#which is echo getting the blanket he deserved

[misstoodles-doodles]

Safe & Sound 💙

I just really wanted someone to give Echo a blanket so why not let it be Rex

Closeups T-T:

Bonus Doodle:

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

Easy to Love | G.W. 🩷

feat George Weasley x bsf!reader

SUMMARY: You get stood up by your boyfriend on Valentine's Day. Thankfully, your best friend George is ready to give you the Valentine's you deserve.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, hurt/comfort, cheating on shitty boyfriends, idiots to lovers, petty!George, dirty talk, oral, piv, dom!George, all the Valentine's fluff

AN: happy valentines day!!!! you all have my heart 🫶

masterlist

Your hurried footsteps echoed along the empty corridor, dampened by the screaming rain pouring from the thick blanket of clouds over the castle.

Fucking perfect, you thought, bitterly wiping tears and splattered rain from your cheeks. It was like the universe was taunting you.

Stood up by your boyfriend on Valentine's Day? Forced to walk back to Hogwarts in shame? Here, have some torrential downpour to really set the mood.

You still couldn't believe Jack stood you up. Left you looking like an idiot in the Three Broomsticks, alone and glowering into your fruity red drink, surrounded by pink streamers and heart balloons larger than your head. Completely humiliating.

Of all the shitty things he'd done to you over the last six months, this took the cake. And bizarrely, you felt like you deserved it for putting up with his bullshit for so long. You should have seen this coming from a mile away.

But you were too native, too stupid to see the red flags right under your nose. Well, that wasn't true. You saw them. You were just too scared to do anything about it.

Too scared to be alone. Too proud to admit you were wrong about him.

Merlin, George was going to be so fucking smug.

Your best friend, George Weasley, hated Jack. He hated Jack more than you'd ever seen him hate anyone. George had never had a problem with your past partners, albeit there was only two. But something about Jack brought out a side of George you’d never seen: vindictive, petty, mean.

Never directed towards you, of course, Jack and his friends bore the brunt of his wrath. It was enough that Jack steered clear of both George and his twin, who always matched his energy.

You knew George was just looking out for you, trying to protect you from, well, this. What you were feeling now. But you'd be damned if you gave him the satisfaction of being right.

Finally, the Fat Lady greeted you with a warm smile as you reached the top of the stairs. “Not out celebrating, lovey? Look at you, you're soaked!”

You sighed, looking down at your new dress, a babydoll in your favorite shade of pink, the fabric mottled with water and clinging to your skin. “Men suck*,*” you said.

The Fat Lady laughed. “They certainly do! What's the password, dear?”

You have it to her, and she swung open, a wadt of thumping music and the week of alcohol washed over you.

Shit. You'd completely forgotten about the Valentine's party tonight. While a drink sounded lovely, a drunken grind-fest was the last thing you wanted to participate in.

You pushed your way through the crowd, trying to make a beeline towards the girls dormitory. The crowd was thick, pushing and shoving, while music thumped loudly in your brain. Red hearts and cupids and streamers, were everywhere, a sheen of pink glitter starting to collect on your still-damp skin. Everywhere you looked, couples were all over each other, making out of dancing to the music, cuddled up on every available surface.

Tears burned behind your eyes again, and you tried pushing through with a little more force.

You popped out into a quieter area by the roaring fire, a circle of chairs occupied by the Quidditch team and a few others, which meant—

“Y/n?”

You looked up from your feet and locked eyes with George, who was hurriedly shifting a girl off his lap, ignoring her whine of protest while she grabbed at his white shirt.

The knife of hurt inexplicably twisted deeper in your gut, and you turned your back to him, pushing the other way through the crowd.

“Hey—wait!”

You made it to the stairs, but there was no outrunning those long legs—a lesson you'd learned countless times.

George snagged your wrist, turning you back towards him. “What happened?” The furrow between his brows deepened when he took in your tearful, soaked form. “Why are you wet? And where's the bilge-rat you call a boyfriend?”

You yanked your hand out of his hold. “Fuck if I know,” you snapped, trudging up the stairs, George on your heels.

“What do you mean? Didn't you have a date?” He asked, his tone getting angrier by the second.

You didn't respond, opening the door to your dorm and trying to slam it in George's face, but he caught it and pushed in behind you.

“Fuck, will you just tell me what happened? Are you okay?” He made an effort to soften his voice, catching your purse when you flung it at him.

“No, I'm not okay!” You cried, finally facing him, tears rolling down your cheeks. “Jack stood me up. He left me at the bar and—” emotion pinched your throat, cutting off your words.

