly spreading the Sunscreen on her face. "I prefer to not have sunburn and get tanned today."

This unleashed a different chaos with her members sitting close to her, grabbing ahold of the bottle of sunscreen and forcing her to dance around.

"So this is my last view before my demise." Ivy said dramatically while holding onto the rope tightly.

"Your being dramatic, Noona." Mingyu said from behind her.

"At least, I'll die beautiful..." Ivy said while fixing her hair, looking back to the members who now looked at her with a deadpan face.

"Boo..." Vernon said quietly from behind the others.

"Okay, I'm getting tired of her." Jeonghan said holding onto the rope that was stopping her from going. "Just go!"

Before Luna could even say something back, she was already gliding down.

"YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS YOON JEONGHAN!!! YOU'LL HEAR FROM MY LAWY-" Getting distracted from the view, "Wow! This place is honestly another level!"

This gained laughter from both sides of the zip line, "She's enjoying it now."

"Wow..." Ivy exclaimed as she walked through the morning street of Italy. "It's so beautiful here, really."

She goes silent after, just admiring the view when...

"I am so gonna go shopping when we get the chance." She said seriously, still looking around and only looking towards the camera upon hearing a snort come out from the cameraman. "I can already hear my wallet crying."

"Anyways, the view!" Ivy said quickly after gesturing around and pointing at different buildings while her cameraman try his best not to laugh from behind the camera.

"Is everyone here?" NA PD said as he glanced around the table and the other table for the members.

"Noona is still not here." Dino replied, looking around their own table.

"Ivy?" NA PD asked while taking out his phone to message her.

"There she is!" Joshua exclaimed, pointing towards the crowd of people from the wine festival.

"Hi guys!" Ivy said with a grin on her face that her members knows very well. "I think I'm a little bit tipsy."

The tables burst out laughing, watching her finish the wine that was still in her wine glass in one go.

"I think that's enough wine for you, Ivy." NA PD said to her, taking the glass from her hand.

"Hold onto her tight," Jeonghan said warningly. "she might escape and grab some more."

"I love Italy!" Dino said to end their act for the talent show.

The place erupts in cheers and laughter while Ivy stays sitting down in awe with a hand to her mouth. She stands up from her seat once everything died down, grabbing everyone's attention.

"That was so," She finally spoke up while going through the pocket of her jeans which made her members act fast in teasing her.

"SHE'S GIVING THEM HER ENTIRE FORTUNE!" DK exclaimed which gained cheers from the members.

"Okay, not..." Before Ivy could even finish her sentence.

"She might also give them a couple of her buildings and yachts!" Seungkwan also exclaimed dramatically.

"I don't even own..."

"Thank you so much!" Dino said dramatically, grabbing ahold of her hand. "Just send everything to my account and maybe a tip for Guitar."

"What even...?"

[callmemonster68]

bigboy | enhypen

Y/N has a thing for grand things, and, well, boys definitely fit the description

paring: enhypen x fem!reader 18+ | masterlist

warnings: nsfw

HEESEUNG Setting: Heeseung is showing off a new pair of sneakers with thick soles. Dialogue: Y/N: "Those sneakers are huge. You know, I have a thing for big things." (Heeseung pauses mid-lace-tying and looks at you with a smirk.) Heeseung: "Oh yeah? Like what, for example?" Y/N (laughing): "I’m sure you know exactly what I mean." Heeseung (chuckling): "You’re getting really good at teasing, you know that?" (He steps closer and lowers his voice.) Heeseung: "We should continue this conversation later… without an audience."

JAY Setting: The group is eating dessert, and someone comments on the oversized cake Jay brought. Dialogue: Y/N: "Wow, Jay, you really like big things, huh?" Jay (laughing): "Always! Better to have too much than not enough." (You glance at him suggestively, and a small giggle escapes.) Jay (noticing): "Wait… are you talking about the cake or…?" Y/N: "Depends. Do you think I’m talking about the cake?" (He tilts his head with a mischievous smile.) Jay: "I think we should talk about this in private."

SUNOO

Setting: The group is discussing oversized bags, and Sunoo is showing off a new one he bought. Dialogue: Y/N: "That bag is massive, Sunoo! I love big things like that—they draw attention." Sunoo: "Oh? Then I guess you must be used to me." (You’re surprised by his quick comeback and laugh loudly.) Y/N: "Look who’s confident today!" Sunoo: "Just matching your energy. You started it, I finished it." (He winks and goes back to adjusting the bag, pretending to be indifferent but clearly smiling.)

SUNGHOON

Setting: Sunghoon picks up a large water bottle and comments on how practical it is. Dialogue: Y/N: "Wow, that bottle is huge! I really love big things like that." Sunghoon: "Oh, do you? So that’s your preference?" (You laugh and glance at him.) Y/N: "Maybe. Why? Curious?" Sunghoon (smiling): "Depends. Do you want me to be curious?" (He takes a sip of water without breaking eye contact.) Sunghoon: "This conversation seems like it’s about to get interesting later."

JAKE Setting: You’re helping decorate a room, and Jake is holding a large statue to place on a shelf. Dialogue: Y/N: "Wow, Jake, that’s really big. I like things like that—big." (He raises an eyebrow, noticing your chuckle.) Jake: "Are you sure you’re talking about the statue?" Y/N (shrugging): "Maybe. Why? Got something else in mind?" Jake (nervously laughing): "You just love making me flustered, don’t you?" Y/N: "I’m just being honest." (He places the statue on the shelf but doesn’t take his eyes off you.) Jake (quietly): "I’d like to hear more about those preferences later."

JUNGWON Setting: Jungwon shows up with an oversized pillow, and everyone comments on how exaggerated it looks. Dialogue: Y/N: "That pillow is huge. You know, I really like big things." Jungwon (raising an eyebrow): "Do you now? You seem pretty specific about that." (You give him a playful smile and glance at him briefly.) Y/N: "Maybe I’m just appreciating the view." Jungwon: "If you keep looking at me like that, I might start thinking it’s not just the pillow impressing you." (He laughs and shakes his head, but the blush on his cheeks gives him away.)

NI-KI Setting: The group is playing video games, and someone comments on the massive size of a character on the screen. Dialogue: Y/N: "Look at the size of that! I love things like that—big, you know?" Niki: "Oh, really? Since when did you develop such refined taste?" (You chuckle and look directly at him.) Y/N: "Always have. Some big things are just hard to ignore." Niki (blushing): "Are you teasing me, or are you serious?" Y/N: "What do you think?" (He pretends to focus on the game, but the grin on his face makes it clear he’s not forgetting this anytime soon.)

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[beef-brisket]

Lucifer set Charlie up in her walker so she could play around on the lino as he worked. After searching through the cupboards, Lucifer decided on fettuccine.

Lucifer: Alright, darling. I'll do your bottle soon after I get this on, okay?

He smiled when Charlie squealed pulled a tea towel off a hook and started running off with it. Once he made sure she was safe, Lucifer started cooking.

-

Adam: The Hell are you doing?

Lucifer jumped and turned around, he watched as Charlie laughed and moved as quick as possible to Adam's.

Adam: Hey, sweetie.

He knelt, and fixed her hair before glaring up at Lucifer: You know that's my one job, right?

Lucifer cleared his throat: I know-.

Adam: So... what? You don't like my cooking or something?

Lucifer sighed: Adam, not everything is an attack-.

Adam: With you, it is. You want to turn around, hun? Come on, let's turn you around.

Lucifer pushed himself against the bench, trying hard not to say anything that'll ruin his chances at fixing everything. He smiled softly at Charlie's laugh as Adam picked her walker up and turned her around.

Lucifer: I... just wanted to do something nice. Make us dinner... I want to apologise-.

Adam: For what?

Lucifer: ...What I said about you. It was rude and hurtful... I was angry and just... I cut things off with Lilith.

Adam: ...Good. She doesn't deserve her... or you.

Lucifer smiled and looked at Charlie: Yeah... I realise that now... I want to teach her not to let herself get used or taken advantage of, especially by a parent... I wouldn't be a good role model if I didn't follow my teachings...

Adam smirked: Teddy called ya, huh?

Lucifer: ...Yeah. He did.

Adam: I told him not to... but I'm glad he did. He's always the sensible one, I'm a bit too emotional for meaningful talks and shit... what's for dinner, then?

Lucifer: Wait- do you accept my apology?

Adam: ...Hm... no.

Lucifer smiled: Well, then. No dinner for you-.

Adam: Yes! I meant yes! Obviously. Of course. Duh.

Lucifer laughed and went back to cooking: Good! Uh... could you do me a favour-?

Adam: Make Duckies bottle? Got it.

As Adam turned on the jug and got the formula powder, Lucifer watched him: Did...you call her Duckie?

Adam: Damn right. She loves them. I have a soft toy upstairs that she loves it.

Lucifer: Duckie... I like it.

-

While he was eating, Lucifer watched as Adam held Charlie in his arms and fed her her bottle. It was nice. They talked about random things and the silence wasn't uncomfortable.

Lucifer couldn't help but tense up when he felt his phone vibrate. At least it wasn't Lilith.

Ozzie: "Hey bitch. Got someone you'd like to fuck- I mean, meet ;). Coming over tmorrow at 6pm to take you out of the freak house and to a nice restaurant. Double date. Bring your girl or leave her with your step mom. Bye bitch!"

Sugar baby!au

This one's a bit different- maybe because I love Adam being a little shit 👀

Lucifer and Adam used to be best friends in high school, but they had a falling out after Adam caught Lucifer and his girlfriend at the time, Lilith, in her bed.

