#there is literally no reason to laugh about it

[bad268]

Another request for clingy Antonelli, maybe he is coming up as a reserve as one of the Mercedes drivers is sick and f1 gets a taste of clingy Antonelli, trying to keep reader with him at all times including trying to drag her into the drivers parade with him and getting made fun of by all the other drivers and team principals

Just the Way You Are (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Reader)

Clingy Antonelli Universe

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (Took me a minute, but I'm getting back into the swing of long content lol)

Warnings: None

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1715

Summary: Clingy Antonelli meets F1 for his first weekend, and the comments are getting to him.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

“I’m sorry, but do you not understand the point of a driver's parade?” You questioned in a condescending tone, but that didn’t deter Kimi from pulling you down to the track. “It’s for drivers! Not drivers and their significant others!”

“You’re like my personal photographer! This can count as working and getting content,” Kimi reasoned, and honestly, he had a point. Kimi was promoted up to Formula 1 for the last race of the season because George got food poisoning at the start of the weekend. It was a last-minute option, but Toto decided that since Kimi was going to be in the car next season, he could race anyway. “Consider this practice.”

“I think my three years of experience in photographing you in multiple races and multiple series should be plenty,” You replied as you planted your fee at the start of the track. You pulled your arm back to force Kimi to look at you. “Kimi, this is your time to shine. I do not need pictures of you in the driver’s parade today. Maybe sometime next season, I’ll talk Toto into getting me on somehow, but this is literally your first F1 race. It’s your time to shine.”

“It’s your first F1 race too, and I want you beside me just like every other first race we’ve done,” Kimi explained as he held out a hand to you. “Together?”

“You’re really trying to pull the ‘together’ card on me?” You teased as you crossed your arms, stepping back from him.

“You can never say no to the ‘together’ card,” Kimi stated as he grabbed your wrist again to pull you against him. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you tightly against his chest before whispering against your ear, “You can’t say no to me in general.”

“Let me grab my camera,” You melted as your arms dissolved and loosely wrapped around his waist briefly. Then, you gently pushed him back so you could head back to the garage to grab your camera. However, standing behind you with your camera was none other than Toto Wolff. “Hey, Toto. How can I help you?”

“I assumed he convinced you to go on the drive’s parade with him, so I brought your camera over on my way to the pit wall,” He explained as he handed it over to you. You narrowed your eyes on him, confused what he was talking about, so he continued. “I was going to ask you to cover it anyway. Kimi said he was going to get you on the bus, and our normal photographer is busy.”

“You are feeding his addiction, Toto,” You chuckled as you snatched your camera from him. “How else is he going to learn?”

“Not my problem,” Toto laughed with you, “Now, get on the bus.”

You sighed before turning back to Kimi, seeing him standing off to the side. You grabbed his wrist as you put the camera around your neck and dragged him over to the bus. You pushed him ahead of you to get on first, “Go, Kimi.”

“Nice of you to join us, Kimi,” Ollie laughed as he watched you two climb onto the bus. 

“Had to bring your emotional support photographer, I see,” Jack laughed as he nudged Kimi with his shoulder. Kimi just rolled his eyes as he gripped your hand and laughed at them sarcastically.

“You’re just jealous you don’t have one,” Kimi joked as he walked over to lean against the rail. He tried to pull you closer to him, but you placed a hand against his chest. “What now?”

“I have to get pictures of you in your natural habitat. To do that, I need to be over there,” You gestured to the opposite side of the bus. “I’m gonna go. You have fun out there.” You didn’t give him the chance to say anything as you pushed away from him while the bus started moving down the track and media personnel started interviewing different drivers. 

“Can’t even handle a few minutes to yourself, huh?” Jack bumped into Kimi’s side as they both watched you walk to the other side of the bus.

“Shut up,” Kimi muttered, pushing past Jack to stand at the edge of the bus to wave at fans.

“How much convincing did it take to get them on here?” Ollie joked as he leaned against the railing next to Kimi. Immediately, Kimi turned to glare at Ollie, but Ollie just laughed. “You know I’m teasing. Probably took more convincing to get Toto onboard.”

“I’ll have you know Tot was the one that convinced them, not me,” Kimi set the record straight as an interviewer walked up to him.

“You are filling in for George Russell, who had food poisoning earlier this week and has been declared unfit to compete this weekend,” They started off, “Last time you were in George’s car, you crashed it. How does that affect you coming into this week?”

“I can’t focus on that,” Kimi chuckled nervously, “I can say that I am much more confident this time around. I’ve had more running time in the car, I’ve had more races in F2 to find my craft, and I have my family here to support me. I can’t complain.”

“Yeah, we’ve seen your significant other snapping pictures in the background,’ The interviewer laughed and pointed you out. Kimi waved at you as you took pictures of him before he turned back to the interviewer. “Was it your doing to get them here? You have a reputation of being overly attached to them.”

“You can call me clingy. I take pride in it,” Kimi laughed, shyly looking back at you before addressing the interviewer again, “But no, I didn’t pull any strings. I wanted them here, but Toto was the one who actually convinced them to come. You can’t blame me, though. I just like having my favorite photographer around.”

With that, the interviewer took their leave while Kimi waved out to the crowd. He mindlessly waved to the fans as someone else walked up behind him. 

“I’m expecting P8 or higher as thank you,” Toto said before laughing as Kimi jumped, not expecting Toto to be behind him. 

“I’ll give you P5 or higher if you let them come with me on every parade,” Kimi negotiated quickly. Toto thought about it shortly before holding his hand out to make the deal.

~~

Kimi stood next to Toto, overlooking the data just before qualifying when George walked up beside them. George leaned against the table before someone gave up their seat for him since he technically wasn’t supposed to strain himself at the track anyway. He offered some input for Kimi and gave some tips about how to manage the track. The conversation was pretty short as Kimi had to start preparing to qualify. 

“Where’s your personal photographer? I thought you two were like velcro,” George laughed. Kimi just threw a glare at him, causing George to laugh a little too hard before putting his hands up. “I’m just saying I’ve never seen one without the other.”

“Working,” Kimi said simply, but even George could hear the frown in his tone.

“What’s with the sadness? It’s your first F1 race!” George asked, concerned for his incoming teammate. They may not be the closest of friends, but they would be teammates next year. That also wouldn’t stop George from trying to be an older brother to the rookie.

“We have a pre-race ritual, but they’re not here for it,” Kimi pouted. No one would know, however, because he threw his balaclava on before anyone could notice. George could see it in his eyes, though, that this affected him more than he wanted everyone to believe. “We’ve never missed one when they were at the track with me.”

“I bet we could call them over,” George trailed off, looking over at his manager, who was already pulling out her phone and calling you. George walked closer to Kimi and gently took his helmet from his shaking hands. “Kimi, slow down. Breathe. We’re getting them here. Just go into the back for a minute. We’ll send them back when they get here.”

Kimi didn’t need to be told twice as he retreated to his driver’s room and sat with his head in his hands on the couch. You were already on your way back when your phone started blowing up with messages. You didn’t look at them as your hands were full of equipment, and you walked through the back of the Mercedes garage, planning to drop everything off in Kimi’s driver’s room before joining him by the car for the ritual. You used your back to push open the door, and when you turned around, you immediately noticed Kimi on the couch.

“Hey, shouldn’t you be getting ready for quali?” You asked, not noticing anything wrong until you heard him take a deep breath. You set everything down by your bag, looking at him questionably, “What’s happened, Kimi?”

“Am I clingy?” He asked, looking up at you. His face was red with embarrassment, but he needed to know your opinion. 

“Who said you're clingy? Only I’m allowed to call you clingy,” You replied quickly, moving to sit in front of him. “You’re my Clingy Antonelli, and I love you just the way you are.”

“Everyone’s been saying it today,” Kimi muttered, looking away from you. He looked down at his lap and fiddled with his fingers. “The driver’s parage, in the garage, just around the paddock. Everyone says I’m clingy with you, and maybe they’re right.”

“You’re not a bad clingy,” You said immediately, taking his hands in yours. “I’ve learned that you just like me in your space. It’s your love language, in a way, and I’m not going to get mad at that. I love that you’re clingy because, secretly, I like being around you just as much.”

“You do?” Kimi’s head snapped up to meet your eyes. 

