#there is really comfy wind right now

[fatal-fun]

Golden hour, golden light

The type that lets my dreams take flight.

Laying calmly with eyes closed

I smile for i have no foes.

I drink in the sun like liquid gold

Using my thoughts as its mold.

I guide it to the form i wish,

Patient and calm like catching fish.

The soft sweet wind caresses my mind,

And i revel in the peace i find.

When stuck in the unbearable heat,

No ideas can be complete.

Stop and listen to earths masterpiece,

The melody that will never cease.

Even the slightest consolation,

Can help us through the endless rotation.

Breath in the sun, the birds, the air,

For they at least will always be there.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 5 (part one)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 4.8k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

Sometime in the night, you woke up shivering.

You didn’t typically sleep naked, you usually opted for something oversized and flannel, choosing comfy over cute everytime. You had taken off your clothes just to tease Rafe, and fallen asleep with a triumphant smile on your face, now you were shivering so hard your teeth were rattling.

After pulling on a t-shirt and sweats, you settled back in bed, but sleep escaped you. You tossed and turned thinking about the look on Rafe’s face when you took your clothes off in front of him, the way he was squeezing the pillow in his arms so tightly you thought it might pop. He kept his distance, didn’t push to stay or snap at you, even though you were giving him every reason to. It was a stark contrast to the tone in Tom’s voice when you’d turned down his sleepover proposition.

Maybe Rafe had changed. There was something different about him, something softer. 

What felt like hours passed as Rafe occupied your mind and you still couldn’t fall back to sleep. You remembered you’d seen some sleepytime tea in the kitchen, so you got up and made your way to the door.

You almost tripped on him, stopping short just inches from stepping right on his hand.

Holding back a yelp, you looked down at the obstruction; Rafe, curled up with the pillow you’d given him, asleep in front of your door. The blanket from your closet was still folded at his feet, apparently he hadn’t intended on settling here for the night.

Something warm and bright flooded your chest at the sight of him. He so badly wanted to stay close to you that he hadn’t even made it down to the couch.

Ever since you’d known him, Rafe was like a storm, overwhelming and unpredictable. From the day you first saw him on the school bus, you made yourself a storm chaser, studying the clouds, looking for signs that the wind was about to pick up, hoping that someday the sky might clear. Looking down at him as his body rose and fell with peaceful breaths, his broad shoulders curled inward as he held the pillow with both hands, it occurred to you that maybe in the years you’d stopped chasing him, the storm had finally passed. These past few days, the faintest rays of sunlight were breaking their way through to your heart. Part of you worried you’d miss the thunder.

Unable to help yourself, you crouched low and ever so gently brushed his hair back from his forehead, adoring the little whistles that escaped his parted lips with each breath. He didn’t stir at your touch, sound asleep. Whatever activity he had busied himself with today must have really tired him out. You decided you’d make him a cup of tea as well, and maybe when he woke, you’d invite him to share it with you in your room.

You pulled the blanket up over him and padded excitedly down to the kitchen.

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A draft of cold air blew through the vent right next to Rafe’s head, stirring him awake. He groaned immediately, his hip bone digging painfully into the hard floor. It took him a full minute after sitting up and rubbing his eyes to realize where he was. Then it all came back at once, in flashes of you. Your eyes met his as you let your hair down, took your clothes off, climbed into bed, bid him goodnight and he - shit. He’d actually fallen asleep on the floor.

Rafe scrambled to his feet, embarrassment washing over him, and pain from the uncomfortable way his body had been twisted shooting up his spine. He turned slowly to see that at some point, your door had been opened just a crack. Excitement rushed through him, maybe he was reaching a bit, maybe he was delusional, but could opening the door have been your silent invitation for him to come back in?

Hesitantly, he reached out and pushed the door open a smidge further. His excitement dwindled when he saw that your bed was empty. He checked his phone, it was 3:22 am. Where could you possibly have gone at 3:22 am?

When five minutes passed, then ten, and you still hadn’t returned, he gave in to his greatest concern; that you were sleeping in someone else’s room. And even worse, that in your quest to find someone else to spend your night with, you’d stepped right over him. It was a knee-jerk reaction, but he didn’t want to wait around to find out if his theory was true.

He left the pillow and blanket behind, dragging his feet as he ambled down to the den.

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In the dim light of the kitchen stove, you boiled a kettle of hot water, quick to turn off the burner when it squealed with steam, afraid to wake up the whole house. While you waited for your tea to steep, you meandered out to the patio, picking up the furniture that had been strewn about and inhaling the crisp sea air. The hours after a big storm were always your favorite in the Outer Banks, Florida’s shore proved to be just as peaceful. Cast in darkness, you pulled your arms around yourself and looked at the stars.

After a few minutes, you returned to the kitchen, but the light above the stove had been mysteriously turned off. You smiled to yourself as you ascended the stairs carefully, carrying two mugs of hot tea, excited to tell Rafe your new theory that there was a ghost in the kitchen.

But when you got to your room, he was nowhere to be found. He’d left the crumpled pillow and bunched up blanket behind, assuring you that he really had been there just a few minutes ago, you hadn’t imagined it. Your heart dropped. Maybe he regretted falling asleep outside your room, maybe he was annoyed that you’d pulled the blanket over him like a child.

You suddenly felt stupid for bringing him tea, for thinking he’d wake with a sleepy smile and thank you for the gesture. You brought the tea to the bathroom sink and poured it down the drain, steam clouding the mirror as you looked back at yourself with shame. Of course he’d left. It was you, why would he stay?

Tears sprang from your eyes with no warning, and you were overwhelmed with the need to hug your sister.

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Carter slept soundly in her room, which was nearly identical to yours, aside from the piles of clothes and clutter she’d managed to accumulate in the three days you’d been here. Her room in your childhood home always looked like a bomb had gone off. You smiled affectionately as you climbed over the mountains of stuff. Her room was even colder than yours, so you reached around in the dark until you felt a large hoodie and pulled it over your head. 

She stirred as you got comfy under her covers, opening her eyes just enough to make out the fuzzy shape of you in the darkness.

“Y’okay?” She yawned.

“I’m fine,” you whispered. “Just missed ya.”

“Do you need to talk?” She attempted to sit up and look at you, trying to say something else, but you shushed her and guided her to lay back down.

Without argument, she snuggled into your side. With her calming presence so close, you finally fell back asleep.

You awoke a few hours later with her eyes focused on you.

“Jesus Christ, Car,” you jumped. “That’s so creepy.”

“You just looked so peaceful,” she held up her phone, showing you that she’d snapped a picture of you sleeping with your cheek squished against the pillow and posted it on her Close Friends story.

“Lovely,” you groaned, shuffling to get comfortable again.

“Why’d you come in here?” She asked.

“Sorry I woke you up.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” she assured you. “You can always come find me. You just looked kind of upset when you did.”

With a sigh, you turned to lay on your side, facing her.

Growing up, you’d have sleepovers in each other’s rooms all the time, laying in each other’s beds just like you were now, chatting and laughing until your mom came in and yelled at you to go to sleep. 

Right now, recreating your favorite childhood memory, was the happiest you had been all week.

“Some…things happened last night,” you told her reluctantly.

If she wasn’t awake before, she sure was now.

“Omg, some Tom things?”

“Kind of.”

“Uh-oh, what does that mean?”

“Nothing too bad, just kinda…weird,” you looked away from her, and she could tell something was off.

“Okay?” she said curiously. “You’re making me nervous.”

You took a deep breath and dove into the whole story. She had fallen asleep early in the movie and didn’t see how you cuddled up with Tom, so you started there. Her initial excitement at that part of the story quickly turned into outrage when you told her about the moment on the stairs.

“Wait, he was like, pushy?” She gasped. “Eww, I hate that!”

“I mean I guess he technically didn’t do anything, but it was his tone, ya know?” You explained. “Like he could’ve pretended to be fine sleeping on the couch to make it less awkward. Rafe didn’t seem to mind the idea...”

“Hold on, rewind. Rafe? Where does Rafe come into this?” She stopped you.

“Oh,” you swallowed. You hadn’t thought through how to tell her that part of the story. “He was down there when it all happened. And then his room was flooded so I gave him some bedding and…”

Part of you wanted to tell her everything; the way you’d felt like you were on the brink of starting something with him, and how you shut right back down when you saw that he’d left his spot outside your room so abruptly. The problem was, even though you knew you should, if you told Carter that Rafe had hurt your feelings again, she’d go off on him and it would only add gasoline to the fire of their rivalry. You were still hanging on to a tiny thread of hope, not really in the mood for a Classic Carter Rant pointing out all the reasons you shouldn’t be.

“...and then he slept on the couch.”

She nodded, “Oh. Well, did he say anything about Tom?”

“No,” you were grateful to get back to telling the truth. “He just asked if I was okay.”

“That was nice of him, I guess,” she conceded.

“You and Topper seemed pretty cozy last night,” you brought up, eager to change the subject before she asked more questions about Rafe.

“We’re always like that,” she waved you off.

“Does he always carry you to bed though?”

“Sometimes,” she shrugged.

The way you narrowed your eyes at her, she knew you weren’t buying her indifference.

“Ughhh what?” She groaned, pulling a pillow over her face to hide her blush.

“You and him,” you pulled the pillow from her face, “it’s for real this time.”

Carter huffed a dramatic exhale and stared up at the ceiling.

“I mean, you know how it is with him. It’s not, like, real.” You couldn’t tell if she was trying to convince you, or herself.

“Maybe it should be,” you said softly. “You’re not seventeen anymore, Car. Maybe it’s time for something real.”

She considered your words, scrunching her lips to the side, chewing on her inner cheek. 

It must be getting serious, you thought, she’s never been quiet this long.

Like she could read your mind, she sat up suddenly, shaking the emotion off her face before reaching her arms above her in a theatrical stretch.

“Doesn’t matter,” she explained. “‘Cause I’m not doing anything with him until he gives up this whole Team Rafe thing anyway.”

“This whole what?” You sat up next to her, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Some dumb plan he’s trying. He thinks you and Rafe belong together or some bullshit,” she rolled her eyes.

Your mind raced. It made sense, thinking through Topper’s actions the past few days - the grocery store trip, the beer pong ruse, the looks between him and Rafe everytime you entered the room. The question was, did Rafe know that Topper was trying to get you two together? And more importantly, was he trying, too?

You snapped back to reality when you noticed Carter studying you, picking up on how you were suddenly flushed and nervous.

“Which is ridiculous, right?” She prompted you. 

“Y-yeah,” you mustered up as much certainty as you could manage.

“Right,” she agreed with herself, “so Topper better drop it soon.”

“Why, so I can be with Tom?”

“Ugh no, Team Tom is dead. RIP Team Tom.”

You laughed, “so if you’re not Team Tom, and you’re not Team Rafe, who-”

You didn’t even have to finish the question.

“Team you,” she said. “Always.”

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When you and Carter emerged from her room, you could already hear the chatter of everyone in the kitchen, making you immediately nervous to see Rafe. You tried to think of something clever to say to him, like a shield protecting you in case he approached you first.

“Nice sweatshirt,” Carter laughed.

“Huh?” you asked. Before you thought to look down and see what she meant, the door at the far end of the hall opened, and Tom stumbled out. This was the latest he’d woken up all week, usually beating everyone else to the sunrise and going on a run.

“Sleep well?” Carter asked him in a sing-songy, fake-nice voice.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

“It’s okay, I make a mean cup of coffee,” you said, in an actually-nice voice, trying to soothe the tension.

“Said I slept fine,” he grumbled back, not even meeting your eyes as he turned to descend the stairs.

“Wow,” Carter mouthed to you silently as you both made to follow him down to the kitchen. 

As you took the first step, Carter’s phone rang in the distance, you recognized it by the same ringtone she’d had since middle school.

“Be right back,” she told you, turning to get her phone from her room and leaving you to walk down the steps after Tom.

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Rafe poured himself another cup of coffee, stretching to work out the tension in his back from the uncomfortable couch cushions.

He tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes. All together he must’ve only gotten three or four hours. Most of the night was spent lying awake in the den, wondering if just a few feet above him you were in Tom’s bed. He pictured you laughing with your head on his chest, telling him about how stupid Rafe looked curled up on the floor like a child. He’d tried a few shots of whiskey to push the shame out of his mind and lull him to sleep, but it only proved to be nightmare-fuel.

As he downed the coffee like it was medicine, he turned to see the exact sight he had the nightmares about.

You came down the stairs with Tom, both of you with messy bedhead and groggy eyes, clearly not much sleep had happened. The cherry on top to his torment? You were wearing an oversized, men’s U of F hoodie that he could only assume belonged to your new boyfriend.

It was like his heart was digging its own grave, hopping into the dirt and calling up to him, “you did this to yourself, buddy!”

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You felt Rafe’s eyes on you immediately, but you couldn’t meet them. Maybe you’d just return to your original plan of ignoring him, and hope the last three days would fade to black in time.

Topper got your attention as you sat at the counter with a fresh cup of coffee.

“Nice sweatshirt,” he nodded.

You looked down, finally taking in the clothes you’d pulled on in Carter’s pitch black room. It was a U of F sweatshirt, and if it was on Carter’s floor, it must’ve belonged to Topper.

“Thanks, I knitted it myself,” you joked back.

“Maybe you could knit me one, I seem to have lost mine,” Topper smiled back.

You knew he wouldn’t mind if you held onto it a little longer, probably liking that Carter felt so free to share his clothes and not hide the fact that she had them in the first place.  

Topper, Tom, and Kelce sat at the breakfast nook, falling into a heated conversation about U of F’s chances at the NCAA tournament next year. Rafe sat with them, but his mind couldn’t be farther from basketball.

Yesterday when you came downstairs, he barely looked at you. Today, he didn’t stop looking at you. You felt more naked than you did when you’d stripped your clothes in front of him. You took several long sips of your coffee just to have something to do. Your body was overheating, his gaze wrapping around you like a thick, fur coat.

Then the coffee was gone too soon, and you feared without the distraction, you might break down and look back at him. Hyper aware that he was watching, you hopped off the stool and walked to the coffee maker, the conversation at the nook entertaining enough to draw everyone else’s attention, but not his.

As you poured your second cup, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, feeling a warm, brooding presence close by.

“You must be tired, huh?” Rafe drawled, stepping to your side and leaning on the counter.

“At least I got to sleep in a bed,” you still didn’t meet his eyes.

“Yeah, a couple of ‘em it seems.”

You frowned at that. His eyes zeroed in on the downward curve of your lips.

“How’d you know?”

He had no way of knowing you were just looking for him to explain why he left. You had no way of knowing that your vagueness just confirmed his biggest fear.

Rafe’s bottom lip jutted out as he nodded, muscles in his neck flexing with the motion. 

“It’s cool,” he shrugged, “just wonder if he knows you took your clothes off for me first.”

Whiplash. It always felt like whiplash with him. 

Mind going a million miles a minute, you tried to catch up to his words, stumbling over all the holes in his logic. When you finally got there, a slow, crooked grin bloomed on your face.

“So you were the ghost in the kitchen.”

That was so far from anything he thought you were going to say, he almost thought you were speaking a different language.

“Huh?” 

He was so gorgeously dumbfounded, it was delicious.

Puzzle pieces fell perfectly into place, the story of last night becoming clear in your mind. Rafe had woken up and looked for you in your bed, when he didn’t find you he assumed you were with Tom. And now, Rafe Cameron was jealous, for you. Maybe it was wrong, but after fifteen years of patient, unrequited love, you thought you deserved five minutes to mess with him.

“Nothing,” you sipped your coffee with a smirk, looking up at him through your lashes, making him wait. A long sip and a satisfied smack of your lips and finally, “so you saw my bed empty and put it all together, huh? You figured I slept with Tom.”

“Didn’t you?” He wondered, almost too quietly, like he was asking himself.

“What if I did? What would you do then?”

It was a long, dense silence. Your eyes stayed steady on his, willing him wordlessly: Say it. Say you’re jealous. Say that you want me.

His eyes however, couldn’t land in one spot, like your face was an equation he needed desperately to solve. You smiled ever so slightly, admiring how hard he was working for the answer. It was a new look on him. But then, when he seemed to find it, his whole posture changed and your delight faded. He pulled away coldly, one brief action completely snuffing out the spark between you, crushing it under his foot for good measure.

“Nothing.”

And there you were again, falling off that cliff, more mad at yourself for letting him convince you to jump than you were at him for pulling back. Leopards don’t change their spots, gazelles should know better.

Carter finally came padding down the steps, eyeing you and Rafe briefly before finding Topper.

“Top, that guy finally called me back!” She announced excitedly.

“Jet skis?” He guessed.