After Adam moved schools, they didn't see each other for ten years. Lucifer went on to do woodworking and eventually made a toy start up. And after Lilith left him, he was forced to move back in with his dad.

Since he moved in, his dad wouldn't stop gushing about some singer he's dating. Lucifer didn't really care, he has his own issues. But when he saw the person his dad was dating, Lucifer was disgusted- and extremely annoyed.

-

Adam: Sup, loser.

Lucifer: What the hell are you doing here?!

Adam smirked: I'm fucking your dad, shit lips!

-

Queue Lucifer's compain to destroy his father's relationship with Adam- who's obviously using him to fun his music career.

Adam's having a great time pissing Lucifer off, but he also hates the fact that he still has a crush on his ex best friend.

I love this so fucking much. I want to do this simply for this line: You want to date my dad? Fine. But he is a good man and deserves to be happy so you're either with him because you love him, or step away.

And Lucifer is only staying with his dad because Lilith got the fucking house lol He's looking for a new one but the market is a MESS.

Maybe Lilith calls Lucifer up and says she's pregnant adding to another layer of it. Because not only is he getting divorced but there's a custody battle in future.

[xteacupx]

One year on my birthday when I was struggling with money (earned £6.70 an hour, slept on a mattress on the floor), I had friends visit for a party.

We went to an aldi to get food, and everyone insisted on paying for their own food, buying full bottles of fizzy drink, their own snacks and so on. Some of the friends brought their own baked goods too. Later, one friend covered a Chinese takeaway order for me and everyone ordered lots of food to eat with no hesitation, only to mention that their eyes had been bigger than their stomachs when the food did arrive.

I didn't realise what was happening until the next day, when each person left my flat with the same "oops, bought too much food to take home with me— I'll just leave it with you!" farewell.

I think about it a lot. I don't know if it was planned or not, but they all made sure I didn't need to worry about food for a good few weeks. Back then, I had to freeze loafs of bread to ration them out, and I had an iron deficiency from not being able to afford good food. But alone in my flat, I realised that I suddenly had a kitchen full of reminders that my friends loved me.

[somewhereincairparavel]

"You see that jason? see how dark it is? that's called a storm. S-T-O-R-M." a young woman, with long blonde hair, and icy blue eyes that pierced into his own, seemed to be explaining to him. he was snuggling in her arms, and let out a giggle when a rumble of thunder boomed in the sky.

"d-dada! d-dada!" he folded his tiny palms attempting to clap. the sound of thunder, didn't seem to distress him like it did other babies. He felt comforted, and excited.

"Yes jason. Thats your dada. The king of olympus. Never let the storm scare you, my darling. Thats your daddy telling you he loves you!"

there seemed to be a few seconds of tranquil silence, before beryl grace frowned.

Suddenly, the king of olympus wasn't just her children's father. Instead, he was the man who chose to abandon his beautiful girlfriend refusing to make her his queen.

Any shred of warmth she had in her voice dissolved completely in the matter of seconds. she harshly placed him on the cold ground, as she grabbed a bottle of liquor and chugged it down her throat. Her breaths grew ragged, she quickly descended to sons, she tugged at her hair and screamed.

tears involuntarily welled up in his eyes seeing his mother in a state, as jason began sobbing himself, until a pair of arms scooped him from behind.

"c'mon jase, let's get you some milk" thalia grace said, considerably nonchalant, as though she was used to dealing with her mother's hysteria all day.

Jason's frightened sobs continued as he allowed himself to be picked up by his sister.

this memory, or a fragment, to say the least, was the only thing that seemed to play in his head as he stared at the news paper in his hand.

"TV star Beryl Grace, dies from drunk driving"

His 17th birthday was tommorow, and he chose to pay a little visit to the place where his life crumbled, in Pasadena. Because, as much as he hated to admit it. Thats where it all begun.

---------------------------------------------------------

"Happy birthday, son of jupiter" lupa's voice echoed through the woods. jason waddled through the bushes with his sword, as lupa's pack lunged forward at him, jason swerved past them expertly. But jason, being the little boy he is, lost his balance in the process, and fell. He flinched, expecting a scolding from the she wolf, but lupa gently bent forward to lick his cheek instead.

"My little warrior"

---------------------------------------------------------

"When's your birthday?" his friend reyna asked, curiously.

"I have no idea, I don't remember any of it" a 10 year old jason responded, shrugging.

reyna frowned, then she said

"well, we can celebrate my birthday it together!, who knows? one day you might find out when yours is, and I'll make sure it's the best birthday you've ever had!"

jason smiled at her comfort.

maybe they will.

----------------------------------------------------------

Jason's had forced a tight smile as he blew out the candles of the cake leo was holding up with a bright smile. piper, percy, and hazel threwvconfetti at him, as nico smiled.

All of his friends managed to gather up, just for him. the amount of effort being put felt so foreign to him.

Thalia squished his cheeks, as they all spent the rest of the day trying to lift jason's spirit in all the ways they could.

---------------------------------------------------------

Jason's eyes welled up in tears, as he thought of all the people who weren't in his life anymore. jason sobbed, he felt so insanely guilty. his friends had thrown him a party, shouldn't he have been happy? yes. he should've been. yet all he felt was hollow emptiness.

Can the simple blow of a candle on the vanilla cake erase the fragments of his mother's hysteria that haunted him every night?, or the ghost of the unfulfilled promise he had with reyna?

no. the ghosts of unfulfilled promises, would haunt him for life. no amount of vanilla frosting would be able to cover up that scar.

[rocketeeeers]

hii! this is such a sweet concept, thank you so much for coming up with it! 🩷 i'm so sorry you're going through stuff. you're not alone & your f/os love you lots! take care :D also i apologise if i'm doing anything wrong in this ask game, i'm new to tumblr (i mainly use twitter, though it's really nice here!) please correct me if so!

i'll be answering the qns with my 2 main f/o's (hikage toma prri & kobayashi kenya bokumachi), hope that's okay!

tw: mention of sh for the 1st qn

🌻 since i'm clumsy and have the tendency to sh (though i'm on the road to recovery! yay!), i tend to get injured quite often.

for toma, he normally panics when he sees the wounds and he gets really worried! he'll ask a bunch of questions on how it happened (though if it's something sh related he'd probably avoid asking since it might make me upset) while digging through his bag for his emergency supplies. he'll also probably give me some cute, colourful band-aids to distract me from the wound! for the days after, he'll take really good care of me, helping me to apply ointments and creams every day.

for kenya, he'll mask his worry behind a calm expression in order to prevent me from panicking along with him. similar to toma, he'd also grab his emergency supplies (minus the colourful band-aids). for the days after, though he's really busy, he'd make sure to send reminders via text for me to take care of my injuries.

🪷 when i'm insecure, i usually try to bottle it up, but toma can see through me really easily. he'll give me a hug and comfort me with words, reassuring me of my skills and my good qualities, telling me he loves me no matter what and that the things my head is telling me are all untrue.

for kenya, since we've known each other for quite a while, he can also see through me easily. he's less touchy, but if i asked for a hug or anything, he'd do just that. he mainly uses his words, restating all of our past experiences that disprove my insecurities, show me that he cares, that i'm worth being cared for.

🍄 i would likely shut them down when they suggest pampering me, but both of them would insist, saying that they love me and want to take care of me.

for toma, he'd plan the whole thing himself. he'd probably bring me on a drive, stopping at all my favourite places for food or shopping. he'd do everything he possibly could to comfort me, and it would work!

for kenya, he'd ask if there's anything he could do to help, but since i don't normally know the answer to that, he'd end up taking things into his own hands and planning everything out. he'd take me out on weekends and treat me to some good food, and then maybe we would go home and relax.

☀️ toma would probably get something cute and simple, but full of thought, like jewelry in the style i like, or a plush that reminds him of me or me of him! kenya would probably get something on my wishlist (which tends to be cute stuff too)

📚 to be honest, we do all of that, heheh... i'm quite a needy person!

💜 oh there's too many... these past few days i've been feeling like crap, and sometimes my only reason for holding on is them. i don't wanna go into detail because honestly? i've been blocking most of my emotions out and i don't recall it, and i feel that if i tried i might get more upset. but they helped a lot. when it feels like nobody cares for me, i have them. when it feels like i'm alone, i have them. they've helped me with so so much and i cannot express how grateful i am for them coming into my life.

🥞 my kindness and my loyalty/dedication, i believe. i'd do so much for them, and just them. i'd try my best to be with them whenever they need and more, supporting them through the littlest actions.

🍁 toma sings me songs with that warm voice of his. it's always comforting. we'd cuddle too.

kenya talks to me and either cuddles or holds my hand until i fall asleep.

💫 toma would motivate me with little things like kisses or gifts and then tell me he was so proud of me after i checked a task off. if a task required a lot of work, he'd do it together with me and we would sing some songs while doing it to get my mind off of it.

kenya would send constant reminders to me, even when at work. he'd set alarms to remind me to drink water and stuff. he'd also praise me lots when i do something, and he'd help out where he can.