“I’ve never had the chance to be clingy because you always make the first move,” You chuckled, “I just bask in the love from you, so no, I wouldn’t change a thing about you because I love you just the way you are. You and all of your clingyness.”

~~~

Series masterlist

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[winwintea]

dreamies meeting their kid for the first time + as a parent

GROUP ↬ ot7 dream x reader (ft. their child)

TAGS/WARNINGS ↬ some angst, LOTS OF FLUFF MY TOOTH IS LITERALLY ROTTING, spider-mark agenda is real, the child is sometimes a cockblock, haechan does some weird michael jackson-sherlock holmes roleplay idk it made sense in my head, jaemin going on shopping sprees, chenle never loses, ji... is ji.... (poor baby)

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ everyone say thank you to @https-lvesick for getting me on that baby fever stuff... like i hate children but i love children. iykwim... anyways this is meeting their kid for the first time, but i can't come up with reasons why they were separated so you fill in the blanks. probably angsty reasons i love angst.

Mark Lee

when you come back through that door with a child holding your hand, it’s him you meet first again, and the tears are already glossing his eyes over before you can say anything.

literally has no words when you smile at him gently, saying it’s his.

mark swallows nervously, before making his way to the both of you, holding the two of you in his arms for only god knows how long.

“i.. can’t wait to live my life with you both, my love,” he mumbles into your hair, ears slightly tinged, only causing you to laugh at his adorable antics.

as a father, he isn’t very strict, and he isn’t all that good in child-rearing, either.

but he tries! give him some slack — you have to keep reminding yourself of this when you see your child holding a sword?! 

and of course mark was in his halloween costume. typical.

“baby.. i can explain,” mark says calmly when you first find the two of them

well actually, three; it seems haechan was in on this little practice, though he quickly bolted when he saw you. good strategy.

“엄마, papa said he was iron man! he teached me how to be a superhero!” your child exclaims, flailing the sword around excitedly as your gaze only darkens.

“well, you see, i meant spider-man, but—” his words die down when he sees your unimpressed face practically dripping with murderous intent.

mark slowly kneels down to whisper something you couldn't make out to your child. the little one nods seriously, slowly putting down the weapon.

then, as seconds pass, mark immediately hoists your child up in his arms, running out of the room as both his laughter and your child’s squeals echo throughout the halls.

“mark min-hyung lee, you are so dead!” you scream, running after them.

“3, 2, 1 — I COULD DO THIS ALL DAY!” the two of them scream back, before bursting into laughter. they’re always in sync. It’s exasperating.

but you love it anyways

Huang Renjun

when you meet him at the door, there's a flurry of emotions clear on renjun's face, but his smile says it all.

“is it too much to say i’ve been waiting for you this whole time?”

regrets the fact that he wasn’t able to be a part of his child’s life for the first few years, literally becomes wrapped around your little one’s finger because of it.

so adorable and happy that he’s blessed with your lovely child, always smiling when he thinks of them.

literally makes the other members question whether or not they want a child too.

bonding time is painting of course!

usually ends up with all three of you cramped in the shower, you scrubbing furiously at the sticky paint on their skin.

“i’m sorry for having you do this all the time,” renjun's soft voice makes you forget why you were mad in the first place tbh.

massages your shoulders from behind you, causing your fingers to halt in their journey of rubbing some stubborn blue paint off your child.

“it’ll take more than that if you wanna make it up to me,” you hum, leaning back into his chest and gazing into his eyes.

your lips were just about to meet, when —

“ma, i'm not clean yet!”

damn. cockblocked by your own child.

you groan, renjun laughing as he picks up the pouting child with their arms crossed.

“don’t give 妈妈 too much of a hard time, okay?” he never forgets to take care of you above all.

Lee Jeno

when you walk through that door once more, nervously telling jeno that this child is his, you’re afraid of his reaction.

and when you finally gather the courage to do it? his jaw drops and he can’t stop staring at you nor the child and you have to help him sit and calm down.

“아빠?” your child asks, staring up at the still slightly panicked jeno as you hold your breath.

he stares for a moment, mouth wide, before finally, finally smiling, albeit a little awkward and rough around the edges. “yes, little one?”

very new to this whole parenting thing and can barely do anything without asking you first, so he feels bad quite often for having to lean on you so much.

plus he barely knows how to handle a sobbing child, nor can he entertain the child very well,

but you find that the both of them are quite content in each other’s presence as is. so that's a plus !

you'll usually find them in jeno's room together, while you need jeno to watch your child while you go out for an errand or something.

but when you see jeno, well, he starts to look ethereal as the sun shines through the windows in his room.

then, a gentle smile gracing his face as he stares at his sleeping child.

jeno utters your name, causing you to look up, only to find him tracing circles around your child’s soft skin. “딸,” he rasps out, cracking a bleary eye open and gripping their wrist softly. Then, he smiles, all sorts of soft and lovely and.. unguarded.

“You two.. are the best things that have happened to me.”

Lee Donghyuck

haechan tries swallowing back the lump in his throat when he sees you standing in front of that damned door, though to no avail as a tear slips.

starts full-on crying when you say that you’re back for good and that the child is his. it's okay, let it out hyuck. <3

“ah, crying like that on our first meeting… don’t you think your fath — i’m a bit embarrassing?” he asks, sniffling as he tries to muster a smile through his tears.

your child giggles, eyes crinkling while grinning. “no! mommy told me a whooooole lot about you, daddy!”

you have to intervene at this point to stop him from sobbing again.

haechan wastes no time in making up for what he’s missed, so he's definitely going to spoil this child every second that he can.

you’d always find the two of them either going out shopping or messing about at home

also probably just chilling in the comforts of his room, doing god knows what.

one day you were curious, so you peeked through a tiny crack of the open door.

genuinely concerned at what you saw.

was that a... trenchcoat on your child? the two of them were engaged in conversation as haechan started nodding with a serious look on his face.

“so, mj, do you think waffles make mummy happier?” your child asks, holding his magnifying glass up like a mic in front of haechan's face.

mj???

haechan strokes his chin for a moment, before answering, “seeing her reaction when we gave her the ones we bought yesterday, i dee-hee duce they do, sherlock!”

sherlock...?

“good deduck – deduction, mj! i thought so too.”

you can't help but snort as haechan grabs his crotch and poses while high fiving your child.

as stupid as this was, your heart literally melts. the two are far too cute for you, you having to calm yourself before walking in with the widest smile on your face. dorks. 

Na Jaemin

“i was hoping you’d be back, my dear.” his perfunctory smile is so smug that sometimes you just want to punch him in the face. “with a lovely little thing in hand.”

“Your lovely little thing,” you say gently, trying to ignore your anger. you were here to show your child to jaemin. jaemin looks at the two of you with surprise, the curves of his mouth inching upwards.

hey jaemin wasn't trying to be possessive... cause that's weird. but the way you emphasized the word 'your' made his breath hitch. we can unpack that later though.

for now, na jaemin is a certified sugar daddy

jaemin is wrapped around the little one’s finger, his rotten spoiling being the effect of not being in your child’s life for a good while, and, of course, his indispensable regret for having you come back to him.

you asked jeno the whereabouts of your lover and your child, only for him to give you the look, responding that they were out yet again, and are probably not coming back without a few shopping bags in hand.

okay something needed to be done about this. so you decided to conduct a harmless experiment.

placing a few coins on one side of his desk, a toy in the middle, and a beloved fruit on the side. after explaining to him that it’s to see what your child’s fate would be — picking between fortune, fun, and, well, snacks, you think — he simply leans back, interest shining in those eyes of his.

but your child pushes all these away in a second, opting to hug the wide-eyed man on the soft armchair behind the desk.

“and what.. does this mean, ma chérie?” fuck him and the words he's picked up from traveling abroad. but jaemin looked honestly confused as his hands slowly wrap around your child’s.

you smile softly, “isn’t it obvious, silly? the little rascal loves you more than anything.”

he laughs. he doesn't get it. preparing for yet another shopping spree. why do you even try at this point?

Zhong Chenle

oh my god. when he first sees you after years with a child, his child, grasping your hand, chenle has to literally take a quick second to calm down cause he’s so angry.

no, not at you, of course, he would never. but at himself.

he wasn’t there for his child, for you, and god, even if he were, would he have been a good father?

“Y/ — 甜心,” he starts, running his fingers through his already messy bed-head hair and staring at you with eyes that practically scream "please hug me, i'm insecure"

“how am i supposed to take care of a child when i couldn’t even take care of you?”

but don't worry, after many reassuring words and warm hugs, chenle's finally okay and back to his normal self, holding your child up and giggling.

maybe this was a wrong idea cause now you have to take care of a manchild and a child.

is surprisingly very gentle with your child because he honestly doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. (just because he has a nephew does not mean he knows how to parent a child.)

also very grounded and doesn’t fall for cute little tricks as much, so out of the dreamies, he’d end up becoming one of the better fathers.

also cause he never loses. and no way is he gonna lose an argument with a child.

“不行。” “爸爸, pleaaase?” “no. 不可以。”

chenle seemed to be holding a chocolate bar high above his head, steely gaze fixed on your young child trying to ignore their pleading puppy dog eyes.

“妈妈说 no chocolate, right?” your heart warms when you realize he remembered you scolding your child yesterday, though you can’t help but to feel a little bad.

“chenle,” you say, both their heads turning towards you. “how about you give the little baby some chocolate and we can eat the eggs i just made in the kitchen?”

the way both their eyes shine almost identically is so fucking adorable.

Park Jisung

??!?>!?!>?>!?@#?>(*#(@*(*#!?!@?

“that’s… mine??” “what?” “… it?” “it?” “the.. child?”

actually malfunctions.

jisung is very flustered, for lack of better terms. he was always considered the baby maknae of dream, but his own child? lord, help him.

you... him.... the baby... it or they.. came out of you??? what.

gets awfully flushed whenever he’s carrying his child around the building. everyone tries to stop and coo at the baby, + chenle and haechan have decided to make his life a living hell cracking up jokes whenever they can.

jisung is surprisingly good at getting your chaotic child to sleep with his bedtime stories, which are usually all his big yap sessions.

“and did daddy get that bruise on his forehead because he slipped while chasing uncle chenle and uncle haechan?” you question the two of them, wondering what they had been talking about earlier.

your child nods, bright eyes sparkling and grinning, “아빠 also said, ‘get back here, you devilish imbeciles!’”

oh fuck.

your accusatory gaze turns towards jisung, who averts his eyes, holding an ice pack to his bruising forehead, trying to shield himself from possibly getting more bruises.

“i-in my defense, they were—”

“one more time, park jisung, and i’m changing their legal godfathers to the two imbeciles you love and appreciate so so much.”

his eyes widen in shock, “you wouldn’t.”

“try me.”

now jisung is a grumbling mess when the two idiots are around his child, but the lack of chasing them around can be counted as an upgrade, i guess.

TAGLIST ↬  @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @ldh0000 @galacticnct @peterm4rker

[aniesvision]

𝟐𝟕- 𝑮𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕'𝒔 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒉

𐂃 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚘 𝚡 𝚏! 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝒐𝒖𝒊𝒋𝒂 𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅, 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎, 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒅𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝒋𝒐𝒌𝒆, 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆, 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈

𝚊/𝚗: 𝒉𝒆𝒚𝒚, 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒎 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒃𝒚'𝒔 𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒐 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒔, 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆, 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 ☕︎

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑺𝒂𝒎 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒃𝒚 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒂 𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕, 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔... 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒂

Colby|Reader|Matt

🍂

-And tonight... we're playing with the ouija board.

-Oh, great. You guys never do the ouija board, but the only day I'm here...

I shake my head, rubbing my face in anticipation. I've been talking to Sam and Colby about a collab since we met. I'm a huge horror movie fan, but seeing actors on TV is one thing, the other is seeing things in person, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to be a believer yet.

It was one of the special halloweek videos, so besides me, the triplets were in the episode, all of them as scared as I was to explore the mysterious school Sam and Colby recently bought. Yes, bought it. It's literally their place now, which is insane.

I'm close with Matt, Nick, and Chris as well, they were the reason I met Sam and Colby. We're all good friends, but I'm not sure that's all I can say about my relationship with Matt, although I have no idea what we are.

We separated to explore the school, trying to find any evidence that showed us why the place was haunted. After a while, we played a few games like basketball to know which one of us was going to use the ouija board. How funny is it that me and Matt were the chosen ones?

Colby explains to the camera what we are about to do, all of us getting into the boiler room, supposedly the most haunted room in all school, and soon enough me and Matt were left alone in the dark space.

-I don't wanna do this. -I say, sitting down on the floor in front of the board, my hands shaking in fear.

-Trust me, I don't wanna do this either. -Matt sits in front of me.

The only light illuminating the room was the flash from Matt's phone so we could see the letters on the board. One camera was positioned on top of a chair, pointing at us.

I take a deep breath, placing my fingers on top of the indicator.

-There's no running back now, I guess. -I bite my lips, waiting for Matt to do the same.

His fingers touch mine and he starts asking questions about the place, but nothing changes.

-I heard that there was a principal here, can we talk to you? -Matt asks, looking around even though it is all dark.

-Or maybe a woman, we love women. -I joke, trying to hide how scared I was.

Matt laughs, about to say something back, but our fingers move to Yes. I feel chills, my mind spinning with the change in scenario. It had to be Matt pranking me, there was no way this was real.

-Holy shit. -I whisper, my voice shaky.

-Are you the one in charge here? -Matt asks again.

I wondered how could he still act so nonchalant, he was clearly meant to do this shit.

The indicator stays in Yes.

-Do you like it here? That's why you're still in charge?

It starts moving again. Y. O. U.

-You?

-Maybe she likes you. -I whisper, giggling and stopping when I hear a crack. -Did you hear that?

-Are you the one making noises? Do you want us to leave?

Nothing.

-We just want to understand what's happening here, can you help us? Maybe talk about what makes this place so haunted?

Y. O. U.

-Matt, I think she really does have a crush on you.

-Shut up! -He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief.

I bet his cheeks are red like tomatoes right now.

-I think she means that you're so handsome that all the ghosts are coming here to haunt this place. Maybe it is your fault that this place is haunted.

It's just too funny to mess with Matt, and so easy to make him feel all flustered that even in the dark I know he's all shy.

-You're so unserious.

We asked a few more questions but got no more answers and the noises were creeping me out so we decided to get out of there. We took the camera and said goodbye before letting go of the ouija board and walked to the safe room to find the rest of the guys.

-How was it? -Colby asks, pointing another camera at us.

-We discovered the principal was a woman who happened to have a huge crush on Matt.

I put the board on a desk, smiling as I heard Matt's complaints behind me.

🍂

We ended our part of the video with Sam and Colby and left the school. Matt drove us to their place, where I was supposed to sleep since it was almost morning already.

I was happy with taking the couch, so I changed and got ready to sleep in Matt's bathroom since it was the closest. Nick and Chris immediately went to their rooms, and when I got out of the bathroom Matt was waiting to come in. I smile at him, stepping to the side.

-Good night, Matt, try not to fuck any ghosts tonight.

His eyes widen, eyes rubbing his eyes as I laugh.

-That's insane. I'm not into ghosts like that.

I cross my arms, turning around to look at him, his cheeks turning pink just like I imagined they were back in the boiler room.

-I hope not.

He rolls his eyes with a smile, putting some toothpaste on his brush.

-You know you don't need to be jealous of ghosts, right?

-I'm not. -I shrug, leaning against the wall.

-I think the ghost wasn't the only one with a crush on me. -He smirks, setting the brush down and looking at me.

-So you confirm the ghost had a crush on you.

I raise an eyebrow at him, his smirk growing even more.

-I don't know, but unfortunately for her, I already have someone in mind. And she's not dead.

Fuck. I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to feel butterflies with this.

-That's a good sign. But I think you should tell her before she is dead, you know? Fighting a ghost for your attention is obviously hard.

Oh my God. Where did the confidence come from?

-Looks like it. Actually, that was kind of scary, I think I need some company tonight.

He's not serious. And the way he's looking at me? Maybe he knows a little too well how to intimidate me, in the best way possible.

Waiting for him in his room makes me even more nervous. Am I really about to share a bed with him? Does it mean anything?

My heart almost stops when he locks the door, takes a seat next to me, and looks at me with a serious face. His gaze is so intense that makes me anxious, a small smile slowly growing on his lips before he raises his hand to my cheek and pulls me closer. Without saying anything, he kisses me. It's delicate and sweet until he pulls away.

-Do you really think that ghost was into me, though?

I hit his arm playfully, rolling my eyes and laying down sideways, giving him

my back.

-You're an idiot. -I giggle, hearing him chuckle.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 ✍︎

➪ @riowritesitall @mattsfavbigtitties @sturniolosarethebest @hyacinthst @deers4luv @sturncakez @watercolorskyy @delooshunalhoe @sarosfilms @blahbel668 @sturniyolo69 @sturniolosl0t @colbsposts00 @fallingforfalll2 @stvrnmc @faithlia @katie-tibo @sturnioloblues @monroesturnns @mattnchrisworld @shaquilles-0atmeal @fratbrochrisgf @dayzeandhaze @sharkcat1928 @phimstarz @h3arts4harry @s1ut4chris @star-yawnznn @asherrisrandom @pip4444chris @jupiter1700 @sturniolo-fann @beansprout713 @conspiracy-ash @sophsturns @sturnsxbitvh @ivysturnss @mattsbitchh

[chewnotchoke]

like no one else can

ೃ࿐ boynextdoor as your situationship

this was fun to write,,i was wondering if i should make individual fics abt this...what do yall think? ^__^ feedbacks and comments are appreciated ! and also my ask is always open if u wnna chitty chat <3

warnings: fluff, intense pining, light angst, signs of red flags

wc per member: ~250-400

sungho

“i’m trying to understand what am i to you?”

𓍯 situationship with sungho would be filled with a lot of "almosts" that keep you guessing, excitement, and unexpected outcomes. he would have this easygoing, carefree attitude as if he truly enjoyed your time together, but he’s also hard to pin down. he would bring you as his ‘plus one’ to parties or events and he has once invited you to a family outing “as a friend”

𓍯 sungho likes to do actions that you couldn’t help but assign meanings to these little things. he would give you a bite of his food in between laughter and throw tiny comments such as “i thought about you the other day.” the way he laughs at your jokes, recalls small details you mention, and checks up on you in between classes makes you question if he does the same with other people. if you didn't witness him opening doors for people, helping classmates with their homework, and giving the same endearing smile to anyone in need, it would be quite easy to convince yourself that the things he did to you meant something.

𓍯 when you mention being cold, he casually throws his hoodie over your shoulders and says, "just give it back whenever." yet it stays with you for days and he doesn't bring it up either, as if sharing his hoodie has become a relationship between you two. but when you decide to give it back, your heart aches to see another girl wearing his hoodie.

𓍯 the combination of highs and unanswered questions would be thrilling, and his charm would entice you to return for more. but the question “what am i to you” hangs in the open air because then, if you really meant something to him, he wouldn’t have treated others the same way he did to you.

𓍯 was it mutual at some point? maybe, or maybe not.

riwoo

“i know it’s casual but i look for you in a room full of people”

𓍯 likes having alone time with you. plans a hang out with your friends to watch a movie but the truth is he didn't invite anyone else just so he could watch the movie and spend time alone together. at the end of the movie, you'd just be wiping off your lips because you spent the whole time making out.

𓍯 situationship with riwoo is almost like a secret. he knows how to pull you towards him, and the relationship has you on chokehold. most of the time, he makes moves that make you question the very foundation of your relationship. he acts like he likes you. but does he actually do?

𓍯 during a chill drinking celebration at your friends' house, both of you always find a reason to text each other even if you're literally in the same room. that one time when you were seated a little too far from him, he pulls out his phone, typing under the table making sure no one gets a peak of his message, he would send you, "you're too far from me :(" it seems as though the thread that binds you is stronger than everything else, and every communication feels like a secret that only the two of you know. you'd look up from your phone to give him a glance and he gives you a subtle look—the look that even when you try to look away, you could feel his eyes settled on you.

𓍯 his red flag would probably be saying things like, "would you be jealous if i went out with someone else?" or talking about his ex. but right when he gives you enough reasons that he's not good for you, he pulls the "what would it take for us to stop pretending this isn’t more than casual?" card.

jaehyun

“you say we’re just friends but why do you look at me like that when no one’s around?”

𓍯 when you clearly don’t look like you’re just friends but it’s becoming a running joke now–jaehyun responds without skipping a beat whenever someone arches an eyebrow and asks if there is more going on between you and him. he casually replies, “we’re just friends.” and each time you force a smile that falls short of your eyes, you nod along.