“Three! Ours for the afternoon!”

“Let’s fucking go!” He stood from the table and gave her a high five. “Knew you could talk him into it.”

“Talk who into what?” Sabrina butted in.

“We were trying to find some place to rent jet skis,” Carter filled her in, tripping over her words in excitement. “But since it’s Memorial Day weekend everybody and their mother is here trying to rent jet skis so everywhere we asked was either completely booked or charging a bajillion dollars. But I talked this guy down to like half his original price.”

“You’re so gonna kick business school’s ass, babe,” Topper lauded her.

She was too happy with herself to scold him for the corny nickname.

“We gotta be ready in like, ten, though,” she informed him.

“Oh shit, okay who’s coming?” Topper rallied, pointing at each person as he said “Jet skis? Jet skis? Little Carter, jet skis?”

“I thought we agreed you weren’t gonna call me that,” you reminded him, crossing your arms.

“More like you demanded, but say yes to jet skis and we’ll have a deal,” he teased. 

He put his arm around Carter so casually as she looked to you with hopeful eyes. For a moment, you pictured them married, Topper being the older brother you always wanted, and always kinda had.

“Deal,” you smiled at them affectionately.

“Yay!” Carter clapped. “Okay so that makes three, we need three more people, so it’s two to a ski.”

“I’m down,” Tom raised his hand from the breakfast nook. Carter almost pretended she didn’t hear him, but reluctantly said “Okay, who else?”

“Rafey boy? Jet skis?” Topper urged him, looking at him with the same knowing eyes as when he asked him to be your beer pong partner. 

It occurred to you that Carter hadn’t had any time to tell Topper she’d switched to team anti-Tom, in his mind the game was still on. Which is probably why his face dropped so low when Rafe said, “I’ll pass.”

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Nothing.

He’d meant it as a gift, but based on the look on your face when he said it, it seemed you took it like a curse.

If you really wanted to be with someone else, chose someone else over him, what could he do but sit back and watch? He certainly had no grounds to tell you he wanted you, that opportunity had passed years ago. He’d bow out gracefully, for you.

Plus, the feeling of seeing you come down the stairs with Tom, in his sweatshirt, was debilitating. He had never been good at handling difficult feelings, and that moment was the worst he’d felt in a long time.

But then you’d looked up at him like that, and maybe even flirted with him, and sent his mind spinning about whether you had actually slept with Tom at all. 

Sensing the storm clouds brewing in Rafe’s head, Topper pulled him aside once everyone had left the kitchen.

“Yo dude, why aren’t you coming with us?” Topper asked him. “This whole thing was a way to get you two together. Alone on a jet ski? Man, that's your play!”

“Nah I don’t think she wants me to make a play, man,” Rafe sighed.

“What are you talking about? You two were just practically making out by the coffee pot,” Topper said.

“Yeah, she was telling me all about how she hooked up with Tom last night.”

Topper laughed at that, his face falling slowly when he realized Rafe was actually serious. 

“There’s no way,” he shook his head adamantly. “Tom was in my room all night, he said Kelce snores.”

“She was wearing his fucking sweatshirt,” Rafe motioned mindlessly towards where you and Tom had come down the stairs, not letting himself indulge the twinge of hope he felt at Topper’s words.

“Bro,” Topper looked to the ceiling with an exasperated chuckle. “You’re down so bad.”

“It’s not fucking funny,” Rafe snapped.

“Oh my god, man, it was my sweatshirt.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed, inspecting the statement for any dishonesty. When Topper’s sincerity didn’t waiver, his anger turned into warm, prickly embarrassment. He felt like an idiot, getting so worked up when he didn’t even have a fraction of the facts straight. The smugly amused look on your face at his blatant jealousy suddenly made so much more sense.

“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbled, covering his shame with indifference, a classic Rafe Cameron move.

“What are you talking about?” Topper pushed. “You should be stoked. You saw them on the couch, she totally could’ve hooked up with him and didn’t.”

Rafe just shrugged, frustrating Topper further.

“Do you not want to get with her or something? Cause that’s fine but-”

“‘Course I do,” Rafe stopped him.

“Well you coulda fooled me,” Topper slapped his hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “Dude, this brooding shit isn’t getting you anywhere with her. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he heard himself say for the second time today.

“Y’know Rafe,” Topper shook his head, “I don’t think I’ll ever get you man.”

Join the fucking club, Rafe thought.

“Look, I’m gonna go jet skiing with our girls, you come join us when you come to your senses, okay?” 

With that and one final pat on the shoulder, Topper left Rafe alone in the kitchen, feeling like he needed something much stronger than coffee.

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The whole outing was doomed from the start. 

For such a flashy car, the interior of Topper’s Range Rover was far too small. Sabrina’s elbow nudged your arm as she dug frantically through her giant beach bag.

“Noooo I forgot sunscreen,” she whined. “I hate my life.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Tom has some,” you said playfully, trying to meet his eye.

“I don’t, sorry,” he shut you down without so much as a friendly glance.

You caught Carter’s eyes in the rear view mirror, both incredulous. He was gonna act cold towards you? The fucking nerve. Carter clearly shared your thoughts, eyebrows knit with rage as she scanned the back seat in the mirror. Then her eyes went wide and she reached out to grab Topper’s non-driving arm.

“Oh my god!” She exclaimed. “We forgot Kelce.”

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There was this one day, in the Fall of his senior year, that Rafe still thinks about all the time. 

You were driving him home from practice, as you so often did, and the sun was starting to set earlier, the last drops of summer fading away into a cool autumn. You had the windows rolled down, which he knew you’d been waiting to do for months, loving the chill in the air. The sunset was casting a glow through the window, and you squinted in its orange glow as you sang along to a song on a CD you’d burned. You were the only one in the world Rafe knew that still listened to CDs. 

“Why don’t you just put a playlist on shuffle?”

“I like to know what’s coming next.”

As you drove, for reasons he couldn’t explain then and still didn’t quite understand now, he thought about marrying you. 

It was completely hypothetical, and almost not even romantic. It was ridiculous really, you were seventeen and eighteen, and he was busy planning for college and all the sorority girls he was gonna hook up with. But for a moment, the thought of being married to you was the only thing in the world that made sense to him.

His mind was a storm, raging like hell, all the fucking time. But that day, for the length of that one song, it went completely quiet. He saw it clear as day; you, fifteen years older, coming through the door of your shared house and bringing all that glorious quiet home to him.

Now he was pacing the still damp basement floor, wishing like hell he’d said anything other than “nothing.” Wishing he could grab you and make you understand. If you were with Tom he’d have no right to do anything, but he might still burn this whole fucking house down. The feelings he’d pushed down that day in your car finally sprang forward, and suddenly nothing in the world existed except for you.

And Kelce, who came rushing into the basement, interrupting his anxious thoughts.

“Rafe, bro, they fucking left me!” Kelce told him, breathless.

Rafe held back a laugh at the image of Kelce chasing the car down the street like a lost puppy.

“Can you give me a ride to the dock?” Kelce asked.

“No,” Rafe shook his head, making a quick decision. “But you can give me one.”

(chapter 5: part two)

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a/n: part two of this chapter tomorrow!! I am quite literally running out of the house to go to work, so I may fuck up the taglist sorry I will fix any errors ! gotta go bbys, you can snack on this 'til I get back xoxoxo

[luveline]

Could you do a drunk cuddly Steve if you're feeling up to it?

When Steve comes home to you that night, you evade his hug. “Steve, you smell awful.” 

Steve flinches away from you. In any other moment, you’d notice how lovely he looks —there’s something special about the way he squints when he’s pissed off— but his smell is overpowering. 

“Sorry?” he asks, offended and confused. 

“You’ve got stuff all down you. What is that?” You try to be kinder. It’s not like he smells bad on purpose. “Do you need help?” you ask.

“What are you talking about?” 

“I’m gonna take your shirt off,” you say gently. 

His scowl relaxes. “You are?” 

“What is it, do you know? It doesn’t even smell like beer. It smells like death.” 

Steve doesn’t laugh at your joke, he’s not as smiley as you’d like him, but you suppose that’s the perils of telling him he smells. You grab the ends of his shirt and you pull it over his head, careful not to get the wet part on his face, and then you snag a packet of makeup wipes off of your vanity and pull on out to wipe down the skin near his heart that’s still shiny. 

“That’s nice,” he says, swaying at your touch. 

“Yeah?” You fold the wipe and rub him down. “I’m gonna put that shirt in the laundry. Get in bed, sweetheart.” You touch his face quickly. “Make yourself comfy.” 

You forbid his gross shirt to the laundry basket in the bathroom and take a moment to stretch. Steve, though drunk, isn’t doing his usual sweet brigade. You must’ve really offended him when you said he smells. You aim to put it right. 

“Sorry,” you say, pushing open your door again. Steve’s done as you told him to do, sitting on his usual side of your bed. “That was mean. You didn’t smell awful, just the shirt.” 

You climb onto the bed and kneel in front of him, stroking a perfect lock of hair back from his forehead. “Forgive me?” 

Steve winds his arm behind your back. He presses his face to yours, before his head falls into the curve of your neck, where it stays. 

“I’m sorry for being gross,” he says, heartily drunk.  

“You’re not gross, the beer just surprised me,” you say. 

It’s clear he drank more than he tipped, his movements wobbly, but his hand curling protectively behind you in a good effort. 

“Oh, hello,” you murmur, “this feels like forgiveness.” 

“Some asshole tipped beer on me, I’m sorry.” 

“Steve, it’s okay! Don’t say sorry, you smell just fine now.” You take a performative sniff of his hair. “You smell amazing.” 

He squeezes you and pushes you down into the bed. He has just enough wits about him to be careful about your head on the headboard, shifting over you, and pulling the blankets up to cover your shoulders. His naked torso presses against your arm, your chest and your stomach, his skin feverishly warm. 

“Do you think you can call me sweetheart again?” he asks strangely. 

“That depends, will it make you feel better?” 

He scoffs, which is more like him. “I won’t beg.” 

“No, you asked nicely enough the first time,” you say agreeably. 

When he leans back and pulls you into his chest, you feel forgiven for certain. Slowly, you let your nose skirt along the curve of his neck before kissing the shadow of his Adam’s apple. 

“Sweetheart,” you say, barely audible, “I love you.” 

He’s like an octopus from that point onward. You’re dragged flush to his front with your hand on his collar, his nose and mouth pressed to your forehead. He’s soft underneath you but not without muscle, a strong bicep behind your shoulders squeezing you securely even as he mumbles drunkenly into your skin. “Love you…” And finally, finally, he seems to recuperate from your accusation, “It’s weird when you don’t wanna hug me.” 

“I always do. It was purely olfactory related.” 

“Ol-what-ery?” 

“It wasn’t personal.” 

Steve squeezes you until you sigh. “It felt personal.” 

“It wasn’t. I just blurted it out. You smell really nice now,” you say, and he does, cologne and skin and sweat, too. 

“So you still love me?” he asks. 

“I just said I did, didn’t I?” 

He wrestles you with both great care and great clumsiness to his face for a tipsy kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth. “Can you tell me again?” 

You offer to say it a hundred times, but after twenty he’s snoozing into your shoulder, his thumb stuttering where it lays against your back. 

[theemporium]

“You’re shitting me, right?”

“Nope.”

“Max—”

“What?” 

“You have your own jet. How the fuck are you not a part of the mile high club?”

Max frowned a little before shrugging. “It isn’t exactly my priority when I’m on a plane, schat.”

There were many perks you learnt that existed as a Formula One driver after you found yourself in a relationship with two of the best drivers in the world. From invitations to countless exclusive events to brand deals with high-end designers, from travelling the world for their job to having a comfy paycheck to be the best of the best. It was a whole new world your boyfriends introduced you to, and it never failed to make you head spin no matter how long you had been dating them.

But the materialistic perks were some of the easiest to spot—the prime example being the fact Max had his own jet that he travelled in when he flew around the world for the different races.

It had been another one of those races that you were currently flying out to. It had just been the three of you for the long haul flight and the boys had been trying everything in their power to stay awake for a few more hours so they wouldn’t fall victim to horrendous jet lag by the time they landed.

You had decided to try passing some time with games. But UNO was quickly abandoned when Lando kept trying to wind Max up with ‘+4’ cards. And ‘truth or dare’ was a bit pointless when you were stuck in the sky. You didn’t really want to start a full ass game of Monopoly (or question why in loving fuck one of the boys brought it in the first place), otherwise you’d be fast asleep before either of them. And every round of ‘two truths and a lie’ lasted less than a few seconds because you knew each other well.

You were left with a game of ‘never have I ever’ but it slowly stopped being a game, and somehow became some weird competition between the boys to try to outdo one another. Which, to be fair, was very amusing for you to watch. 

Until Max had dropped the bomb on you and Lando that he had never had sex on a plane. Ever.

“But,” you paused before gesturing to the plane around you. “You have the perfect setting!”

“The setting is always a plane,” Max stated bluntly. 

“Yeah but usually you’re both locked in a little bathroom, trying to be quiet and not break anything because you’re literally fucking in a box,” Lando jumped in.

Max shot him a look.

“Hey, just talking from experience,” Lando said as he lifted his hands. 

“But you have the whole fucking jet to yourself,” you continued. “You could fuck as much as you please! In any position you want!” 

He raised his brows in amusement. “Thought about it a lot?”

“Yes,” you replied without a moment of hesitation. “You don’t think about fucking us on a plane?”

“It isn’t the first place my mind goes to,” Max confessed with a shrug.

Lando’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though he was lost in thought. “Do you wanna fuck us on a plane?”

Max paused. “Like right now?”

“We need to preoccupy ourselves,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, trying to bite back the grin that was growing on his lips. “I can think of a few things we could do.”

Your grin matched his, a glint of mischief in your eyes. “What do you say, baby? Wanna join the club?”

“We’ll teach you the ropes,” Lando added teasingly. 

Ten minutes. The teasing and the taunting and the goading lasted all of ten minutes before Max had you both wrapped around his finger. Because despite your big mouths and all your talk, it took one glance and a hand tugging your hair back before you were putty in Max’s hands, ready to comply and obey with whatever he wanted because he always seemed to be in control.

“Is this what you wanted, schat?” Max groaned as he gripped your hips, bouncing you back on his dick at the speed he desired. His cock was deep inside you, pressing against the spot that made you squirm and moan—though your mouth was otherwise preoccupied. “Wanted me to fuck you on my private jet? Wanted to show my staff what a fucking slut the two of you are?”

“Shit,” Lando whined, his hands tugging on his curls as his cock hit the back of your throat. “Max—”

“Hold it,” Max gritted out, his hands tightening on your waist as his chest heaved with soft pants. “Did I say you could come?”

“But—” Lando started, only to be cut off by his own moans.

“I said no,” Max huffed out with a shake of his head, his chin tucked into his chest as he watched the way your greedy pussy took his cock with such ease. The debauched noises echoing through the cabin only seemed to egg him on further. “Don’t be a fucking brat.”

“Please,” Lando cried, his hips bucking up into your mouth as you gagged and choked.

“Both of you are so fucking impatient,” Max grumbled as he squeezed the fat of your ass. “So quick to brag and cry. And now look at you. Two fucking whores.”

“Just for you,” Lando muttered out breathlessly. 

“Of course you are. All mine. All fucking mine.” Max groaned, his voice low and rough as he felt a rush of pleasure run down his spine. “And mine to fucking control. You come when I say you come, and I don’t think either of you deserve it yet.”

You whined, the sound muffled and pathetic with Lando’s cock down your throat, but it was enough to warrant a slap to your ass. 

“Careful, schat. Or I won’t let you come until the plane lands.”

.

[underscorewriting]

No labels | Jason Todd

Warnings: fluff, language?

Word count: 895

Quiet whispers echoed through the lightly dimmed room, the air rich of cigarettes smoke and a breeze of the fresh autumn wind blowing outside. The two lay in bed next to each other, the girl stealing glances at the mans sharp features, his scars and the way he looks oh so distant right now, but only in thought, physically he’s right here, with her.

“Where are you right now?” The soft feminine voice breaks through the silence. Jason inhaled the smoke deeply before exhaling. “You don’t want to know, pretty girl…”

They promised to be without labels, casual, but somehow, some day, this casual turned into him coming to her apartment after his job, her texting him whenever he ate, buying his favorite snacks, them meeting up for dinner in her bakery. When did casual turn into this? Jason was never good with keeping things serious, him working with bats took a toll on him. He never promised the girl a serious relationship, but now things changed and both of them felt it.