🍀 toma holds my hand, giving me a physical sensation that i can focus all my attention on. he'll pass me my earplugs/earphones and find a way out of that situation as fast as possible.

kenya, well, i hc him to also easily get overwhelmed. he'd probably try to get over it so that he can calm me, but i wouldn't ever let him force himself to calm down, so we'd probably just be overwhelmed together and find a way to leave the situation together. once out, we'll just spend time in each other's company until we feel better.

again, thank you so much for making this. it was really fun to answer! i'm sorry my answers got so long 😅

🪻comfort and care f/o ask game🪻

hi there! thank you so much to those of you who participated in my last f/o ask game ⸜(*ˊᗜˋ*)⸝ i had so much fun making it and i'm glad to see others are enjoying it too! i decided to make another (very self indulgent) f/o ask game since i've been going through a pretty rough patch lately and i want my f/os to take care of me (߹𖥦߹) these asks will be mental health centric (and can be quite personal), so if that's not your cup of tea, feel free to scroll past! if anyone else has been struggling as well, please remember you are so incredibly loved and wanted here! especially by your f/os! take care of yourselves ♡

so sorry for the long intro! we'll get into it now. as always, proship please do not interact!

also, this ask game is platonic/familial friendly! not just aimed towards romantic f/os! ٩(ˊᗜˋ )و

🌻 how does your f/o take care of you and/or react if you're injured? any injury applies. it could be as simple as bumping into the corner of a table and bruising your hip, or maybe something as severe as coming back wounded from an intense battle.

🪷 how does your f/o comfort you when you're feeling insecure/self conscious? if they prefer to comfort using words, what do they say? if they use actions, what do they do?

🍄 your f/o notices you're stressed/unhappy/not doing well and insists that they want to pamper you. what would that look like? do they do or say anything specific that only they would do? do they want you to tell them what you want, or do they plan the pamper session themself?

☀️ your f/o surprises you with a gift after noticing how hard you've been working lately, and they need to express how proud of you they are. what's the gift?

📚 what is your f/os love language? do they incorporate their love language into how they support you? (the main 5 love languages are; words of affirmation, acts of service, gift giving, quality time, and physical touch. though if you and your f/o have your own love language, please feel free to use that instead!)

💜 name a time (or multiple) when your f/o was your unwavering rock and solace. only if you're comfortable with sharing, what were you going through? how did your f/o support you?

🥞 what does your f/o admire about you? it can go beyond physical traits!

🍁 how does your f/o help you when you can't sleep/can't stay asleep?

💫 how does your f/o help and/or support you when you're struggling with taking care of yourself? (e.g. messy room, forgetting to take meds, etc.)

🍀 what does your f/o do when you're in an overstimulating/overwhelming situation? (e.g. in a large crowd, around loud noises, etc.) do they have any techniques to soothe you?

[yandere-fics]

♡ Naga Pauline Makes Her Darling Drink With Her ♡

(Happy birthday Egg)

It had been a few months since she forced you to become her personal maid and forced you into a contract relationship with her and while she had hoped that was all she needed to do to make her darling idiot realize her feelings, you were still jumpy around her and didn't allow for much physical contact outside of when she forced you or when her parents were around which left her zero opportunity to form any kind of bond with you. You barely even smelled like her cause you never allowed her to hold you for long, something she was getting desperate to change because it was making her feel extremely territorial. She'd only even bitten you once, you were being a dumbass so she threatened to eat you alive and bite you just to show she was serious about it but her venom, and the threat, were potent enough to hold you still for hours while she cuddled you. She hadn't gone farther at the time cause she wasn't sure how long this would last. Since then though she had been determining how much venom you could take by slipping some into your meals and how to extract venom in ways other than her saliva. It took her forever just to figure out the mechanism to make the venom come down her fangs without biting you or just straight up spitting, but by the time she had it down, you already developed somewhat of an immunity to her venom. It no longer was poisonous to you, instead having an aphrodisiac effect on you and making you little woozy. After that it was only the matter of dripping her venom into a bottle so it would be practically half venom then forcing you to drink with her.

"Paulieeee, I don't want to drink anymoreeee… I feel weird…" It only took one drink for you to crawl into her tail coil when she asked and two for you to start calling her that ridiculous pet name, there was no way she wasn't going to make you drink another, not when the results were sure to be even sweeter. Her sweet sweet idiot. You didn't even notice how she was staring at you as you clung to her, slowly taking sips of the third glass she offered.

"Idiot, do you like think I won't do anything even after you call me something like that?" She mumbled, you let out a small hiccup and asked her what she said. "Nothing, just like drink your wine dumbass."

"O-okay…" You were so into it now that you barely reacted when her hand slipped under your shirt to mess with your chest while you drank, she'd save the rest for when you finished that drink though. Her dumbass was lucky she considered you her mate and not food, it would have been easy for any other naga to wrap their coil around you and crush you to death.

"Moron, I could have like poisoned you or something." You looked up at her for a brief second, worried before she tipped the cup back up to your lips to make you take another long drink. "Dumbass, I wouldn't be telling you if I was poisoning you, I was just like warning you not to let anyone else give you weird drinks. Just like finish this and I'll give you some reward."

More a reward for herself but you didn't need to know that. She had a lot of tension to take out on her dumbass.

[atlasscrumpit]

Bob - Sick Fic

'Guys, seriously I'm fine! I can do the mission,' you said. Bucky crossed his arms and looked at you.

'Y/N, there is literally snot coming out of your nose as we speak,' Bucky said. You quickly wiped it away in embarrassment.

'Shut up!'

'Y/N, you stay here. Bob! You need to make sure Y/N, rests! Use a taser if you have to!' Yelena called out as Bob happily trotted down the stairs.

'I make a very good...warm water with salt,' he said. You looked at Ava for helped as she chuckled.

'You're on your own, Y/N,' she said.

You collapsed onto the couch with a groan as they all got ready to go for the mission.

'Don't do anything cool and if you do fucking film it,' you said. Bucky laughed and shook his head. Alexei rushed down the stairs carrying a bag of stuff.

'Little Y/N!' he shouted as you face palmed.

'Dad, she is fine,' Yelena said as he rushed to you and felt your forehead.

'Alright, I have very good medicine. You might see dancing rabbits but that just means it's working,' he said handing you a bottle of pills.

'Y/N, don't take them,' Yelena said. You nodded and put them down.

Bob chuckled and sat beside you, smiling at Alexei.

'It's okay, I'll take good care of her, Alexei,' Bob said. Alexei sighed and nodded.

'Okay, okay but make sure she gets soup!' he shouted. Maybe a little too loudly in front of you.

'Please, can we go and stop doting over Y/N?' John said. You rolled your eyes and relaxed on the couch as they all headed out for the mission.

'This sucks...' you grumbled. Bob chuckled and looked at you like an excited puppy.

'You really hate being sick, huh?'

'Yes! It sucks and it makes me weak and stupid,' you said. You were whining like a child now. Bob couldn't help but laugh again.

'Just lay down and we can put on a movie, I'll get some tea for you,' he said. You groaned and laid down on the couch and turned on the tv. It was true, you were terrible when you were sick. Being stabbed or shot was fine, but a head cold? End of the world.

Bob came back to see you already passed out cold. He laughed softly before getting his handy heating pack. He heated it a little before gently putting it over your head in hopes to soothe your aching head. He sat at the end of the couch and settled in to watch a movie, making sure to keep an eye on you.

About an hour later Bob looked over at you as you whined softly and rolled over.

'Y/N? You okay?' he asked. You whined and glanced at him.

'Can I put my head on your lap?' you said. Bob smiled softly knowing you weren't usually one to show affection.

'Sure, I don't mind.'

You slowly moved on the couch and rested your head on his lap, staring foward at the TV.

'Can I play with your hair?' Bob asked. You smiled softly and nodded.

You felt yourself drifting off again as Bob gently stroked your hair.

'I hate being alone when I'm sick,' you mumbled. Bob looked down at you while he gently played with your hair.

'Well, you don't have to be alone now, Y/N,' you opened your eyes and looked up at him and smiled.

'Thanks, Bob.'

When the team returned from the mission they found you and Bob curled up on the couch. Ava quickly took a photo and Yelena covered Alexei's mouth so he wouldn't shout and wake you up.

'Lets hope Bob doesn't get sick after this, I think he's somehow a bigger whiner than Y/N,' Bucky whispered.

'Send me that photo, Ava. I need it as my wallpaper,' Alexei said a little too loud as you groan and slowly woke up with a yawn.

'Oh, you guys are home,' you mumbled. Bucky held up a bag of take out as your eyes lit up.

'Got your favourite take out, doll,' Bucky said. You jumped up and grabbed it from him like a hungry gremlin.

'Told you her favourite would make her happy,' Bucky said as they watched you sit at the table.

'Well, we've lost her to the take out now.'

[daydreamerswriting]

Talk to Me

-An: this took me so long and has been sitting in my drafts too long

-W: swearing, mentions of sex, references to canon typical violence, discusses Johnny's death

"Don't make the water as fucking hot as it was last time." Dallas tells you as he takes off his shirt and tosses into the bathroom floor.

You giggle as you turn on the shower. "Fine." You say as you turn the temperature down just a bit.

Almost all your showers were normally spent with Dallas, and all his showers were normally spent with you; but, lately that hasn't been the case. Dallas watches you shamelessly as you undress, and of course you didn't mind. His eyes only flickered back up to your face when you step closer to him. You peck his lips softly then hook your fingers through his belt loops.

"Can't shower in jeans, love." You say.

A smirk just barely makes an appearance on his face. "I know. I'm gonna take 'em off, got distracted." He shoos your hands away then quickly gets out of him jeans, and he tosses them to the side.

Months and months ago, your shared showers only entailed sex, but after a rumble had left Dally in bad shape, and you showered with him to help clean and comfort him, you two started taking a lot more non-sexual showers together. Well, not exactly non-sexual entirely, this was Dallas Winston of course, so your ass would be getting grabbed and he would be telling you all his dirty thoughts.