𓍯 jaehyun has this habit of leaning towards you whenever he laughs, sometimes his head falls on your shoulder for a moment which kinda makes you flinch during the first few times but now that you’re used to it, you let your heads touch each other when you laugh together.

𓍯 when he spots you alone leaning outside the glass door at a party, you feel his presence slowly approaching you and then he simply stands there in comforting silence, staring at you in that familiar way, without saying anything at first. when you told him that you get more comfortable attending parties because he’s around, he’d flash a smirk, and his eyes return to the expression he always gives you when no one else is there. jaehyun looks intensely at your face as if he’s searching for something–searching for a sign.

𓍯 you can’t resist yourself to ask him a question if he’s sure about it. “sure about what?” his tone is gentle, and the corner of his mouth twitches as if he clearly understands what you are saying. “sure that we’re just friends…” you replied. jaehyun pauses before responding. he just looks at you, his eyes darting to your lips and back to your eyes, a spark there that he tries to conceal but can't quite get rid of. he lets out a tense and nervous laugh. “yeah, we’re just friends.” but his words were laced with hesitation and uncertainty. and there you thought, maybe the look he gives you is enough, for now.

taesan

“you treat me like this because you know you're my weakness.”

𓍯 taesan knows how flustered you get when he touches you. during lunchtime with your other friends, you tried to ignore how he sat closer to you than usual. when your friends make a joke and others laugh along, you try so hard to focus but you just can’t seem to grasp the fact that his knees and yours were touching. then, his fingertips lightly touched your leg, so gentle at first that you nearly questioned whether it was an accident. however, taesan’s hand becomes steady and warm, and you can only sense his calm presence. you attempt to maintain a neutral appearance on the outside as your heart twitches and your mind attempts to process the unexpected sensation. his smile is as laid-back as ever, and he continues to laugh with the group as if this is nothing unusual.

𓍯 situationship with taesan can be a little frustrating. he likes to give you mixed signals. he’s mostly all about you most of the time and he holds eye contact like you’re the only person he could see. but then the next day, he barely acknowledges your presence. he’s quiet and doesn’t speak to you. but you know what’s bad for you? the fact that you'd fold immediately bcs he really just knows how to give you butterflies right when you think he’s not interested. taesan would come up behind you, whispering to your ear saying, “i missed you today.” and you would quickly fold like you didn't just question everything about him.

𓍯 at some point, the feelings were mutual. but you got tired of going around in circles waiting for nothing to happen, so you just decided to move on and bury your feelings just to keep the friendship.

leehan

“teach me how to not care about these feelings that keep me up at night for nothing.”

𓍯 you don’t talk everyday but that’s what makes everything thrilling. and when you do talk, texting usually lasts until 3am. although you can feel the weight of your eyelids by this time, you try to stay awake just to converse with him. conversations with leehan are almost raw, something about each message is intimate—one you probably wouldn’t hear in the daylight. the thought that he actually also stays up with you makes you wonder how much he’s also feeling.

𓍯 leehan has the subtlest way of making you laugh. he’s nonchalant but he’s the type to make you intrigued without fully committing. with that being said, he knows when to pull back when he thinks you’re getting a little too attached over a situationship even if he's the one responsible for making you feel that way

𓍯 after dates, goodbyes often linger in the air. both of you enjoyed too much to actually walk away and go back home. when he stands close enough to hug you, you could feel his hand linger on your back like he’s in no rush to go back home. both of you stood there quiet, glancing at each other, enough to decipher by the look of your eyes that there are still unsaid words. “i’ll text you when i get back home.” he holds both of your hands as they slightly brush away from yours whenever he takes a step back. you know yourself you want something more from this situationship which causes your heart to ache.

𓍯 leehan is still not letting go of your hand even at the point where your fingertips are only touching each other. “let’s do that next time.” he says and adds, “sleep over.”

𓍯 and when he actually gets back home, you don't receive a text from him at all, and talked again the following days like nothing happened.

woonhak

"why does it feel like we’re both waiting for the other to make the first move?"

𓍯 it’s painfully obvious that both of you like each other. neither of you just couldn’t bring yourself up to confess. there’s always this tension that hangs heavy in the air when you’re with him. you're lounging on his couch while watching a film. with his shoulder almost touching yours, he is closer than friends should be. the couch's modest size is a flimsy excuse, but you both know there's more to it. woonhak’s arm occasionally moves, grazing yours and giving you a shiver, but he doesn't pull away. both of you are dancing around that invisible line, on the brink. his hand is getting closer and closer till your fingers would touch if you both moved even a little.

𓍯 every time you're together, you experience this torturous pulling, waiting for the other to finally release the tension that has been building for weeks. his hand moves next to yours, his fingers flexing as though he wants to grab you but isn't quite brave enough. and you can't help but wonder whether you're both simply waiting for a sign, anything that would eventually allow one of you to cross that line.

𓍯 woonhak constantly teases you, looking for excuses to rub your hair or bump into your shoulder, and he enjoys seeing how you respond to his pranks. he says something, though, that takes you entirely by surprise just when you think it's all a friendly act.

𓍯 “i feel like we’re both good at being complicated.” he chuckles. you can sense that you're both still holding back and skirting the truth because you're afraid of altering something that feels so near-perfect. but when you meet his eyes, you can see that this isn't the end of it because of the little warmth that remains in his smile.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hii, I love your fics, especially the Moon Knight ones, sometimes I'm so giddy that I need to take a step back and remember myself that they aren't real.

May I request headcanons about the Moon Boys overhearing reader talking to their pet (probably a kitten) about how much they love the boys, and their quirks and their little differences and just going on and on about how perfect they are?

I understand if not, I will love whatever you post regardless!

Oh my gosh, this is so adorable! I hope I did it justice!

Just Happy

Jake Lockley x gn!Reader • Rating: PG pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Summary: Jack eavesdrops.

Warnings: Fluff, Jake being emotional, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 482

You stroke behind Salem’s ears, the small kitten’s eyes are closed, his head pressed as close as he can to your hand. 

“You like that, hmm?” You smile, “Who’s my favourite little guy?” 

Salem purrs loudly. 

Jake smiles from his position in the doorway, his hair still damp from the shower. Both Marc and Steven were still asleep, Steven hadn’t come to bed until well into the early morning and now that things in their life were calmer Marc was using the opportunity to catch up on fifteen years of rushed power naps. 

“Who is it, hmm?” You lean down and kiss the top of Salem’s head three times. 

Jake can’t help himself, he slowly takes out his phone from his pocket, not wanting to alert you to his presence. He finds the perfect angle and then starts filming, he’d have to send this to the group chat Steven had created. Affectionately called ‘The Body 💪📖🚗⚾’

“It’s yoooooooou!” You say sing-song to Salem and grin, “Well you’re my favourite little cat guy. I think Steven, Marc, and Jake might complain if they’re not my favourites too. Though I don’t think they’d mind being second best to you.” 

At the sound of Steven, Marc, and Jake’s names Salem perks up his ears and meows softly. 

“Yeah! You love them too, don’t you? They are the best, we love them so much. Because they’re so kind and great. And they give you the best pets, don’t they? Well, second best, I’m best obviously.” 

Jake covers his mouth with his hand, trying not to laugh. He’s smiling so hard it’s hurting his cheeks, his chest so light it’s almost painful. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes, his throat thick. He tries to force the emotion down, but it just builds and builds. 

“I know part of the reason you’re so excited when you hear their names is you think you’re gonna get extra treats, I know they give you more than they should.” You smile. “Can I tell you a secret?” You lean a little closer and Salem looks up at you with large eyes. “I love them so much, literally so much. Every day my heart gets a little bigger with how much I love them. Opposite Grinch situation going on in here.” You tap your chest. 

“Amor,” Jake’s voice makes you jump, and you turn from your position on the floor just in time for him to wrap his arms around you in a bear hug. 

You let out a little oof of air and then giggle, “Were you spying on me?” 

“Yes.” He mutters into your neck, his voice is thick and wavering. 

“Hey, you okay?” You stroke his back and try to move to see his face. But he just snuggles deeper into your chest and squeezes you tighter.

“I’m fine.” 

“You sure?” 

“Just happy, my love. Just happy.” 

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes ho

@steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie

@silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom

@alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood 

@pygmi-cygni @hammerhead96 @emma23 @sub-aro @killerdollz

 @maplemind  @mwltwo @loonymagizoologist @dameronshandholder @queerly-anxious

@homuraak3mi @swiftiegirliepop @oscarssimp @milkypompon @eternallyvenus 

@mandytrekkie @lounilu @avengersinitiative2012 @pigeonmama @marcsb1tch 

@iolaussharpe-24 @chaithetics @DowBaStan @faretheeoscar@lonelyisamyw-0love 

@queerponc @twwcs @Spnwhore2430 @mari-thesimp @ominoose

@ierofrnkk @have-you-seen-my-sanity @to-be-a-sunshine @blushingrn @missdictatorme

@musicalnacho @buckyssugarchick

@soft-girl-musings @casa-boiardi @theratscorner @krakenkitty @amasdaydream

@i-have-all-these-freakin-uwus  @purple-amaranthe @brunlocc @bookoffracturedescapes

@marcsb1tch @pigeonmama @sergeant102105 @weekendgothgirl @silvernight-m

@klillah @howellatme @mystic-writings @f0url3af

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[autocrats-in-love]

I NEED an overly dramatic villain losing to the hero, visibly humiliated by the outcome of their battle. Hero, being the sweetheart they are, comforts the villain, who is currently sobbing on the floor like a literal child

Who's There At the End

The hero’s shaking, gloves hands finally snapped the shears closed over the red wire. The red numbers on the timer  blinked, then switched off. The hero sighed in relief. Another day saved from the villain’s destruction. They stood up and dusted their clothes off, staring at the setting sun. They could finally go home. They had gotten up way too early this morning. They were yawning as they handed the plastic explosive that had been attached to city hall off to a wary police officer.

“It’s fine,” the hero said reassuringly. “They never install backups on their bombs. Just stick it in the evidence locker.”

The hero pushed past officers and approached the chief of police. They tapped him on the shoulder. The chief turned around, moustache twitching in frustration.

“Hey, you find them yet?” the hero asked.

The chief sighed in defeat. The villain had, once again, evaded capture. “No. But we’re close, I can feel it.”

The hero had heard that more than once. They laughed. “Sure. Good night, chief.”

The chief waved the hero away. The hero wasn’t going to look for the villain today. They were too tired. They were about to take off flying when they felt their super suit pockets.

“Crap. My keys.” 

The hero turned around, and walked back up the steps to  city hall. They must have dropped it sometimes when they and the villain were fighting. Or maybe when the villain locked them in that supply closet. The hero walked across the lousy-with-cops lobby and pushed the elevator button. They got in when the elevator dinged, and pushed the button for the sixth floor, where the hero and villain’s grand battle had taken place. The hero watched the number on the screen go up, anxious to get out of here and relax with a book. One, two, three, four, five- 

A weight crashed onto the top of the elevator box. The hero stumbled as the box shook. They rushed to push the emergency stop button. Then they looked up, listening to the patter above their head. Were those footsteps? Then one of the ceiling grates fell down, and the hero had to dive out of the way of it. They huddled under the handle bar, and watched as the figure jumped down into the elevator. The hero’s heart rate spiked. It was the villain. They were probably angry, vengeful. . .and crying? When the villain turned to look at the hero, it was clear there were tears streaming down their puffy face. The villain jumped up when they realised who they had intruded upon.

“Uh, hi,” the hero said with a wave.

The villain glared at them. For some reason, it made the hero sad. The hero was about to get to their feet to defend themselves--not that they were in any mood for a second round--when the villain sighed and collapsed on the ground. They brought their knees to their chest and buried their face in their lap. The hero could hear their enemy sobbing and sniffling. The hero was caught off guard by the apparent vulnerability they were being shown. The villain was usually very hard to read. The hero knew they shouldn’t let their guard down. But, after considering for a moment, they scooted over to the villain.

“Is everything okay?” the hero asked. 

The villain didn’t look up, or respond. They continued crying without restraint. The hero hesitated. Then they moved their hand to the villain’s back. The villain whipped their head up, snapping their fingers around the hero’s wrist.

“Don’t try anything,” the villain said raspily. 

They squeezed the hero’s wrist, making heat bloom from the area.

“Ow! I was trying to be nice,” the hero said.

The villain didn’t look convinced. Their glare was wet, their brown eyes shining under the fluorescents. The hero gulped. 

“Look, I know it’s hard to lose-”

More tears welled in the villain’s eyes. “No, you don’t! You always win. Not just against me, either. You have everything, and I’m just stuck taking the scraps you leave behind!”

The villain’s voice broke at the end. It made the hero soften.

“You tried to explode a building,” the hero said gently.

“Yeah, I couldn’t even do that,” the villain said, staring at the hero’s exposed wrist. “I’m such a disappointment.”

“A disappointment? To whom?” the hero said.

The villain sighed. “Just. . .the people who expect things from me.”

Ah. The hero was a public figure, too. They could relate. 

“I get it.”

The villain looked sceptical. “You don’t fail, though. You always win. You’re always ahead. Everyone loves you.”

The hero laughed. “Are you kidding? Have you seen the articles written about me? About how I’m too nonchalant, too slow, that I’ve never been able to arrest you.”

The villain blinked slowly, processing. “Really?”

The hero nodded. The villain loosened their grip on them. “Then- how does it all not get to you?”

The hero shrugged. “I mean, I am pretty nonchalant.”

The villain rolled their eyes.

“But, also, these reporters don’t know me. They don’t know that it is actually pretty hard to get the upper hand on you. They don’t even know my real name. So why would I trust their opinion?”

The villain wiped their eyes. When they looked back at the hero, they had a small smile on their face. Their hand dropped the hero’s wrist. 

“Did you say it’s hard to beat me?”

“Uh-” the hero felt themselves blushing.

The villain laughed, the colour returning to their cheeks. “Am I your arch nemesis? Does the thought of taking me down haunt you every waking hour?”

The hero pushed the villain’s face away from them. “Shut up.” 

The hero’s phone started ringing. They pulled it from their pocket. The chief of police. The hero picked it up.

“Hello?” came the chief’s panicked voice through the line.

“Hey, chief,” the hero responded.

The villain’s eyes widened in fear. They seemed to be genuinely scared of the chief.

“Officers are saying you’re stuck in an elevator. We’re still searching for them-” the hero smiled at the gruff voice the chief used when talking about the villain. “-but there’s no sign so far. Are they with you? Are you cornered in the elevator?”

The hero thought about it for a moment. Sure, the chief would be over the moon to finally have the villain. But, on the other hand. . .the villain was having a pretty crappy day.

“Nope. Haven’t seen anyone. A ceiling grate just fell and I was worried the whole roof would come crashing down. I’ll probably be out in a few minutes.”

“Okay, then. But be careful. They could still be lurking around.”

“Uh huh. Bye, chief.”

The hero hung up the phone. The villain stared at them. The hero shrugged in response.

“Why?” the villain asked.

“Because now you owe me one,” the hero said. “But you definitely need to get out of here. The chief is on a rampage to find you.” 

The villain sniffed one last time. Then they pulled the villain into a hug. It surprised the hero, and ignited a heat that they hadn’t felt in a long time. They hugged the villain back. When the two separated, the villain said, “Oh! I know how to pay you back.”

The hero raised an eyebrow. “How?” 

The villain tossed the hero something small. The hero caught it in between their hands.

“Oh, my keys!”

They looked up to thank the villain, but their enemy had disappeared.

[cagenewman]

"Very," Cage laughed, nodding his head when Sunny commented on the cuteness of his nephew. There weren't many people that could take a look at Archer and not accept that he was an adorable baby, and it made Cage's heart swell with pride for his sister and her son. When he had first found out that his sister was expecting a little one, of course he had been filled with worry and concern, but seeing her with him now… there was no doubt in his mind that she was meant to have brought him into the world. "Don't get me wrong, he's adorable, and he does make me remember what it was like to have a tiny little boy of my own," which made his heart ache in a totally different way for his very teenaged son that used to be so small, at some point in his life, "but we'll cross that bridge when we get there." For now, Cage was happy to raise Colton and Rosalyn, take care of Shawn, make sure that they had their focus and the best lives that they could give them. "Oh, absolutely. I can't lie and say that the views and the fact that this place is a literal slice of heaven wasn't a huge reason for buying it," on top of the acreage, the beautiful house they could restore, it felt like it had all been the most perfect move at the time. Still was. "I don't think they have to worry about that," he craned his neck to see inside the tent. "Elise definitely brought the good stuff."

“He is kind of cute, isn’t he?” she couldn’t help but say. Even though, her own experience around kids was sort of limited, she knew that when it came to ones that were actually related to you, it was hard not to think they were cute. She happened to have a fondness for Lucie and even though she didn’t know the kid’s dad as well, he seemed like a pretty great person to. It was only natural that their kid would be great. If she thought that much and she wasn’t even related, she could only assume that actually family members were pretty huge fans. “They say that if you spend a lot of time around babies, you end up with baby fever though,” she couldn’t help but say raising an eyebrow. She wasn’t going to be one of those annoying people who immediately started asking when he and Cordelia were going to have a kid. Technically they did have children but just not together so maybe they had enough. For now, she was content to give ideas about Christmas cards. “I mean, you’re practically a living embodiment of those Hallmark Channel movie guys so it tracks,” she admitted. “It also means that you’ll always have the perfect location for the family photos though.” She laughed out loud at his comment about always having to have an open bar. “I am sure someone has tried it before. To be fair, people probably snuck the good stuff in.”

[rafesbabyg1rl]

The Watcher ~ Part One

Summary: Rafe Cameron x Reader, Stalker!Rafe x Pogue!Reader Reader's parents work late on Friday nights, which she spends alone. Except Reader hasn't been alone in a long time, not that she knows of at least. Rafe has watched you for years, he's very good at it. He has no plans of formally meeting you, as he's satisfied with the current arrangement. He likes it better when Reader doesn't know he's watching. But his idea of staying an anonymous stalker is ruined when reader catches him in her bedroom one Friday night. Rafe has to figure out how to fix his mistake before he loses the only thing that makes his life worth living.

Warnings: Rafe stalks reader...that's literally the entire plot. He's pretty pervy in this, I guess. Masturbation (Rafe) in front of unconscious reader, strong/vulgar language, somnophilia (I guess?), death threat(?). If I missed anything from this part that I should include in the warnings, please let me know!

Word Count: 5.9k

Author Note: My sneak peek got a few likes, so thank you if you liked it, y'all are the reason I'm finally posting this part! I'm not sure how I feel about this fic so far, I definitely have a habit of overly critiquing my own work and never being fully satisfied with it, but I'm trying to get over that. I don't have plans for this fic, it's just going in whatever direction I can think of as I write, so if you have any suggestions, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEE let me know, I'll write pretty much anything. This is my first work published on tumblr and the first thing I've written in years, so I hope it's at least readable, and maybe even a little enjoyable. If just one person enjoys this, then my mission is accomplished. Thank you, I hope you enjoy! And do NOT be shy to share feedback or give suggestions/requests. Again, thank you!

For those of you that DID read the sneak peek, a large portion of this part was included in the sneak peek, but I highly suggest reading it over in it's entirety. This draft has undergone several additional rounds of editing and I believe it is better than the version I published as a sneak peek.

One thing about humans is that we always want what we can’t have, especially when everyone else wants that same thing. It’s just something all humans do; but what happens when you already have more than you need and everything you could ever want? Well, almost everything. Rafe Cameron has more money than he could spend in his own lifetime, he can practically buy anything he wants. Except one thing, you.

At first he just thought you were pretty, but the more he saw you out in public the more and more he liked you. The way you’d talk or laugh when you were out with your friends…god, he could tell just how sweet you are. Too delicate for him to touch, like the wings of a butterfly or the petals of a flower. This is when he went from wanting you to needing you. 

See, another thing about humans is that we admire things. And, admiration can easily turn into obsession. Everyone has been obsessed with something or someone at some point in life, it’s normal. Obsessions will come and go, like a cycle. You get obsessed with something, you get over it, and you let it go until a new obsession marks the beginning of the new cycle. But things are a bit different for Rafe, he has never gotten over anything like, ever. Not once has Rafe Cameron ever let anything in his life go. When Rafe wants something, when he needs something, he will do whatever it takes to get it. And oh, how he needs you.

Rafe’s fascination, his obsession with you has been going on for years. He won’t ever admit it, but his perfectly curated collection of your personal items in his closet proves just how bad he’s been obsessing over you. The first thing he had ever stolen from you was your drink, you had been at the same party and you left your red solo cup about three-quarters full. Nobody noticed anything when he casually picked up the cup and finished the rest of your beer, purposely lining his lips with where yours had touched the cup, which was perfectly marked by the lipstick you had been wearing. After you’d leave a restaurant, he’d take the straws from your drinks. Rafe eventually worked himself up to breaking into your house and stealing your things when nobody was home. And Rafe made sure to explore every single inch of your room. All of your favorite panties? Gone. He’d take everything, your shirts, bras, whatever he liked really. You had noticed things kept disappearing from your room, but you’d just think you misplaced it–whatever it may be, or left it in a bag somewhere. Rafe had a good system. He knows exactly how much and how often he can take from you. 