A hum leaves the girls lips as she traced his tattoo in thought. A silent moment followed by the sound of her quiet snicker. „I feel it too… you know?“ The man inhales the smoke and sighs. „Feel what?“ Him acting like nothing is going on, like nothing has changed, makes the girl stop her movement. Inside his mind he was cursing himself, he always knew a way to fuck it up. „Princess I-“

„It’s okay.“ Her voice is soft and hesitant as if she’s not believing her own words. His arm tightens around her, not allowing her to move away if she wanted, he couldn’t risk losing her warmth. With one swift movement he put his cigarette in the ashtray, turned them around, him hovering over her, his face nestling in her neck. It’s his way of saying he’s sorry. His way of saying 'I do feel it'.

The girl knew, he couldn’t commit. He told her from the start, that he ‘doesn’t like it', but she realized the truth only a few weeks later. It’s not that he doesn’t like it, because boy does he know he’s already committed without him even noticing, but he’s terrified of the power she might hold if he’s letting himself fall completely.

Her fingers tangle themselves into his hair, playing with the soft curls in his nape. She feels herself calm down, she wasn’t really angry to begin with, she could never be upset with him setting his boundaries. However it did hurt her that he didn’t even try to talk about it, about how things changed. “I’m scared too… only a little though…”

As an answer she received a quiet grumble and him pulling her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone. The girl tugs on his hair making him pull away slightly, he was frowning and looked closed up. Her hand softly traveled from his nape all the way to his cheek to caress it gently. “Don’t do that…” Her thumb brushed against the crease forming between his eyebrows.

“Do what?”

“Lock me out…”

His eyes softened slightly and a sigh left his lips as his tense shoulders eased up a little. “You’re wasted on a relationship Iike this… and you know it.” The girls nose scrunched up, a teasing grin forming on her face. “I feel pretty comfy here…” The man fights a smile as he looked down on her. “You’re an idiot…

“I want this…” The genuine look on her face scared him. “I’m not relationship material, princess.” He was about to pull away but she turned his head once again to her. “We don’t need to label it…but I’m not looking elsewhere and I think, you’re not either…?” She trails off, her mind didn’t even think of the possibility that he could’ve been sleeping with others as well.

“Fuck no I haven’t, shit they’re not you-“ A grin spreads on her face as the words leave his lips. “Oh wipe that stupid smile off your face.” He rolls his eyes and softly pushes her head back.

A heartily laugh escapes her as she allowed herself to fall back into the pillows. He watched her with amusement in his eyes. “Exclusive but no labels…?” He mused, thinking of having her all to himself, having her but not needing to label it would be a dream. The girl nodded and blew some hair out of her face. “I’d be up for it. I mean, we already do everything together-“ “That’s because you’re clingy as shit.”

A fake dramatic gasp makes him raise an eyebrow in amusement. “How rude.” He grins and leans back down so he can nuzzle his face back into her neck. “You know it’s fucking true…”

“Doesn’t make it less rude…”

Her fingers went back to caressing his hair, a peaceful silence settling between the two. A moment of contentment. They had each other, maybe one day it will have a label but for now-

“No label…” He mumbled against her skin, placing a soft kiss on her pulse point.

“No label…” A soft smile is on her face as she closes her eyes, enjoying the faint touch of a lover. “But yours.” A quiet growl escaped him, making her snicker softly.

Even if he didn’t like labels, he could get used to her calling herself 'his'.

And maybe inside he’s longing for her to call him 'hers'.

[short-honey-badger]

Go back to sleep, Ace

Ace has an episode and wakes up with his head in your lap.

First time writing Ace so lemme know how I did! ❤️

Masterlist

Ace doesn't remember passing out, so that must mean that he'd had another one of his episodes. Usually, that wouldn't bother him, but he vaguely recalls speaking to you, his crush, right before his mind goes blank. However, wherever he is, Ace is comfy as hell and really doesn't want to get up.

There are fingers running through his hair that stop and gently scratch his scalp every now and then. Ace doesn't remember the last time someone has played with his hair like this. He kinda likes it. His face is pressed into something soft and squishy, and he is shameless in the way he sighs and presses into it.

The sound of you snickering has Ace opening his eyes, embarrassment, and mortification flooding his system. The first thing he sees are your legs extended in front of him, your sandal covered feet crossed at the ankles. He goes to rise up, apologies bubbling up and spilling out.

"Shit. _, I'm so sorry. I didn't uhm-"

"Shut up, Ace. It's not a big deal," you interrupt Fire Fist and gently push his head back down to your lap, your fingers still tangled in his black locks. His mouth clicks shut, his freckled cheeks so hot they may as well have been on fire.

"Are you sure? I know I'm heavy, I can move?" Ace stresses again but can't help the way he slumps down when you resume your careful petting, and soon his eyes begin to grow heavy.

"I don't mind. Go back to sleep, Ace," You assure him once more and are rewarded with the young man rolling so that he could look up at you, his arms winding around your waist to cuddle you close. Fire Fist is back asleep within moments, feeling safe and comfortable with you keeping him company.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Treat You Better IV

Laia Codina x Reader

Summary: The Conti Cup

“Keep winning the- Y/n!”

Lessi flinches as you dump ice cold champagne down her back before spraying it in Vic’s face.

You laugh and so does Alex. You wiggle your way between Fara and Lessi as Alex calls for you before you leave.

“Good game, y/n,” Alex says and you grin at her.

“Great game. Love winning some silverware at the end of it.”

You’re on such a high as you hold the now empty champagne bottle in your hand.

“Obviously, Victoria and Alessia were saying about how much the match meant to the club and the fans but you had an absolute stunner of a game. You picked out Foord, who picked out Blackstenius. Tell us about it.”

You shrug. “Yeah, I don’t know what to tell you. I was running, I felt the defender at my back and passed to Foordy. She deserves all the credit for getting it to Stina and Stina, of course, for winning us the match. There’s not much to mention. The Conti Cup’s back where it belongs.”

Alex laughs. “Would winning be your favourite moment then?”

You shake your head. “Nah, it was seeing Laia running around in one of my spare boots.”

That shocks a laugh out of Fara too. “It was your boot?”

“Yeah. I always bring spares in case my sole breaks. Just lucky that we’re the same size.”

“And it looks like Codina’s waiting for you now. I’ll let you go, y/n.”

You wave goodbye and immediately crash into Laia. She laughs as her arms wrap around you, leading you back to the rest of your teammates. You lean into her easily. You know that tomorrow, you’ll be achy but you don’t care right now. You’re pumped up on adrenaline and high on life and the sweet smell of Laia’s perfume.

“Winning looks good on you,” You say to Laia,” No matter how many times you you do it.”

She grins at you, a soppy, puppylike smile that has you cradling her cheeks softly.

“I think I prefer winning with you then with anyone else.”

You grin right back at her, winking. “Obviously the Conti Cup is far superior to the World Cup.”

She laughs. “That’s right! It is!”

Laia looks the most pretty when she’s smiling, you think. You can spend hours just watching her smile. It didn’t matter where. She was stunning even when she ranted about her farm back home and her cows.

You make your way back to the others, weaselling your way closer to Caitlin and Katie. As expected, Katie’s found an Irish flag from somewhere. It’s draped over her shoulders as the cup is passed around.

She flings one right at you and you knot it around you like a cape too. Laia reaches out to adjust it and you peak down at her mismatched shoes.

“They’re comfy, right?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, they are. I might take them back to Spain with me.”

“Oh, yeah? If you’re taking my shoes, can I take yours?”

She pretends to think for a moment before teasing,” I suppose you can. If you score then it’s like I scored, right?”

“I’ll dedicate my next goal to you then, luv.”

The crowd is roaring and there’s still adrenaline in your veins so you lean closer and kiss her. Your relationship wasn’t a secret, not really. Not if people really looked. You had no issues with kissing Laia in public.

Everything was perfect. You would be returning to North London in red with the almighty Conti Cup in your possession and your girlfriend in your boots.

The cup was placed in your hands after you and Katie had run up to present it to the fans together, twin Ireland flags flapping in the wind.

You looked at her in confusion.

She rolls her eyes and very pointedly raises her brows towards Laia.

You know what she means now and you grab Laia’s hand. You force it around the other handle of the cup and start to run.

She’s dragged with you for the first few metres before she’s sprinting forward with you. The wind blows in her hair and your flag fans out like a cape.

The fans are chanting your name. They’re chanting Laia’s name too.

They’re chanting your names together as your thrust the cup skywards.

You’re grinning at the crowd before you’re pulled into a kiss right in front of them.

You kiss back and you don’t even care when Katie sprays you with champagne.

[glitter-epoch]

your zayne hand fic was just sooo hot thank you for the food!!! this anon is wondering if you could do a spicy xavier fic as well, with maybe the prompt… darkness or black out? THANK YOU

nsfw, 18+ only, mdni!

OF COURSE. screamed when i saw this in my inbox. thank you for the kind words i’m so glad you like it!!! 

fem!reader | 4.7k words smut under the cut, 18+ ONLY mdni!!! do NOT!!!

. . .

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, light evol heresy switch xavier if you squint maaaybe. kiiind of.

. . .

you’re stepping out of the shower when the lights go out.

they heave like a car that’s just run out of gas, the wires in the walls giving a pathetic, zappy little hhhh before fizzling out.

you step forward too far, the darkness and the icy air of the mostly granite bathroom startling you. a scream escapes you as you scamper forward, trying not to trip. your fingertips meet smooth stone.

as you grip the sink in the dark, embarrassed by your own outburst, your phone blinks to life on the counter. for a moment, the bathroom is illuminated. fog is receding on the mirror and on your phone’s screen as all of the warm air in the room is sucked out, replaced with wintry breezes that leak in from outside as the heat system in your apartment dies.

shivering, you pick up the phone. it's xavier.

“is your power out?” you sigh, putting him on speaker. he lives one floor above you; maybe his is fine.

“yes. was that you screaming?”

he echoes off the walls. his voice is raspy and fond, the way it always is when-

“were you asleep just now?” you ask. “it’s not even 7 o’clock.”

“yes,” xavier yawns. “it’s winter now, so it gets dark outside early. are you okay?”

“no, i almost broke my legs.” 

xavier pauses, and you realize he’s probably about to ask if you’re serious.

“…do you mean it-“

“no, sorry, i’m just kidding.“

you glance around the bathroom, shaking like a wet dog in a storm. and there is, you realize, a storm outside; rattling the hedges in the courtyard below and splattering the technicolor billboards of linkon beyond. that’s what cut the power.

your clothes are folded on the toilet seat; a soft pair of sweatpants and one of the deepspace hunters’ crewnecks- too big for work, too comfy not to lounge in. but you’re thinking of other things. 

your hair drips water onto the tile like a clock ticking, the neighbor’s wind chimes are casting shadows on the wall, and lighting is striking in the distance.

you swallow an embarrassingly large lump of anxiety in your throat.

“xavier?” you prod. he’s been patiently quiet until now.

“i’m here.”

you almost smile at how sweet he is.

“this is ridiculous, i’m really sorry…”

he waits another patient second more.

“do you want me to come to you?” he asks. 

“please.”

there’s a knock on the door. you flinch, nearly knocking the phone off the counter.

“is that you?” you exclaim.

“i came downstairs when you stopped responding. i’m glad i’m at the right door, though. i can’t see.”

. . .

xaiver comes with a flashlight. “i thought this might make you feel safer.”

he’s wearing the one crewneck- white, with the detailing on the bottom- all that really matters is it looks cozy. he’s clearly brushed his hair since waking up, but it’s already piecing together on his forehead and over his ears like it usually does; silvery-blonde sections looking just as soft as he is. his hair and his palms and the column of his throat seem to shine a little bit, like he’s bioluminescent from the inside. maybe it’s his evol. in truth, you’re probably just imagining it. he’s xavier; everything about him is a little off-kilter and mezmerizing.

he presents the flashlight to you as he shuts your front door behind him and peers around. “wow. it really is dark.” 

his eyes are wide; glossy spheres that catch the slivers of remaining light in your apartment. you try not to stare. 

“thank you,” you grin, a little embarassed. 

flipping the switch on the flashlight is useless; the battery is dead.

in the dim moonlight filtering through your front room’s blinds, you see his porcelain face go a little crooked; he grins and frowns at the same time, lopsided.

“of course,” he hums.

you thank him again anyways (warmed that he thought to bring it) and try to lead him to the closet, feeling along the walls. “i should have candles in the closet.”

xavier follows you, albeit, not close behind, like he’s trying to stay out of sight.

“are you hiding?” you quip, although your heart has started to pump with more effort in your chest. 

“no,” he says from behind you. “i’m trying not to bump into you. you scare easily.” he’s quiet for a moment. “clearly.”

you turn over your shoulder, scowling at his vaguely silver outline. “i do not. quit stalking; just walk with me.”

you’ve been stopped for long enough in the darkest stretch of the hallway that xavier’s on you, then; he bumps into you on accident, a good head-and-a-half taller. his chest and the insides of his biceps are warm as he politely slides two hands up your shoulders and clamps down on them. you suck in a breath and he steadies you.

“see?” he mocks softly. 

xavier removes his right hand from your shoulder but seems to keep the other one in place, like he’s worried you’re going to knock into the wall (you might). he lifts his palm up to you- which is large enough to take up the area of your face- and a golden light blooms from the center line on his skin, extending slowly to his fingers. 

once your face is lit up, the corners of his lips quirk up the tiniest bit; his eyes go soft.

there are only so many things you could say: i’m not jumpy, you touched me. i’m not jumpy, i’m in love with you. 

none would save you any dignity, so you just swallow a shaky breath and complain, “you could’ve done that when you got here.”

“i thought the flashlight would be more thoughtful.”

his frame and his warmth hover beside you like a heat lamp as you walk. he smells good; like soap, and expensive fabric softener, which is ridiculous, because you’re certain if you asked him what fabric softener he used, he would reply, “why would i need that? isn’t fabric already soft?”

you come to the doorknob. “okay. back up.”

he does. the air behind you becomes significantly colder as you pull open the door to the closet.

thunder cracks outside as if its splitting the sky in two. you flinch, yanking on the door, heart in your throat; the vacuum cleaner tips over, falls out, bounces off your head.

“ow,” you hiss, clapping a shaking hand to your forehead. 

xavier returns; his chin near the top of your head as he seems to shield you from the rest of the (unfavorably) dark corridor, sticking his arm into the closet to prevent any other heavy stowed items from landing on you. the light in his palm has gone out. 

“are you okay?” xavier worries, almost certainly suspecting your mood is going to be more bruised than your head.

thunder cracks again in succession, three times, like the beating of some hellish drum. a scream escapes you. you duck, actually duck- and xavier loses you in the dark of the closet. he feels around for a moment until he finds your forearm and pulls gently.

“oh my god,” you pant. “sorry, sorry-”

“you’re really afraid of thunderstorms, aren’t you?” he asks softly; perhaps partially to tease you, but with xavier, it’s hard to tell. he’s so blunt and open-booked that nothing and everything sounds like a judgement when he delivers it.

you nod, unable to do anything else at this point. “apparently.”

“you’re shaking,” he comments- and you are, like a- “you’re like a little dog.”

you scowl at him, having thought it yourself but assumed he would be kind enough not to say it out loud.

“what, like the little rabid white ones with crust around their eyes? how dare you?” you huff, turning your head, but he’s still holding you; one big hand on the small of your back now, warm as a heating pad.

“okay,” xavier sighs, and his grin is audible. “let’s go.”

his hands glow like lanterns all the way to the den.

. . . 

you wake up and even the moon has darkened.

storm clouds form a thick and heavy blanket over the sky, snuffing out any light from the cosmos. the den and even your distant kitchen are completely dark, the furniture forming only the vaguest lines in your sight. there are lines on your face, almost certainly, you think; forcing your head and neck up like a cobra, your torso and the front of your thighs glued to something warm and mostly solid. you press your fingers to your face and find indents in your cheek and across your eyelid from where your face was smushed into whatever is beneath you.

xavier. it’s xavier. 

his face is perfectly serene, the smooth and pearlescent slopes of his cheeks and browbones perfectly still and almost visible in the dark. but his lips aren’t parted and his arms are slightly stiff; if he’s asleep, it’s only partially. 

you flinch, just barely, shocked at his presence there more than anything. it comes back to you in small blinks; yes, you had laid down with him, he’d insisted. no it’s not weird. of course i don’t mind. it’s a little ridiculous for you to act like you’ve never fallen asleep on me before (true). and at some point, you’d both wriggled into this position; with your entire body draped over him, blanket on the floor, both of you hot as irons. 

in his light-sleep, xavier seems to feel you jolt. one hand comes to the back of your head and pulls you down, depositing your face into the crook of his shoulder. he’s laying on his back, fitted perfectly into the corner of the sofa; he’s all encompassing.