You pull back the shower curtain and step into the shower. The hot water instantly calming you as it washes down your front. Dallas gets in behind you. The shower is a bit small, and the two of you were definitely a bit cramped, but not too close for comfort, not that you could ever be too close to him. The shower smells like bar soap and cheap men's cologne.

"You can come stand under the water." You tell him as you move out of the way and turn to face him. He moves under the stream. He lets the water run over his toned, scar-littered body before rinsing his hair.

"You okay, Dal?" You ask after a few seconds. He's being weirdly quiet. No crude comments and no complaints about his day like normal. He also seems tense. But, of course that can only be expected since he lost his best friend only 5 days ago.

He looks at you for a moment then sighs and looks away. "Yeah. Fucking great."

You move closer and gently touch his arm. "You don't have to lie to me, baby." Your voice is soft, tender, and makes him want to break down even more. Dallas turns, so his back is now facing you. He puts his face under the water and runs his hands over it.

It breaks your heart to see Dally like this, and to see him so unwilling to talk to you. After so long together, he's still bottling up his emotions. He hasn't shred a tear infront of you yet, and you haven't left his side since the night of Johnny's death. But Dallas isn't as good at hiding his emotions as he thinks– he's been extra quiet, sluggish, more easily irritated, more self-critical, and he almost never looks present, always like his mind is else where. He's worrying you. You know that eventually he'll blow, and you hope that his grief won't be channeled into anger and violence. You've tried, god have you tried, to get him to talk to you, get him to cry, but he won't. He'll change the subject, or just simply won't respond. Selfishly, you wanted to talk about it too. Johnny death hurt you too, but you've been so focused on Dallas, that you haven't really gotten a change to cope or process the death either. You talked to Ponyboy about it, but that mainly consisted of trying to convince him not to blame himself. Poor kid.

"Dally, you can talk to me." You tell him, but it almost sounds like a plend.

He doesn't say anything, he just rinses his hair.

You sigh. "Fine. Be like that. I'll talk about it, cause I'm hurting too." You pause, hoping he'll say something, or at least look at you– he doesn't. "Johnny was a good kid. He was kind and brave and god, did he deserved a better chance, better cards. You and the rest of guys were some of the only good things in his life. Sometimes, I don't think you realize how important you are- were to him. He didn't deserve to die the way he did, or this early, and he didn't deserve to live the way he did either. And," –your voice breaks as tears begin to fall– "it's hard to wake up and live everyday, knowing that he doesn't get too, all because he did a good thing."

Dallas slowly turns around to face you again. You make eye contact with him, and the walls around his heart start to fall when he sees your expression.

"You're not okay, Dal. You lost your best friend. You lost someone I know you loved."

He stares into your eyes for a moment longer, then his eyes well with tears as his face scrunches up, like he's upset he's crying. The first tear falls, and the dam breaks completely. He grabs you and hugs you, his head on your shoulder. Sobs rack through the poor boy's body as he desperately clings to you like a lifeline.

"He's dead, man." He mutters out shakily. "Johnny's gone."

You hug him tightly and rub his back to attempt to soothe him. "I'm so sorry, baby," you whisper against his ear.

Dallas sobs violently into your shoulder. He tries to ignore how pathetic he feels, crying like this, because it also feels so relieving. It feels... nice to be able to cry like this. Even though his eyes string, his throat is becoming raw, and he's getting a head ache, he feels safe. The feeling of your arms round him, your hand rubbing is back, only encourages more sobs, as he feels like he doesn't deserve this comfort, doesn't deserve you.

After a few more minutes, that feel like forever, he begins to calm down. He sniffles and takes a deep, shakey breath.

"It's my fucking fault." He chokes, his face still against your neck.

"What?" You ask, ready to defend him from himself. You lightly push him back, not letting go of him, so you can look into his eyes. In them, you find a broken, self-hating, reckless child.

"I told them to go hide in that stupid fucking church." He says bitterly, anger directed at himself.

You cup his face and glare at him. You say sternly, "It is not your fault, Dallas. Don't you dare think like that."

"I was the one that started messing with Bob's girl. It's my fault that those damn socs messed with them in the first place." He tells you, finally meeting your eyes.

You shake your head. "No, Dally, come on. You didn't know that what happened was going to happen. It ain't your fault anymore than it is Bob's, or Pony's, or all socs', or those kids' in the church, or Johnny's. And you don't blame them, do you?"

Dallas looks at the ground again. He shrugs and sniffles. "I blame those damn socs."

You sigh. "Baby, I'm mad too, enraged even, but playing the blame game won't help, and blaming yourself definitely won't help. It's not your fault, alright? Johnny wouldn't want you to think that. It's not your fault."

After a few seconds, he nods.

"I want you to say it, babe."

He glances at you with glossy eyes and scoffs.

"I'm serious." You say.

He looks away again. You wait patiently for him to say something. His face is still in your hands, his arms still around your waist. He presses his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. You suddenly remember that you're in the shower still, and though it is relaxing and warm, you're probably running poor Buck's water bill up quite a bit. But when Dallas's arms tighten around you, that thought vanishes. You wrap your arms around him as he moves his head back to your neck.

"Its not my fault." He mumbles against your skin.

You smile and kiss the side of his head. "Damn right."

You feel the corners of his lips curve up against your neck. After a long moment, he lets out a deep sigh and lifts his head, he looks at you with mournful eyes. "I miss him, doll. I miss him a lot."

You nod. "I know. I'm sorry, baby."

He sniffles then let's go of your waist. "It's fine. I'm okay."

You return your arms to your sides as he pulls away. "You'll be okay." Without his warmth, you suddenly feel very cold, and wish you were under the warm water. Dallas has an awkward energy about him now. Maybe he's embarrassed, you think.

"I'm proud of you." You tell him, because maybe he's never heard that, and you are.

"You're too sweet, you know that? I haven't done anything to be proud of."

"You expressed your emotions in a healthy away, and I'm proud." You say. "Now let me under the water, I'm freezing my ass off over here."

He huffs a laugh and switches spots with you. "I could warm it up for you."

"The water is already warming it up." You smile. "Sorry."

"Damn water."

After the shower, you're cuddled next to Dallas in his bed, in his clothes, warm and comfortable.

"You can always talk to me, ya know. Next time, don't make me have to coerce you into talking to me." You say tenderly.

"Yeah, okay. I'll talk to you or whatever."

an: Did this eat or is it cringy, be honest 😣

Divider cred: @/enchanthings

[rainedravens]

just wanted to pass by and say that ur nerd armin fics are reallyy good!! I enjoyed reading them and I hope u know that nerd armin has been on my mind recently because of u 😖

anon you are literally the sweetest person EVER this is so kind like my heart is actually melting 😭😭😭

so now what if i said i'll dedicate this one to you... (omg guys dedicate your hearts i'm literally erwin) (it chill that you guys chose armin over me i would have done it too)

↳ ❝ 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙩 .✴︎˚｡⋆ ❞

𝜗𝜚 tw.ᐟ.ᐟ contains: cursing, mentions of drinking/drunkedness, mentions of fighting, anxious rants?| friends to lovers, kissing/making out?, armin is a nervous freaking wreck over you, teeny tiny bit of hurt/comfort, confessions!! | fanart by musapylsa on tumblr | not proofread or edited.ᐟ.ᐟ | sticker page (masterlist)

𝜗𝜚 wc.ᐟ.ᐟ contains: 4.9k words

𝜗𝜚 pairing -> nerd! armin arlert x gn! reader ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

𝜗𝜚 synopsis -> your best friends surprise you with a birthday picnic, where a game of spin the bottle surprises you with something else.

𝜗𝜚 a/n -> consider this an early/belated birthday present!! :) (since this is my first like large writing post, i will be asking for constructive criticism!! i wanna improve my writing skills so if you have anything helpful and can be kind abt it, pls lmk!!) (OR IF YOU FIND LIKE CONTINUITY ERRORS OR LIKE SPELLING MISTAKES I DO NOT PROOFREAD LIKE WHASTOEVER...)

"come on, you have to at least give me a hint!" you tugged on armin's shirt sleeve as he led you down to his car. the suspense had been killing you since armin invited you to hang out a few days ago, keeping all the details a secret. you had no idea what you were doing, where you were going, or who would even be there -- you didn't even know how to dress or what to bring. picturing yourself showing up to a black tie evening event in your casual elicited a laugh, but armin's own choice of attire ruled out that possibility.

armin had been a sweetheart to you since you were kids, always helping you out with homework, or defending you from assholes even when he could hardly put up a fight himself. it was him who introduced you to your best friends, and it was him who would let you cry onto his shoulder when someone would break your heart. it was you listening to him talk about his favourite manga, or the both of you dying of laughter watching an anime together. in every way, it always you and armin, armin and you.

well, maybe not every way.

"it's just like a five minute drive away," armin snickered, opening up the passenger seat door for you. "how's that for a hint?"

you huffed as you slipped into your spot, already connecting your phone to the aux. "ha. ha. you're just so funny, 'min."

being tasked with inconspicuously transporting you to the party was easy, even if you did have a million questions on your coming whereabouts. it was being tasked with inconspicously transporting you that was the hard part for armin.

you'd known each other for years, meeting way back in juniour high, and for majority of those years, armin had been crushing hard.

it started out small, something he'd thought would go away soon and had only started because you'd worn the prettiest outfit to the grade eight gradutation. he'd flush over your hands brushing together, or when you'd make a dumb joke and laugh before you'd even got to the punchline. semi-unfortunately for armin, the crush had only gotten bigger over the years, and it was a miracle that you were just so adorably oblivious.

fully-unfortunately for armin, the rest of the friend group was hellbent on getting him to confess, and armin had a horrific sneaking suspicion this picinic wasn't just aimed at celebrating your birthday.

clairos vocals blasted out of the car speakers as he pulled up to the curb, your hands covering your eyes per his request.