Rafe knows he’s sick. He knows that it’s wrong to watch you from outside your bedroom window, that it’s wrong to follow you around in public, to purposely bump into you so you have to mutter a ‘sorry’ as you move around him. He just really, really needs you. And in Rafe’s twisted, dark, mess of a mind he believes this is the best way–the only way. He couldn’t treat you like every other girl, no, you were special. You were his and you just didn’t know it yet. Starting early on in his life, Rafe has always been neglected, always pushed into the shadow of his younger sister, Sarah. He’s been told he ruins everything, that everything he touches turns to ash. And you’re way too perfect to ruin. So, he follows you around like a creep, lurking from a distance. Of course you didn't know he’s been following you everywhere…he liked it better that way.

Rafe knew the line had already been crossed. Hell, the line had been crossed a long fucking time ago. He doesn’t care anymore, he needs you. Heaven is smelling like you; and not because you had left your scent on him, but because he had bought the same perfume as you. He needed to know what you smell like, how sweet you are…and how sweet you taste. Heaven is watching your chest rise and fall as you sleep peacefully in your bed. Heaven is you.

What Rafe has been doing to you for years could be defined as worship. Rafe was worshiping you. He’s your good boy; your loyal man and he was going to take care of you; protect you, even if you don’t know it yet. You’re what he lives for; you’re all that keeps him going, the only thing he cares about. 

Since he’s been watching you for years, of course he knew your schedule. Of course he knew that on Fridays your parents work late at the local bar & grill that they own. This means you slept in your house by yourself practically every Friday night. So every Friday night, Rafe would sneak in through the back door that you always forget to lock. He just wants to check on you, he wants to see his pretty girl sleeping beautifully, he wants to know that his baby is okay. This is not a crime, it’s not a crime to care; he’s not insane, he’s just in love–if you could even call it that. How can it be wrong to protect what’s his? nOh, and god forbid anyone ever get in the way of his stalking routine, if anyone were to take you away from the inevitable path of meeting him…oh, the things he would do; whatever it takes.

One unforgettable Friday night, you fall asleep on your couch watching a rerun of one of your favorite shows. You enjoy being alone. If only you knew you haven’t been alone for a very long time. You’re woken up by sudden, loud noises coming from your bedroom, but you think maybe it’s just the cat, or maybe you didn’t shut your window. You get up from the couch and in several slow, cautious steps you tiptoe over to your room. When you enter your doorway, you’re immediately greeted by the sight of a tall and broad man standing in the center of your bedroom holding the last shirt you wore to his nose, breathing in your scent. The sight of all this makes you immediately freeze and stand motionless in your bedroom doorway, staring at him blankly. 

Rafe doesn’t startle when he realizes you’ve caught him red-handed. Instead, quite the opposite actually. He’s actually a bit amused, relieved even; if you hadn’t caught him just now, he never would’ve been able to work up the nerve to finally talk to you. He didn’t want to have to be creepy about things between you two, but he couldn’t talk to you like a normal person. It’d be too unpredictable, too unknown. Meeting you like this…he has all of the control. 

“There you are,” he grinned. “How beautiful…” The strangely offputting man gloated in your fear and it was obvious.

You take a step back from where you had been frozen. He takes a step forward. This cannot be happening, you think. Your brows furrow in hopelessness and defeat. Again, you freeze where you are standing, even more afraid to move now. 

You feel like you’ve seen the man before, which you have, plenty of times; but he was careful to never have too big of an interaction, so that you couldn’t recognize his face. You have no clue that you’ve been and always will be his.

 “W-wha…who are you? W-why are you in my house?” You try to keep your voice as strong as possible, but the way your words shake with trepidation betrays you. 

The man takes a quick step forward, slowing to a stop and putting his hands up in mock surrender as you jump back. “Woah, woah, hey…calm down, alright?”, he chuckles when he sees the utter horror and complete fright in your eyes. His tone switches into one of a little more seriousness, “I'm not here to hurt you, you don't need to be so scared...”.  If you didn’t feel like your only choice was to look him in the eyes, you might even believe him. But, you had no other option but to witness the animalistic spark in his eyes that lit up with each word he spoke. With each step he took, you took one further back—your heart dropped into your stomach at the sight of his cocky, twisted smile and the way he looked at you…like you’re a zebra grazing in your natural habitat and he’s the lion waiting to pounce and attack you in your own home. 

“I just wanted to see you," he leaned up against your dresser, taking in the look on your face. His face almost instantly drops the predatory look and adopts one of mock concern, almost convincing enough to hide his amusement. “Hey, it's okay, baby, it’s okay…”

“Please,” you beg. “If you leave I won’t call the cops. I won’t tell.”

Rafe cocks his head and lets out a slow breath, as if he’s disappointed in your reaction; you aren’t supposed to want him to leave. “Hey, hey…I’m not gonna hurt you. Just listen to me…you don’t wanna have to call the cops at three in the morning,” he elaborated. He’s trying to be as convincing as he can because he cannot screw this up. Even so, he still can’t help his smile that only grows at the sight of your terrified face. He shakes the smirk off, adopting a serious expression once more. “Especially when the cops won't be able to do a damn thing.” 

He continues to step closer to you with each word. He stops once his figure is looming over you, looking at you like a lion about to pounce on its prey. “You should really be more careful, sweetheart, leaving the back door open like that at this time of night, when you’re all alone…you never know who might be out there.” His voice is cold as he warns you about the dangers of the world; the dangers of himself. 

“Who are you?” You repeated. The man looks so familiar but you just couldn’t quite place his face anywhere. You just need to know what he wants; who he is. 

“That’s not important right now baby…we’re focused on you, yeah?” The man’s eyes widen, taking in every detail of your face; the only other times he’s seen you this close is when he watches you sleep. 

You could feel his breath on your face as he spoke. The look in his eyes tells you to take another step back, but when your back collides with the wall you jump; there’s nowhere left for you to go and that was exactly how he wanted it. He wanted you like this alone, afraid, and cornered. He loved your fear. The man stares at you with a predatory look although aside from the darkness and lust in his eyes, you can see something else, but…what is it?  

“W-what do you want?” You ask, keeping as calm as you can. Even though with every passing second the air gets thinner and thinner. Your stomach is in knots and your throat starts to close up. Not to mention the stinging tears in your eyes, threatening to fall at any given moment.

“Me?” he cocked an eyebrow, his eyes shamelessly roaming your body as he blew out a huff. “I just wanna have a little chat, that's all...” The unknown man takes another step towards you, invading your personal space, his tall frame towering over you as his bottom lip finds a home between his teeth. Rafe reaches up and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “No need to be so scared, baby...”

“T-talk about what?” You have no idea what this man who you don’t know, could possibly want to talk about with you. Why is he acting like he knows you when you’re sure you’ve never even seen him before? Why is he…admiring you? No, that couldn’t be right. The mystery man is so confusing, all his twists and turns giving you whiplash. 

“Ah, you see...” he responds, pausing to place his other hand on the wall behind you, almost trapping you in. You feel his hot breath against the sensitive skin of your face, burning you like hot steam. His breath was slow and steady. He was completely calm. He liked this. He gave you a genuine smirk, bringing his face closer to your ear. “It’s more of a proposition really…”

“What is it…?” You ask. Not out of curiosity because honestly, you’re too afraid to know. But because you figure things might, just might go better for you if you play along. He stayed silent for a moment—enjoying the look in your eyes and your erratic breathing.

“All this fear…all this trembling...” he trails off as he brings his hand up to your chin, his thumb slowly tracing the outline of your lower lip. “It's nice to finally meet you...” He chuckles and leans in so that his lips nearly touch your ear. “Will you stop shaking like that if I tell you what I want?” His thumb moves from your bottom lip and he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear; he doesn’t want anything getting in the way of his view of your pretty face.“Hmmm?” he challenged. “Or will you still be shaking like a scared little puppy?”

“I-I don’t…” You stutter, not being able to speak or even think clearly with the way he’s glaring at you. 

“Shhhh… ” he tutted, bringing his other hand from the wall to your lower back and drawing you even closer to him—until your body was almost flush against his, his touch surprisingly warm. “You're not answering my question,” he whispers your name as he runs his fingers through your hair, it’s softer than he’d imagined. 

“Please just…” The tears were no longer threatening as they began to fall down your cheeks. “Please…” Hearing this man who you do not know, say your name, was probably the most frightening thing to happen to you yet. 

“Shhh, stop that...” he calmly commanded when he saw the tears falling from your pretty eyes. Rafe's voice was soft but stern—he hated seeing you so distressed. His hand moved from your lower back to your chin, making you look up at him. “Hey it’s okay…it’s okay baby, no need for tears. I just wanna talk to you is all." You almost believe him for a moment with how sincere the glint in his eyes appeared. But you’ve picked up on his manipulative expressions. 

“My parents will be home soon…” You vaguely remember your parents mentioning something about something and blah blah blah…they’re closing early tonight. You really hope it’s true and isn’t just a figment of your imagination; something your mind is making up so you don’t completely give up. 

A cocky smile returned to his face as he let a small huff of amusement slip past his lips. He knew your parents were working late, just like every other Friday night. "Bullshit,” he chuckled. His hand moved back to your lower back, holding you against him. “It’s just you and me, pretty girl.” He grabs your waist and within the next second, you’re on your bed and he’s hovering over you. You can feel his hot breath in your ear, you can smell him, feel the excessive heat radiating from his body. He speaks quietly now, more serious than he’s been this entire time, “Don’t ever fuckin’ lie to me again. Got it?”

His words provoke a small whimper from you. How long has he been watching you? What’s he gonna do? What does he want to talk about? Your mind is filled with questions you’re too afraid to ask. “I-I’m not lying.” He leans down, his lips almost touching yours. Rafe’s eyes are looking straight into yours, admiring the complete and utter fear your eyes possess. He doesn’t want you to be scared of him. But fuck, does he love it.

“Oh yeah?” He mumbles as he presses his face into your hair, taking in your scent. He can’t believe he’s finally this close to you. He didn’t think it’d ever happen, and if you didn’t catch him tonight, it probably wouldn’t have. It’s meant to be, he thinks. “What did I tell you about lying, hm baby? I know you’re fuckin’ lyin’ to me, so you wanna try that again?”

Before your brain could muster up some bullshit response, the sound of the front door unlocking echoes through the hall and into your bedroom. Rafe holds his breath and puts his hand over your mouth, causing your eyes to widen as he leans to the side to glance down the hallway at the front door. “Shh…”, he whispers. You weren’t lying. Your parents came home from work early and they’re about to turn the doorknob and come inside the house. Rafe looks at you, the look in his eyes beyond unsettling. “Tell the cops…tell anyone, and I’ll come back and fuckin’ kill you, okay? This is our secret. Don’t make me come back and hurt you babe, I really, really don’t wanna have to do that, alright?” 

He has to be bluffing, right? But, when you look up to meet his gaze, you can tell; you can tell he meant every single syllable that he spoke. It’s not like the cops would believe you if you said you had a stalker anyways, you’re a pogue. And cops never believe a pogue. Rafe doesn’t need a response from you, the fear in your eyes tells him all he needs to know.

 Just before you hear the front door open, Rafe smirks at you. “We’re gonna have so much fun together baby.” Reluctantly, the disturbed man leans back and takes his hands away from you. Without another word, he walks over to your bedroom window and pushes it open. Before ducking to climb out, the large man looks back at you. Your breath hitches even further if that’s even possible.

 “Goodnight puppy.” The outline of his smug grin is visible even in the darkness of your room. Just as you hear the quiet voices of your parents enter your house, the dark figure turns and exits your window. When the man is outside you sit up and rush over to shut and lock the window behind him. 

With caution, Rafe watches as your mother comes to peek her head in your bedroom. She only lingers in your doorway long enough to see your dark shape laying in bed. Covered in blankets, you pretend to sleep, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to hold a casual conversation with your mother at the moment. And the last thing you want to do is raise any alarm. Not while he’s out there–whoever he is. Hot, salty tears fall from your eyes, wetting the soft skin of your cheeks. When she shuts the door, you let out a shaky breath, finally being able to breathe.But, you keep your eyes sealed shut. At least then you can’t see if the man is still watching you from outside your window. You lie awake for hours, how are you meant to go back to sleep after whatever the hell just happened? All you can do now is wait. Is he coming back? When will he come back? Who is he? Why does he want you? There’s a million different questions and worst scenarios circling around in your head. So, you just wait, it’s all you can do. 

As you wait, the hours turn into days, days turning into a week as the next Friday approaches you; you spend your time worrying about having to be home alone again. There still had been no sign of him since your encounter last week, but you decide to stay the night at a friend’s house, not wanting to take the risk. The second Friday after you came face-to-face with your stalker, you get a friend to spend the night with you. And now, after four weeks of waiting there’s still no sign of the deranged man. Although, if you had no knowledge of him stalking you for years he clearly is good at staying hidden. As the fourth Friday approaches, you think over your options. You can go to a friend’s house or have a friend stay over, as you’ve been doing. But, you’re tired of waiting for something to happen. You’re sick of not feeling safe in your own home and of having to look over your shoulder at all times. You used to love being alone, and now it’s been weeks since you’ve spent any time to yourself. You’ve had enough. This Friday you’re not hiding, you’re done being a coward. You will not allow this creep to keep taking away everything you love; you won’t allow yourself to waste any more time worrying about that psycho. So, you stay at home by yourself. He’s not gonna show, right? He was just bluffing or on drugs or something, that’s what you convince yourself.

You pull back the fluffy comforter on your bed and climb in. You pull the covers up and completely over yourself, you used to do this as a little girl when you’d have a nightmare or you’re scared of the thunder or the monster in your closet. If the blanket could protect you when you were little it should work now…right? Well, maybe it’d still work if you had a nightmare, but logically, what is it gonna do against your stalker? But no matter how much you force yourself to believe that he’s not coming back, you still find yourself praying. You’ve never been very religious, but recently you pray to whoever will listen. 

You had bought some sleeping pills from the store a few days after you discovered your secret stalker. They helped you sleep, since your brain hasn’t once stopped thinking about him since the whole fiasco. Reaching over, you pull out the drawer of your nightstand. You grab the bottle of pills, you swallow a couple dry and set the rest on your nightstand. The pills start to kick in quite sooner than usual, must be because you took double the amount…you’re gonna need them to fall asleep tonight. Your first night alone in weeks. In just a few short minutes, you’re out cold, buried underneath an absurd amount of pillows and blankets.

Rafe spent the past few weeks feeling overwrought after what he did. He feels wrong–a feeling he’s not used to experiencing. But it’s because he knows he’s ruined any chance he might’ve had with you. Before you caught him in your bedroom, he had a chance that you could meet him regularly and think he was just a normal guy. But now, all hopes of you ever thinking he’s ‘normal’ have been abandoned. He actually feels shame and…regret for his actions? He’s been seeing less and less of you, and it’s making him angry, so fucking angry. Your schedule has been relatively the same for the past years and now you’re switching it up? You’re hiding from him; running from him just like everyone else in his life. Maybe the things his family has been saying about him for most of his life is true; maybe everything he touches does turn to ash. God, why does he ruin everything? 

You are the one thing, the only thing that Rafe did not want to ruin. You’re the one thing in his life that’s too perfect to ruin…too innocent. But, the damage has been done. He doesn't have many options left. He could leave you alone, but then he’d be weak for not sticking to his word and he can’t have you thinking he’s weak and that you have the power. He could go back, but then what would he do? There was absolutely no way in hell you’d seriously talk to him, and he didn’t want to force himself onto you. He really wanted you to need him back, you have to want it. But everything you do or say now will be out of fear, it’ll be you trying to stay alive. He wanted you to be desperate for him, not desperate to get rid of him. Either way, you’re never gonna forgive him; you’ll always hate him now. Since you’ll feel the same no matter what he does now, he decides that he just needs to see you, he needs to talk to you again. It’s been far too long since he’s been close to you. He can’t take another goddamn second without seeing his reason to live.

He hurries over to your house, parking an entire block away as usual. He makes sure no eyes are on him as he sneaks around to your backyard. Rafe tries peeking through the curtains that block your window to see if you were in bed or not, but he can’t get a good view. He needs to know if you’re home. He needs to see you. 

Rafe sneaks around to the side of your house, checking all windows and doors in the process, but he has no such luck. But he doesn’t give up yet, he’ll get in, he’ll find a way. He tries the side door that leads into your garage. He lets out a giant breath of relief when the door clicks open. Once he’s inside the garage, he takes a quick glance around to analyze his surroundings and burn every inch of your house into his memory. When he finally enters your house, he takes his time to look around. Obviously Rafe knew you were a pogue–he knew everything about you, but you never really looked or acted like one. However, the inside of your home puts your life on display, making it very clear you’re a pogue. 

You sleep soundly, only being interrupted by the occasional dream; completely unaware that your stalker is making his way down the hall and into your bedroom. Rafe opens the door quietly. Your room is dark like the rest of your house, but the moonlight shining through your thin curtains provides just enough light that he can see the outline of your sleeping body. Now that your presence has been confirmed, he feels like he can finally breathe and he lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. 

Before he became totally obsessed with you and he’d see you occasionally in public, you used to just make him horny. He’d catch a glimpse of your smile or hear the softness in the way you spoke, or the innocence in your sweet laugh and his dick would be hard within seconds. And when his obsession grew and he’d watch you more frequently, sex with other girls started not doing anything for him. He needed you…he needs you. When he actually started paying attention to the way you spoke, the way you acted, he fell in love–what he thinks is love anyways. Rafe realized you’re the sweetest, most pure person he’s ever known. He didn’t think people like you really existed. His discovery led him to watch you more closely, he started taking more risks just because he needed to find your flaw. There’s no way you’re actually this perfect, it has to be an act. Now, after years of watching you he can confidently say that you really are just that perfect. Rafe needs you for more than just getting off now, he needs your comfort, he needs the kindness that radiates off of you. Which is why he’s always trying to find a way to get closer to you, he needs to absorb your sweetness. But hes really done it now; he’s fucked up big time. You hate him.

He hadn’t realized that the hate he brought upon you would tint the kindness that radiates for your being. He has to get you to let go of the hate he’s caused you, he needs you to be yourself again. He just doesn't know how, if it’s even possible.

 As you sleep soundly, his large frame towers over you as he stares down at you through the darkness. You look so peaceful, so innocent. It physically pains him to know that he’s taken away parts of your innocence. All he can do is stare at you as he mentally curses himself. He can’t wake you up and ruin your small moment of peace. It’s better if you don’t know he’s there. 

Your stalker slowly raises his hand and uses his thumb and pointer finger to pull your blanket down to your knees. Even with the blankets pulled down most of your body was hidden from him. Almost everything is left to the imagination in the loose, patterned pj pants and the oversized, long sleeve shirt that you’re wearing. He can only see a small portion of your lower stomach due to your shirt slightly riding up. And that small bit of skin is enough to trigger his memories of you. Because of course he’s seen you countless times; he’s got your body memorized.

He’s practically panting as he takes in the sight of you, imagining that you’re unclothed beneath him; his memory is sharp enough to almost see it. His cock grows to press against his jeans and his eyes trail up to your beautiful face. The ache in his needy cock starts to become unbearable. Your name slips past his lips in the form of a mumble when he starts to palm himself through his newly tightened jeans. 

Okay, Rafe has definitely jerked off to the thought of you, your smell…everything about you makes him lose whatever control he ever even had to begin with. Something he hasn’t gotten to do yet is jerk off with you right in front of him as a live viewing source, fresh for his eyes. He’s gonna be able to cross that off the bucket list soon enough; he can’t wait any longer. His hand stops its ministrations over his jeans as his head turns and he moves over to your closet, grabbing a pair of delicate, worn panties from the top of your laundry hamper. He brings the treasure up to his nose to smell you. God, he could cream his fucking pants right now. He quietly walks back over to you, taking a look at the pill bottle on your nightstand. He picks it up with his free hand, eyes quickly scanning over the label. He smirks as he sets it back down. Rafe turns his head to look back at you. His smirk grows even wider as he leans back, cocking his head as he observes you. Yeah, you’re definitely gonna be out for a while.