“no,” xavier demands, albeit gently. “go back to sleep.”

his voice vibrates against your cheek. you’re tired, sluggish, your limbs are heavy; but your heart thumps in your chest, something almost like panic rising in your throat. certainly he knows what this looks like, knows how it feels- you’re completely twisted around each other.

“xavier,” you argue.

“you were happy,” he rasps, lifting his arms up. he wraps them completely around your head, sealing you in. the weight of his biceps are heavy on you; you knew he was strong, obviously, but he really is…strong. his chest is carved beneath you. “you were happy when you were asleep. so do it again.”

“you just want to go back to sleep,” is your reply.

xavier shifts, and one hand drifts down to the middle of your back. he pulls you into him and squeezes, like he’s stretching. you inhale deeply as your face drifts closer to his collarbones, exposed as his sweatshirt is pulled in every direction by your sprawling weight. your mouth falls open as he holds you, deliberately tight, now; you’re sure of it. he’s practically using you like a stress-ball.

he feels your breath on his neck and his eyes flutter open slowly, fingers twitching to a stop.

“what are you doing?” he chirps.

you could smack him. “what are you doing?”

the thunder returns before anyone can answer, like it senses you’re awake. xavier responds instantly, plucking a fallen blanket off the ground and draping it over both of your heads. in breaths, you’re locked into one another; in a world under the quilt. 

you peer up at him in the complete blackness, feeling his breath on your nose.

“better?” xavier asks.

the sound is surprisingly resonant; he’s ridiculously close.

you feel around his chest and arms, trying to find his head. he inhales, choppily, but doesn’t stop you.

“you are doing something…” he murmurs. his body responds to you, shoulders rising slightly as your fingers dance over them.

“i’m just trying to find your face,” you retort (doing something).

xavier takes your hand and presses it to his cheek. “here.”

you gulp. what are you supposed to do now?

it’s quiet for a moment, rain ricocheting gently off the windows of your apartment. the thunder is distant for a few breaths, rolling far away but seemingly making its way back, like engineered waves slowly picking up speed in a wave pool.

xavier’s heart is always slow, so slow that it sometimes worries you. but his breath is not; the movement of his hands is fast. if he’s not nervous- he’s at least worked up.

thunder cracks. before you can jump or blink or even breathe, he pulls the blanket even further over your heads and reaches for the small of your back, dragging your body up until the top of your head presses into his chin.

you let him, allowing your head to drop onto his chest, unsure of what else to do and not quite able to think of anything else to do as his hands roam around under your sweatshirt; exploring the slopes and ridges of your back and spine.

“your heartbeat is so fast,” xavier murmurs, but his voice is far-away, too; his hands are greedy as he searches for something on the plane of your skin- knots, nerves. soft things, for himself. “you aren’t this afraid of a storm.”

“no,” you cave, essentially coming clean. “what are you trying to do?”

he stills, hands still under your shirt. “are you uncomfortable?”

“no,” you blurt. “no.”

you’re almost certain he smiles; his breath is soft and quiet for a moment. “then can i keep going?”

you pause, nervous. “keep going with what?”

his chest is suspended for a moment. he doesn’t answer. 

in the silence, you’re just barely emboldened enough to whisper it, though you’re not entirely sure what his plan is: “keep going.”

the storm seems to be on his side as a low, rumbling roll of thunder passes by your window, lightning following- for the shortest second, you can see his face; lips swollen with sleep, and parted, his eyes closed. 

your trembling returns for a myriad of reasons. this propels xavier to wrap an arm around your waist and sit up, taking you with him; your knees are forced to bend, thighs spread out on either side of him. you straddle his lap, the blanket slipping off your head.

xavier’s eyes flutter open slowly, ever sleepy. his hair splays around him, lighter than the rest of the room. his expression is almost a smile, dazed and determined, and his eyes seem to light up as they rove over the mere outline of your face in the dark. “i’ll distract you,” he says, sliding his palms onto your knees.

he waits, hands heavy. 

“what are you…” you begin.

oh. he wants you to sit.

you do; he’s hard under you, and he inhales. 

“xavier…” you whisper, uncertain not of your own desire, but his. “i didn’t think you…you never-”

“i never what?” he says, swiping your hair off one side of your neck. “your hair is still wet.” his fingers tangle in the damp strands at the top of your spine, roving up to the top of your head. “are you cold?”

“n-no,” you manage. 

xavier leans forward, his lips close to your neck- then he stops, looks up at you. his eyes are practically the only things visible in the room; but he seems to be able to see you quite well.

“can you see in the dark, or something?” you pant. he doesn’t answer. instead:

“you want me,” he remarks, quiet. 

“you want me,” you retort, instantly defensive; this doesn’t feel real.

xavier- tall and lithe and hard under you, clawing to keep you close to him- blushes still, his cheeks almost red. he smiles, almost, pupils as big as saucers.

“you do want me,” he answers for you, nodding as his lips latch onto your neck.

it’s a ploy. you inhale, stretching your back for him; so naturally, his hands drift to lift up your sweatshirt, then glide up your waist, up to your ribs. he swipes his thumbs over the skin there, and gasps slightly when he finds nothing there; no bra under your hoodie.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, for no real reason, but you’re not thinking straight. 

xavier doesn’t even ordain you with a response to something so stupid. he just reaches higher, palms your breasts, both of you inhaling as your nipples pebble under him. 

“i can see you,” xavier whispers, his lips on the shell of your ear. “i can see far in the dark. but you can barely see anything…”

you feel feverish; hot and dizzy and unable to take a full breath and xavier pushes your sweatshirt up to you neck, urging you to slip it off.

“do you want to?” he asks, breathless.

you’re the one who ignores a stupid comment this time, slipping off the hoodie. wet strands of hair fall over your shoulders and face, tangling over xavier’s fingers and dangling in front of his eyes. 

he stares at you through the dark, eyes languidly darting all over your naked body; like he doesn’t know what to do first, like he’s astonished that you’re something he’s really looking at.

xavier looks up at you, practically drooling. “is this still okay?”

“are you kidding me?”

he responds with something low, a primal and somehow still grateful sound from the back of his throat, and leans forward to catch your breasts with his mouth. his teeth graze over your nipple, his lips finding it a moment later; it slips in and out of his mouth, slick from the wetness of his mouth.

you inhale to hide a moan, sinking lower into his lap; grinding over his length unintentionally. xavier’s mouth drops off of you, and he inhales deeply; trying to get back to you, to keep working at your breasts, but he can’t.

“d-don’t,” he murmurs, “don’t.”

you wonder if you’ve really made him uncomfortable. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean-”

“it’s not you,” he replies. “i can’t- if you keep-”

you inhale, body barely moving, and even this is too much for him. xavier completely leans back from you and tears his own shirt off; light hair splaying around his head as the shirt lands on the floor. he pushes you back slightly, until your thighs are resting on his thighs, away from his lap.

he tugs at the waistband of your sweatpants. “do you want to keep these on?”

and he’s sincere, waiting for you so patiently, despite the slack in his jaw and the glaze over his eyes. you come onto your knees, sitting up enough to push the pants down to your shins; he reaches behind you and pulls them all the way off.

he takes you in again, in nothing but your panties, like he isn’t sure if he’s really awake- despite being the one to instigate this encounter in the first place.

instigator, you think. it’s the perfect term to describe him. 

after a moment of polite gawking, he pulls on your waist like a handlebar; drags you back to him so you’re sitting with your thighs spread and balanced on either heel. as evil as he secretly is, he watches you as he brings his fingers to your panties; running his knuckles along the clothed surface of your core before pulling the fabric aside.

you gasp; one hand covering your mouth. he smiles sweetly. thunder follows.

“see?” he says, pawing innocently at your folds before running the back of his hand over the bundle of nerves there; quick to drag them slowly down again, and up again, over and over. “you needed something to distract you.”

you’re looking down, trying to see what’s happening; his face is somewhat visible, as it has been, but his hands and your thighs are not. 

xavier tests one finger at the base of your cunt; to see what you’ll do, how wet you are. his mouth falls open.

“oh…”

you’re not sure if he’s making fun of you or if he’s just shocked; but more likely than not, it’s the latter, because his eyes are big as dimes when he looks up at you, reclined against the arm of the sofa, with you on top of him.

you’re trying to remember when you got into such a compromising position. 

“can i?” he amends himself. “do you want me to?”

you almost can’t answer, so you nod, and a moment later, manage, “yes, p-please.”

‘please’ seems to set him off. his middle finger slips inside of you easily, meeting no friction. at first, you try to watch; feeling his wrist moving up and down as he pumps inside of you. then he adds a second finger and you don’t even try to look anymore, letting your head fall back.

you feel his eyes on you as you do this, pressure building in your lower belly. 

“does this feel good?” he asks, all sincerity.

“s-so good.”

“look,” he whispers.

there’s a warmth in you before you do, but even then, you can’t guess what you’re about to see- a light, faintly glowing, illuminating the thin flesh around your pelvic bones and fading out over your navel. his hand, inside you; glowing.

“xavier!” you scold. 

for a moment, he changes nothing; he watches the light wax and wane as his fingers move inside you, and you watch it, too- despite your immense humiliation- both of your mouths hung open. you aren’t sure if you’re about to curl in on yourself from embarassment or pleasure, but xavier must see the strangled expression on your face, because the light goes out.

“you get embarassed so easily,” xavier remarks, leaning forward with one hand still inside you. he uses the other to brush your damp hair out of your face, and runs the pad of his thumb over the lines on your cheeks and eyelid; places where your face was smushed into his sweater. “look at me. do you see me?” 

“k-kind of.”

he smiles, movements never slowing. you squirm in his lap, vying for more despite his steady pace. 

“i think about you,” xavier murmurs into your neck. “everyday. all the time. there’s nothing you could do that i wouldn’t want you for. don’t you see?”

you nod, emboldened by his words, thinking that you should thank him but too busy thinking about other, more immediate things.

as you’re squirming in his lap, you push forward, finally; sit on the hard length of his cock. his fingrers curl inside you and you whine.

xavier hisses and exhales. he looks up at you; the marble of his eyes shining in the dark.

“do you…” you pant, struggle. “do you want to…”

xavier nods. he keeps nodding, at first, and doesn’t even say anything- he sits up to wrap and arm around your waist and he’s still nodding. then:

“yes,” he murmurs into your ear. “i didn’t-”

you grind onto him again. his fingers leave you, steadying himself with that now unoccupied hand. 

“…w-want- god- please, don’t…”

so you wait, feeling guilty again, but of course, he doesn’t mean do nothing- you realize moments later, he’s just begging you to slow down.

“i didn’t want to ask,” xavier continues throatily, gently lifting you off of him to roll down the waistband of his own sweatpants. “i didn’t want you to think i’d be disappointed if you said no.”

you smile at him, sick at how sweet he is. “i want to. please.”

he’s kissing you as he finally kicks off his sweatpants- you feel him buck his hips up as only his underwear remains. maybe, if you could see anything, you would have lingered in this moment a little longer. but you’re barely any help as he kicks those off, too; uses his own strength to hold your hips in the air over him, not setting you down.

“are you sure?” xavier pants.

“i am extremely sure.”

he inhales shakily and leans forward to press you to his chest, adjusting himself under you; then he sets you down, lowers you onto his cock. 

both of you gasp; you inhale so sharply it stings. you can’t see him, can’t see anything but his blown-out pupils- but you’re full, completely, as he takes your hips in his hands and asks:

“are you tired?”

his voice is trembling, but not desperate; he’s trying not to buck up into you, you’re sure. 

you can’t lie, so all you do is nod. your entire body buzzes, your head swims; you are exhausted, but you do want him.

xavier nods, pressing a kiss to the plane between your breasts. “that’s okay. just relax.”

and he is ridiculous for saying this, because then, he begins to move you himself; sliding you up an down on his length, slowly and gracefully at first- until you moan over him, and he seems to crack, bouncing you up and down to his liking.

“x-xavier…” you whine, but he’s relentless. 

your hands landing on his chest as you droop forward only egg him on. he presses one hand flat to your back, forcing you to collapse onto him, then goes back to moving your hips. he’s pounding into you, his breath and his voice strangled and fast in your ear, but his heart still beats slowly in his chest- the rhythm of it is intoxicating to you. you listen, one ear pressed into the space between his collarbones: 1…2…3…

you realize, now, that the slow heartbeat is just what’s providing his inhuman stamina: he’s anything but calm. 

“you don’t know…” xavier murmurs, rocking in and out of you, sounding very far away. “you don’t even know…”

“know what?” you manage. 

“how much i think about you. how much i want you- you don’t…”

he sits up suddenly, your head draping over his shoulder, and continues to move you up and down; hot inside you. your legs are practically numb. the coil in your stomach tightens and releases, threatening to unfurl; you’re not sure how long it’s been. your head falls back and xavier catches it, pausing to press kisses to the column of your throat. you squirm, now settled onto his lap again; cock still inside you. 

xavier grabs your hips and seems to be restraining himself from holding you still.

“if you do that, i can’t- i’ll-”

you know what he’s going to say, so you keep doing it. xavier latches on to your neck with his mouth as you grind on top of him, exhausted, but it’s enough. one of his arms is still looped around your waist, squeezing the flesh of your hip. the other draws tracks through your hair, and stops to grab a fistful at the top of your head; you moan, but he doesn’t release you- clearly not knowing his own strength, how tightly he’s gripping you. 

that’s it for you; the sensation low in your belly blooms as his cock twitches inside you.

he bites down on your shoulder when he cums. not nearly hard enough to hurt (he would never), but it’s so unbridled and unexpected that you come undone on top of him moments later; allowing him to squeeze you to him and pull you both back to lay flat on the sofa.

for a moment, there is only quiet rain and heavy breathing. xavier lifts his hand to pluck the hair out of your face again, running his fingers over those same lines on your cheeks that he must be able to see through the dark- how unfair, it is, that he’s been able to see practically the whole time, and you’ve been nearly blind.

a clap of thunder bursts somewhere in the distance. you’re busy panting, pawing around for xavier’s face in the dark.

“see? you’re not even thinking about the thunder anymore,” he breathes. “you must have had a good distraction.” and then, both endeared and confused, he asks, “what are you looking for?”

“i’m trying to find your head so i can smack you.”

[gigizetz]

Aeolus character design process!

(disclaimer: my writing sucks and I'm not good at explaining things so if it gets a bit weird just know I'm trying my best)

a lot of people have been saying very nice things about my character design for Aeolus in EPIC, and that makes me really happy! So I decided to break it down to show you guys my full process in designing them! :D

When I first listened to the snippet of Keep Your Friends Close I was very excited that this old bearded god man was going to be interpreted by a girl, so the first concept I had was to maximize this contrast by also making my Aeolus appear as a child. Aside from the contrast thing, it would also tie in with their playful personality. Here are some of the sketches I did at the time (around 2022):

Since the beginning I always had the clown aesthetic in mind. Not sure why, just thought it matched the cute playfulness of the character. It was fun combining wind/cloud stuff with the clown aesthetic, like the cloud around the neck and wrists, which was supposed to resemble those ruff thingies that clowns usually wear.

I experimented with a lot of elements, like the headband and the cropped shirt, but I decided to remove and recicle them in other EPIC characters (Odysseus and Circe). Their design was also more feminine, and since I was aiming for a more androgynous look this would be changed later.

I remember around this time I saw a video of Jay where he said he envisioned Aeolus having a more calm nature aesthetic, so I decided to change my design to better match what he had in mind. I made the hair wavier, with clean and smooth lines, made sure that Aeolus would act less clown-like, rarely stand up and never abandon the cloud. These doodles better resemble the current design:

it was also around this time that I designed the island in the sky. My biggest inspiration was New Super Mario Bros. WII world 7, mainly because of the chill vibes and cute fluffy clouds. So I took that and threw the combined aesthetic of a child's playroom and ancient Greece temple on top of it and it was done.

Right now here's the full body reference of them:

I'm very proud of it, I think it matches the themes and feelings I had in mind while also translating their personality quite well. The color palette is a simple blue/yellow/red, but the simplicity helps to complement the childish appearance. Their outfit is comfy, cute, and something you'd like to sleep in. The round shapes makes them adorable. Overall a cute little gremlin that is also a very powerful god.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— kArMa'S a B*TcH!

requested by @chaotic-toasters (thank you for being a therapist when needed!)

hope you enjoy the chaos, hehe.

requests are closed currently, however, feel free to drop to talk at all!

summary: reader needs therapy after witnessing that music video.

pairings: steph catley x reader, beth mead x reader, lia walti x reader, leah williamson x reader, kim little x reader

warnings: nothing but pure chaos and trauma over a certain music video...