"okay, wait one second, don't move your hands."

"armin, i swear to god if this is your plan to kidnap me..."

he scoffed, sneaking away to eren and mikasa who were final touches on the decorations.

"they're here.”

“we have no idea who you're talking about, 'min." mikasa inflected, teasing as armin flushed pink in the afternoon sun.

"i'm not calling them that."

"not calling who what?"

armin sighed, running a hand over his face. "the love of my life has arrived."

"well, why didn't you just say that!" eren smirked, crossing his arms. "connie and sasha just need to finish setting up the balloons, so you can still have few more minutes with your lover."

yup, horrific sneaking suspicion confirmed, armin supposed

at the very least, their set up was actually half-decent. everything was in your favourite colour, from the birthday banner and the balloons, to even the picnic blanket they spread over the wooden table. with a bit of mikasa’s favourite incense sticks, the whole area was bug free — minus the ants connie kept bringing up (“dude, they literally wouldn’t mind at all, i’ll go ask them—!”, a proposition which mikasa struck down with a single look). 

each friend was assigned a snack to bring, family-sized and somewhat presentable, courtesy of armin’s impeccable planning. reiner with the chips, eren with the drink cooler, marco with the fruit tray, etcetera, etcetera. of course, armin assigned himself to pay for the cake and the main course; your favourite fast food. all the treats were accounted for, looking perfectly neat among the plastic tea lights — a touch that annie actually recommended.

icing on the cake — a pun that would be intended if armin were you — it was your favourite time of day in your favourite spot in the city; “almost sunset,” a term you coined yourself, and the park just a walk away from your house (he really wasn’t lying when he gave you that hint).

surprise, surprise — again, pun intended if he were you — armin planned that part, too.

even if the whole party was a complete ruse for romance, having been suggested by mikasa, historia and sasha, armin had to give himself credit; he was a damned good party planner, especially since it was all for you.

well, everything has always been for you, really.

as far as memories went, armin had always been doing things for you. not because he’d thought you’d repay him, or that there was some strange cosmic coincidence that would bring him good fortune if he was kind to you.

he just wanted to do it for you.

sometimes it was pretending to need to buy lunch when you would forget yours, just so you wouldn’t feel like he was spending money on you. maybe it was looking like a fool to reach over and cover the edge of your desk with his hand when you’d duck your head to catch the run-away pencil, so when you’d thoughtlessly rip your head back up, you wouldn’t get hurt. or it was when you could sense when he was anxious, those random thoughts running a mile per second, and could bring him back down to earth with a simple word. it could possibly be him just letting you sniffle into his favourite shirt when someone would hurt your feelings, restraining himself the next day and forcing down the urges to beat their ass, even if he’d lose horribly.

it was eighth grade graduation. you were laughing around with pieck and porco, having the time of your life on the dance floor while he stood flat against the wall, punch in hand. with just the way you’re eyes were glittering in the rave lights, and the way you did the dorkiest dance moves he’d ever seen without a care in the world,

it was like something had clicked, like something had finally made sense at that moment. 

he wanted you, 

but he wasn’t willing to risk you; he couldn’t.

“psst!” sasha had knocked him out his you-filled daze, snapping a party hat around his head as she nudged him over to his car. “go get ‘em, loverboy! this food isn’t gonna eat itself…”

still half-dreaming-of-you, armin made his way to you, mentally preparing himself for the events that were about to unfold.

after an indulgent, burning, stomach-flipping whisper into your ear, asking if you were ready, you responded with a nod, and armin removed you hands from your eyes, allowing you to fully drink in the scene before you.

your reaction was more adorable than he could have ever imagined.

“happy birthday!” “surprise!”

“connie, you idiot!”

“holy shit, guys— oh my god, it’s the— and my favourite!!” overwhelmed with newfound joy, your eyes glossy in the sunlight, you spun around to your friends, all clad in matching birthday hats. “you guys are literally the best fucking friends ever, oh my god…”

“it’s all thanks to armin!” historia cheered, snapping a matching hat around your head. “he planned everything just for you.”

“‘min, did you really?”

god, you looked so fucking amazing.

“i mean, i-it was mikasa-historia-sasha’s idea…” his sheepish side took control, still tense over you, you, you.

“drop the modesty act,” annie nudged his shoulder, seemingly appearing out of thin air. “arlert organized the whole thing.”

you threw your arms over his shoulders, completely engrossing him in your sweet vanilla scent. autopilot kicked in, and armin reciprocated the embrace, grasp flying around your waist. like clockwork, he dove his head into your neck, fumbling his glasses, relishing in the moment, relishing in your warmth.

“thank you, ‘min,” you mumbled, muffled by your own embrace.

he held tighter in response, not letting his hold slack for even a moment. the subtle tingling in his chest fully bloomed into stomach butterflies, and it was that same state of non-existence and complete existence armin always felt whenever you were this close to him. it wasn’t floating, like romance television had often said it was, but something more, something foreign and strange and unintelligible; intangible. your skin on his, the flesh of your cheek singing his collar, the heartbeat drumming in his ear. the simple feeling of you flush against him, where his quickened pulse was sure to be noticed. it was unimaginable, it was pure, unbelievable bliss,

it was only interrupted by an audible click, and armin locked eyes with the lens of connie’s phone.

ugh, stupid horrific sneaking suspicions.

he begrudgingly released you, eyeing connie, sasha and jean as they all gloatingly pointed at the phone, jean even going as far as miming a make out session — somehow, armin was still hot under the collar without you against him.

even with the festivities and feasting on snacks and desserts, armin couldn’t shake off that feeling, that high. 

the two of you had hugged more times than anyone could count, whether it was the quick side hug for pictures, or the unclassified “cuddles” that occurred during binging hang outs. that embrace, that mumble of words he felt hot against his ear, the flush he somehow managed to keep hidden from you; it all lingered. the tingle, the static that hung around the back of his head and the top of his forehead, the one that felt like those sudden drop rides, it stayed. 

all throughout the snack banter and singing of happy birthday,

it never left.

it only bloomed more.

seeing your eyes illuminated by the candle flame, peering up at him with an awkward vulnerability, whispering to him through the look. 

the fireworks of excitement shooting off as you opened each present, a certain, softer look spreading across your face as you opened armins — a polaroid, and a couple rolls of film, something you mentioned once a while back. even with the embrace you captured him in after that, like an act of resonance, increased the amplitude of his high.

all the hours spent planning, the somehow managing to get connie — in his words — “locked in” for the decorating, the making sure reiner promised not to hit on historia in front of ymir to prevent any fighting during the party; it had all paid off to ride on the high tide.

he repeated himself; he was a damned good party planner.

“games! games! games!”

except he didn’t plan that.

honestly, armin wasn’t even aware there was going to be games, he would have absolutely catered it to your liking if he knew.

connie whipped out an empty smirnoff, placing it on the cleared picnic table. 

double honestly, it took him an embarrassingly long time to understand what the baldy was doing, it didn’t even click until he started talking.

“how about some spin the bottle to liven things up, huh?”

triple honestly, armin arlert just about shit his pants.

reiner and ymir hastily exclaimed as mikasa and eren excused themselves from the game, and armin knew they were hiding shit-eating grins.

stupid. fucking. horrific sneaking suspicions.

naturally, the half-drunk connie — that smirnoff was empty for a reason — spun first, rowdily cheering until the mouth of the bottle landed directly on marco. his smile faded, watching marco turn a shade of red no one in the circle had ever seen before, and the baldy immediately called for a re-spin, already reaching for the bottle.

“hey, none of that!” you batted his hand away. “you know the rules. don’t chicken, just give marco a little smooch on the cheek.”

after watching that interesting display, armin was forced to witness it again with sasha and bertholdt, then reiner and jean, and finally, you and historia — to which ymir almost murdered you over, but had let slide once the sweet blonde pecked her cheek, free of charge or spin.

armin couldn’t help but feel a little jealous that you wouldn’t be able to calm his nerves like that.

who was he kidding, he was on enflamed with envy; as an academic at heart, he patted himself on the back for the alliteration.

each spin of bottle, each scratch of glass against the picnic blanket fuelled the fight between anxiety and the lingering high, where armin couldn’t handle you kissing your friends; or the way you’d cup their face in both hands, or how you’d look so giddy when you’d part from their lips, or how he couldn’t handle the fact it wasn’t him, or how he wouldn’t be able to handle it if it was him.

when it had finally come to his turn, the circle still howled with amusement after jean, tight-lipped and regretful he had allowed himself to play, chastely ghosted connie’s cheek, to which they both attempted to scrub any remnants each other off themselves as best they could. for one graceful moment, armin thought his turn would be sidelined, forgotten and shoved under the carpet for no one to see or remember. he could have even played it off as connie’s turn with a simple quip, maybe something funny like, “ooh, connie, you better pucker up again!”, or something of that sort — not that he’d have the social confidence to say that. quips and quick humour had always been your thing, and he’d just be left flustered when you’d say something along the lines of, “oh, you wanna kiss me so bad, it makes you look stupid,” or maybe, “dude, your eyes are the same colour as toilet water, someone get him brown contacts.”