With his pants and boxers around his ankles, he stands over you. Your panties between his hand and his cock as his fist slowly pumps up and down his length. His other hand meticulously pulls your shirt up to reveal your chest.

“Fuckkk…” he whispers under his breath as his bottom lip is held captive between his teeth. Your perfect tits are spilling out of your bra as you lie asleep on your back. He lightly fiddles with the ends of your hair as his hand pumps over his dick repeatedly and without rhythm. He takes his time, Rafe never likes to rush this. Especially not with you.

Your subconscious mind reacts to his light touch and sounds, pulling you into a wet dream; seeing as a main side effect of the medication you took was vivid dreams. You’ve also been unusually horny lately, probably because you’d been too afraid to touch yourself when you thought you were being watched twenty-four/seven. His fingers trail up your stomach and into the valley of your breasts with feather light touch.

You stir a bit, not because you felt him, but because the dream you’ve been thrown into by your subconscious is starting to get your body all worked up. You’ve been extra horny recently and keep having sex dreams since you haven’t been able to touch yourself the past few weeks, having a stalker and all. As he leans down to lightly kiss the skin in between your boobs, a moan slips past his lips, vibrating off of your skin and interrupting the mostly silent room. The only other sound that can be heard in the quiet room is that caused by Rafe’s hand quickly moving up and down his cock; the friction caused by the soft fabric of your panties generates a quiet noise. Pre-cum leaks from his slit and seeps into the fabric of your recently worn panties. He leans back down to create a hickey on your chest and hopes that you won’t wake up from the sudden feeling, although if you did that might be even better. Shaking the selfish thought out of his head, he sucks strongly at the smooth skin between your beautiful tits. He pulls his mouth off with a pop! Leaning back to see the mark he left, he smirks knowing you’ll see it too eventually. The already rhythmless movements of his hand gets even more erratic the closer he gets to reaching his orgasm. 

The man standing above you runs his hand back down your chest and abdomen as you sleep. Completely unaware of what's happening to your physical body right now, you begin to get all wrapped up in your dream. You only ever get sex dreams when you’re so overly horny, which you’ve been the past few weeks. That combined with the sleeping medication you took, made this particular dream feel different; it felt so…real. The only dream-like part about it was that you couldn’t see the man's face for whatever reason. 

While you’re in a deep sleep, you involuntarily let out a needy whine as your active mind plays games with you. When Rafe hears you he thinks he imagined it, until he hears you do it again. He wonders if you could feel him, except he’s not even touching you right now. Realizing that's clearly not the reason, he furrows his brows in confusion. He pulls the duvet cover completely off of you to reveal the way you keep periodically squirming as your body searches for the same feeling your mind is experiencing; and the way your toes tighten up and curl as you’re tricked into thinking you feel pleasure. 

He can’t take it, not when you look like this. The man hovering over your unconscious figure lets out a lewd moan that corrupts the silence as hot strings of his cum spurt out of the pink, glistening tip of his cock and onto the pair of your panties that he's got clenched in his fist, immediately soaking into the fabric. Surprisingly, when he gets through his orgasm, he adoringly covers you back up with your blankets and leaves your house, locking the door he entered through to be sure you were safe. He got enough to satisfy him for now as he works on a plan to change the way you think of him.  He’ll be back for more of you soon enough. He has to fix this; the biggest mistake he’s ever made and the only regret he’ll ever carry. 

To be continued...

Thank you for reading! I hope this was enjoyable and not a waste of time. I spent a lot of time on this part, especially with the editing since I never really feel done with anything. If you have literally ANY feedback, questions, or suggestions, PLEASE feel free to let me know! I don't really have any solid plans for this fic so if you have any ideas I just might include them, there's not much I won't write!

[quixotical-lymbo]

You saw my post, you saw how I’m obsessed with Bee there’s literally no way of hiding it

Headcanons with bee with a gn or fem reader (whichever you want) who’s sick? Idk if transformers can get sick or not but uuuuuhhh let’s just pretend!

If this isn’t getting your creative juices flowing up there then no worries! Don’t feel pressured to write it!

Pairing: B-127/Bee x gn!sick!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: Getting sick isn't a breeze, but with your honeybee beside you it's easy.  A/N: More Bee content because a certain someone is a simp/j Warnings/Tags: Cybertronian reader, sick!reader, brief mentions of vomiting and general stuff involving sickness, happens after the movie, fluff.  Word Count: 850+ words

Feeling iffy 

🐝 For some reason, you've been feeling off ever since you got a cog

🐝 You worked in lower levels with your conjunx and eating enough energon to be half full was a rarity.  

🐝 Now with Iacon entering a new era, having a cog and having a conjunx 'working for the government' as he put it, you had all the energon you could ever want.

🐝 Of course, you weren't scarfing down on it, but it was definitely an improvement than before you left the mines.

🐝 Your symptoms ranged from overheating, sneezing, to even feeling nauseous to the point you couldn't walk straight. You couldn't even keep down the energon you'd consume in normal amounts. 

🐝 One thing was for sure, something was wrong.

Finding out 

🐝 You figured trying to deal with the issue by yourself before Bee found out would work.

🐝It didn't. 

🐝 Bee could tell something was wrong with you after a few cycles of your symptoms persisting. 

🐝 He cornered you in your shared home and that's when he found out you were sick.

🐝 Of course he was upset that you didn't tell him, but more so upset at the fact you were still trying to do daily tasks (whether that was doing your job or helping Elita-1 and Optimus along with him) despite being sick. 

Taking care of you 

🐝 He had to physically drag you to a med-bay to get checked out

🐝 Turns out your condition wasn't too serious, but you needed to get some rest so your body could get used to the fast transitions of having a cog + surplus of energon. 

🐝 Bee heard 'rest' and ran with it.

🐝 He plucked you up from where you sat and carried you out in his arms while yelling about getting you to bed quick. To say you were as blue as, well, energon was an understatement. 

🐝 Now in your shared berth, Bee has taken over the role of being your nurse. 

🐝 He servo feeds you, refuses to let you lift a single digit, and even began reading berthtime stories or what he and Optimus done for the day to get you to fall asleep faster (we all know how much he loves to talk). 

🐝 He could drone on for a longggg time and when you'd eventually drift off into recharge, he'll kiss your helm before he'd leave to give you the time to rest. Sometimes you held on too tight to his servo and he couldn't leave, comm'ing Optimus that his conjunx refused to let him go was a...interesting conversation.

🐝 As much as you appreciated his efforts, you had to remind him you could still function by yourself. 

🐝 He looked confused.

🐝 You offered to get out of the berth and moved to get up, but Bee coaxed you to lay back. 

🐝 You gave him a look. 

🐝 He returned it with his own smirk and a "...don't you dare." 

🐝 You jumped off of the berth and ran off laughing with Bee yelling behind you who gave chase. 

What he does to comfort you

🐝 When Bee is away and not there to 'tend' to you, it gives you a breather to do what you want, but still the symptoms make it harder to find enjoyment in anything

🐝 You could be enjoying a nice energon cube, hurling it back up again until you're pissed and exhausted. 

🐝 When Bee comes back to seeing you in this state, he'll help you back to the berth and cuddle you for the rest of the time he's free.

🐝 Expect to be sung to and him using cheesy nicknames (my sweetest of sparks, energon of my optic, the light of my spark, andddd you get the picture). 

 

🐝🐝🐝Drabble🐝🐝🐝

Your optics fluttered open and the first thing you noticed was a pede in your face. You blinked back the drowsiness and reeled your helm back. Lifting your gaze you noticed the haphazard position your conjunx was in, sleeping next to  you while the upper half of his frame hung off of the edge of the berth. 

You held back a giggle and used one digit to push the bottom of his pede away. Bee's snoring paused as he abruptly woke up and screamed as he fell off of the berth. 

"Huh?! Wha-?" Bee looked up to see your laughing face peeking from the berth. "Ha ha, you think you're very funny, huh?" 

"Oh, I know I am," You coyly retorted as you watched him rise to stand on his knees. He leaned close and stared into your optics, you raised an optic ridge wondering what he was going to do until he lowered his gaze to your dermas. 

"Ah, ah," You moved your helm to the side as he attempted to swoop in. "Not until I'm better." 

 "I know," Bee pouted as he reached over to cup the side of your face. "Can't blame a mech for trying." 

 

"You're adorable and stupid at the same time." 

"Hey!" 

"You're my adorable and stupid mech." 

"Now that's more like it….wait." 

😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. like my writing? consider buying me a kofi :)

honeycomb banner(s) by @thecutestgrotto!!

[baekhyunsbestie]

──★ easy peasy ‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 sum: a lil prequel to all mine :') baekhyun n cupcake are back to show y'all how it all started hehe

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 content: 18+/MDNI. 4.6k words 😭 this was supposed to b waaayyyy shorter omg whatevz. baekhyun x f!reader. scenes with weed + alcohol, mutual pining, friends to fwb, pet names, lots of swearing. SMUT!!! literally porn w plot, masturbation (both m + f), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex, praise, p in v. baekhyun is pretty obsessive in this. ALSO. i do not, i repeat, i do not recommend reading this with 'woo' on repeat 😭😵‍💫😮‍💨💦‼️‼️‼️‼️

it was just another ordinary gathering with friends when it all began. this time, the casual hangout took place in baekhyun’s cozy apartment, where the atmosphere was warm and inviting. laughter echoed off the walls, mingling with the cheerful clinking of glasses, while the sweet, heady scent of alcohol hung in the air as the evening stretched on.

nights like these felt like a sanctuary, a safe haven where you could truly be yourself and let the weight of the day melt away. surrounded by the people you loved, who loved you just as deeply in return. every inside joke shared, every story recounted, and every laugh exchanged spun a kind of magic into the night, reminding you just how deeply you cherished the core memories you were creating together.

as the party winds down and only you and baekhyun remain, you slip out onto the patio for your familiar ritual—a quick smoke session that signals the end of the night. it’s a moment where you both unwind, getting high while sharing a candid debrief about the evening's antics. just typical bestie behavior, sharing thoughts and laughter as the stars twinkle above you.

the sharp november air bites against your skin, and you shiver, muttering a curse under your breath. baekhyun chuckles softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement—until his gaze drifts downward to your chest. his laughter fades as he takes in the way your shirt clings to you in the cold, the night revealing your hardened nipples.

a quiet tension hangs between you as you feel his gaze lingering, tracing the outline of your chest and making your pulse quicken. with a smooth motion, he slips his jacket over your shoulders, wrapping you in its warmth and his subtle, rough scent. it’s a gentle gesture, his fingers brushing against your arms, as if he’s protecting not just your warmth but also his own restraint, which is damn near close to breaking.

the sight of you wrapped up in his jacket sets off a sense of possessiveness in him. he becomes oblivious to the biting chill of the night air; his focus is solely on you, swallowed whole by the oversized fabric, the sleeves hanging far past your fingertips, a reminder of how small you look next to him.

for what feels like the first time—or maybe the third or fifth, though he’s lost count—his mind wanders, slipping into a vivid fantasy. he pictures you beneath him, pinned to his mattress, your legs drawn tight against your chest in a rough, mating press. the weight of his hold keeps you breathless, your sweet voice pleading, again and again, for him to give you more, more, more.

he can picture it so clearly, as if it's already unfolding beneath him: your body trembling, not from the sharp bite of the autumn night air prickling your skin like it is now, but from the relentless waves of pleasure he’ll coax out of you—with his cock, his fingers, his mouth. hell, with anything he can use to unravel you.

the smoke curls lazily between you as you both finish up your shared joint. he flicks the remnants into the ashtray, a sense of urgency igniting in his eyes. “we, uh... we should head in,” he mutters, his voice rough and low. “got a busy morning tomorrow... better get to bed.” 

and before you fully register it, he’s guiding you inside, his hand resting gently at the small of your back as he leads you through the sliding door of his patio and into the warmth of his living room. 

he tries to reason with himself, insisting it’s only natural for his mind to drift this way. you’re his best friend, after all, and the two of you are practically inseparable. surely, this infatuation will fade soon enough. maybe all he needs is a quick release to clear his head. 

yeah, that’s it—rubbing one out would certainly do the trick.

he walks you down to your car, tugging the zipper of his oversized jacket up to your chin, his voice soft as he murmurs, “don’t want ya freezing on the way from here to your place.” you glance down, and a flicker of surprise flashes across your face as you realize this is the first time you’ve ever worn anything of his, despite years of friendship. the weight of that thought lingers for just a moment before you let it drift away, replaced by the warmth blooming in your chest. with a bright smile, you look up at him, your heart swelling as you thank him sweetly for being so thoughtful. 

you try to ignore the faint blush rises on his cheeks as he glances down, trying to conceal his smile. his hands are buried in the pockets of his sweats, and he fidgets nervously, kicking at the loose gravel beneath his feet. “what are best friends for?” he says, his voice more tender than usual.

when it’s finally time to say goodbye, he wraps his arms around you in a hug, heart pounding as he silently prays you won’t feel the very obvious, painfully hard strain against his sweats. when you slip into the driver’s seat, your eyes lock onto his and you flash him one last, innocent smile that sends butterflies coursing through his stomach. you close the door and pull off, leaving him standing there questioning if you noticed.

later on under the burning heat of the shower, he closes his eyes tight, trying to drown out his intoxicating thoughts of you. his hand moves rhythmically, driven by primal need, as he desperately searches for distractions—flickers of past flings, the latest porn he’s watched, anything to steer his mind away from you. 

he feels like he’s finally almost there, his hand moving with frantic urgency, desperate to break free from the overwhelming tension coiling within him. but just as pleasure hovers on the edge of white-hot ecstasy, his mind betrays him, and all he can see is you—wrapped in nothing but his jacket, your body beautifully wrecked beneath him, pleading him for more.

as he reaches his climax, your name falls through his lips in a breathless whisper. he swears he can feel your fingers gripping his thighs, your warm breath mingling with the steam in the shower. the thought of your eyes locked onto his, your soft, wet tongue teasingly tracing the pronounced vein along the underside of his shaft sends him spiraling over the edge, intensifying his orgasm. in that moment, everything feels achingly real, as if you’re right there with him.

as he comes down from the haze, his gaze is drawn to the remnants of his cum splattered against the shower wall, glistening droplets sliding down the drain. typically, the post-nut clarity pulls him back to reality, often accompanied by a wave of disgust and self-loathing for crossing a line. but tonight feels…different. a warm heat blooms in his chest, igniting a newfound hunger within him.  

sure, he’s had his share of fantasies about you—he can’t deny how those innocent brushes of your fingertips against his skin sends blood rushing straight to his cock. and that smile of yours, wide and bright, makes his heart race; your eyes sparkle with delight as you look up at him, as if he’s the one lighting up the entire sky when he finally agrees to beat that level for you in your video game.

how on earth could he possibly say no to you when you're batting your lashes up at him with that sweet, innocent look, and pouting those soft, irresistible lips of yours? the sight alone leaves him painfully hard, and he has no choice but to excuse himself to the restroom, desperate to hide the effect you’ve had on him.

but until now, he’s never fully indulged in thoughts of you. yet here he is, for the first time in fifteen years of friendship, finding his pleasure intertwined with visions of you, his best friend.

a few hours later, he’s lying in bed, tossing and turning, consumed by restlessness and agitation. the image of you returning his jacket sends his mind racing—a potent blend of your scent mingling with his, sparking a heat that has him hard all over again. his fingers tighten around his cock as he imagines burying his face in that jacket, inhaling deeply while picturing you draped in nothing but it, reaching for your own pleasure. the mere thought drives him wild, spiraling him deeper into a whirlwind of desire he can’t seem to shake.

and holy fuck—the intensity of his fantasy seizes him, raw and unrelenting. his mind is consumed by the vision of you in his jacket, your fingers slipping into the heat between your thighs. just imagining those delicate digits of yours barely peeking from the ends of his sleeves, the fabric dampened by your slickness, sends his pulse racing like a wild drumbeat.

he pictures you, his jacket collar clutched between your teeth, muffling your moans as you surrender to the pleasure. your brows knit together, unraveling at the thought of him alone. each wave of euphoria slams into him—unforgiving, all-consuming—leaving him gasping. this fantasy floods his senses, his body tense and trembling, until he’s left breathless and spent, the sheets and his skin slick with his release.

the crushing realization hits him like a ton of bricks: he is utterly, irrevocably fucked, with no way back from this.

the next time you come over, it’s a casual, spur-of-the-moment visit—just the two of you, like so many times before. you try not to think anything of it; after all, you've hung out alone countless times without ever tiptoeing past that boundary. still, the idea that tonight might be different crosses your mind a few times.

and baekhyun is savoring every second of this, his gaze lingering a little too long, his smiles a little too knowing. to him, this feels like an opportunity—a chance he’s been waiting for, maybe even one he’s unconsciously prepared for. he’s decided to let himself lean in, to test the waters, eager to see just how far you're willing to go.

what he doesn’t realize is that you, too, have been lost in fantasies of him since that night. you recall the way his gaze lingered on your chest, the heat rising in his cheeks as his throat bobbed with an audible swallow when he caught sight of your hardened nipples, teasingly revealed by the biting cold wind. you had intentionally chosen to forgo a bra, not just for comfort but also, perhaps, to invite his gaze just a little longer.

you know you’re attractive; the combination of your looks and your captivating personality makes you the whole package. countless men have admired and pursued you, but none have sparked the same intense yearning within you as baekhyun does. perhaps it’s the thrill of wanting something you shouldn’t, or maybe it’s the enticing pull of crossing the line with a friend, the sweet taboo that makes it all the more exhilarating.

of course, you’ve had crushes on baekhyun. of course, you found him attractive. but what could you do? after what felt like an eternity of friendship, the last thing you wanted was to jeopardize what you had by crossing a line he might never want to tread.

but the darkness that flickered in his eyes, combined with his blatant struggle to contain the desire simmering within him that night, revealed everything you needed to know.

he wants you, too.

and here you are, perched on one of the barstools at his kitchen island, your eyes sparkling as he pours you a glass of wine, both of you laughing over an inside joke. you tell yourself that this small crush will eventually fade; it’s not the first time you’ve felt this way. these feelings come in waves, and you try to convince yourself this time will be no different. 

yet, deep down, you know that if he ever dared to cross that boundary, you wouldn’t be totally opposed to it. the idea of a friends-with-benefits arrangement with baekhyun sounds undeniably tempting. you both would have your needs satisfied and it comes with the comfort of someone you trust completely.

but you can’t ignore the glaring red flags; it’s a recipe for chaos, waiting to unravel.

you find yourself lost in thought, mesmerized by how annoyingly charming he looks in that simple black long sleeve that hugs his frame just perfectly. the gold chrome heart necklace catches the light, glinting against his skin and accentuating the prominent veins in his neck that pulse with each of his infectious laughs. you can almost envision trailing soft, sweet kisses along that path, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your lush lips.

you imagine the faint scent of his cologne enveloping you as you kiss him, tasting the subtle blend of cedarwood and bergamot lingering on your tongue. you wonder which spot would elicit the sweetest gasp from him—the tender area just to the side of his neck or the delicate skin beneath his earlobe? the thought makes it impossible to focus on anything else.

suddenly, his hand moves unexpectedly, sending a dark crimson splash of wine cascading across your top. it’s purely accidental, yet a thrill courses through him as he realizes what he’s done, a mischievous grin spreading across his face that he tries to wipe away.

for a brief moment, his gaze lingers on how the wine-darkened fabric clings to you, revealing hints of your shape beneath. his heart races, a blend of guilt and something deeper surging in his chest, but he quickly recovers, moving to grab you a clean shirt from his bedroom.

“ya tryna’ steal all my clothes or somethin’? first my jacket, now my shirt. unbelievable,” he teases with a light smack of his lips, his tone dripping with mock exasperation as he hands you the oversized garment with a playful smirk. “i should start chargin’ you.”

you roll your eyes, huffing as you take it from him. “whatever, i bet you like seeing me in your clothes, baek.” 

as you head toward his bedroom to change, you catch a glimmer in his eye, a playful twinkle, and a teasing smirk curls at the corners of his lips. “maybe i do, cupcake,” he says, his voice low and inviting, making your heart race just a little faster.

the moment baekhyun sees you wrapped in his shirt, it’s game fucking over. it’s as if he’s left his mark on you, claiming you with the very fabric that clings to your skin. his clothes carry his scent, embody his essence, and now they’re draped over you.

he feels himself straining painfully against his pants, a hard, aching weight pressing insistently, and he’s almost insulted by your obliviousness to it. you carefully avoid looking even when curiosity tugs at you, but he doesn’t share your restraint. his gaze roams over your skin with an eagerness that makes your pulse quicken. it’s the intensity of his stare that draws his attention to the wine spilling on your skirt.

he could be a decent guy and offer you a pair of his sweats to wear, but the thought of them clinging to your frame, sitting low on your hips, would probably have him cumming in his pants. 

so instead, your best friend, byun baekhyun—the man whose every nuance you know by heart—drops to his knees before you. his fingers brush the hem of your skirt, teasingly, as if he’s contemplating the boundaries between friendship and something far more tempting.