Having lived in Switzerland, it wasn't often you got to see your auntie, so its' safe to say today you was thrilled about being able to hang out with her and more so, you'd be going to training with her and seeing the rest of the girls.

You'd been having so much fun hanging out with all of the girls, even joining in on winding some of the girls up.

"Hey, Y/N! C'mere a second, kid!" Your going about minding your own business, snacking on a sandwich in the canteen when your called out by Beth and Steph.

Poking your head up with the sandwich half hanging out your mouth, you tilt your head, "I didn't do it!" Your quick to protest.

You wouldn't call yourself a troublemaker per-say, but well, eh who're you kidding? You love being the centre of chaos.

Your auntie Lia wouldn't agree so much, it was one of the reason why you're stuck over in England for the time being right now.

Beth chuckles in amusement, "That's not why we're asking you to come over here," She pauses as she waves her hand slightly, "Come sit with us!" She encourages.

Shrugging your shoulders, you get up from your seat and make your way over to the two older girls, "What's goin' on?"

"We want to show you somethin', kid. You like watching music videos, don't you?" Steph wonders, holding her phone out in her hand but you can't exactly see what it is thats' on it.

"Er yeah, I do... Why?" You tilt your head in confusion but non the less plonk yourself down on Beths' knee instead of sitting on an actual seat.

What's the point of that when its' far less comfy, right?

"Perfect," Beth smirks and shares a look with Steph, "You'll like this then."

"Whos' music video is it?" You wonder, curiously.

"JoJo Siwa," Steph chimes in. "Your auntie told us that you like her music, kid."

"I do like her music," You nod in agreement. 

Without further ado, Steph moves the phone to balance up against her water bottle before she clicks play on said music video.

You weren't completely aware of the fact that your reaction was being filmed either.

You really didn't know what to expect, given that all of all JoJos' videos you have seen in the past were normal, compared to this...

You were thrown off by the pitch black darkness, mysterious vibe of the music.

"Should I... Should I be scared about this?" You look between the two older girls with a slightly worried expression, "Wait, should I?"

Neither Beth nor Steph said much but laugh slightly, awaiting your reaction as the beat of the music started to play.

"Oooo, there's water," You take in the scene of the start of the music video, bopping your head along to the music casually, "Mysterious vibes." You state, wiggling your fingers like they sparkling.

All too soon that your watching the video and your mouth drops open, shaping the perfect 'O' shape as you stare in horror at the music video you're literally being forced to watch.

"What the--  She's making out with another girl!" You exclaim in shock, "My eyes... My innocent eyes!"

Even if you wanted to escape from watching it, you couldn't do that, considering that Beth had her arms tightly wrapped around your waist so you couldn't up and leave.

"Ah! My eyes!" You repeat as you shriek in horror, immediately trying to shield your face behind your hands. "This isn't the JoJo Siwa that I remember!" You exclaim, keeping your hands over your face while you shake your head profusely.

"Just watch it, kid. It's not that bad," Steph chuckles, amusedly.

"NOT THAT BAD?" You exclaim in horror, whipping your head to look at the Aussie, "THIS IS... THIS IS HORRIFYING!" You whine, trying to wiggle out of the blondes' arms.

"It's certainly a lot different," Beth jokes.

You continue to shake your head profusely, "Turn it off! Turn it off! I can't even... I need bleach-- I don't want to watch anymore!"

Unfortunately both of the older girls' continue to laugh at your own expense, finding the situation completely hilarious.

Of course they'd watched the video previously and as soon as they did, they knew you were the perfect one for them to film a reaction to watching this music video, considering your usual love for JoJo's music.

"This... This isn't even music-- I don't like it!" You begin to try and claw at your eyes, definitely not keen on the music video in front of you.

You manage to somehow worm your way off the blonde's knee, wriggling all the way to the floor as you do no more than lie there rolling around as you make a lot of noise shrieking like a banshee while clawing at your face, trying to scrub the memory of the video.

"Turn it... Turn it off, please!" You plead with them both, hearing the tune in the background as you continue to roll around on the floor like it would solve all of your problems.

Beth snorts in amusement at your overdramatic performance on the ground, "I don't see what's so bad about it, Y/N. It's just a music video." She comments.

"Just a music video? Bethany, that is pure vulgar-- That is... That's not even music!" Your absolutely horrified about the video; Why would anyone create something like this and actually put it out there?

The commotion you began to make was soon spotted as you lay on the floor by the rest of the girls.

"What's going on with your niece, Wally?" Leahs' the first to spot your not so normal behaviour.

"Is she okay?" Kim frowns, concerned.

Lia looks over to you and furrows her eyebrows, "I... I don't know," She watches you continue to roll around on the floor as she realises she should find out what's wrong with you. "Y/N, what's going on?" She wonders, concerned.

"My eyes, auntie Lia-- My eyes!" You exclaim, still trying to claw at them to try and block out the horror that you just witnessed.

"What?" Lias' left even more confused, trying to make sense of what is actually going on.

"Help me, auntie! Help me!" You continue to roll around dramatically on the floor, "I can't... I can't even-- I don't like it!"

"What? Y/N, sweetheart, I can't understand what you're talking about here," Lia admits, confused with your unusual behaviour compared to usual.

"Let me try," Leah suggests, getting up from her seat and joining the small group before she crouches down to your own level, "Hey buddy, what's goin' on?" She wonders, concerned.

"Pain! So much pain!" You exclaim dramatically while you still attempt to claw at your eyes.

Leah and Lia share a confused look, "Wha-- What're you talkin' about buddy, what's happened? Are you hurt?" She questions.

"Yes, yes I am hurt!" You somewhat whine in response, "I need... I need help!" You state, attempting to wriggle round on the floor, but thats' difficult with Leahs' hand resting on you to stop doing exactly that.

"Your hurt?" Lia immediately kneels down beside you and tries to inspect which part of your body is injured, "Where hurts, Y/N? Tell me so I can get help!" She panicks slightly, trying to figure out what it is that's exactly wrong.

"You... You can't help, the pains' in my eyes-- I need to bleach them!" You murmer, trying to erase the memory of the video but having no luck.

"What?" Lia's even more confused now before she glances at the older girls' giggling to themselves like school girls, "What is going on?" She asks.

"We thought we'd show Y/N the new music video that JoJo Siwa released," Beth snickers, finding it hilarious to watch your initial reaction to it.

Lia furrows her eyebrows even more confused than before, not understand whats' so bad about that.

"Are you girls crazy? Why... Why an earth would you show a little girl that type of video?" Kims' voice barks aloud, overhearing the conversation.

"Hey! I'm not a little girl. I'm almost 13, you know!" Your quick to protest, causing from the mid meltdown. "I'm... I'm traumatised, auntie Lia!" You exclaim.

"Show me the video? It can't be that bad," Lia gestures for Steph to press play on the video, so that herself and Leah can understand it and within the first minute or so in, her expression completely changes, "What is wrong with you two? Why an earth would you traumatise my niece with that sort of video!" She barks at them.

"Exactly my point," Kim waves her hand off, like she was talking sense the whole time.

"That is... That is one crazy video," Leah murmers as her eyes widen in disbelief, knowing its' no wonder the way that you suddenly reacted when you saw it.

"See, auntie Lia? Its' pure trauma... I need therapy!" You whine dramatically, shaking your head profusely, "Months and months of therapy!"

"Well, shes' not wrong there," Leah snorts, trying to stifle her laughter when Lia looks at her unimpressed, "But eh, yeah, seriously, girls... Why would you show her that?" She tries to act like the responsible adult that she is.

Safe to say that Steph and Beth found the whole situation most amusing to watch you freak out mentally, of course taking the opporunity to taunt you with that god-awful song.

At any given time of the day...

Curse that stupid song that exsists.

Like the moment that you're peacefully minding your own business, sat on the sidelines of the pitch messing around with your Nintendo Switch, having a blast on Mario Kart when Steph decides to walk over to you, casually picking up her water bottle to take a few swigs before she starts to hum that familiar tune.

"No," You whine, going to cover your ears.

You swear that Steph even smirks at you at one point, before she continues to go about humming the god-awful song.

"No, no, no stop-- I need bleach... I need to bleach my ears out!" You whine dramatically, trying to block it all out, "STOP ITTTTT!"

"kArMa'S a BiTcH--"

"Auntie Lia! Auntie Lia! Help me, Stephs' singing that song!" Of course you tattle-tale straight away, being the shit-stirring little menance that you are, "Auntieeeee Lia, make her stop singin'!" You continue to whine dramatically.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[dandylovesturtles]

Decided to write a quick little something for @whumperless-whump-event Day 4: chronic pain/"I'm used to it."

featuring, of course, Sidelined Leo!

like I said before, since it's disability pride month I'd like to do a few things for the Sidelined AU, so hopefully I will find time for more as the days go. For now, I hope you enjoy this!

-----

Leo can tell it's going to be a bad day the moment he wakes up.

The pain in his arms and legs has grown from it's constant dull thrum to a more present burn, and there's a pinch between his eyes that tells him a headache is on the way. Really, he's not surprised; the last few days have been really good. He even went out on a mission two days ago, and did a little skateboarding yesterday. It stands to reason that his body has crashed out on him.

Sometimes he feels angry and bitter about it. Today, he just feels a sort of resigned acceptance. And that means maybe it won't be such a bad day after all.

He hits the button on the side of the bed so it bends him into a reclined position, then fumbles around on his side table until his hand lands on his pill organizer. He should probably text someone to bring him water, but it feels like a pain, so he dry swallows them one by one and just resolves not to mention doing that to Dad or Raph.

Then he finally blinks the sleep out of his eyes and looks around his room and... darn it, his chair isn't here. Where'd he even leave it...

His memory is a complete blank on that one, so he sighs and clears his throat.

"Hey, Shell-man?"

There's only a second of silence before Shelldon's voice echoes from who even knows where. Donnie rigged his new room with more electronics than Leo will ever know about.

"S'up bro?"

"You know where my chair is?" he asks, like Shelldon can't track it instantly.

"You left it in the arcade, dude," comes the answer. "Want me to wheel it over?"

Yeah, no way he's getting himself to the arcade today. "Sure, thanks, Shelly."

"No problem, dude!"

Leo lets his head flop back on his pillows while he wants for his chair to be delivered. He fumbles around for his phone this time and takes a look at his reminders.

6:00 PM: Concert with Mikester

"Crap," he mutters, closing his eyes. Right, that yokai hip-hop group Mikey wanted to go see. Leo had promised he'd go with him, but he doubts he'll be able to do it now.

It's not that big a deal. Raph or Donnie will probably go with him if Mikey makes big enough puppy eyes at them. It's just, Leo had been kinda excited about it, too...

The dark buzz that heralds his anxiety flares up, and he sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slow. He doesn't want this day to turn terrible. He needs to relax and accept the things he can't change, like April always says. Even when it sucks.

There's a whir of electronics that signals the arrival of his chair. Leo waits until it parks itself next to his bed, then he swings his legs over the bed and stands up just long enough to sit down in the chair again. Even that leaves him feeling a little winded, but he doubts his arms could have handled the transfer so he doesn't bother trying.

He wheels around his room until he finds his big comfy unicorn hoodie, then drives out into the rest of the lair, making his way up the ramp to the kitchen. He can smell breakfast cooking, and hear Raph's voice.

"Morning fam," he says as he comes in, trying to keep his voice upbeat even though he already feels tired.

"Morning Leo!" Mikey echoes, turning around with a whole plate of waffles. His smile falters a little when he sees the chair and the hoodie. "Oof. Flare up?"

"Yeah," he admits, steering his chair into the empty part of the kitchen table. Mikey sets the waffle plate down, and without having to be asked Raph starts fixing some for Leo, with blueberries on top.

It took work for them both to find the line between helping and babying, but they're better at this now. Leo doesn't mind Raph helping him out this way, especially because he'd rather not make a mess of the kitchen table.

"Mikey, can you grab my fat fork?"

"It has a name," says a tired voice behind him, and Leo smirks as Donnie comes around the side and makes for the coffee machine.

"I just used it. It's the fat fork."

"It's a GeniusBuilt Secure Grip Adjustable Fork-"

"I'm not saying all that."

Donnie huffs. Mikey snickers, swinging around him to deliver the fork with the thick grip to Leo. He has another set with a loop that can secure to his hand if he needs it, but this one is fine for now.

"Here!

"Thanks Angelo."

"Did you take your meds this morning?" Raph asks.

"Yes, Mom," says Leo, rolling his eyes as he cuts off a bite of waffle.

"Really? 'Cause Raph didn't hear you ask anyone to bring you water-"

"I had some leftover Gatorade in my room," Leo lies quickly.

"Uh-huh." Raph looks at him skeptically. "Leo, you know taking pills without water hurts your throat."

"Meh meh meh, you'll hurt your throat," Leo repeats in a mocking voice. Raph reaches over like he's going to cuff Leo on the head, then seems to rethink it and steals some of his blueberries instead. "Hey!"

"You are all so noisy already," comes Splinter's voice, and he finally comes into the room to join them, wearing the robe he slept in. He looks up at Leo in his chair. "Are you in pain, Blue?"

Leo hums an affirmative. "It's not that bad, though," he adds, because it's not. Comparatively.

Now it's his dad's turn to look skeptical. "Are you sure?"

Leo grimaces. "It's... a little worse than normal," he amends. "But I can handle it."

"Mmm..." Splinter walks off to get in his own seat. "Let us know if it gets worse."

"Yeah, yeah..."

The conversation moves on to other topics, up until Leo's wheelchair beeps at him. He groans, glancing down at the battery indicator, which is firmly in the red.

"You forgot to charge it, didn't you?" asks Donnie, looking amused.

"Shut up, I've been busy!" Leo snaps back.

"If you left it on the charger when you aren't using it then this wouldn't happen."

"Alright, anyone else have any criticisms for me today?" he says, except it comes out a shade too bitter and Donnie's grin falters.

Good job, Leon, way to be a dick. He winces, focusing again on his waffles. His arm is sore from the effort of eating and he wants to crawl back in bed and stay there, which is exactly the sort of attitude he's been trying to avoid.

"...I have the backup chair in the lab if you need it," says Donnie. A peace offering.

"Thanks," says Leo, returning it.

So after breakfast, Donnie helps him swap chairs. His main one is put on the charger and he wheels himself to the living room with the backup, then calls for Raph.

"Think you can help me get comfy, big guy?" he asks.

"Of course," says Raph with a grin. "What do you want?"

It's nice that he asks now, instead of assuming.

Leo directs him to help him onto the couch, then Raph gets him his fluffy blue blanket to cover him up. Even though he took his meds, he can feel the pain radiating at his hips and knees and he guesses he's going to need more later. He sets an alarm on his phone and settles in with a Jupiter Jim flick to fall asleep to.

He's not out yet when he hears the pad of feet, then feels the couch dip as Mikey sits next to him.

"Hey Leo," he says softly, and Leo gives a hum to let him know he's still awake. "You think... you're gonna feel up for the concert tonight?"

Oh right. Shoot. It had already slipped Leo's mind, and now he feels guilty all over again.

He opens his eyes and tilts his head so he can see Mikey. "I don't think so. I'm sorry."

"You don't gotta apologize!" says Mikey quickly. "I'm sorry you're having a rough day."

"It's fine," says Leo. "I'm used to it."

"I'm still sorry," says Mikey firmly. He gets up, then comes over so he can give Leo a very awkward couch hug. "I wish you didn't have to hurt," he says, sincerely.

Leo leans into the hug. Feels the dark buzz of anxiety ebb away.

"Hey, it's alright. All you guys make it easier."

Mikey beams at that, bouncing back up. "Hey, I know," he says. "I'll get Donnie to help me set up a sweet livestream so you can see the concert from right here!"

They don't have to go to all that trouble for him. But Leo looks up at his little brother's shining smile and can't say no.

"That'd be really cool," he says, and Mikey claps his hands.

"Yes! Okay, I'll go get Dee and we'll get on it!"

He races away. Leo chuckles, curling up under his blanket.

Maybe it won't be such a bad day after all.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

pre-chaggie and Vaggie getting confused (NOT jealous) over why Charlie bought a nice red hair ribbon (not jealous at the ribbon) and keeps carrying it around and touching it (which is fine-)

but then, never wears it?

if Charlie'd just had second thoughts that'd make sense, buyer's remorse or whatever- only Charlie keeps the ribbon on her nightstand and keeps grinning at it and picking it up to fiddle with, she once chased Razzle and Dazzle through the house when they snagged it for some reason

and that all would makes SENSE, if Charlie ever used it, or if it was some old memento thing.