however, fortune favours the brave, and once the laughter died down, you rolled the glass bottle in his direction. “go, ‘min! oh my god, guys, poke-’min go…”

amateur calculations ran through his mind, but whether to distract him from the fact that he was about to kiss one of his friends — or you, for that matter — or to somehow figure out a way to make it land on himself, therefore making him exempt from participating, armin wasn’t sure.

the bottle, holding a distant warmth from your touch, seemed almost impossible to grasp, weighing down into the table as if it had gravity had increased, as if his own two feet were digging into the earth below him, as if every bead of sweat and accumulated onto his hand as he peered down into the abyss, and it peered back, as if the rain in spain fell mainly in the plain, as if vampires could only enter a household if they were invited, as if—

“‘min,” you broke him out, like you always did, a hidden hand placed softly upon his knee. “you don’t have to play, it’s okay.”

and he almost placed the bottle in your inviting palm, until your lips, so perfect and begging for him to shake off his nerves (“quit being a coward, audentes fortuna iuvat.”), flickered into his vision,

and he spun the bottle.

connie, sasha, reiner. historia, ymir, bertholdt, marco. annie, you, himself.

around and around, spinning eternally as armins sweat dripping palms gripped the hem of his shirt, glasses subtly fogging.

the spinning, the unsureness, the possibilities. it was killing him. 

connie? someone get the bucket, he’s vomitting. sasha? absolutely not. marco? he’d never be able to look him in the eye again.

picturing any of them stealing his first kiss — which was a thought he was aware was quite juvenile — was so horrifically disturbing, but the alternative was kissing you, and armin was sure that if it were to come down to it, he’d die on the spot.

that high, that intangible, better-than-floating feeling would erupt, crash, shatter the way an opera singers voice shatters a glass.

connie, sasha, reiner. historia, ymir.

its rotations began to slow, friction finally performing its function.

bertholdt.

heartbeat in his ear, blaring and booming, piercing right down to his eardrums — you had to have felt it, had to have sensed he was losing his mind.

marco.

he pleaded to himself, begged to allow himself to shut his eyes and block out the resulting person, block out all the fear and nerves and heart beating so fast, he would swear he was about to die. but his body rejected his mind, eyeing the bottle as it landed on

you.

someone grab a bucket, he’s vomitting.

reflecting those hazy pinkish hues of the sky, the bottle shone clear as day; it had landed on you.

“nice job, arlert.” annie spoke up from behind him, sparking a jolt in armin as she sipped her coke.

your own eyes, sunlit and wide, fluttered between the bottle, and him, the bottle and him, as if you were in your own pool of disbelief. then, a change, a switch flicked, and you leaned closer to him. 

you leaned closer to him, and betraying himself, he nudged back away, ever so slightly. of course, you noticed, and so, with that same quiet and comforting tone you captured before, you spoke, “is this okay?”

head already one step ahead of himself, he nodded, allowing you to scoot closer; thighs touching, your hands meeting his already flushed face. it would have been physically impossible for his trembles, his almost-silenced whimpers to go unnoticed — maybe you noticed, maybe you didn’t care. maybe your finger had delicately pushed his glasses back into place, giving him a full, clear sighted view of you in the moment. maybe instead of both of your prim perfect hands resting against his burning cheeks, one had settled down to his hand that held his shirt hem in a vice grip. maybe you, with a voice that only he could hear, one barely emitting any sound, had whispered, “close your eyes, armin.”

maybe he tried to just kiss your cheek, chickening out.

maybe you were going to kiss his as well.

maybe, by some cosmic coincidence, your lips had crashed onto his.

maybe you held on longer than you had with anyone else.

armin became puddy in your hands, melting into your touch, memorizing each scar, ridge, curve, taste. oh god, he needed more, he needed so much more. he needed that moment forever, on repeat, never-ending. with a mind of its own, maybe one that held armins subconscious, his arm managed to sneak a grasp onto your waist, pulling you closer. that high, that unintelligible feeling of pure bliss in the moment had completely exploded, blowing up into that rush of memories and the flames that flickered at him where the two of you touched.

then he was cold, and you had already reclaimed your original spot, stealing a sip of annie’s coke.

the high, that intangible better-than-floating, had ended.

𝜗𝜚

the leftovers were packed up. birthday banner, balloons and blanket all stowed away in the back of eren’s car. you were getting a ride from sasha.

there was no reason for armin to sit in his car, no reason at all. 

he had a project due, physics; something on electromagnetic radiation, or whatever, he couldn’t remember. 

grandpa would be getting ready for bed, miso was probably curled up in her cat tower, actual, real food would still be warm in the oven. 

there was no reason for him to be there.

the ignition didn’t call to him, he had nowhere to be. the stick-shift didn’t call to him, either, not the way you did—

stop it, armin hushed his mind. 

it was a stupid game, anyways.

stupid, stupid sneaking suspicions, from a stupid, stupid idiot who fell for his best friend.

god, he couldn’t believe himself.

he didn’t have to spin, you told him he didn’t have to spin. he didn’t have to air out his embarrassments for the whole world to see, for you to immediately catch on to.

there was no way you didn’t know now.

armin just ruined his entire friendship with you for one single kiss.

you couldn’t even look him in the eye afterwards, nor talk to him, nor even just be alone with him.

it was over. no more late night texting you about random shit, no more drawing in the margins of his homework, no more you.

there was no reason for armin to still be there.

the car door, somehow, called to him, and before he even knew it, armin found himself making his way to the playground of the park.

“swings it is.” he muttered to no one.

he couldn’t have even recognized himself at that point, but whether the foreignness was due to backing away from you, or pulling you closer, armin didn’t know. he didn’t know, he didn’t fucking know.

it was eighth grade graduation. you were laughing around with pieck and porco, having the time of your life on the dance floor while he stood flat against the wall, punch in hand. with just the way you’re eyes were glittering in the rave lights, and the way you did the dorkiest dance moves he’d ever seen without a care in the world, something had just clicked. it hadn’t been a trick of the lights, he was redder than ever.

he had clutched his chest in the moment, staring down into his solo cup as the bass of the music caused ripples in the punch. oxygen had become scarce, oxygen hadn’t existed at all then, and breathing was like he had just run fifty miles. the faces around him had turned to strangers, to amorphous blobs that spoke nothing but intelligible murmurs. in the heart of it all, amongst the glaring lights and vibrating music, was you.

it couldn’t have been true, it just couldn’t. maybe he was lying to himself, tricking himself into thinking his romantic loneliness had caused a stir in his heart, not you or your lovely face. maybe that was the whole reason he had to take a deep breath every time porco’s hand brushed yours.

maybe you were sitting on the swings, quietly humming to yourself.

and he almost turned back around to his inviting car door, until you, glowing in the finally setting sun, saw him, and didn’t look away. brushing a hand through his hair, shakily exhaling to prepare himself for god knows what, he walked over and sat on the swing next to you.

“was it really that bad?”

“w-what?” he tripped over his own response, slightly shocked you spoke up.

“the kiss,” you took out your earbuds, turning to face him fully. “was it really that bad?”

“…no”

“you hesitated.”

he took a breath. “it wasn’t bad.”

you let a beat of silence wash over, and armin could feel himself sinking into the your wordless train of thought. of course it wasn’t bad, it was absolutely everything. it was that high all over again, even if armin couldn’t tell if he was upset over the fact that it wasn’t a romantic driven kiss, or simply blinded by the fact that it was your lips against his.

“did you like it?”

“yes.” the response slipped out far too quick, spilling over the counter as armin silenced himself — or attempted to. “d-did you?”

that slippery, steeling feeling froze armin in place as he searched for the answer in your sunlit eyes. how did those stupid romcoms you forced him to watch make it look so easy? how did every single thing the lovers would say to each other magically make sense, and perfectly fit together? how was it never complicated? how did it brainwash millions of people into believing that romance wasn’t this multifaceted, horribly disgusting and confusing cluster of feelings? if the rain in spain falls mainly on the plain, and his favourite version of the flash is wally west, and he still hasn’t finished his physics project, and, god, you looked so perfect in the sunlight, and a vampire must be invited onto a premises—

“yeah, i… i did.”

you liked it, you liked it.

according to pop culture, armin was supposed to feel choked up, so intensely stressed and sweaty to the point his shirt clung to his back.

but he didn’t, and he wasn’t. 

you broke him out of it, like you always did.

“sasha told me something kinda funny,” you started, a sweet little smirk already on your face. “she literally told me that you’d probably show up here,” 

freaking sasha and her magic hearing, armin mentally cursed.

“is that why you’re here?”

“yup, because something’s wrong, and i want to help you, because i’m your friend.”

“help me?” the term friend fell sour in armins mouth.

you sighed. “armin arlert. do not bullshit me. i know you and i know when something’s up. is something up?”

“no.”

liar. “liar.”

shamed flooded armins mind — he was a damn liar, and you didn’t deserve lies, not when you were just trying to help him. speaking the truth would be so difficult in his mind, and he knew it would be even more so in reality. he already thought he ruined his entire friendship with you through that one kiss, and even if he didn’t, he wasn’t willing to risk it anymore.

but you liked it, and there wasn’t any hiding from that.

“sorry,” heavy lids slumped over his cerulean eyes, darkened by the haloing sunset. “it’s… h-hard to talk about.”

“swear on my life, if you could talk about anything to anyone, it would be me.” your spoke, an attempt to lighten his mood. “you could literally say, ‘i have to shit right now,’ and—“

“i can’t stop thinking about it.” he spilled, dribbles falling over the counter, accompanying the blossom of shattered glass. 

“about…?” 

“the kiss. o-our kiss.”