“uuummm…w-what are you doing?” you ask, caught somewhere between disbelief and the thrill simmering beneath your skin. baekhyun on his knees is almost cruel—the way his tongue flicks over his lips, eyes dark and hungry, as if he’s aching to taste you. you press your thighs together, the slick heat between them betraying you, and pray he doesn’t notice. “this isn’t funny, baek.”

“’m not laughin’,” he says, his tone flat, gaze dipping to the stain on your skirt. “look, your skirt’s ruined.”

“oh,” you mumble, only now noticing the dark wine blotch spreading through the fabric.

a wicked grin spreads across his lips, his teasing smile lighting up his eyes. “huh? what’s wrong??? you get all flustered when i’m on my knees like this, cupcake?”

“shut up,” you snap, trying to pull away, but his hands grip the backs of your thighs, anchoring you in place. his cool fingers slip beneath the hem of your skirt, pressing against the curve of your ass, sending shivers through you. you can see the smug smirk on his face, and it only fuels your irritation. “god, you’re such an asshole.”

“i know,” he murmurs, his voice low and melting into the quiet. his hands drift higher, fingertips gliding over your skin until his thumbs trace slow, deliberate circles at the tender crease of your thighs. each touch leaves you breathless, your pulse racing beneath the heat of his hands. “’m sorry, cupcake,” he whispers, his words settling over you like a tease, soft and unrelenting.

“no, you’re not,” you reply, breathless and disoriented, completely trapped in his enchantment.

a mischievous gleam lights up his eyes as realization dawns—

you’re completely fucking nude underneath this skirt.

“you’re right, cupcake. i’m not sorry. but, i don’t think you are either.”

“what?” you chuckle, confusion flickering on your face. “what the hell do i have to be sorry for? you’re the one being a tease.”

in a single, fluid motion, he tugs your skirt down, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. he grips the hem of the shirt you’re wearing, the fabric bunching tightly in his fist. his knuckles turn white from the intensity of his hold as he keeps you anchored in place, his gaze consuming every inch of you. his eyes blaze with unrestrained hunger while he struggles to keep his jaw from hitting the floor.

“for showing up at my place without wearing any panties,” his voice a deep rumble that sends a delicious shiver down your spine. the sight of you, stripped of all defenses, vulnerability laid bare, makes his mouth water with want. “and then you act like you don’t want me to fuck you senseless... like we’re more than just friends. so tell me, cupcake, who’s really the tease here?”

growing up, you often wondered if it was cosmic alignment or if byun baekhyun was just simply one of god’s favorites, but one thing was undeniable: he always got what he wanted. whether it was being the mastermind behind your senior year’s water balloon ambush during lunch without so much as a reprimand, effortlessly scoring extensions on assignments because he’d partied a little too hard the night before, or slipping through the cracks at work despite his remarkable talent for slacking off—baekhyun embodied luck itself. he glided through life untouched, seemingly charmed, as if the universe conspired to bend to his every whim.

and this wasn't any different.

it hadn’t taken much for him to coax you into letting him taste you—just a few soft, insistent kisses pressed to your thighs, and those pleading, puppy-dog eyes never once leaving yours as he whispered gentle pleas between each kiss.

“i….i just don’t want to ruin anything,” you finally manage, finding the courage to voice your worry. “we’re best friends, baekhyun.”

he grins against your thigh, that mischievous, toothy smile sending a wave of heat straight through you. he can feel your hesitation, and he finds it endearing. “i know, i know... but weren’t we just talking about how awful dating is? why not turn to each other for... well, our more physical needs?”

you scoff, raising an eyebrow. "what? like being friends with benefits?"

he just smiles up at you, his lips brushing against your skin with a teasing touch. “exactly.”

your mind drifts back to that very conversation from a few days ago—before he lent you his jacket. that night when you could undeniably feel his boner pressing against you through the soft fabric of his sweats as he hugged you goodbye. but you were too sweet to call him out on it.

you’d been sprawled across his bed, face buried in his pillow, complaining about the dismal dating scene, and baekhyun had flopped down beside you, humming in agreement. you’d told him you just wanted someone to have fun with, no strings attached, just casual. you can still remember the glint in his eye, as if he’d just stumbled onto a revelation. but before either of you could dive deeper into the moment, your friends had rung the doorbell, leaving the conversation hanging in the air, unfinished.

“c’mon, cupcake,” he murmurs, pulling you back to reality as his grip tightens beneath the soft curve of your ass. “you know you can trust me, right? i trust you. and if you ever feel like you wanna step back, just say the word, and we’ll go back to the way things were—easy peasy. i promise, you and i are way too locked in for things to ever turn sour between us.”

you want to believe him, to convince yourself that crossing this line won’t lead to serious repercussions. but as his gaze drinks you in, his eyes fixed on your glistening folds while he inches dangerously closer, your thoughts begin to spiral.

you’re torn, caught in an internal war where the fear of losing what you have wrestles with the intoxicating thrill of what could be. you don’t want to think about the consequences; you don’t want to step back from this moment.

you don’t want to.

so you don’t.

and the moment your lips part to whisper a breathy, "okay, deal," he’s on you, his hunger for you overwhelming and relentless. his hands and mouth move with a frantic urgency that pulls a gasp from your lips, your body arching into him as if it’s been craving this all along. your fingers tangle into his hair, pulling him closer, while your head falls back in pure ecstasy, each breath a desperate gasp.

all you can think is why the fuck neither of you had suggested this idea sooner.

after what feels like an eternity of his mouth worshipping every sensitive inch of you, your leg draped over his shoulder, allowing his tongue to fuck you deeper, you’ve lost track of all the orgasms he’s coaxed from you. finally, he lifts you effortlessly, cradling you against him as he strides toward his bedroom, laying you back against the cool sheets of his bed. his shirt rides up around your waist, exposing you just enough for him to savor the sight of his cock sinking into you again and again, moving with a rhythm so perfect it leaves you both trembling.

this was unlike anything either of you had ever known—something that almost felt otherworldly. the way your bodies fit together was as if crafted by design, every inch of you molding around him like a second skin. the warmth of your slick, welcoming heat wrapped around him so perfectly it took his breath away, leaving him trembling with every deep, steady thrust. and somehow, he struck that perfect spot inside you every single time, as though he’d always known exactly what made your eyes flutter shut and roll back.

“shiiittt, cupcake. can’t believe you’ve been h-holdin’ out on me. nngghhh—how come you never told me you felt this hah– fuckin’ good?” he groans, voice breathless as he sinks fully inside you.

you let out a needy whine, savoring the way he stretches you in ways that feel almost too good. “i w-was just about to ask you the same thing, hah—.”

the sinful symphony of your breathless whimpers entwined with his low, desperate groans and the slick, rhythmic sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, far surpassing any fantasy baekhyun has ever imagined of you. he never anticipated that you would feel this intoxicating, sound this alluring—nothing could be sweeter than the overwhelming pleasure flooding his senses in this moment. no masterpiece in the louvre could rival the sight before him: you, brows furrowed in pure bliss, eyes tightly shut, your bottom lip caught between your teeth in a futile attempt to stifle your helpless moans that escape with each thrust of his hips.

you grasp the hem of his shirt, fingers trembling with the desperate urge to strip it away and feel the warmth of his skin pressed against yours. but he only smirks, dipping down to capture your lips in a kiss that steals your breath—and any thought of undressing. “wanna fuck you with this on, cupcake,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low, possessive growl. his mouth moves hungrily over yours, his fingers tangled firmly in your hair, leaving you entirely at his mercy.

with each relentless thrust, he whines as if he’s lost all control, his voice a breathy murmur of filthy words that spill from his lips. it’s as if he forgets he has you pinned beneath him, taking every last inch, intoxicated by the delicious feeling of your gummy walls wrapped so wet, so tight around him. he’s undeniably pussy drunk, his excitement spilling over as he slurs his words against your mouth.

“god, you look so fucking sexy in my clothes. ngh— from now on, i only w-wanna see you wrapped in my things. hah– oh f-fuck. i hate your fucking clothes.”

“b-but…hah—f-ffucckk” you gasp, the words stumbling out as his hips grind into you, rendering coherent thoughts nearly impossible. “that was my favorite outfit, baek.”

“yeah? hah— such a fuckin’ tease wearing that skirt.” he rasps in your ear, his breath warm and sending shivers racing down your neck. “if ya bent over even a lil’, i woulda' seen everything. but you knew that...didn’t ya, cupcake? you wanted this to happen, right? wanted me to fuck you like this?”

your mind is a haze, words slipping away like sand through your fingers. all you can manage is a breathy, “y-yes!” accompanied by a frantic nod as he pulls you closer to the edge. the only thing you can focus on is the way his throbbing length is striking your sweet spot with such perfect precision. his fingers, deft and teasing, dance over your clit, each flick and swirl sending you spiraling out of control.

baekhyun can feel the way you clench around him, your moans growing louder and more unrestrained, each breathless sound pulling him closer to his own climax. “that’s it. that’s my good girl. shiiitt— just let go f’me. oh god, you feel so hah—good, takin' me so well. you’re so f-fuckin’ perfect,” he urges, his gaze locked onto yours as he drives you further into bliss, fucking you through the waves of pleasure that threaten to consume you.

the orgasms crash over you in relentless waves, each one merging into the next, as he drags out your pleasure with every deep thrust of his hips paired with the teasing circles of his fingers on your clit. your breathless cries of his name spill from your lips, pushes him closer to his own release. and as he finally lets go, he’s dressing you once more, this time layering your stomach and thighs with the warm, slick ribbons of his cum.

you swear you hear him mumble something about burning every last piece of your wardrobe, replacing each item with his—clothes infused with his scent and marked by his touch. his. his. his.

but best friends don’t lay claim on each other like that…do they?

nope. 

and they definitely don’t fuck like this either.

a/n: omg when i was editing this i was like 'damn he's literally hard throughout this entire story' lmfaooooo. shoulda titled this fic 'boner baekhyun' tbh 😭 hope ya enjoyed the smut loviezzzzz 💞

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 . 

[phantom-0-writer]

snipbit from my fic

danny is talia and bruce's biokid (this is a flashback to how they met)

The plane had been airborne for less than an hour when Talia heard spluttering. “What is the meaning of this?” She demanded the nearby servant. 

“There seems to be an unexpected issue in the engine. We are required to force a landing immediately.”

Taking what she could on her person Talia found herself on the tallest building in a city somewhere in northeast USA. The billboards led her to the conclusion this city was named Gotham. Talia was told that she would have to remain in the area for a minimum of 75 minutes before another extraction would be available. 

The city of Gotham was to Talia as any other American city she had arrived in for her missions. Loud, obnoxious, and boring. Talia had enough money that she could exchange it for 500 USD. The only place she could find that was available for exchange at this hour was a location in Park Row, and the person with whom she traded had attempted to swindle her out of it. Taking her amount of cash she found herself at the closest location that would offer her a place to stay without seeming suspicious as long as she purchased an amount of food. 

While the name Batburger was not very appetizing, Talia ordered a simple drink. While advertised to contain no sugar the sweetness of it was oppressive. She sat in the corner where she had the widest range of view while remaining partly out of sight. The workers paid her no mind. 

“Pick whatever you want, Jason.” The woman said, looking up at the overhead menu.

“You mean it?” The child, Jason, exclaimed with unbridled excitement. Was there something special in the food that Talia had not noticed? “I can have whatever I want?” He asked again, making the phrase jumping for joy literal. 

“Of course. It’s your birthday after all.”  The woman looked down smiling at the child. Talia could see the stress around her eyes but the child could not. If it had been Talia’s father and Talia in that setting, she would have been greatly punished for that oversight. 

“Umm,” Jason thought of his choices thoroughly, “How about some fries?” He asked tentatively. The woman nodded. The boy paused hesitatingly, “Can I get large fries?” He whispered as if it were blasphemous to ask. 

The woman looked displeased with the situation, but she smiled nonetheless and nodded again encouragingly. Why would the child not be punished for not noticing such blatant signs of displeasure? Perhaps the standards of those outside the League were much lower than Talia had initially thought. 

“And I’m not going to share.” The boy then declared, looking up for approval. 

“They’re all yours.” The woman laughed. The boy looked away, heading to the cashier to declare his wish again. 

“Would you like anything to drink with that?” The cashier asked.

Jason didn’t say anything, stepping back for the woman to take charge of the conversation. Disgraceful. The woman was about to answer but stopped herself and turned to Jason again, “Do you want anything?” She asked him. Jason’s eyes went large and he nodded vigorously. 

They paid and sat in an empty booth by the window while the woman watched the child eat, sip and talk. What could it be about the children Talia witnessed today that had made these women act the way they do? Talia had never been allowed such leeway at any age, even the slightest hair out of place was reason to be reprimanded. Her father had shared that practice with her trainers and caretakers. It was only because of her upbringing that Talia was capable as she was now, and with the softness given to them these children could never hope to achieve anything in life. Talia would never be this way if she were ever unfortunate enough to sire one. 

It was eleven minutes after Talia sat in the Jason and the woman had arrived that the door to the building was barged through. “No one moves if you know what’s good for you.” The masked man demanded, waving a gun around. To the cashier, “You. Pull out all the cash in the register.” 

“How about I pull the rug on you instead?” A new much younger voice echoed through the building. A child in a brightly colored suit appeared, taking down the assaulter with ease. “Eh, that one was a bit of a miss.” He commented to himself, “Don’t you think so?” 

A much larger and much darker figure appeared now. “I thought it was pretty good.” He said quietly. He took the gun from the man, and tied his arms and legs into immobility. 

Jason turned in his seat looking up with just as much excitement as when he’d ordered his fires. “Woah, Robin!” He declared. Then turned to the woman and whispered loudly and excitedly, “See! I told you he was real. You couldn’t see him before because he’s magic.” 

The brightly colored child looked up and waved at Jason. Robin and the large man exchanged a quiet conversation. “How’d you like it if I walked you and your mom home?” Robin offered them. 

“Oh, I’m not his-” The woman started. 

“That’s so awesome.” Jason squealed, grabbing his food and bombarding Robin with questions about seemingly unrelated topics. 

Perhaps Talia would attract more attention if she did not leave after such an interaction. Throwing away her bottle of surgery poison she headed for the door. It was at three meters when she stopped her steady pace and turned to the shadow that did not belong to her. 

“Is there a problem?” Talia asked. She had taken the time to be dressed more similarly to how northeast Americans preferred, and while her favorite blade had been left for her to collect there were many knives hidden on her person. 

The man in black didn’t respond, treading on his words. Talia could tell that he suspected her, she would need to perfect her act to not be spotted. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” He commented. He was trying to get a read on her. 

“Do you make it a habit to have everyone's face memorized?” Talia asked in return. She made her accent was how the others in the shop had spoken, and that her inflections matched how Americans spoke.

“Everyone whose face I need to know, I do.” The dark cloud of a man responded. 

“That would explain why you don’t know me, then.” Was there something Talia had done to give away that she was not anything more than ordinary?

“You’re mistaken.” His voice was gruff and monotone, making it difficult for Talia to conclude what exactly he was insinuating.

Something shifted in the distance. Talia made sure not to show any signs of having noticed. Something dropped to the ground next to the man, and with the aid of the streetlights Talia could see the colorful boy from earlier, Robin. 

“Batman.” He addressed the man first, before turning to look at Talia curiously. The man, Batman, must be his superior. There was silence for a moment before Robin spoke again. “Don’t tell me you didn’t check in because you were busy flirting.” He asked, startled. The child’s appearance seemed to be enough reason or distraction for the man, and after a short exchange between the duo they left Talia to herself.

Talia wasted no time after she boarded the League's jet to begin her research into who she had just encountered. Batman was not known as anything more than a myth; Robin, by those who met him, was theorized to be the ghost of a boy from Gotham’s history. It took Talia longer than she thought acceptable to find any information of value, but her conclusions were substantial. Batman was an alias of the famed Bruce Wayne, ex-millionaire, now billionaire, and Robin, his newly instated ward of a tragic past, Richard Grayson. There were more than mere rumors to support this finding, and Talia made herself well aware of all details of their past. 

Talia made sure the file of the two, one she kept in her personal collection, was regularly updated. When Talia received the location of the next mission she found she was already quite familiar with the location. It would undoubtedly push an encounter with Batman. 

It would be a test to both their skills to see how long her presence could go unnoticed. There was a rush Talia felt when she landed in Gotham. The target for her mission was Bryan Edwards, a researcher who the League believed would be useful. His allegiance, thought, was known to be fickle. Talia’s objective was to find Bryan Edwards’s research and stage a natural death with minimal suspicion. The mission would be simple if it’s location was anywhere without a mythological vigilante detective and his bird themed Boy Wonder.

Talia knew the location of her mission and made her way there waiting for her target to arrive. She spotted Bryan Edwards before he entered the hotel he would be staying in for the next two nights. His car pulled into the front of the hotel and Talia watched him exit for the valet to take it away. Unexpectedly, a second person exited the car as well. Talia recognized the stout man as Bryan Edwards's most recent research partner, an up-and-coming geneticist, Collin Kilye. The League of Assassins, as well as the League of Shadows, had been interested in him, but he showed little promise and no substance. 

Talia knew the mission required patience and silence. The thrill of being caught, though, was exhilarating, something she hadn’t experienced since she’d attempted to sneak into the kitchen past her curfew while she was still undergoing the brunt of her training. That had been the only time she had been caught, and Talia willed it to remain as such. 

When the moon made the shadows shift, Talia found herself looking over her shoulder. Once, it cost her sight on her target. In that time she looked away Bryan Edwards made his way to the elevator and onto the 26th floor where his suite was located. Cursing herself for being distracted, Talia relocated. Next time when the shadows shifted and the sky had not, Talia knew who stood next to her. 

He did not address her, and Talia wondered if he thought she had not noticed him. Perhaps it was him who had not noticed her. Talia’s hair stood on end knowing that her prerogative was so close to being spotted, knowing that there was an actual and real threat to her mission here. Talia made sure that nothing could give her away. Her breathing was silent and wholly controlled, and there was no light that could reach and expose her. 

From the opposing rooftop Talia kept full view of Bryan Edwards’s hotel room, and with her so did Batman. He watched Bryan Edwards pace around his living room angry at someone on the other end of his phone. Talia would check his phone logs later. 

Batman stepped forward, closer to the edge of the roof. He put a finger to his ear like last time, “Target in sight.” Could it be that their missions would be intersecting? This made things all the more interesting. Did Batman being unable to spot her from a short distance mean that she was the superior skilled of the two? It would be rash to conclude it now, there was much more to test. 

Batman left the rooftop he’d unknowingly shared with Talia and used a grappling gun to help him reach the balcony to Bryan Edwards’s room. It hooked around the guardrails with the sound of metal scraping metal, announcing his arrival. Talia wondered what Batman’s goal was with Bryan Edwards since his strict moral code would mean that he would not be looking for the same thing as the League of Assassins.

At the sound, Bryan Edwards hung up the phone still irate. He kept it with him as he opened the doors that would let him onto the balcony. He stood with an air of superiority in the center of the space where he would be the most vulnerable, demanding that the perpetrator show themselves. Talia wondered if he thought himself so strong that he should not be concerned by someone who was able to approach from the balcony to his 26th floor suite, or if it had not occurred yet to him.

“Show yourself! Who's there?” Edwards demanded. There was silence when no response came, suddenly disrupted by the thud of metal boots hitting the floor of the balcony where Bryan Edwards stood. 

When Talia could not hear the conversation she knew she needed to shorten the distance between them. The hotel building had a sum of 31 floors, the distance of 4 floors, not including the one Edwards resided in, should be a short enough distance to remain unnoticed and still be able to learn of Batman’s plans. 

On the roof, Talia could make out the conversation better. Batman spoke quietly, making it more difficult, but the fact he was speaking at all so publicly proved that he had not noticed Talia. She could not stop her lips pushing up in delight at the fact. Nothing Batman was able to gather from the suddenly fearful and quaking Edwards was anything Talia was not already entirely aware of. 

The conversation concluded, and Bryan Edwards receded back inside his suite, quick to lock all the doors and shut himself in his covers. When Talia saw Batman move to her rooftop once more she hid herself in the shadows. Moments after the tall man arrived, another joined them on the rooftops. 

“What did you learn?” Batman asked the newcomer before his colorful clothes had become entirely visible. 

Robin pulled out a closed hand, then pulled out a finger at each point he was able to gather. “Well first off, nothing he did seemed very legal.” Batman nodded, a small smile threatening at the edge of his lips at Robin's disparaging tone. Robin paused to reflect on the conversation he had been electronically spying on. “He mentioned a name, Ekin Tzu, right?” Batman nodded in confirmation, “We’ve definitely heard his name somewhere.” Robin’s face scrunched in thought, then suddenly realization came to him, “He was the guy leading the Lucky Hand Triade!” 

“That’s right.” Batman said, pushing Robin to conclude what that could mean. 

“But they’re just weapon smugglers, why would they be interested in genetic research?” Robin questioned, his counting forgotten and a hand coming to his chin. He frowned, “Maybe they decided to change job outlooks?” He shrugged when he couldn’t seem to come to a conclusion. 