It's not. Vaggie found it unpacking groceries one day and Charlie squeaked like a stepped on dog toy when she saw Vaggie pulling it out

the embarrassed squeak thing is why Vaggie hasn't asked Charlie about it before now

that and the fact that Charlie the chatterbox didn't instantly explain the ribbon in an adorable gush of words for Vaggie to sit back and soak in, like usually happens.... the only other things Charlie keeps quiet about are Important Stuff like her family or why she isn't living with them or visiting them or really has much contact with them At All

but with Vaggie's back wounds slowly healing up and the one eye thing getting more settled-

-tangent on Charlie reading in bed to Vaggie incoming, hold on

(vaggie skimming through charlie's books one day bc charlie likes reading aloud before going to sleep)

(and she tried doing it very quietly once they started sharing the bed)

(up until they figured ou vaggie sleeps BETTER if she drifts off listening to her)

(so now charlie keeps asking if vaggie has any requests)

(vaggie can't just say she's mostly in it for the sound of this woman's voice sooooo)

(she's looking for something to catch her- ha- EYE)

(of course it's a book cover with a pirate on it, of course it's bc of the eyepatch)

(of course it got shoved mostly out of sight bc charlie was worried it'd make vaggie feel bad)

(when vaggie drops it on the bed that night charlie faces a new worry)

(she can't help thinking about dashing swashbuckling pirate vaggie in dashing swashbuckling pirate get up that charlie never noticed was quite so dashing and hot before)

(of course she doodles it in the book margins that night)

(with vaggie slumped over her chest)

(vaggie finally asleep despite the backpain and headache, comfy and snuggled bc of her, charlie)

(vaggie breathing against charlie’s collar bone while charlie daydreams about getting rescued at sea by fierce but secretly soft hearted pirate lady that bears only a SLIGHT exact resemblance to vaggie-)

(of course charlie's so embarrassed she flings the book across the room)

(trying to remove the temptations she can since she clearly CAN’T remove the pretty lady who's using her like a pillow and risk waking vaggie up)

(annnnnd next morning neat and tidiness freak vaggie finds the thrown book)

(casually flips through to the parts she slept through last night as charlie watches is silent frozen horror)

(sees the doodle of her as a pirate)

(stares)

(wow actually she'd totally rock an eyepatch wouldn't she?)

(Which was charlie's cue to dig through her old dress up box for an eyepatch and leave it casually lying directly on vaggie's lap that night bc charlie was nervous and her aim was terrible and she meant to sneakily drop it on vaggie's nightstand but maybe missed just a liiiittle bit, or not, since vaggie tries it out, likes it a whole lot, and stops smoothing down the bangs on that side of her face every three seconds to make sure her missing eye is covered by them. Now the eyepatch does that for her.

(now she starts running her hand through her bangs in a more absentminded way, leaving them looking a bit wind tossed and a tiny bit rakish and FUCK charlie morningstar is in trouble....)

ah

but this was about the hair ribbon thing. Right.

so Vaggie's been healing up a lot in the last few months, time marked by the slow growing out of her hair and her increasing time spent fiddling with it, as much as she can anyway

in fact Vaggie’s hair has gotten so long that Charlie’s the one who’s brushing it for her, now.

long hair takes, well, longer to deal with and Vaggie just can’t hash all that time reaching up and around and doing the reparative motions that remind her scarred up shoulders of when they used to have wings beating there, the torn muscles and phantom pangs where other limbs should be

luckly Charlie LOVES messing with hair- (or says she does, not mentioning she’d love just about any excuse to spend time sitting close to Vaggie and touching her in some way) so it all works out fine

maybe too fine. Maybe Vaggie starts really REALLY being glad she decided to grow out her hair..

…and increasingly less glad, thinking about the day when she won’t need Charlie’s help with it anymore

that day is coming up pretty fast. Turns out even when the attacker is another angel, angels still heal up pretty well, especially with a nice demon lady to help

even sans normal depth perception and not yet great at compensating for it, Vaggie’s not banging into stuff so much anymore as she learns the layout of the house (and Charlie learns not to be so spontaneous with day-to-day furniture placement anymore), and lately Vaggie's had a lot less trouble just doing stuff in general. She can do her bends and stretches without grumbling about stiffness. Can reach down and pick up Razzle or Dazzle and carry them around without thinking twice about it (still doesn't notice Charlie's pointed comments on how they can totally fly just fine or the pouts Charlie throws at the lucky little demons whenever they snuggle more smugly into Vaggie's arms)

best of all- as far as Charlie is concerned Vaggie's not grimacing when she has to put on a shirt or jacket-

but she IS STILL SMILING when Charlie holds out said jacket to help her slip it on, especially when it's Charlie's jacket, especially the times when Charlie climbs out onto the roof in the middle of the night to find Vaggie and wrap her in said jacket after noticing her new cuddle buddy wasn't in their bed anymore which apparently was enough to wake Charlie up and.... ahem....

point is, Vaggie has fewer pain things to be distracted and exhausted by these days, and that damn ribbon mystery is starting to get to her

she doesn't wanna over step this ridiculous amount of hospitality Charlie's been showing her

(still internally struggling between the sickening thought that it Must Be A Trap and the million times worse physically painful idea that it's not, that someone like Charlie has been here in hell the whole time, and that Charlie's really been just THAT alone that she'd latch onto any stranger who let her help them and smiled at her about it)

Vaggie KNOWS there's a lot Charlie isn't saying yet about just how bad things have been for her, with the abandonment, the isolation, the grinding futility of not being able to change hell if hell isn't on board with it too and having to watch her home repeatedly set itself on fire (literally) when it's not being slaughtered (partly by Vaggie, until just recently)

Charlie not talking about something means Charlie doesn't want to talk about the thing, and Vaggie can respect that. She, Vaggie, gets it completely-

to a degree that's skirting the line of passively outright LYING by omission when she doesn't correct Charlie's guess about her being a moth-themed sinner demon, instead of the former murder angel she is, instead of telling Charlie who Charlie is actually letting stay in her home and sleep draped over her and neatening Charlie’s bowtie for her bc Charlie looks really good in it and Vaggie wants everyone to see that and also wants to remember how Charlie’s shoulder’s felt under her hands as she smoothed the lapels down at the end for good measure

ANYWAY

not talking about their shitty pasts can totally be their shared thing. That would be great actually.

but that ribbon. That fucking ribbon.

the way Charlie holds it and smiles at it fondly and PETS the damn thing sometimes. How she gets all dreamy eyed over it. That one time Vaggie heard her GIGGLE while pressing the pretty red thing to her chest

(that is vaggie's spot vaggie is the one whos snuggles over charlie's heartbeat every night-)

(She is NOT getting territorial over a fucking piece of cloth)

(she's got no right to)

(she probably won't be here much longer anyway, now she's healing up so well)

(she would be a lot smarter and safer if she got her crippled angel but out of there and vanished into the masses of hell, if she DIDN'T keep living with and lying to the actual literal legit princess of honestly to fucking hell. or sleeping in her BED)

(she keeps telling herself that)

(it's not working)

(she keeps thinking of charlie alone in the house again and feeling sick)

the giggle is too much though, and Vaggie does end up asking-

Vaggie: "Are you ever gonna wear it?"

Charlie: "Hm? Me wear what?"

Vaggie: "The." (points at ribbon) "That."

Charlie: "Oh THIS!?" (eeps) (hides ribbon behind back) "Oh no it's not for me! It's uh I mean, it's not really my kinda thing!"

Vaggie: "Not your thing? You always tie your hair back."

Charlie: "Yeeees, but not with ribbons!"

Vaggie: "It's red. Your favorite color."

Charlie: "Correction- Red USED to be my favorite color!"

Vaggie: "Really? Since when?"

Charlie: "Since, uh, since no time in particular...."

Vaggie: "So what's your new fav color-"

Charlie: "THE RIBBON'S NOT EVEN MINE, ACTUALLY! That's! What I meant!"

Vaggie: "But you bought it."

Charlie: "I can buy things for people who aren't me?"

Vaggie: "You keep it next to you while you sleep and won't stop picking it up and stroking it like it's a kitten or something."

Charlie: "Well, I just.... like checking! Checking that it's as nice as I thought it was!"

Vaggie: "Is it gonna be a gift or something?"

Charlie: "Yes YES that's EXACTLY what it is!!!"

Vaggie: "Didn't know someone's birthday was coming up."

Charlie: "Oh no it's more of a, a congratulations kinda gifty thing?"

Vaggie: "That's sweet." (dredges up a smile) "Give my congrats to them too, okay?"

Charlie: "Ah, um. But you don't even know what the congrations are for...?"

Vaggie: "Coming from me, it's for having someone who cares so much in their life."

Charlie: "Y- they have what? Who??"

Vaggie: (laughs) "You, sweetie."

Charlie: "I'm- I'm just giving a ribbon! It's just a ribbon!"

Vaggie: "You're putting a lot of care and thought into it, and thinking of them being happy about it is getting you all giggly.”

Charlie: “I giggled?”

Vaggie: “Yeah you did. If it were me, that wouldn't -just- be a ribbon, coming from you."

Charlie: "....."

Charlie: ".... OH SHIT I NEED TO GO TAKE THE LAUNDRY OUT OF THE DRYER THING!"

Vaggie: "It's out already. I'm folding it right now, with you."

Charlie: (already half out of the room) "TAKE OUT THAT’S A GREAT IDEA I'LL GO ORDER SOME!!"

Vaggie: "Your phone's right here though-"

Charlie: "I'LL GO ORDER IT IN PERSON!"

Vaggie: "Why-?"

Charlie: "FRESH AIR! SAVE THEM A WALK!!! I'll be right back- don't go anywhere okay!?"

Vaggie: "Okay..."

Charlie: (exits)

Charlie: (pokes her head back in) "Um."

Vaggie: "I'd kill for more of what we got last week."

Charlie: "Right! ON IT!" (flees)

Vaggie: (smiles) (goes back to laundry folding) (is curled up and using on of charlie's freshly folded shirts as a pillow when charlie gets back with the emergency take out)

Alright.

So Charlie might not be as alone as Vaggie assumed / feared.

That's a good thing. Right? Right.

She doesn't really need Vaggie.

(as soon as vaggie's as healed as she'll ever be, she won't need charlie either)

(she tries telling herself that)

(once)

(it doesn't work)

(she's not good at saying stuff- but she's absolute shit at lying)

To keep from thinking stupid things, Vaggie does what works best for clearing her mind- she moves. Lots of limbering up, lots of spear practice, lots of playing uppsie toss with little demons, a bit of dancing thrown it-

(yes okay sometimes it's with charlie and sometimes it's charlie grinning and strumming out a tune on her guitar she knows vaggie can't not dance to, bc she's been paying attention to the songs vaggie bobs her head to or hums along with, and look that's totally normal, and if dancing with or for charlie makes vaggie's heart beat way faster than that level of exercise normally should that's between her and no one else so shut up)

-she's getting stronger, is the point. She's getting back to where she used to be at,

and maybe it's a bit frustrating that just being able to reach up and grab something off the top shelf is SUCH a clear sign of recovery,

maybe she's frustrated with herself for a moment

angry at herself for the shock of cold dread as she realizes she didn't NEED Charlie and in all her lanky glory to get the thing down for her...

it’s almost time to stop pretending

she was never really needed here

but it's hard to focus on frustration or fear or self-loathing, when Charlie is letting out one of her happy yips and literally starts applauding

Charlie: "UNHOLY SHIT VAGGIE, you did it! You did it all by yourself!!”

Vaggie: (blinking back to the present moment)

Vaggie: “..Did what?”

Charlie: “You reached the middle shelf!!!"

Vaggie: "Oh, huh…” (looks up) “Uh excuse you that is the top shelf, sweetie."

Charlie: (laughing) "Whatever you say~"

Charlie: "Now wait RIGHT HERE okay?" (dashes out of kitchen) "Don't move!"

Vaggie: "...."

Charlie: (skids back in) "Okay I- Vaggie what!? Don't hold the pose like that! You're back will flare up- why didn't you put you arms down again???"

Vaggie: "You said don't move."

Charlie: "I meant! From the KITCHEN! Gah!"

Vaggie: (smirks) "It's fine, I do exercises like this anyway."

Charlie: "But not without warming up first- oh whatever. We'll deal with it later. Right now though..."

Charlie: (beams) (holds out ribbon)

Charlie: “Here!”

Vaggie: "....what am I supposed to do here, Charlie."

Charlie: "Take it! If you want to?

Vaggie: “That’s your ribbon.”

Charlie: “Nope! It's yours!"

Vaggie: "But.. didn't you get it as a gift for..."

Charlie: "For you. I got it for you."

Vaggie: "..."

Charlie: "... it's for, your hair?"

Vaggie: "My hair."

Charlie: "You've been growing it long and, taking care of it yourself when you couldn't hold your arms up wasn't really a thing- so I didn't want to give a present that reminded you of that, but also having long hair is so FUN you can do so MUCH with it-! Ribbons are great for messing around with and finding your own new styles and, um."

Charlie: "Y-you don't seem to HATE the color red? You like wearing my jacket just fine! I think? So I saw this, one day, and thought- wow! That would beautiful on Vaggie! Maybe she'd like it?"

Charlie: "So I got it, and then I couldn't give it yet, not until you could put it in yourself if you wanted to-"

Charlie: "And now you CAN! Or not?"

Charlie: "It's just been so great seeing you getting better, I, I just thought you should get something nice out of all this too- something new, something yours."

Charlie: "Like. A ribbon?"

Charlie: (gingerly holds out ribbon)

Vaggie: "...."

Vaggie: (gently takes ribbon) "I have no idea how to wear one."

Charlie: (breathes out) "Oh there's all sorts of ways! I can show you! You can experiment the FUCK out of them and see what you like!"

Vaggie: "Yeah?" (chuckles) (not making eye contract)

Charlie: "ANYTHING you like, Vaggie." (staring at her) (smiling soppily) "If the ribbon's not your thing, then anything else. More spears... tickets to one of the less-gory concerts, a motorbike-"

Vaggie: "A motorbike for a woman who keeps running into tables."

Charlie: "There's no traffic laws in hell! Or, I don't know, maybe-"

Charlie: (flinching) "Your own apartment? If you.. if you wanted that.. your own space could be nice, I bet. I’d miss you but you might like-"

Vaggie: "You're not buying me an apartment, Charlie."

Charlie: "I can if I want to! If YOU want me to?"

Vaggie: "I'd have to steal Razzle and Dazzle. Take them with me."

Charlie: (hand on chest) (mock outraged) "You'd steal MY childhood plushies turned demon bodyguards??? Not happening!"

Vaggie: "Then I guess I'm staying."

Charlie: "RIGHT! Yes. You are.” (softly) “You are.”

Vaggie: "You've bribed me with soft adorable demon cuddles."

Charlie: (not realizing vaggie means her) "The old Razzle Dazzle never fails. BUT I'm still waiting on an answer! We really need to celebrate."

Vaggie: "Celebrate my single handed conquest of the top shelf?"

Charlie: "Yes! The middle shelf."

Vaggie: "Top shelf."

Charlie: "Middle?"

Vaggie: "Top."

Charlie: "There's another shelf above it?"

Vaggie: "That the stupid extra shelf."

Charlie: (snorts) "We do NOT have an extra shelf, Vaggie."

Vaggie: "...."

(charlie said WE)

Vaggie: "...you know what I'd really like?"

Charlie: "What?" (leaning in) "Anything. Tell me."

Vaggie: (holds out ribbon)

Vaggie: "Help me put it on."

Charlie: "Put it on you, FOR you?"

Vaggie: "And maybe tie it in a cute bow or something."

Charlie: "But." (worried) "Is your back-?"

Vaggie: "My back's fine, sweetie. I don't need you to do this for me."

Vaggie: (finally looking up) (eye a little teary)

Vaggie: "I just want you to."

Charlie: (not breathing)

Charlie: ".....okay."

Charlie: (remembering to breathe) (blinking hard) (Beaming)

Charlie: "Anytime, Vaggie.”

It’s a promise.

It’s stupid how long it takes them to figure out they’re both single-brain cell in love with each other. But that’s fine, they can just be stupidly in love together for longer than that, to make up for it.

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

{ This is my little gift for you all! I had to do something! So i wipped this up toot sweet!!! I hope you all have a good Holiday Season!!!! }

🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄

Eddie's not sure why he lied. Told the party, Hopper and Joyce, and Steve, that he couldn't stay for Christmas. He'd gotten everyone gifts. Brought them all to the house. Steve had rushed out the door when Eddie was struggling to grab them all, like he'd been watching out the window for Eddie to arrive or something.