“oh,”

you didn’t deserve lies, you didn’t deserve lies. he wanted to give you so much more than deception by omission, deception by concealment, deception by understatement—

“i-i can’t, either.”

you hesitated. you never hesitated.

maybe the wave of shame was meant for two.

“i was aiming for your cheek, i knew you wouldn’t want to, like, actually kiss-kiss me.”

loud incorrect buzzer, silly.

“i was aiming for your cheek, too.”

you completely scoffed, arms crossing over one another. “sure, pal. you wanna kiss me so bad, it makes you look stupid.” “it makes me look stupid.”

even if the setting sun was casting ray over your features, armin was sure that the red that flooded your cheeks like watercolour was real — real and because of him.

maybe the wave of shame was meant for two, and maybe the blissful high, that roller coaster of contrasting moments and reactions, the spur of randomness; maybe all of that was meant for two, too.

there was a sharp inhale, then, “kissmeagain.”

what. “w-uh-what?”

“i-i said ‘kiss me again.’” you blinked, knowing you had just spilled your own mind yourself. “but it’s fine if you don’t, like, i don’t care—“

“okay.”

armin’s heart had dropped to his throat — even if that wasn’t even figuratively physically possible — and twisting the swing to face you as you matched him, he slowly reached to cup your face. that look you stared at him with, full of nerves and so eager, so impatiently patient, swelled in his chest. after a shakily brave inhale, noses barely bumping, he spoke, low and alluring, “close your eyes.”

he was soft, barely grazing your lips, hiding that greediness, that selfishness. against his restrained kiss, you grasped onto his lone hand, whispering, 

“like you mean it.”

mind spurred with the sound of your voice, sweet and honey-laced, armin sunk into your lips per your request. unintelligible, intangible, better-than-floating.

as soon as you parted, and much like just a mere hour ago, armin wanted it again. he wanted to never be without it, never live without it. the new craving, new necessity for living, pleaded for another. that sweetness, that plushness, so wonderful than missing, he had to have it again, and so did you, already pulling him in again, then again, and again after that.

he reacquainted himself with his memorizations, and despite them, armin found himself uncoordinated, messy, drunk on your taste. the shock of his situation, of you liking it had never truly left, only tucked away as he enlisted his entire focus on you, you, you. whatever had possessed him couldn't have been sudden confidence, but just that complete and unwavering need for your touch, your kiss...

teeth bumped, fingers raked through hair, hands tugging and pawing for more and more. the palm against your cheek had quickly slid over to hold your jaw — a subconscious effort to bring you closer — and its counterpart had fit against your waist, armins pull taut against you. 

“m-mnh,” you murmured into the kiss, swollen and breathless. “‘mi-nh.”

“mm?” 

“i take it that you like me back?” you giddily whispered as his sloppy kisses peppered your flushed cheeks and jaw.

“like y-you back?” he blinked in disbelief, pausing his affections. “no, you like me back…”

“or i like you a lot, and you like me back, and then you kiss me like you mean it again…”

everything had always been for you, all those years of silent jealousy, stomaching through your relationships, pining without ever truly being able to pine had all been for you. it was all for you, and moments like the present, where you wanted him just as much -- you would argue "far more" -- and where your want was just as real as his.

with that silly, butterflies-in-stomach, tingly feeling, his lips met yours again, and you mentally noted to thank armin for the second birthday gift.

𝜗𝜚 divider creds -> cursedcarmine: green ribbons

[fawnbong]

"Her Majesty" - Ramshackle

Stone x Reader

Platonic and romantic separately

Headcanons

Hi this is probably super ooc because I take info from like 2014 as fact even tho it's absolutely not atp but anyways I haven't written anything stone centered in a minute so I wanted to get this out

I'll do more for the others soon too trusttt

PLEASE have the Beatles song in mind regarding the weird title it came to me at 4 am

There are totally a lot of bits and notes I've forgotten to delete and I'm like really aware of that I just don't want to go through allat again it's too long so have fun sorry

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Platonic

He doesn't typically delve head first into relationships. Where Skipp is optimistic and eager to make a new friend, Stone is skeptical and cold. Vinnie is somewhere in the middle but typically leans towards friendly and stern I imagine. Stone takes a really long time to open up in the slightest, and an even longer time to ever consider you a genuine friend. It's not like he doesn't care about your well-being for that extensive period, he actually subconsciously looks out for you the way he does his "actual friends" long before he even begins liking you.

Stone isn't very social at all. He's reserved and grumpy and actually comes off as just plain mean to anyone that doesn't know him well enough, and unfortunately, his "shell" also takes a very long time to crack (or shed on its own). With enough time— lots of it— trust is surely built and as long as you're not as rambunctious and annoying as he finds Vinnie, you'll probably get along fine.

Each member of the trio can be labeled a "mom friend" in their own ways, in their own fonts. Stone is dead silent about his concern and care. He's the most levelheaded and logical, despite being in a drunken state most of the time. On the very rare occasion he is sober, he's capable of being sentimental (and a little more outright with his concerns) and abnormally anxious. He may fret over your concerning lifestyle (in silence), and offer supplies or simply a shoulder to lean on (also in silence).

Even if he's already downed three bottles of "mystery liquid" (energy drink), he'll always share an umbrella during heavy downpour, saying it's because he'd rather you didn't get sick and infect everyone else with your germs.

[Personally] I imagine him being the most organized out of the group. He's always been tidy and neat, regardless of where he's been in life. Maybe it's a rich person habit he'll never be able to quite shake off. While everyone else kicks off their shoes and haphazardly abandons hats and gloves at the entrance of the shared tent, he stays behind for half a minute to set the shoes off to the side and straighten them out, and hang everything that must be hung whether it's damp or just in the way, all while grumbling about the mess.

Abnormally skinny and I'm tired of pretending it's normal GO EAT SOMETHING TWIGGY!!!! (Reword laters) He's built like an actual street lamp, and it's all thanks to his low appetite and picky eating tendencies towards food found on the streets. It's not like he wants to starve— God knows he should take everything he can get— he just doesn't. He's cold, lanky, and possibly anemic + malnourished because of it. It's clear to everyone and probably worries you. You're told it's "just how he is" but regardless, you encourage him to eat a little more and take better care of himself. Not like he's a toddler, or to be demeaning— just out of care and concern. He finds it annoying at first and absolutely disregards it, buuut your intentions are acknowledged and he returns the favor in his own ways.

Grumpy emo with a soft spot™. He loves dogs and tolerates children (one "child", actually: Maggot). Figure this out later I don't know where I'm going. It kind of gives you a little more to work with other than that emo, nonchalant drunk face he puts on— and possibly a smidge of hope as well. He's not totally devoid of emotion and happiness. Rather, he's quite gentle and has a lot of feelings, he just drinks them away. Probably expresses his desire to own a lot of dogs to you and then never mentions it again.

Unwilling to play his fiddle in front of a crowd. He's tried before (busking on the street, with enough persuasion from the group), but the moment a small crowd began to gather before his performance, he fumbled and froze up before running off, totally abandoning the money he'd just earned. He took that as a lesson to never perform like, ever again. If you ask super nicely with a million cherries on top, he'll say no. If you ask really nicely with a million cherries on top as someone he considered a friend, he says he'll think about it. He much prefers playing alone, far away from prying ears, but he can find it in himself to make an exception for you and put on a small, personal show if you're willing to listen. He's nervous the whole time, and desperately hopes you think he's good even though his expression is fairly bleak.

Not necessarily protective (like at all), but he does want to know your whereabouts whenever you plan on splitting off from the group. He says he'd rather not have to assemble a search party for you, but truthfully he just doesn't want to see a friend get hurt. Similarly, he's got a pretty weak stomach but can treat any wounds you have with shocking care. He mumbles about how you're reckless and stupid, all while holding back the urge to gag and groan, but gets the job done and urges you to be careful for a while. It'd be almost normal, if it isn't for the unfamiliar tone of his voice; quiet and low, worried and possibly a tiny bit pleading. Very nice.

Not affectionate. Not sentimental. He's civil and fairly passive and assumes that's all you need. He'll never comply if you're hugging him just to hug him, but if you approach him for something to physically ground you during a particularly difficult time, he'll awkwardly reciprocate. He's terrible at all that touchy-feely stuff, but he tries. It's rare he ever seeks you out for anything like that ever, but he may accept it on rare occasions. Just small touches and reassuring squeezes where he clearly needs it.

He's actually a pretty solid friend. He's not really mean without reason, just reserved and very grumpy all the time. Never communicates just how much he cares about you (and his other friends), but he absolutely does.

Romantic

Oh no

Again, Stone isn't very big on relationships. Romance is foreign to him and he honestly doesn't really care much for it. But when it comes to you, it's different. Now he cares, finds himself craving it, even. He probably tries to convince himself it's a temporary state or that you're really gross or something so it goes away, but it doesn't. So, he drinks more to hopefully drown them out. That only makes things worse and leads to a pathetic drunken attempt at a confession and him purging behind a building moments later. He probably doesn't remember it by the following morning but he wakes up your boyfriend so that's cool or something idk and he absolutely faces teasing from his friends (mainly Vinnie)

I think navigating a relationship with him specifically is a slow, kind of awkward (in a cute way??) process. He's unfamiliar with it and doesn't want to royally screw everything up, so at first it feels like not much has changed. He walks a little closer, looks at you a lot, leaves flowers from rich peoples' yards on your pillow with no explanation or message (but his fingertips have been pricked and slightly bloodied from picking off the thorns so you can tell it's him), and that's about it at first.