You watched George cycle through the five stages of grief, frozen in the middle of the room. Then—

“Do you want me to find him?” He asked, voice a carefully measured calm.

“And do what?” You wiped at your cheeks, beyond frustrated. You couldn't decide if you wanted him to fuck off, or give you one of those big bears hugs he was so good at.

“Break his teeth in? Throw him in the lake? Set his hair on fire—”

“Stop it, George,” you muttered, sounding more defeated than angry.

He crossed the room to you, taking your trembling hands. “How can I fix it, love?” he asked, peering down at your pitiful, makeup smudged face.

You shook your head, avoiding his perceptive gaze. “Unless you have a time-turner to make me less of an idiot—”

“Hey.” George squeezed your hands, shaking you. “Don't talk about my girl that way. You did nothing wrong.”

You jerked your hands away, pushing past him and stalking over towards you vanity. “Please. You wanted me to leave him before we even got together. You made it abundantly clear how much you hated him.”

“Of course I did. He’s a prick—”

“So, clearly, you think I did something wrong by staying with him.” You angrily tugged your hair out of its style, wet strands tangled and getting frizzy, and started scrubbing off your makeup with a towelette. “Congratu-fucking-lations, you were right. You got what you wanted. Are you happy now?”

George looked like you'd struck him, hovering behind you in the mirror. You hated that he looked so handsome tonight in his white button down and dark wash jeans, his copper hair messy and flecked with glitter and heart-shaped confetti. It made it so much harder to be angry with him.

“You think this is what I wanted?” He asked. “The last thing I want is to see you hurting. Of course I'm not fucking happy that you're heartbroken. Even if it is over some limp-dick weasel.”

You scoffed, though you knew that was true, but it was easier to be angry right now. Easier to push him away than let him in.

George pressed on. “I'd like to hang him by the bollocks from the Whomping Willow for leaving you out in that storm, for all the shit he's done to you—”

“Just—go back to your party, George. I'm sure that doe-eyed girl is still waiting for you,” you hissed. It was a low blow, but you just wanted him gone so you could wallow in self-pity alone.

Suddenly, he was moving. His hands griped your waist, spinning your around and pressing you back into the vanity. His expression was severe. “Don't fucking do that,” he bit. “Don't act like I'm the bad guy when all I've wanted—” his voice caught in his throat, and he turned his head away, like he couldn't look at you.

His hands were burning through the thin fabric of your dress, his grip tight enough to ache, and you felt a long-suppressed heat kindle in your belly. George had manhandled you plenty of times: throwing you over his shoulder, dragging you by the hand through the halls, lifting you to retrieve a book from a high shelf. But this felt…different. Charged in a way you'd spent years trying to ignore for the sake of your friendship.

“What, George?” You asked, gripping the edge of the vanity so you didn't reach out to touch him.

He sighed. “When all I've wanted is to make you happy.” He looked at you again, his dark eyes filled with hurt and something warm, honeyed, that you refused to acknowledge.

Your anger crumbled into guilt. “I-I should have listened,” you croaked, tears rising once again. “I'm sorry, I—”

“No, no. None of that,” he shushed, bundling you into his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I just feel so…so stupid,” you whimpered, crying into the safety of his chest, enveloped in the spiced, slightly sweet smell of his cologne.

“You aren't stupid, love. Far from it,” he soothed, hand smoothing up and down your spine. “This is on him, not you. You don't deserve to be treated like this.” He rocked you gently while you cried, cooing softly in your ear and keeping you grounded with his touch, until finally, your sobs ebbed to sniffles, and you drew a full, shaky breath. “There you go,” he said. “Take another one—that’s it. I've got you.”

“Thanks, Georgie,” you sniffled into his shirt.

“No need to thank me. I'm sorry that your Valentine's was ruined,” he murmured into your hair.

“I'm sorry yours was ruined too,” you mumbled, your fists tightening in the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him a fraction closer, unwilling to part just yet.

“Ruined?” He chuckled. “Got my Valentine right here.” He squeezed you a little tighter, the air wheezing for your lungs until you laughed.

“Since when am I your Valentine?” You asked, pulling back to look up at him, a traitorous stab of affection making your heart skip. Shit, you should not be feeling these things for your best friend. It was just your hurt feelings, the holiday—nothing more.

“Since second year when I gave you that heart-shaped box of chocolates,” he said, pretending to be offended that you didn't remember.

“The one that exploded pink powder all over my face?”

George grimaced. “I forgot it did that…sorry, by the way.”

You smiled, pinching his freckled cheek. “You're forgiven.”

He grinned back, glancing down at your wet dress. “C’mon, get out of this wet cupcake and meet me in my dorm, I have something for you.”