Steve's warm smile and laugh as he steadied Eddie on the sidewalk, and unloaded several boxes into his own arms, had made Eddie's stomach all swishy. But he'd walked through the door, into the, very loud, house. He'd seen everyone. All of them shouting hello's and asking for presents and telling him where to put things and what they were eating and what time.

Eddie's chest felt tight. He didn't know why. He hadn't even smiled at any of them, except maybe Steve, he couldn't remember. But he'd set the gifts down, cleared his throat and the words had tumbled out of his mouth.

"Sadly gremlins. I cannot stay. Wayne just got home from his shift at work. They finally let them have a Christmas off. And I promised we'd do a nice quiet Christmas, just the two of us." And he unceremoniously ran for the door, the disappointed sounds of the house full of his friends following him as he ran, his heart pounding. He thought he might have heard Steve tell him to wait, but he couldn't. He ducked out the door, nearly slipped on the ice on the stairs and booked it down the sidewalk before scrambling into his van.

Steve was standing on the pourch when he chanced a glance that way as he was backing out, his arms wrapped around himself to fend off the cold. He raised his hand, waving at Eddie as he drove away.

He could feel the tears coming before he managed to get back to the trailer park. His vision swimming. He wiped at his face and slowed down a bit. It had started snowing again, big fluffy flakes falling down. He pulled up to the trailer, it's windows dark, the way he'd left it after Wayne had gone to work, and he'd headed out to Hopper and Joyce's house.

He slammed the van door and stood standing in the falling snow, looking at the empty trailer, tears falling down his cheeks.

"You're so fucking stupid." He hissed at himself, turned, kicked his tire several times and yelled before stomping up the steps and ducking inside.

He kicks his shoes off, yanks his clothes off, struggles into his pajama pants and his ratty comfy old Dio shirt and crawls into bed. He hadn't turned on one light in the trailer. Preferred to do his self loathing in the dark.

He doesn't know how long he lays there, crying into his pillow, listening to the wind and the light patter of chunky snowflakes hitting his window. But he barely hears the knock. He sniffles, lifts his head, waits.

Two knocks. Gentle but insistent.

His chest tightens but he tosses his blanket off and pads slowly to the door. His hand reaching out as two more knocks hit the door. He bites his lip and turns the small lock, pulls the door open to find exactly who he knew he'd find.

"Steve." His name. That's all he can manage right now. He's so tired.

"Hey." Steve responds, looking up at Eddie from the second step of his porch. There are snowflakes in his hair and his eyes are bright as he looks at Eddie, he's got a look on his face Eddie can't decipher right now.

"Are you okay?" Steve ask, blurts really, his hands shoving into his pockets, shoulders bunching around his neck. And oh. Nervous. Steve is nervous.

"I'm fine Steve. Just-" he sighs, deeply, covers his face with his hands and groans.

"You don't seem fine. And- and Wayne's clearly not here. And you just ran, man. What- what's wrong?" Steve had stepped up the last step, moved toward Eddie. Eddie missed his hands reaching out and dropping back down. But he didn't miss Steve pressing into his space. He could feel the warmth of Steve's chest against his arm, tears welling in his eyes again.

"I don't know." He whispers into his hands, before dropping them and looking at Steve, finally, his face wet.

"Hey. It's okay. Let's- can we go inside, you're gonna freeze." Steve's hands land on his shoulders, in comfort, and question, and guide him inside when Eddie nods.

Steve kicks his wet shoes off and grabs the blanket from the back of the couch. He wraps it around Eddie and then sits them both on the couch, their knees gently pressed together. His hands soothing over Eddie's arms. The comfort just makes Eddie feel like crying more. He shivers, fights the urge to  push Steve's hands away.

"Tell me what's going on in your head Ed's." Steve says, his voice quiet and soft.

"It was just... too much." Eddie shrugs, doesn't look up at Steve, just stares into his lap. He hears Steve sigh.

"I get that. Everyone in one place is definitely a lot." Steve moves his hands down, curls his fingers over Eddie's hands.

"I've never had that." Eddie admits, looks up at Steve then, finds his eyes wide and open and waiting.

"It was always me and my mom. Or me and Wayne. Sometimes my dad but he always disappeared at some point and no one really missed him." Eddie shrugged. Steve nodded, squeezed his hands.

"I don't know why I lied I'm sorry." Eddie's throat feels tight again, his voice tilting into a whine.

"Hey it's okay. You don't have to be sorry. It's okay. Come here." Steve grabs Eddie, pulls him agaisnt his chest. It's awkard, the angle, but it feels safe. Steve always makes him feel safe. Eddie takes a few deep breaths, breathing in Steve, his face smooshed against his deep red sweater.

"Did everyone like their gifts?" Eddie asks, he feels Steve laugh and then he's leaning back, letting Eddie sit up to look at him.

"What makes you think they opened them?" Steve gives him a look. Eddie gives him one right back that makes him laugh again.

"Yeah they loved them. Mike tried to touch Erica's without asking and she smacked him. She's gonna be busy painting those for awhile." He smiled at the memory.

"Oh. And you made Nancy cry. She didn't even know you knew Barb. Where'd you even get that picture?" Steve asked, smiling. Eddie sighed.

"I didn't know her super well. She was in my theater class two years in a row though. We did a skit together. A Shakespeare thing. Our teacher said her calm manner was the only one in class that could offset my manic energy." Eddie laughed, remembering how Barb had smiled at him when their teacher had said that.

"She was always nice to me. Even when people called me a devil worshiper. She never cared, or believed that, I don't think." Eddie shook his head.

"Anyway, one of the girls in stagecrew took the picture, it was during rehearsals. We were just goofin off." He shrugged again. Steve reached out, took his hand.

"She loved it Ed's. It was perfect. You uh, you're quite the gift giver." Steve says, a small smile creeping over his features.

"I like giving gifts." Eddie says, keeps his eyes on their hands as Steve's thumb moves over his skin, gentle and warm.

"Did you-" Eddie clears his throat.

"Did you open yours?" He asks, his teeth digging into his lip. Steve mirrors him, and then drops his head, looks up at Eddie through his bangs.

"Yeah. How long did it take you to make it?" He asks, his fingers twitching agaisnt Eddie's.

"Not as long as you'd think probably. Finding the right patches took the longest." He shrugged again, aiming for nonchalance.

"Mhm. And you left room for more. You'll have to sew them on for me if I find some. I don't know how to do that." Steve ducks his head again, trying to get Eddie to look at him.

"I could teach you how. It's not hard really, once you figure it out." Eddie looks up then, giving Steve a reassuring smile.

"Mhm. That could be nice." He squeezes Eddie's hand again and guilt shoots through Eddie. He scrunches his face as Steve looks at him.

"What? What's that face for?" Steve laughs.

"I finished your vest months ago." He blurts, his hands starting to shake in Steve's grasp.

"Oh." Is all Steve says, because he doesn't get it. He doesn't understand why that's a problem. Or a secret. Or whatever it is. But now that Eddie's said it, he can't not tell him why. Can't stop his mouth from telling Steve the things he's shouldn't tell him.

"I was afraid to give it to you." He says, Steve tilts his head to the side, looking like a fucking lost puppy with those fucking eyes of his.

"Why?" He finally asks when Eddie just stares at him.

"Because. I knew if you saw it. You'd know." Eddie says, his shoulders drooping.

"Know what?" Steve asks, Eddie's feels his hands clench, just barely. Eddie sighs, takes a deep breath, lets it out again.

"How I feel about you." Eddie says, in a sort of rush, and then his mouth really gets going.

"So ya know I figured, Christmas. That would solve it. I could give it to you at Christmas, when everyone gives gifts, that's a normal, friendly thing, to do. And I figured ya know, in a crowd, that it would be less... intimate? And maybe it wouldn't feel, so much... like what it so fucking clearly is. But I ruined that too. Cuz I fucking ran. And I didn't even get to see you open it." His hands flail out of Steve's grasp, and he stands, starts pacing.

"And maybe that's for the best. That I didn't see it. That might have made it worse. Seeing your gut reaction, not a reaction after the fact, that you had time to rehearse. Cuz if you actually hated it. And I saw that. God that would have been embarrassing. Here's me just fucking, declaring my love for you on a fucking peice of painstakingly perfected fabric and then there you would have been, opening it in front of everyone! Oh my god why did I think this was a good idea? This was so stupid. I'm a fucking idiot what the fuck was I- whoa what are you-" Eddie's words die in the air as Steve grabs him and yanks him to his chest, his fingers curled into Eddie's shirt, their chests pressed together firmly.

"Stop. Talking." Steve says, his mouth a crooked line as he smirks at Eddie.

"What?" Eddie asks, brows furrowed. Steve closes his eyes, shakes his head.

"You're ridiculous." He huffs, opens his eyes.

"I didn't hate it. Eddie. I'd never hate anything you made for me. But especially not that. I loved it." He breathes, leaning closer, just a fraction, Eddie can feel his breath ghosting over his skin. Steve's face hardens from the fond look into something more serious. He licks his lips. Takes a breath.

"I love you." He says, his hands uncurling and pressing flat against Eddie's chest, surly he can feel Eddie's heart pounding. Eddie nods.

"I love you too. Like a lot. Like it hurts sometimes how much. Does that make sense?" His face scrunches, Steve presses closer, slowly closing the small distance between.

"It makes perfect sense to me." He whispers agaisnt Eddie's lips, and kisses him. He hums into Eddie's mouth when Eddie gasps and scrambles for purchase on Steve's back.

Steve pulls back and brushes his nose against Eddie's. Resting his forehead against his as they breathe in each others air.

"Come back to the party. You can stay in your jammies." Steve whispers between then, giving Eddie's hips a squeeze. He squirms, further into Steve's grip.

"My jim jams." Eddie whispers, almost laughing.

"Mhm. Wanna spend Christmas with you. Was kinda really looking forward to it." Steve is still whispering. Eddie pulls back, shocked, for some reason.

"Really?" He asks. Steve bites his lip and nods.

"Yeah. Of course. Plus," he dips forward, presses a chaste kiss to Eddie's lips, because he can now.

"You've got gifts to open Mister." Steve smiles at him, tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear.

"Aww really. Gifts for lil ol me?" Eddie teases, but he feels his chest grow warm.

"Yeah. And if the party gets too much just tell me, and me and Rob and Nance will yell at everyone to shut the hell up." Steve shrugs, kisses Eddie's cheek.

"Yeah. Yeah okay. I'll get my coat." Eddie nods, untangling himself from Steve. Steve lets him go, but smacks Eddie's ass as he's walking away. Eddie yelps, jumps, and rubs at his butt as he walks down the hall.

Steve drives them back, carefully in the still falling snow. Eddie's sure Hawkins has never been so beautiful as it is right now. Eddie sitting in Steve's car, quiet Christmas music playing through the speakers as Steve takes them back to a house full of people who love him, and missed him, and want him there. Eddie watches the snow fall, tightens his fingers where they're laced with Steve's, and decides maybe Christmas isn't so bad after all.

[loaksky]

tw : ptsd

hi I love love love your work, may I make a request: abby comforting reader with ptsd after a nightmare/episode 🧸 only if you’re comfy with that of course angel!!

— 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒆 | 𝒂. 𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏

roommate!abby x fem roommate!reader, fluff / mild angst, wc: 2.3k

synopsis: oftentimes when you’re lost in the darkness, abby’s your light.

content warnings: language, sprinkled mentions trauma and implied ptsd ! talks of death, brief mentions of canon-compliant violence. this is set in the tlou2 universe, but is canon-divergent (did i use that term right lmaooo ??), abby & reader get off to a rocky start, but they’re so fucking cute & i wanna write more of them ????

author’s note: sugar !! you don’t even know how excited i was to see you in my inbox bae ! ilysm thank you so much for requesting ! hope i did this justice <3 ALSO this is my first time writing in the tlou universe ?? usually i write modern!aus so i'm like pissing myself lowkey ansjkdnfjasf

main masterlist | tlou masterlist

YOUR PRESENCE ON BASE SENDS a ripple of whispers from wall to wall. The circumstances pertaining to your arrival hadn’t been uncommon, but they were brutal, had people eyeing you with equal parts sympathy and disdain.

Truthfully, you don’t remember much of it, had blacked out after the first death, but the murmurs speculate that your entire family had been ambushed, turned and then picked off in a raid.

You don’t know how true that is.

Abby doesn’t really pay you much mind at first, isn’t all that thrilled when she finds out that you’re taking the spare side of the spacious room she occupies, but she keeps her mouth shut when she sees how fragile you are.

And it’s not like she sees you much, not even in the evenings when most people are turning in for the night. Your bed’s always made, your side of the room in pristine condition. The only indication that you lodge with Abby is the beat up backpack that hangs on the hook by your desk.

On occasion she’ll wake up in the wee hours of the night to find you tucked under the blankets, still as a statue, but come morning, you’re gone.

For a while, she appreciates the distance, but when she sees you only a handful of times in the nearly two months you’ve sought refuge at the stadium, she begins to grow curious.

First it starts as asking passive questions to those patrolling, then she starts briefly combing any areas she enters, but you’re like a fleeting wisp of smoke, gone with a gust of wind.

She happens upon you by chance one night, right as the sun is setting. She’s on her way to the weight room when she notices you. The library is relatively quiet around this time, everyone usually in the dining hall or working on their evening duties.

But there you are, going through a carton of what looks like newly arrived books from the most recent raid.

Abby acts against her own better judgment, door whooshing as she presses her weight against the pushbar.

You’re looking up from your sorting, eyebags still prominent, but the color has returned to your face and you look like you’ve been taking care of yourself.

“This where you disappear to everyday?” Abby asks, pulling an early 2000’s almanac from the shelf to distract herself from the sear of you gaze.

She glances back at you when you don’t respond, finds that you’ve returned to shuffling through the box instead of humoring her question.

She clears her throat, takes another step closer, and you’re looking up at her again.

“Any good titles?” she tries. “I’m kinda in a slump right now, think I—”

“You don’t have to pity me,” you say flatly, voice a lot different than Abby’d expected.

She’s floored, regardless. Doesn’t know what would compel you to say such a thing when she’s barely spoken a dozen words to you since your arrival.

“I’m not following,” Abby admits.

You’re small in comparison, but the look you level her with is mighty, makes her cheeks bloom red because a woman’s never looked at her in such a way. She feels like she’s in trouble, but maybe she likes it.

“I hear what you all say about me,” you say firmly. “That I’m probably batshit crazy, that the patrolling team should’ve just left me to die with the rest of my family, that I’m useless.”

Abby flinches, brows drawing together and lips parting incredulously.

You don’t expect her reaction.

“I’m lost?” she says in confusion, then adds, tone stony, “who’s been saying that shit?”

Frankly, you don’t really look convinced, but your shoulders are relaxing a fraction. Perhaps you won’t admit it, but Abby’s quiet outrage provides some semblance of comfort.

You shrug.

“Doesn’t matter,” you say quietly. “But you don’t have to go out of your way to be nice to me. I’m fine on my own.”

And Abby doesn’t know whose neck she has to wring, or how many for that matter, but despite initially being lukewarm towards you, she wants to squash every single person who’s made you feel like you can’t find a place among them.

“That’s bullshit,” she replies frankly, and you’re looking at her sharply. “People are bored, like to run their mouths. There’s a place here for everyone, you included.”

Such simple words shouldn’t make you feel warm, but you’re pausing, frozen like a hurt pup experiencing affection for the first time. You’re glancing up at her, lips pressed in a thin line.

Abby’s fidgeting because fuck, did she overstep a boundary with this interaction? Should she have left you alone instead? She wasn’t necessarily mad at the distance between you two, but the establishment of having a roommate makes her feel like she’s been living with a ghost recently.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

Abby’s shoulders deflate in relief, chest hitching as she takes in a shaky sigh.

“Have you...have you had dinner yet?”

Abby learns that regardless of breaking the ice, you’re still reserved. It’s quiet breaths of laughter when she cracks a joke, learning how to settle for the silence when the two of you are spending prolonged periods of time together (which is a lot more frequent that Abby had expected), and being the buffer between you and most things you find uncertainty with.

Not only that, but you’re a nocturnal creature of habit that she usually finds cooped up in the library.

It’s half past one in the morning some weeks later when she wakes up and groggily squints over the railing that divides the room to find that your bed is empty.

She’s pulling on a hoodie, slipping on a pair of sneakers and brushing her hair from her face as she slinks out into the hallway. And, of course, you’re in the first place she thinks to look, curled up against the cushions of an oversized chair with your eyes drooping over a children’s picture book.

She enters almost silently, only catching your attention when she’s a few paces away.