Coming back to the whole "Stone is the most organized in the group" thing mentioned above—he absolutely takes an extra five seconds to make sure your stuff is absolutely where it should be/where he knows you like it and, as silly as it is, lines your shoes up next to his for no good reason besides just wanting to. Maybe he just wants to be closer to you in a physical sense, though it's a bit awkward for him, so might as well let your shoes be together or something idk lmao

He tries so, so hard to be stereotypically romantic and sweep you off your feet, but he just can't. He'd like to be all gentleman-y and throw his tattered jacket on a puddle for you to walk over, but instead he miraculously gets tangled up in the process of removing it and you just step around the puddle anyway. He gets insanely embarrassed. He wants to win you over with flirty pick-up lines, but they never quite land and he tends to trail off before finishing them completely. Either way, the effort is there.

He does, however, give you clever, oddly sweet nicknames in Gaelic (Irish? Irish Gaelic?). He'd rather gut himself on the spot than translate for you, though. He tells you to go find a dictionary and translate it yourself, but he sincerely hopes you never take him seriously and do it. I think with enough pressing and prodding he'll crack and begrudgingly tell you, maybe even teach you some other phrases for fun.

He's a very "quiet lover", if that makes sense. He prefers secluded, peaceful areas for "dates" and isn't very big on loud or grand gestures or displays of affection. He's a little more willing to play his violin for/with you, still off somewhere more private and quiet. Again, he hopes he's impressing you.

Not very touchy feely, and better expresses himself through subtle, caring gestures and, if he feels bold enough, a couple mumbles about how much he adored and appreciates you (worded poorly). Though, he may occasionally find himself reaching for your hand or the side of your face in an uncharacteristically tender manner. It's rare and sometimes he quickly pulls away as if he immediately regrets his decision, but it helps communicate for him when his voice falls short.

You're good at reading him and vice versa. He's pretty stone-faced most of the time, but his body language and drinking habits give him away. Likewise, he can't help but sneak a few glances, which kind of helps him gauge every shift in your expression. He's quick to leave if something's visibly making you upset or uncomfortable. Big fan of the "Irish goodbye" and leaves quietly without fuss. He'd rather go without a huge, messy ordeal, but he is capable of fending for himself and probably you as well if totally needed. He's always armed with a glass bottle, after all.

You make him not want to drink his feelings away, because the feelings you give him are good feelings, which probably improves his state of mind ever so slightly. He's better at forming proper thoughts and sentences when it's just the two of you in some secluded, dingy alleyway away from the noise of the town. He'd have a lot of trouble when it comes to opening up, even well into a stable relationship, but trust that he does want to be vulnerable and honest, he just has a hard time. Definitely values and appreciates your patience and support, above anything.

It's abnormal how often he goes to Vinnie and Skipp for advice, asking about your favorite foods, flowers, spots to visit, songs, etc... He probably knows you better than they do but he still wants to know. They (Vinnie) probably give kind of bad advice, and the good advice he fails to carry out properly, but the effort is so visible it's still sweet and kind of really funny.

Still not very affectionate, nor is he big on PDA. He'd probably be just a tiny bit more open to things like hand holding, hugs, kisses, and sleeping closer together, but is still kind of off-put by it all. While asleep, he probably has a hand on your arm or drapes somewhere over your midsection, and occasionally pulls you an inch closer. It's probably unintentional idk ask him yourself and he denies it in the morning but it's still funny

Feels jealousy to a minimal/normal degree. Doesn't really care about what you do or who you talk to (though he's reasonably skeptical of anyone he doesn't know well, as he was with you), as long as nobody's being weird or aggressive. In the case somebody is being weird or aggressive, he's quick to shut down the interaction and leave, preferably without hassle. I think if he ever got violent without a nearby weapon he'd get his ass handed to him. Not really "possessive" or whatever I don't think

After a particularly rough day (as in lots of running and hiding and maybe fighting), he insists on taking a quick minute of his time to just observe you in silence. He doesn't tell you, and tries not to make himself known, rather he just stands there staring at you— your face, arms, clothes, hair, eyes— he actually just wants to look at you but he also wants to make sure you haven't unknowingly been injured.

Kisses you but only on private and on very rare occasions. He prefers his breath and clothing doesn't reek of alcohol/Monster when he does, so he's usually actually sober whenever he does. Idk I just felt that was important to share thanks

A/N: haha hi I've been a camp counselor all week and now I know how to shipoopie

Yeah I didn't take this one too seriously because idk quantity > quality ig but I hope this works?? This is mostly just stone being pathetic tbh sorry

[brynnmclean]

Some replies out here because I want them visible on my blog, thank you!!!

@satmolls said: i want to squeeze your writing into a bottle and drizzle it over a piece of toast (like its honey) and then EAT It thats how good it is

Ahhhh, I love this compliment so much. Anyone saying they want to eat my words makes me really happy. Thanks very much! Glad you're still enjoying my Rebelcaptain fics through the years!

@zingsthings said: look someday i'm going to do a Close Reread of cast some light and you are NOT prepared for the length of the comments i'll be leaving. bc it is Everything. also GOOD CHOICE GOOD QUOTE i obviously love her manhandling him a bit but i think the thing that Gets me is a tie between how intensely he wants to kiss her neck and the fact that even though he's never heard a real moan from her (yet lmao) he knows the one she gives isn't real. THEM!!

re: comments on cast some light, would love any comments that you or anyone else decides to leave on those fics, regardless of length <3 that series has such a special place in my heart and I do so dearly hope that people are still finding some joy in it <3

Ahahahahaha, I LOVE him immediately clocking "she CANNOT actually sound like that" based on just his intuition... you know, I had been planning a sequel chapter to this at one point with them in the safe house featuring Jyn stitching him up and then probably the two of them making out and Cassian actually hearing her moan for real... I'll have to see if I still have the doc somewhere. I don't think I got too far into it, but I'll add it to the list of fics to tackle when I come back to writing Rebelcaptain fic again...

let's see, a 💬, a ❤️, and a THIS QUOTE THO:

Heart pounding and face flushed with embarrassment, he’d asked her for praise.  He hadn’t prepared himself to get it. It’s agonizing.   You’re good to me.  Those words slide between his ribs like the blade of a knife, burying deep in his heart and twisting against his bones, fracturing him open and flooding him with heat.  He flinches the way he never does when his hand is on a gun, straining again against the ropes around his arms, but Jyn is there, draping her body over his, her hands against his skin.  He wants to tell her, don’t, afraid the jagged edges of his heart will cut her, but she holds him together until the feeling begins to fade and the world reorients itself.

(from alt pov cast some light, which is. So Much.)

First off, omg, THANK YOU so much for calling out that section from the alt ficlet for dying to be taken apart. I'm a bit sad that I never ended up finishing the whole POV chapter, but one day maybe I'll get back to it! I love the idea of Cassian working up the nerve to ask for what he wants when they're negotiating the bondage scene, but then when they're actually in the scene and he gets what he wants, it's SO MUCH for him. But he trusts Jyn. She grounds him. They're good. <3 I'm so happy cast some light is still being read and enjoyed by you. It means a lot to hear nice things about it after all these years.

💬 - I'll do something from the last Rebelcaptain fic I posted on AO3 in 2020, first flush of hope to carry the grey away:

“Come here,” Jyn murmurs, and for a second Cassian isn’t sure if she’s goading the ‘Troopers toward them so she can beat them down.  She moves then and it isn’t how he expects her to—instead of pushing him out of the way so she can fight, she widens her stance and pulls him in closer, straddling his thigh.  The grunt of surprise that tumbles out of his mouth is genuine; the moan she makes is not. In spite of the fact that he’s never—they haven't—his mind skips as her hand slides up to the back of his head, her fingers sliding restlessly through his hair.  Heat alights all through him, but he leans into it and tucks his face down into her neck, murmuring assent against her throat like a kiss.   It’s all right, he can go where she leads him.  He understands this is the cover: lovers making out in an alley.  He wants to actually kiss her neck, but he won’t, not like this.  He allows himself one touch as she presses up against him again, he takes one hand off the wall and splays his palm against her waist.  Steadying her.

I just love the tension of that moment, where Cassian's brain is racing through so many thoughts-- he's injured, they're both displaying An Image of lovers necking in an alley, is Jyn goading Stormtroopers under her breath or asking him to come closer, he wants to kiss her neck so fucking bad, but he Will Not, he is In Control--

I miss my man!!!!!

❤️ - from breathes in deep the air because so much of it lives in my head rent-free (the cunt manifesto, oh my god, the sex scenes are so good and so real) but I think I've got two lines for you here:

Beneath her, Cassia's hums, her groans are louder now. But they're steady. Not building. Not enough. She's arching a bit, and her eyes drift closed, and her free hand falls down to stroke at her breast, and there's something missing, something more— but she's got that look to her, like there's too much of that clever, overactive brain left to ask for what she wants.

and here:

It's too much, she's too here, Cassia's too precious—she needs to drop her gaze, to lose herself, to become only action, only motion.

which are both part of the same scene, Jyn POV in chapter 3, but I just... I think it so clearly and succinctly gets at the way Cassia(n) and Jyn's brains work-- or in Jyn's case, how she prefers to operate. Cassian's brain moves at a mile a minute and yeah, I think overactive is a fantastic word for it. And then Jyn... Jyn who I do think has been honed into someone who is so action-oriented, who is so used to running, that yeah... wanting to become only action, only motion, focusing on someone else rather than being the focus... I mean, you MUST know I'm obsessed with this fic and the way you write these two. I think you NAILED (ha) it. And I love sex scenes as character building experiences. Love love love.

[ask me about fic quotes!]