“They’re working for someone else.” Talia decided to supply. It was risky, but Talia was confident she could conclude the mission even with the added target by Batman if she had managed to so easily evade him for so long. 

The duo turned to Talia, surprised, and in an unintentional synchronous movement pulled out a bladed boomerang shaped like a bat. Robin didn’t recognize Talia when she stepped into the light, and she hadn’t expected him to. 

The other was not surprising either, “Talia al-Ghul.” Batman addressed her. 

Her face pulled with self-satisfaction of being known by the one person Talia ever thought may be capable of besting her. “Bruce Wayne.” She returned. His shoulders tensed at the address, but seemed only minimally surprised. He’d done just as much research on her as she'd done on him. “I see you really don’t forget faces.” Talia wasn’t sure what pushed her to play so coy. She was not to be seen. Yet here she was seeking out attention that should be unwanted. 

“Um, hello?” Robin spoke up looking between her and Batman confused. “Isn’t this the part where we kill her for knowing who we are?” He asked his mentor, incredulously. 

“Robin, we do not kill.” He said it sternly, but with the fatigue of having already had this conversation many times. 

“Whose we, old man?” Batman gave him a sharp look for the duration of time he felt comfortable leaving Talia out of his sight. It wasn’t very long. 

“Why are you following us?” Batman turned away from the insubordination that would have gotten any member of the League of Assassins immediately killed. 

“I should ask you.” Talia knew that Batman would shadow her every movement now as long as she remained in Gotham. It wouldn’t matter so long as he only learned her true purpose after the fact. 

“You’re here to stop Lucky Hand from impeding on Edwards research.” Batman concluded just as Talia had wanted him to. Unbeknownst to him, Lucky Hand’s Ekin Tzu was working to further the League's prerogative. But they would never answer as such regardless of integration technique since the Luck Hand Triade was not aware of truly controlling them. “What does the League of Assassins want with Bryan Edwards?” The threat of Batman was not that he may be able to out maneuver Talia in a physical fight, even if he had trained under their own tutelage for many years. The threat of Batman was his intellect, even with incorrect information he could land at the correct conclusions if Talia was not expertly careful. 

“I’m afraid that’s confidential.” Talia smirked. Letting the conversation conclude, Talia stepped back into the shadows to let her tracks disappear. 

“Wait.” Batman called suddenly. Intrigued, Talia turned to him, head tilting. “We have a similar goal.” Talia doubted that to be true. Robin looked baffled by Batman sharing the following information with an untrusted third party, and it served only to interest Talia more. “One of my informants learned that there was a hit placed on Edwards, I am currently in the process of searching for whom it may be.” 

Talia made sure her external expression didn’t display any of the amusement the statement gave her. “You’re requesting my assistance on your detective work?” She asked blandly, letting herself sound bored and uninterested to see how much Batman wanted her cooperation. 

Robin’s head bobbed between the conversation he was witnessing, but he tried to speak up again, “I’m just as confused as her. I thought you said-” Batman cut him off. 

“You have valuable information on the matter, and since this is a time sensitive case it would be most beneficial to both parties involved that we combine forces and work together.” 

“You didn’t let Batgirl work with us, but now you’re asking her?” Robin argued. “What happened to ‘we work alone’? You don’t bend your rules for justice, or whatever, but you bend them for a pretty lady? Next thing you know you’re gonna be bending-”

“Robin.”

The child huffed and crossed his arms. “You’re just angry because you know I’m right.” Batman gave him a look of exasperation. 

Talia watched the exchange. As a child Talia had often been sent on missions with a supervisor who was meant to lead her and correct any on-field errors or missteps, but they had never been done with such leniency. If she were to be the next Demon’s Head there would be room for errors in any area of her work. Robin apparently did not share equal aspirations.

Talia considered the offer, and let it show in her expression knowing that Batman was awaiting a response. If he thought her expressions slipped away from her, then he would expect her to keep less secrets from him. Talia was curious to know what it took to earn the Batman’s trust and why it had been her that had gained it and not the other Gotham vigante. What would the repercussions to her, inevitably, breaking this trust be? 

The mission was meant to be easy, one she could have handed off to a qualified subordinate. It was purely by the location that Talia had taken up the mission for herself. 

“Should I decide to offer you my partnership, know that it is temporary and I will offer no more information that I would like to.” Talia scrunched her brows with seriousness, and frowned with a small displeasure. Her curiosities would not be answered if Batman were to begin prematurely suspecting her intentions. 

“I understand.” Batman nodded. 

Robin looked displeased, “This is not happening.” He said exasperated, pulling on Batman’s cloak. “Hero rule 1: You don’t work with the bad guy. You know why? Because they’re bad.” 

Batman ignored him, “We should stay where Edwards is still in view, in case the attacker comes.” He offered. 

Talia nodded, putting on a face of seriousness. “Given the positioning of the suite, I think that rooftop is a better vantage point.” She suggested the one they both chose less than an hour ago. 

“I agree.” Batman walked to the corner of the rooftop, about to leave, “Will you be able to get across on your own?” He asked her. 

“Gag!” Robin called, already half way through the air. 

Talia laughed, “I’ll manage.” 

They reconvened at the designated original rooftop. From here there was an intersection where you could see entirely into the suite without any billboards or buildings obstructing the view. They stood the small measure away while they shared information. Talia would not admit that she could feel the air around them stir at every micro-movement he made, and she certainly would not admit it made her uncomfortable in a way she did not entirely dislike. 

Batman did not offer Talia information she did not already know and Robin did not conclude anything Talia had not already deeply considered. To not deepen the seed of distrust yet, Talia offered information she was certain Batman already knew or would eventually conclude. She played the part of wanting “Bryan” to stay safe, and said sentences she thought would come from someone so self-righteous that they would break the law and call it good while calling bad others who did the same. 

It was another hour in that discussion, until Robin suggested they search his apartment while he was asleep and would be none the wiser of it. It would be the perfect cover up for Talia if she was seen sneaking in there in the future. When she expressed her agreement, the hesitant Batman agreed as well, and the prideful Robin groaned at his mentor.

The suite was easy for the three of them to infiltrate. The interior was bare as most hotel rooms were with an artificial look of hominess. Bryan Edwards had scattered many of his things around the room which provided enough reason for Batman and Robin to search through them. Talia uses the time to memorize the layout to save her time when she’d come back to conclude her mission later. 

At arrival she had adorned a pair of one use gloves, citing her finger prints, Batman had only nodded in understanding while Robin rolled his eyes. Neither found a problem with it. Bryan Edwards’s computer, in which his files were stored, was on the couch. There were jackets and coats sprawled on the lounge chair. Talia searched in their pockets to feign curiosity in the area. Making herself busy in the room until it was time to leave, then when it was Talia took her gloves off and in a manner of distractedness she never had on missions and pretended to unknowingly discard them in the suite garbage. It was a sign of their presence there which would be a danger and unwanted. Talia would recall the incident later when Batman could no longer shadow her and go back into the suite to complete her mission and retrieve the gloves before morning. 

“I estimate there is not much more left that we can hope to find tonight.” Talia says once they returned to the initial rooftop. 

Batman nodded, “It’s time we continue our patrol as well.” Good. Batman reaches into a pocket in his belt and pulled something out. “You must have been distracted.” He commented, showing the formerly discarded gloves. 

Talia’s surprise at the finding was not feigned. Had he seen her throw them out and gone back to fetch them? That would require that Batman be paying much more careful attention to her actions than she’d originally anticipated. He would be more inclined to be suspicious of her intentions now, clearly having known that Talia was not so careless as to leave traces behind. 

“I hadn’t even realized.” She lied. 

Robin scoffed, “Even I know not to do that.” 

Talia had known the risks of exposing her presence to Batman but she’d done it anyway to test just how capable he was. And he’d proven to be more so than she’d been expecting. If Talia is unable to complete the mission before her allotted time period and the Demon’s Head was to find out how the failure came to be, Talia could imagine the type of repercussions she would face. A small regret was beginning to creep into Talia at her earlier decision. The negligible change of failure at the simple mission had now increased. But Talia was the most capable the League had to offer, no matter the chance of failure, she would not succumb to mediocrity.

Robin and Batman bid their farewells, stating their intention to return here tomorrow to continue their detective work. Batman and Robin pull out their individual grappling hooks and Talia watched them depart.

It was then that Talia had noticed it, nearly by chance. Robin’s grappling hook had snagged into itself, but Robin in his overconfidence had not waited for it to make purchase before jumping and following behind his mentor who was already airborne. 

Talia had no intention of stepping in. All her life she’d been trained to be the perfect assassin, the perfect killer. There was not a mission she had failed, or performed any less than expertly. She was never noticed unless she wished to be. She had perfect control of her accent, tone, inflections, expressions, body language, and knew about every region and the acceptable customs in each that she would never draw attention to herself. Talia always acted perfectly in par with how she was expected to and how she expected herself to. 

But for some reason this time was different. The air around her seemed to push her to act, nonconsensually infusing its will that the city’s squire be saved from his own demise into her. Her legs moved before her mind commanded it. Her arms gripped the corner of the roof and the back of Robin’s collar before she ordered them to. And she was handing off the side of a dark building in the middle of Gotham Central, 45 stories in the air before she had thought about the consequences of doing so. 

Talia could not reasonably expect to land on the ground unscathed from a 45 story American building. And it would be unfathomable for a partly trained Robin to do so without sound equipment. Batman was locked into motion from the original rooftop to his destination and could not recourse without needlessly risking his fall as well. 

When Robin realized his previously imminent death had been stalled, he looked up at Talia, stunned and shocked. It did not take much effort for Talia to swing her arm that was holding Robin from death and tossing the young boy to safety onto the same rooftop he’d attempted to depart from. 

There had never been a time in any of her missions where Talia would have trusted any of her mentors or tutors to have done the same for her. If it had been Talia at the age Robin was, plummeting to her death well in distance of being caught, the Demon's Head would have received the report that his daughter and heir had failed the mission and died with no regret or remorse. 

Talia pulled herself onto the rooftop. Her heart was pounding. It wasn’t from fear, certainly, or physical strain. Her vision was beginning to spot. Talia forced herself to stand straight, and her face to remain neutral when Batman rushed to his protege. Talia’s stomach churned in unsettlement. Why had she done that? The wind sounded too harsh all of the sudden, and the scent of smog was overwhelming. 

[sparklingmineraltequila]

American Wasteland

Note: Super fucking late. I know I said that this was gonna be just them drinking and screwing but it descended into some super emotionally intense shit so please don't read if you're a minor or if you hate that shit

Warning: 18+ This is dark. Some EXTREMELY heavy description of physical abuse towards women, extremely unhealthy reaction of OC in regards to this abuse, Smut, drinking, smoking, swearing

No-one rides a motorbike who doesn't slightly want to die. It's not just the past few years of dealing with the scum scraped fresh off of Cell Block 1's floor that has led Rust to believe that. He doesn't need to see the Iron Crusaders' (and his own) track marks to know that every fucker here has a death wish; it's that low, churning engine rumble that tells him. Excitement often boils down to terror and you can't not care when your Harley's doing 100 down along the coast; a hurricane cooking up in the grey-blue of the Gulf. You'll die just swerving slightly. It's exciting. Rust sees that same excitement, the one of licking syrup off of the jagged edge, in Cassandra's eyes. Hell, it's why she fucks with him, both figuratively and literally. As she taps her fingernails on the sticky bar top, Rust can see that restlessness froth up, in her eyes; the way that they glaze over while she studies him. Cassandra's gonna make him fucking pay for it.

'You owe me, at least, a double,' she says, resting her forearms on the bar as she makes a show of arching her back and rolling the cracks out of her shoulder. Rust looks at her, unimpressed by her languid stretching,

'Those shorts show enough, as it is. Ain't no reason to be doing all that shit.'

'Jealous?'

Rust reaches for the Camels in the inside pocket of his leather jacket,

'Of these motherfuckers? Ain't no-one here that could handle that goddamn attitude. And for the smell outside, ain't no-one here handlin' their liquor, either.'

That earns a huff of a laugh for Cassandra,

'Let the poor bastards have some fun. Most of 'em are probably just trying to take a load off and relax.'

Rust sighs out a flood of grey and eyes her from the side; a cool, appraising look which Cassandra doesn't miss.

'What?' she asks, her head jutting forward slightly and eyes already narrowed, as if already anticipating the bite of his words.

'These are the same men that fuckin' feel you up, back at the club. These beers and shit is just what loosens 'em up.'

'That's just all men,' Cassandra says dryly, not even attempting to muster any indignation at the fact. A girl already resigned to nicotine stained callouses palming her tits and ass. How much do you value your body over rent? Where do you draw the line between the meat that courses with capillaries and nerves and life, and the meat that jiggles when a biker spanks it? Is it worth defining it? Rust knows that, for Cassandra, it sure as hell isn't. Shit, it isn't for either of them, or anyone at that. Sentient meat with electrical impulses tricking us into thinking that it actually matters if we put a gun in our mouth or not, next Tuesday. Rust gives another grainy, derisive scoff,

'Fair enough.'

'Plus, they pay rent. As long as they have the money, they can do whatever they want,' Cassandra shrugs while scraping at some gunk, on the bar, with her thumbnail. Neither of them look at each other.

'I thought we agreed that you weren't gonna bullshit me anymore, Cass.'

'I ain't bullshitting you.'

Rust's gaze moves from the beer taps to an ashtray,

'You goddamn hate it, Cass. I hate it for you.'

'I never said I didn't. But I ain't about to turn down a lap dance cause I've got morals. Shit, Crash, you think I'm that much of a kid?'

Rust can see the way she finishes with a smile and licks the inside of his cheek to prevent his own faint smirk; as if it's some depressingly fucked up inside joke that the two share.

'I am pretty good at pretending that it turns me on, though. Ain't I?' Cassandra says, leaning her side against the bar top with glint in her eye that Rust thinks looks far too much like baiting.

'Keep talkin' like that and you're only gettin' a single.'

'Yeah, that sounds like a fucking admission to me.'

Rust knows why she does this shit; he's seen it enough in the smoky, post-sex haze of their trailer-floor bedroom. Their bodies sticky to the touch, Rust festering in a pit of self-loathing, that he now doesn't even attempt to claw out of, and Cassandra, toeing the line between humour and cruelty, in a desperate attempt to cover up how fucking exposed she is to him. It acts as a way to convince herself that she wouldn't let him hurt her. They both know she's lying. Beneath a nicotine-yellow ceiling and the monotony of the squeaking fan, it's easy to pretend that they are what they present to each other; neither one of them has it in themselves to strip the other bare.

Cassandra is silent for a moment, too long a moment, so Rust bites,

'What?'

'So, I can't call you Ru-'

'No.'

'Not even when we're fucking?'

'Especially not when we're fucking.'

'It ain't like I'm gonna slip up.'

Rust nods to the bartender, uneasy with the raw territory that the conversation is quickly accelerating towards,

'Two fingers of Jameson,' he says, before turning expectantly towards Cassandra.

'A Budweiser and a double of tequila; lime and all that shit.'

The bartender gives Cassandra a slight arch of his brow, clearly unimpressed in having to get out the shot glasses in a place where the liquor bottle usually just stays on the bar top; anyone its owner until they pass out or their wallet runs dry. He acquiesces, though, satiated by having a girl like Cassandra in his bar. Cassandra sees it in his eyes, too: the moment where aggravation turns to lust. She's seen it often, as well as its inversion. The two things men know best, she'd told Rust once, after some fucker bit her shoulder during a lap dance, unable to stop jutting his hard-on into her as he'd called her a 'fucking teasing little bitch', Sex and Rage. So well, they often mix 'em up. Cassandra knows better than anyone else how to tree that line; girls in her line of work usually do. Turn that anger into libido by grinding on them well enough, or try to get hit in a place where you can't see the bruise too much. Don't want the customers to acknowledge that their domination of this body is as fucking pathetic as the last guy who payed to fuck her up. Bruises that belong to different men just don't carry the same degradation. You're a fucking punchbag, nothing worth actually beating into submission. Rust knows that's part of the reason that Cassandra has never bothered to cover up the one's he'd leave after they fucked: someone had finally deemed her worthy to stick around after the time ran up to teach her a lesson.

Rust turns to the bartender, deciding whether, with the coke that he took before chasing after Cassandra still pulsating through his capillaries, he should ignore the slobbering slack-jaw looks he was giving her. He's so goddamn exhausted, after all. Hell, he's already violated more CID regulations than he can count by even starting this shit with her but, then again, he's been in this fucking purgatory of bikers, meth and lukewarm liquor for 3 more years than he should so who's doing semantics?

'That Motel 6 across the lot still runnin',?

The bartender nods,

'As long as there're hookers and junkies on God's green earth.'

Rust lights another cigarette before saying,

'Finish your beer, baby. Then we head.'

The bartender miscalculates, misinterpreting Rust's biker leather as some sort of male cammeradery, and juts forward to ask,

'Hey man, after you're done, you mind tellin' me which room you leave her in?' his hunger glazing his eyes like it would an animal's.

Rust doesn't even have time to break his nose before Cassandra semi-lunges herself across the bar, only restrained by Rust's forearm as he tells her,

'Easy. Easy.'

Time and breath wasted, though, with the way Cassandra writhes against his grip, arm pointing into the bartender's face as she sneers,

'I'd give you two seconds, motherfucker, before your dick gets soft and you start crying to your momma cause it won't go up again, you dumb fucking piece of shit. Ain't even fucking man enough to spot an actual hooker.'

The bartender's face twists, as the insults spew out, and his own vitriol starts to froth up,

'Oh, so you ain't even smart enough to get paid for it? This son of a bitch just fucks you for free, huh? Shi-it, your daddy must've fucked you up bad.'

Rust hauls Cassandra out of the bar, as the pair of them continue to shout whiskey-spit slathered insults at each other, the violence of the curses slithering up from wherever they had hidden it with pills, liquor or sex, for the time being. The moment the bloody meat of catharsis presents itself, they turn into rabid dogs; heat, insect bites and all.

After body slamming the bar door to open it, Rust has to restrain himself from shoving Cassandra off of his chest as she unevenly places her feet on the asphalt, the heel of her cowboy boot twisting and making her stumble to her knees. Rust, still too furious with her goddamn attitude and the bartender's comments, doesn't even turn around as he strides towards the Motel 6,

'Get the fuck up and walk, Cassandra.'

Cassandra pushing herself up, the gravel still embedded in the soft flesh of her palms,

'Oh, so now you're fucking mad at me?!'

'What did I goddamn tell you?'

'To not call you Rust.'

'Shut the fuck up with that, right now.'

'Then, what?'

Rust doesn't look at her. Hell, he even quickens his stride,

'That you're gonna get yourself fuckin' killed with that goddamn mouth. You know the shit an angry man is capable of better than anyone else and you're far too fuckin' smart to be having pissin' contests with a bunch of liquored up assholes.'

It's harsh. Shit, it's a punch to the gut, Rust knows, but he's gotten to the point where he cares about Cassandra way too fucking much to let her be this goddamn stupid when he's around. She knows that, ashamed of her own naivety in thinking that she could ever protect herself from a man who wanted to hurt her. Rust glances at her,

'I get that you're angry, Cass. Don't let it make you a dumbass.'

'Anger is the only goddamn thing that has ever kept me safe. Angry women are the only people who have ever kept me safe.'

Rust clenches his jaw but knows that she's right and finds a lingering sense of relief that she didn't include him, on that list.

Even more so when she has him on his back on their motel room mattress. Rust knows it's goddamn selfish and twisted to be grateful for Cassandra's hard-earned cynicism, won from the sharp edge of male entitlement, but it keeps her fucking safe from him. Ironically, when they fuck is the only time that she doesn't look at him with a tinge of that silent, gnawing desperation. No, not with the way that she's moving on top of him, now; tits pushed up in that white lace bra, strands of hair getting stuck on the slick bottom lip of her open mouth. After Cassandra had desperately scrambled to get out from underneath him, shoving his shoulders down as she'd promised,

'Please-I'm sorry-It'll feel good. Just let me.'

An inversion for both of them, as they slowly find their rhythm; the bed's awkward creaking a deep contrast with the pure fucking heat in their held stare. Rust doesn't know what to do with his shit but lie back and try not to come just from the way she looks at him. Ever since being undercover, sex has been another convoy of power and domination; violence with just the same amount of blood and spit. Sex has never been an essentially good thing for Rust, not until he met Claire. For a couple years it was, now it's just become an amalgamation of proving how much of a sick asshole he is to the rest of the Crusaders and a reminder of the lurid hubris that led to his daughter's death. To be forced back onto this mildew infested mattress, and have a girl as beautiful as Cassandra take care of him, makes Rust want to either vomit or cry. But he lets her, he knows she needs this shit. Let her feel in control for 5 goddamn minutes of her life, Rust thinks, as Cassandra deeply rolls her hips down as he lifts up. An in adverted moan escapes from both; skin starting to gloss over with exertion. They both attempt to inculcate some of that violence they both need so badly: Cassandra scrapes her nails down his chest and forearm, while Rust reaches that very forearm up to grab her throat, his other hand forming yet another bruise on her hip.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck,' Cassandra whimpers out, as she stares down at Rust who reaches the hand that's on her thigh to grab his Camels; desperate for a goddamn anchor. As he lights one, he holds her there by the throat. Cassandra stares down at him, her body trembling with pleasure but her gaze steady.