“Hey, A–” A yawn pulls from your chest. “Hey, Abby.”

She smiles softly.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

She leans against the armrest of the chair, peers down at you as you flip lazily through the pages before she’s pulling the book from your grasp.

You let out a sound of disapproval.

“M’not done,” you tell her.

“You look like you’re about to knock out,” Abby observes. “Why don’t we get you to bed.”

You yawn again, then sigh deeply.

“I won’t be able to fall asleep anyways,” you admit quietly.

Abby shifts and you look up at her. She notices the glimmer of vulnerability that glosses over your sleepy eyes.

“Is it because...” she trails off, swallows down the rest of her question because she doesn’t want to seem insensitive, but you seem to get the gist anyways.

“Among other things,” you admit.

“Oh,” Abby whispers. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug tiredly.

“Can’t be helped, really.”

And Abby’s learned to really like you these past few weeks, has felt for you and your journey here. It makes something tug hard at her heartstrings, especially when she sees little slivers of peace dawn you for a few moments at a time, only to be weighed down by the gravity of it all.

“Why don’t we go back and you can at least lay down?” she asks softly. “You need to rest.”

And you want to argue, tell her that it really is no use, especially when the darkness can be one of your sensitive triggers. But the look that Abby is giving you is pleading, like she can’t bear the thought of another one of your sleepless nights, so you nod carefully and let her guide you out of the seat.

“I know it’s touchy,” she says after a few silent moments down the hall. “But, you can...you can talk to me if you ever, y’know, need to get anything off your chest.”

You don’t mean to, you’re just caught up in the moment and Abby has a way of making you feel safe, but you’re grabbing gently at her fingertips as the two of you walk down the corridor.

“Thanks, Abby,” you swallow.

If Abby looks hard enough out the window, she can see the beginnings of the sun as it starts its ascent. She’d spent the latter half of the late evening murmuring to you in the dark, hoping that maybe the sound of her voice would lull you to sleep.

And it does, miraculously, she thinks to herself, when she hears the light puff of your steady breathing. She stays still for moments that bleed into several minutes, monitoring the tandem of your breaths. She doesn’t even realize how much time has passed until the sky begins to ooze from midnight to burnt swathes of orange.

She hadn’t slept a wink, too busy wanting to make sure that you’re snoozing well enough in the short period of time since you’d laid your head down. So she decides to get dressed in the dark, is in the middle of sliding her belt through the loops when she hears it.

It’s most imperceptible, the murmur that slips from your lips, but Abby’s been hyperaware recently. She thinks that maybe she’d been a little too loud, jeans rustling a little too hard, belt buckle clanging too much. But even as she stills in the dark, she hears the whimper that echos against the exposed rafters.

“Please...” Abby freezes, lump lodged deep in her throat.

Your body jerks, mattress squeaking under the sudden movement as your sheets rustle once, then twice.

“No.” Your breath catches so hard in your chest, Abby’s worried you won’t take another.

She’s crossing the room quickly, pawing around your nearby desk for the small lamp. The dim bulb casts a yellow glow over the surroundings and Abby finds you damp with a sheen of sweat.

“No, no, don’t—”

When her hands find you, you’re shooting up, shoving her away with so much force, she’s knocked to her ass. Before she even blinks, you’re straddling her, dagger she hadn’t even known you had on you, drawn.

“Hey,” she whispers shakily. “It’s me.”

Your eyes are wild, cheeks streaked with tears as you take in your surroundings. You touch base with your senses to ground you; the sound of your ragged breathing, the smell of Abby’s pine-scented soap, the taste of blood on your tongue, the feel of Abby’s shirt bunched in your fist, and the sight of her rigid frame clearing from the fog.

“Fuck,” you choke. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You’re dropping the dagger, fist loosening as you scramble to climb off of her. But her fingers are closing around your wrist to stop you, mooring you to place.

“It’s okay,” she says breathlessly. “It’s fine. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

Her hands slowly come up to brush over the sides of your arms comfortingly, and when you don’t flinch away, she’s reaching up to smooth the hair from your face.

The softness of her touch makes you melt, makes you wrap your arms around her shoulders and fall into her as her arms wind around your waist.

“I’m here,” she assures you quietly. “You’re safe.”

And when she feels your body shake against hers, her chest is squeezing, feels all those tamped down emotions from a loss that feels like such a distant memory resurface with every quiet sob that wracks your body.

She feels like she’d processed her grief well enough over the past few years after losing her dad, was buoyed in a consistent state of anger that manifested in a deep-seated need for vengeance as of late. But this makes her sad. Makes her want to take away everything that’s ever made you feel hurt in the world.

She’s squeezing you so tight, nose nestling into your hair as she rocks you gently.

Abby still doesn’t know how much time passes, but your heaving breaths turn into spaced hiccups as you sink further into her hold. She doesn’t realize that the exhaustion has crept over you until one of your hiccups fades to a sigh, until she’s pulling away to see that your cheek is pressed against her shoulder and your wet lashes brush the apples of your cheeks.

For once, it seems like one of those slivers of peace has found you in a moment of sleep and Abby wants to preserve it.

She’s shifting your weight, arms banding tight around your waist so that she can slowly stand. And when you stir, she cringes in defeat. But your breath puffs against the column of her throat, and while your proximity makes her cheeks burn, she can only focus on settling you back into bed.

“Abby,” you whisper groggily, as she sits on the edge of your bed to kick her shoes off. “Don’t leave, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she assures you softly, leaning back against your pillows and taking you with her. “I’ll be right here.”

True to her word, when you wake up, she is, one arm propped underneath her head, the other splayed between your shoulder blades.

The sun sits high in the sky, analog clock reading well into the morning and nearing the afternoon.

“Oh, fuck!” You’re leaning up abruptly, jostling Abby from her slumber and she’s gazing up at you with bleary eyes.

“Shit, are you okay?” Abby asks, voice thick with sleep.

“They’re probably looking for you,” you say frantically. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I—”

The hand on your back hasn’t left yet, rubbing slow circles there, the other mapping across your shoulders to pull you into her chest.

“S’okay,” she reassures you. “They won’t miss me for a day.”

“Abby—”

“Shhh,” she mutters. “M’sleeping.”

And you want to cry. Equal parts because of embarrassment and equal parts because Abby’s showed you the most kindness you can remember anyone ever showing you and it makes your heart swell in your chest.

“Abby?”

“Yes, ________?” she grumbles.

“Thank you.”

She squeezes you tighter.

neng © 2023

[harus-simp]

Wearing their clothes (maknae line)

Shen Ricky, Kim Gyuvin, Park Gunwook, Han Yujin

Genre: fluffy fluff

Warning: none

Word count: 1.1 K

Author's note: Here's part 2 hope you enjoy it <3

Hyung line

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How would your amazing boyfriend possibly react when he sees their partner wearing his clothes?

Ricky

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡

Another day with ricky another day were you were being spoiled by your boyfriend. He specially loved to invite you to dinner dates, seeing you all dressed up for him made his heart race, you looked like a beautiful doll, and he couldn't believe you were his.

You were coming back from a new restaurant near your house so you went there walking and you were returning like that as well. However, it was now much colder than it was before, so you were fighting against the freezing wind.

Luckily for you, ricky noticed this and offered you his jacket, saying that he is felt hot (he was obviously lying).

As you got home you plopped yourself on the sofa still with the jacket on and without the intention of taking it off at all.

"I see you like my jacket babe"

"Yeah, it's really comfy"

He laughed at your slightly tipsy tone, the champagne you had drank making a little bit of effect.

"I'll get you one so we can match"

You looked at him panicking.

"Noooo, I want yours"

"Why?"he asked smirking curiously

"Cause it smells like youuuu"

That made his smirk disappear completely and be replaced with a shy little smile, his cheeks turning red as well.

The way you literally had his heart and whole being at your mercy was driving him completely crazy. He wrapped his arms around your waist and carried you to your shared room.

"You don't know how much I love you babe"

"Mhmm love you too"you said after kissing his cheek

"Alright, let's get you to bed"

Gyuvin

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

After lots of bickering from your tall ass and lazy baby you finally got him to go out with you to the cinema as a movie you had been waiting for had came out recently, and there was no way you weren't going.

So you decided to bring gyuvin with you to watch it together.

You got to the venue were the cinema was located at and now was waiting for him to not be late or else you would kill him because you really wanted to see that film.

You had picked your outfit really blindly without paying that much attention, so you grabbed a hoodie that was laying on your chair.

You recognised it as one of gyuvin's hoodies, actually one of his most used ones. But that wouldn't stop you from using. On the contrary, that impulsed you to wear it even more.

Ten minutes before the movie started you finally watched him running towards you at full speed because he obviously was late.

"I'm so sorry baby I lost track of time, let's get going"

You nodded and grabbed his hand pulling him inside the place.

The movie finished and you got out quite happy with the end of the plot and so did gyu.

But suddenly your boyfriend looked at you with a shocked expression.

"Hey, that's my hoodie, give it back!"

"But I'm your partner gyu, you should give it to me"

"No it's mine, you hoodie stealer"he said tickling playfully your side to make you break

"Nooooo"you started bickering back

But all jokes aside (we know how playful he can be) he actually lived for that sight before him, he felt enchanted by you and wanted to keep this beautiful memory forever.

Gunwook

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡

It had been a long and hard week of school and the least you wanted to do at the moment was to go outside. But you had already made the promise to gunwook to have a stroll at the park and you didn't want to make your pookie sad.

So that's were you were right now, resting a bit on a little bench to see families with their children and people with their beloved pets.

"The weather's nice huh?"he said

"I wouldn't talk too early pookie, it can change at any moment"

And just as you predicted the air suddenly became colder making you shiver from its spontaneity, hugging yourself in the process.

"See I told you to watch your words wookie!"you playfully hit him

You kept hugging yourself not expecting gunwook to notice, so it came as a surprise when he suddenly stopped walking and asked you about it.

"Are you cold baby?"

"Oh, yeah a little bit"you responded giggling at his shocked face

"And where's your jacket?"

"I might have left it in class"

At this he instantly took off his own jacket and helped you put it on, folding the sleeves so it didn't cover you entirely.

"Thanks wookie"you said smiling at him

His immediate response was to grab your cheeks and squish them lovingly looking at you with heart eyes.

"Are you always this cute?"

"No, only for you"

That was it, he couldn't stand how cute you were, how everyone could see this side of you and only him.

"I'm tired let's head to your house and cuddle"

Yujin

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

On a random and boring day of summer you and yujin were lazily laying on his bed without anything to do other than show each other memes that were on your phones. But nothing that interesting to be honest.

And you were starting to get quite irritated from not doing anything productive in itself, it was such a waste of your time and your holidays.

However, you just got the best idea ever, you'd be trying some clothes from yujin knowing damn well that, despite his soft and delicate looks was a tough and muscular figure.

At last, curiosity got the best of you,so while he was distracted enough you went through his closet in search of something to try on, and as you got back with something good you picked his interest turning all his attention on you.

"What are you doing y/nnie?"

"Got bored so I'm trying your clothes, do I look like you?"you asked posing like you were on a runway show

"Pffff, not at all, you look tiny. You are so small"he said laughing

"Not my problem you are an early developed teen!"you shot back sticking your tongue out.

You knew he was teasing you, of course you knew it. But looking at how red his ears had turned you figured out he thought the opposite of what he actually said.

And you were right, the way he blushed as he saw how his hoodie was draping down to your knees made his mind go crazy.

But what can we say? Young kids in love <3

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Taglist: @zumblrnet

[st4rc4t]

hasan piker x weed smoking reader hcs

disclaimer! i do not condone underage marijuana usage!! this is just something silly for ppl who do/have smoked weed before. if ur under 21 in the united states don’t do it !!!

cw: marijuana usage, friends to lovers sorta idk the situation is weird, autistic coded reader ? it kinda just happens, semi pining, gn!reader

wc: 1.1k+

a/n: just me and my 3 weed smoking gfs

most of his friends in the youtube/twitch scene also smoke weed so he doesn’t really care

he smokes occasionally but only at night to help wind down a little bit

he doesnt mind the smell but he really hates when his clothes and hair smell like it

so when he’s around you make sure you’re either outside or blowing it out of a window

you never smoke inside his house

he didn’t ask you not to, you just assumed he wouldn’t like it

he doesnt and it makes him blush a little at ur consideration

whenever you get high and he doesn’t, he never says “omg ur so high” while ur trying to talk

cus like . yeah obviously that was the point ! and its not like ur completely different while high, just a little floatier and it takes you a minute to get thru ur sentences

but you talk about pretty much the same stuff and he loves talking to you

and u laugh a lot he likes that too

dont tell anyone tho

you looove getting high with him its such a special treat

ull be gathering ur paraphernalia to take out on the patio and he wanders out of his stream room looking like the sad hamster

he sees you getting ready, getting a bottle of juice and such and asks if he can join u

gasp of course he can !!!!!

asking how fucked up he wants to get so you know the best method of smoke delivery

he wants to sleep Good tonight so indica in the bong it is !

he’s nervous ab the bong so u bring out a bowl too incase he gets cold feet

he watches you get comfy in your seat outside, a comfortable warmth from the california setting sun

arranging everything ready on the table

“you look like a tweaker”

“im gonna make you a tweaker if ur not careful”

he laughs but he keeps watching you carefully pick out a healthy portion from the large bud you have, pushing it into the prongs of your grinder and twisting the two pieces against each other

he watches you pour the contents of a reusable water bottle into the large glass piece, eyeing the level of water

he watches you stop and put it to your lips, taking a pretend hit and making sure the water level is good

he watches you carefully pack the ground up flower into both bowl pieces, using your fingers to pat it level and dusting the excess back into the grinder with each one

you notice him staring but dont say anything until you’re already done

you make him an offering, bong and bowl in each respective hand. eyebrows raised as if to say, “which are we feeling?” but when he continues staring at the contents of your hands, you actually speak.

“dude are you already high, whats going on?” you laugh cautiously, genuinely a little worried but keeping it light hearted. he seems to snap out of it at your voice.

his eyes dart around for a second as he reenters his surroundings, chuckling when your word’s finally register, “no, yeah- sorry… really long day today,” his words fizzle out as he goes along. you cant help but feel bad, you dont know how he deals with streaming sometimes. you also feel weird about giving him a mind altering substance while he already seems spaced out.

setting the pieces down safely on the table, you look at him seriously before speaking, “are you sure you wanna do this? you’re kinda out of it,” you’re hard trying not to sound condescending, but you doubt he can read your tone that well right now anyway.

he smiles the most minuscule amount and looks away, but you see it. “yeah, im sure,” he sighs out gently before continuing, “i need to empty my brain,” he finishes by looking back to you with already tired eyes. you nod in understanding, relishing in knowing exactly how to fix his problem.

picking up the little glass bowl and a lighter, you hand both to him. they instantly look tiny in his hand and you’re not sure how he’s gonna actually do this. after realising you gave him green hit, you remind him to take a small hit. he just rolls his eyes sarcastically and scoffs, like of course he would, but you both know he would’ve blown a lung.

you watch him fumble with the glass, trying to get a good grip that covers the carb and wont burn his hand when he lights it

he eventually gets it and takes a little corner hit

a bit bigger than he was expecting tho so he does that thing where u cough the smoke out

just awful btw

u give him some water hes fine but boy does he love to complain

u just laugh at him and take ur own hit

breathing in deep, holding it for a second, and letting it go watching it escape into the open air

when he sees other people smoke it usually feels more rushed and energetic, like they were trying to ingest as much thc in as little time as possible

but you take your time. gathering everything and getting comfortable, settling into the ritual of the action. you take your time and let yourself feel it, you take your time and make sure he’s fully prepared before offering him anything

oh no he likes you !

he does end up hitting the bong but like the smallest baby hit so it doesn’t even count

he is sooo silly when hes high loves to laugh

he will def devolve into political rants if you let him, but you’re pretty good at making him laugh and redirecting him when hes like this

bc he smoked an indica this time his eyes are even more droopy than they were before and you can tell he’s getting tired

you clean up and follow him back inside amd he goes completely baby mode at the sight of kaya sleeping on the couch

petting her and pressing his face into her fur, going on and on about how soft she is

you laugh and sit on the other end of the big sectional covered in pillows and blankets

when hes done melting into kaya he sits down next to u with his arm around the back of the couch

real smooth .

it works 1000%

watching smth stupid like family guy (genuinely my fave show while high i will not elaborate)

chilling until he decides to go to bed at like 8:30

he convinces u to sleep on the couch bc ur both too high to drive and he would freak out at the thought of u in an uber rn

okay i have to be done i basically wrote a oneshot in the middle bye bye