They don't kiss.

[lawofangie]

Hello. I just saw your post about your manifestation journey while struggling with depression and I’ll probably just be another rant about “how difficult it is to manifest”, but honestly I just want to talk a little bit.

I’m at work right now. I’m a trainee in a law office and my relationship with my boss is deteriorating gradually.

While I was at school, I would always think that I would be happier at a job, because I like to feel useful and competent. But now that I have a job, I just feel miserable.

I already received complaints twice about “being distracted” and “not doing my best”, which came as shocking because I’ve been doing my best. I have two bosses and while one looks like she really appreciates me, the other one might be the contrary.

I always fails to do what she wants me to do.

So I have been having really tiresome dreams. I had one where they asked me to type a document and after a while it turns out it was a “you are fired document” and asked me to sigh it.

They laughed and said that “I wasn’t doing enough” and “I wasn’t attending my classes at college” which I WAS but it didn’t matter.

I actually can’t imagine my life better. It’s like my mind just blocks it from me. I feel like I can’t delude myself even if that’s what I want the most.

I really want to just escape and live happily but I just feel trapped and miserable. I think I can predict what you are going to advice me but…I just don’t know what to do. I’m scared.

this is actually kind of relatable. i've felt similarly at many points in my life, i struggled to function, i thought external things would make me happy, applying the law was difficult. i couldn't imagine my life any better either. i understand where this is coming from, i'll try to give less generic advice, but i'm going to be brutally honest, and, this still won't be anything special. its important to remember that regardless of what i say here, manifestation is still just assuming you have your desire and persisting in that fact.

anyways, it honestly gets to a point where you have to realize that you're just wasting your time feeling trapped and scared. you're doing yourself a disservice. no one and nothing can save you, nor is anything or anyone going to. as unfortunate as your circumstances are, you have to do it yourself.

you have to take what you want and prioritize that above how you feel, anyone's made you feel, and how anyone feels about you. your life is meant to revolve around you and no one else. its YOUR life for a reason.

you SHOULD NOT waste the best years of your life being miserable, feeling like a failure, like a victim, like you can't change, like you're trapped like this forever when that's completely illogical. everyone and everything changes. people change in age, appearance, personality, sexuality, preferences, etc. it's physically impossible to be incapable of change unless you're not alive. people change all the time.

you genuinely do not have the time to be so self loathing and miserable, not when you're going to literally grow old one day. and according to those who've made it there already, that day comes fast. do you want to look back at your life at 80 and see what you wasted it doing? when all this information was right in your face? when all you had to do was take a chance and have some faith in yourself?

changing yourself isn't impossible, you're just too scared to assume anything good about yourself, perhaps because you've gotten so used to being miserable. "changing yourself", by the way, just so we're clear, simply means to assume something new about yourself. for example, you already believe you are a failure, and to change would be to simply assume you're successful. that's quite literally it. you just believe in something without physical proof, that's assuming. we assume all the time. you're just assuming about yourself now. the law is extremely simple to utilize, but it's the simplicity that leads to people overcomplicating it themselves.

also, delusion is, by definition, a false belief that is resistant to change, even when presented with evidence that it is not true. an assumption, by definition, is a belief that is taken as true without proof or evidence. you need to realize the difference here. we are telling you to assume, not to delude yourself. we are promising you that the "proof" comes after you've fully accepted it as true. we're not telling you to actively deny something despite accepting it as true. what would be the point in that? if we're telling you that your assumptions, aka the things you believe to be true without proof manifest, why would we tell you to continue to accept something you don't want as true? does that make sense?

being delusional and making an assumption may seem similar in theory, but in practice, they are completely different. one is literally the result of a mental illness, the other is a very normal, very human behavior that we do every day. we make assumptions about ourselves, people, and situations. all. the. time. it seems like it's only a problem and called "delusional" when it's about yourself, and it's something good.

it's like being confident in yourself, believing in your abilities despite what others have to say about you. for example, you have a great confidence in a talent or skill, and the you believe that you will get better as you get older/more experienced/more knowledgeable, and you'll make it places and have great opportunities in the future. let's say some random person decides to insult you and say that you'll never make it anywhere in life. would it be "delusional" to not listen to them? to not let someone else dictate your future? or would that simply be having some faith in yourself and not letting others define you?

this is literally all we're telling you to do, believe in yourself even if your reality seems to be against you. don't fight it, just accept that the unfavorable isn't true and move on. continue to believe in yourself.

and besides, if any person successful to date operated with that "i don't see it so it's not true" mindset, they wouldn't have become successful, would they? would anyone accumulate any kind of success with a mindset like that? the people who have came from nothing and made it to where they were now, had an unwavering confidence in their abilities and the fact that they'd be something one day. despite what anyone's told them, or tried to project onto them, it didn't get through to their unwavering sense of self.

the point is, we are promising you something. all it takes is for you to have some confidence in yourself. to quit hurting yourself. is that so hard?

anyways, the point of manifesting is when you change yourself, the things in your external reality change.

assuming is easy. believing things to be true without proof is easy. you just have to get comfortable with the fact that you need to change before anything changes externally. again, instead of believing you are a failure, that you are trapped, you simply assume you are successful, and you are not trapped.

people also change their minds all the time, they grow to have a different opinion, they realize they were wrong, they want to give something else a chance, or without a reason, they simply change their mind. these things are not impossible, they happen all the time.

i'm saying this to say that manifesting isn't being delusional. to be delusional is feeling stuck and like things can't change, when they so clearly do, all the damn time. you're not special enough for the concept of change to not apply to you. for instance, you are certainly not the same person you were when you were 6 compared to however old you are right now. you changed, therefore you are capable of changing, and i proved it to you with that simple example.

you only feel stuck because you decided you are, you decided that you'll never be unstuck, and so you haven't been. the law is working, just not in your favor. everything you see in your reality right now, perfectly matches whatever you've assumed to be true. that is not a coincidence. it's important to remember that the law isn't a thing with feelings, it does not care about you or your situation. all it does is continue to operate. it's up to you to use the law's indifference to your advantage.

also, you seem to have a victim mindset. it's very obvious in the way that you try to explain yourself, that you were doing as you were supposed to, but it still 'didn't matter'. you're putting so many things (your job, your bosses, proving yourself) on a pedestal, over what really matters, which is yourself. do you even like your job? did you pursue something you were passionate about? because if not, then you have no business subjecting yourself to any kind of mistreatment, not when you didn't even want to be there in the first place. you should be putting yourself and your desires before even thinking about pleasing anyone or meeting any kind of requirement.

your own standards and requirements should come first. remember : you chose to work for them. you have a choice. you also need to remember that your bosses and colleagues are regular people. outside of work (and in the workplace if we're being honest) they have no kind of power over you. you shouldn't be letting such irrelevant people in your life have the power to instill so much fear in you, to the point where you're having literal nightmares.. about typing a document incorrectly.

also, about feeling useful and competent, that's something you have to decide about yourself. are you useful? are you competent? do you honestly feel this way about yourself? definitely not, which is why you're seeking validation from others. but at the same time, it is what's made you so miserable, because you're definitely not getting that validation. and any you get only gives you a short lived feeling of satisfaction. your opinion on yourself matters more than what anyone has to say. that's literally why confidence and insecurity exist. and either way, you still feel a certain way about yourself that outweighs anything anyone has to say about you.

here's another example, let's say you've been insecure about your looks from a young age. if one day, someone randomly tells you you're beautiful or they think you're pretty, is all the insecurity you've felt for years suddenly going to go away? or will your mind find reasons to reinforce the fact that you don't feel beautiful? and if someone confirmed your insecurities, saying you weren't their type, they didn't find you attractive, wouldn't you just justify that reaction in your mind since you feel that way about yourself already?

with that in mind, how much does anyone's words really matter? do the words of others honestly have any significance when they aren't reinforcing something you already believe about yourself?

your reality works in a similar way. whatever you decide to assume/ accept as true/ shift your awareness to/ decide is true/ feel is certain, your reality will reflect. as well as a bunch of reasons to continue believing whatever it is is true. the law is very indifferent and has no bounds. it does not care about your feelings, your specific circumstances, and so on. that's why i'm telling you, you only feel these ways and experience the things you do, because you decided you were. this goes for being miserable, being stuck, feeling useless, feeling incompetent and living in fear. there are no exceptions.

so, with all that said, what do i suggest? first off, you need to practice being secure in yourself. work on being confident in yourself first, then work on your self concept. i say "confidence" as in feeling secure in yourself within the 3d. so, your looks, your body, your social skills, your physical skills, etc. because "self concept" has to do with having confidence in your manifestation abilities. find a helpful method that works for you, like affirming, visualizing, scripting, rampaging, or just simply deciding something new about yourself and accepting it.

self confidence has to do with things like liking yourself, being your own validation, having optimistic thoughts about yourself, and self efficiency. you can't care about what others think, you have to put yourself first, and you can't let anyone dictate your future. be selfish. the only thing that should matter is you and how something makes you feel. nothing bad comes from putting yourself first and not worrying about others.

once you feel confident in yourself, or even while working on your confidence, practice using the law. you could start by manifesting something small, something specific that would prove to you that you can manifest, then work your way up. manifest bigger things or just a large quantity of things, just to prove to yourself that there aren't any limits. remember, manifesting is just assuming: believing something to be true without proof. i mean that in the most literal, simplest way possible. like the example of success i used earlier.

once you've proven to yourself that manifestation is indeed real, play around with it. also, work on your self concept. decide that things always go well for you, that you deserve good things, you're the creator of your reality, learn to mentally reject unfavorable things in the 3d, and so on. this is what i would do if i were you.

i know this was kind of long, but i hope you understand my words and find them useful. feel free to dm me or send another ask if you have anymore questions. 🩶

[hugsandchaos]

I love all of them! Thank you for sharing them with me, they’re so fun to think about!

😆 Dash was mesmerized seeing Phantom fight for the first time. He made it look so easy, to the point that it almost looked like he was dancing a few times! Unfortunately, Dash didn’t get to say anything since Phantom left too soon.

----

I’m assuming you’re referring to the abandoned observatory, so correct me if I’m wrong. The observatory is a little ways away from the town, so Danny gets his privacy. He’s been fixing up the place in his spare time, starting with the room he chose as his bedroom, and it actually looks really good compared to the rest of the place! He only lets Dash in after he trusted Dash not to judge him since he has some glow in the dark stars on the ceiling and a few other space related stuff that he didn’t want anyone to judge him for. Especially his bed, which kinda looks like a nest.

Dash thinks the room is very nice! And he likes the nest-bed, he thinks it’s very cozy.

Danny doesn’t want to feel like he’s taking advantage of anyone, which is part of the reason why he refused his offer. Also because he’d just gotten comfortable in his haunt place. He didn’t want to abandon it so soon!

----

Danny really didn’t want to admit it, especially since this was basically a nice version of his bully, the one who made him eat underwear, but he ended up having this discussion with them anyways.

----

I imagine something pretty similar, except it’s not so much as Danny developing social skills, it’s more of helping him regain his confidence since the Incident. The Incident that Danny won’t tell him about, but he got that incision scar on his chest from somewhere.

On a similar note, he also helps him talk to the rest of the team. He knows that Danny has trust issues for a reason, specifically ghost hunters and other ghosts, so he likes to just hang around in the background when Danny talks to them incase Danny needs his help.

----

Oh my gosh, that’s so sweet! I imagine that Danny hadn’t had many massages before, if at all, and I’m specifically imagining a back massage right now.

Danny had never had one before, and he was a little uneasy at first because he didn’t know what to expect, but once Dash started working on it, that boy slowly started to melt! He tried not to melt at first, which was mostly a reaction from not being able to relax so much, but in the end, he either nearly fell asleep or actually fell asleep.

I’m a huge fan of the idea that ghosts can purr, so I love to think that either he can purr in both forms and was as loud as a motorcycle engine, or only purrs in ghost form and still purred like an engine.

----

Some of my own because you’re a cool person who shared a cool thing with me, and now I’m legally obligated to share back

Danny loves to make playful jabs at Dash. One of my favorite ones is that when Dash lost a tooth even though he was past that point, Danny either full on laughed or just smiled and said “Welcome to ghost puberty, Dash”.

Cujo is… indecisive about what he thinks about them dating. Some days, he’s happy! His boy (Danny) has a boyfriend! A mate! One that gives scratches and plays with him! Other days, he’ll start barking and try to come between Danny and Dash because Danny is his boy! Stop trying to romance him! Who does this other boy think he is, trying to kiss the Prince of the Infinite Realms?! Danny thinks it’s hilarious, Dash is sad that he suddenly lost Cujo’s approval for no apparent reason.

Their relationship honestly reminds me of Jack in Maddie. Dash is a big sweetheart, figuratively and literally, and he either sleeps holding a teddy bear or Danny. Danny’s the one who’s usually “in charge”, so to speak. You know the whole “I’m afraid of my partner” thing where they’re not actually afraid afraid, but they know better than to cross them. Dash is “afraid” of his shorter boyfriend, and to be fair, he can be pretty scary.

halfa dash au but Danny x Dash

@hugsandchaos I thought of this now it won't leave my mind.

All I'm seeing is the reaction Dash's friends when they find out Dash is dating Danny.

No the thought of their reaction of seeing hickeys and hand marks on both Danny(bottom Danny supremacy) and Dash is not what inspired this.

im sorry for saying this but I really needed to get this out my mind and I wanted to know what you think about this then after that I can erase this post.

[vapolis]

Hiii. Not a criticism or anything, just that i laughed at your post about the new IF and people asking why they can't leave them and you're so right because that's so me. I hate horrible people doing horrible things, and it makes me so mad. However This is fiction, and i can handle a little MC being pathetic and sitting in filth as long as it's not for fucking 9 chapters because I've read books like that and wondered okay....

The fuck isn't this supposed to get any better for us? Isn't this the main character why the fuck are they just being pushed down every chapter. 💀

I never want an mc that's overpowered or just great at everything and who everyone loves. It can get boring and personal growth is beautiful in books look at my Merc falling inlove while they lose their mind.

but fuck me have i seen IFs where I'd rather read a book about a mc being literally tortured physically while having people who care for them after and found it more relaxing to read than an MC that's just getting emotionally dragged without so much as them saying anything for 6 chapter's and the whole RO cast is just straight trash people treating them like hot garbage and mc just takes it. 😭😭

The contrast is funny to me. I can handle high fantasy brutality with the chance at revenge, but give me an emotional scene of MC being manipulated, and i want to stab the other RO.

I def get what you mean and I personally am not a big fan of emotional torture porn for the sake of torture porn. there's a reason mc can't leave their partner in this new IF from the start but it will be an option down the line (not 9 chapters in for sure).

I'm more interested in the growth of it and writing morally grey characters and a mc that's not nice themself. they can be certainly but it's not in their nature anymore due to the fact that they've known this life that spits people out for too long to still be starstruck or a doormat that takes whatever people dish. :)

[bloodyinkandquill]

Valk x Reader

alright got permission from the requester to just do general hcs, i woke up 4-5 hours before my alarm because we’re having a late start day due to the snow, don’t feel as shitty mentally but i’m still not doing great, reasonably

- You weren’t entirely sure how you ended up dating one of the Inpherno’s most famous idols, who is also a demi deity and technically a prince, but hey you aren’t complaining

- Valk is an incredibly sweet partner and an overall very loving guy, he always lets you know just how much he loves and adores you, wether through actions or words, he can be super cheesy about it but it’s incredibly sincere and loving, so even if you roll your eyes at how sappy he’s being you love the way he treats you

- He is an incredibly touchy guy, he is constantly touching you, holding your hand, giving you hugs and kisses, cuddling, bumping horns with you, just any way for him to touch you really, since he’s very likely shorter then you he’s usually little spoon or he just lays on top of you, he’s surprisingly light honestly, unlike Dom he loves when you touch his wings, they’re small and sensitive but it’s an intimate and trusting thing for him to let you touch them, so if while you’re cuddling you pet his wings he literally melts

- He sends you those cheesy videos of two cats doing something loving or even just sitting next to each other that have the caption ‘us<3’, he sends you so many of those it’s not even funny at this point, if one of the cats is an orange cat he always calls being that one, he is very orange cat coded

- He uses those embarrassing over the top pet names for you, you groan and light heartedly swat at him but he just laughs and keeps calling you them, if you retaliate you end up in a war of who can call each other the more embarrassing couples pet name, Dom just looks exhausted by it

- Speaking of Dom you obviously get to know him more, you can tell the differences of the brother’s personalities a lot clearer, but you also see their real personalities not their stage ones, he’s totally chill with you since you make his brother happy but you did get some serious shovel talk when your partner first introduced you to his brother

- Valk unsurprisingly loves karaoke, it’s probably his favorite date night activity, he doesn’t mind if you can’t sing you’re doing the thing he loves, and besides half the fun of karaoke is sucking absolute balls at it, if anything he’s the one ruining the fun being a professional trained singer, but it’s nice to have a private room where you let loose, maybe have a drink, eat some like ice cream parfaits and sing out music like maniacs

- Other dates you two usually do are nice fancy dinners, or nights in gaming, he can and will kick your ass at whatever the equivalent of Mario Kart is, maybe also going to an arcade together, unfortunately most of your dates are in their home or yours because he gets recognized in public, he can to some extent to undercover and make himself less recognizable but it only works so well, you promise him you don’t mind you knew what you were signing up for by dating him

- His love language is yes. He basically falls into all of them, he may slightly prefer some over the others but for the most part he shows and feels loved by all of them, so whatever yours is he’s absolutely fine with, he feels loved regardless and can love you regardless

- His work hours are so inconsistent it’s crazy, sometimes you have two weeks of him barely doing anything other days he and Don have to go into the studio at 5 am, but between it all he reminds you just how much he loves and treasures you, sending you long winded texts about how much he adores you, any and everything about you

- If you’re insecure about anything about yourself he’s saying the most loving and sweet things about it till you want to cry over how amazing he’s being towards you, you feel inferior sometimes seeing as you’re dating him who has so many fans and people who’d kill to date him, but he just reminds you how much he loves you and that there’s no one else in the entire Inphinity he’d rather be with

- Meeting his grandpa was stressful to say the least, not only is he the legal guardian of your lover, he’s a literal god, and your king, so that was not a good time you were incredibly anxious but it went well and eventually it became less scary to see Firebrand

- On the other hand it never became any less scary to see any of his siblings, you see them a lot less so never can really get used to them, the family dinners Firebrand hosts once or twice a year are like a game of mental chess, but Valk is by your side the whole time reassuring you and comforting you, his family isn’t so scary when you get to know them, you disagree but you aren’t saying that

- You call him Mic/Microphone, that’s his name so why wouldn’t you? Valk is just his stage name, you also call Dom by his real name Meg/Megaphone, only a handful of demons have the permission to call the brother’s their real names so it’s nice

i self ship with both flipside brothers so this was a nice break to write, i’m fucking starving right now i’ll probably make myself some breakfast here soon, anyways hope you enjoyed adios