“Cupcake?” You rolled your eyes, finally stepping out of his arms, though his hand lingered on your waist until you were fully out of arms reach. “It's a dress!”

“If you say so,” he teased, perusing your legs as you walked away. “I prefer your bunny pajamas, but—”

You chucked your shoe at him. “Fuck off, I'll see you in a second.”

He held his hands up in surrender and slipped out the door, closing it softly behind him.

What on earth could have have for you? Probably his usual box of chocolates, you mused as you peeled off the soggy fabric. Hopefully the non-explosive variety.

You riffled through your trunk, searching for something oversized and comfortable. But to your dismay, nearly everything large enough was your boyfriends, and you absolutely refused to wear something of him.

But at the very bottom of your trunk, something familiar caught your eye. You pulled it out, unveiling an old Quidditch hoodie, the letters faded and fabric soft from countless washes. George had lent it to you before a particularly cold match, and Gryffindor won in a landslide. It became a good luck charm of sorts, one you wore to every game there after.

But when you started dating Jack, he'd gotten pissed at you for wearing it, and you'd hidden it at the bottom of your trunk, never quite ready to give it back to George.

It smelled of green grass and open sky, and you tugged it over your head, letting it's warmth envelop you. Then, you put on a pair of sleep shorts and fuzzy socks, and padded out of the room towards George's, knocking twice before letting yourself in.

Fred and George were standing by the window, arguing in hushed voices, and straightened abruptly when you walked in.

“Hey, gorgeous!” Fred said, crossing the room and pulling you into a back-breaking hug. He reeked of beer. “How are we?”

“Peachy,” you replied tightly, glancing at George over Fred’s shoulder. He was scratching the back of his head, looking sheepish.

“Naughty girl, lying to me.” Fred winked, and you swatted his shoulder. “But don't worry, love. The boys are on it!”

“The boys? Wait—Fred!” But he was already gone, the door swinging shut behind him. You glared at George, and he held his hands up.

“They were worried about you!” He said defensively. “We care about you, y’know…” his voice trailed off when his eyes landed on your hoodie. “You still have that?”

Heat creeped up your neck. “’Course I do.”

“I thought shit-for-brains made you—”

“He tried,” you replied, tension coiling around the two of you once again.

A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. “My good luck charm,” he chuckled, and your heart leapt into your throat.

“So, what do you have for me?” You asked, sitting on the edge of his bed like you always did. But something in his eyes flashed, making your lower belly heat.

What was going on with him?

He pushed himself from the wall and walked towards his trunk, just to the left of you. He rummaged around, withdrawing a pink gift bag with heart-covered tissue paper sticking out from the top.

“Oh, George…you didn't have to do this,” you said when he sat beside you.

“I wanted to.” He shrugged, setting the bag on your lap.

Heart pounding in your chest, you carefully removed the tissue paper, finding a pile of candy: chocolates and gummy lips and heart-shaped lollipops. There were also a few sachets of your favorite tea, pilfered from the kitchen, you imagined, and a copy of the book you'd been eyeballing your last trip to Hogsmeade with him and Fred.

Your heart was so full you feared it may burst. “Georgie, this is so sweet, thank you—”

“There's one more thing,” he said, gently taking the bag from you. He stuck his hand all the way to the bottom, and withdrew a small, pink-wrapped box with a ribbon tied around it.

The air was sucked from your lungs, ears ringing with shock as you gingerly took the box from him. He fidgeted beside you as you slowly unwrapped the paper, fingers trembling. The energy was taught around you, practically humming with tension.

A velvet box fell into your palm, the most gorgeous shade of burgundy with a delicate golden latch.

You almost didn't want to open it, terrified of what this meant, but so giddy you could sing. George, the poor guy, looked ready to burst out of his skin with impatience.

Carefully, you opened the lid. Inside was a gorgeous chain bracelet, the metal polished to perfection, with two charms resting against the velvet pillow. A tiny heart with your initial etched onto it, and a small fox, George's favorite mischievous, red-haired critter.

You pressed a hand to your mouth, tears pooling on your lower lashes. It was the most thoughtful gift you'd ever received. “George, I—”

“And you can get more charms, there's a shop in Hogsmeade with loads, books and birds and stars--”

You flung your arms around his neck, cutting off his nervous rambling. “I love it, Georgie, thank you,” you murmured into the crook of his neck.

He relaxed, his arms looping around your waist. “Of course,” he replied.

You pulled back, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand, inspecting the little fox. It crossed your mind that if Jack saw this, he'd be livid, probably go so far as to threaten George, break off the precious little fox, and your smile fell.

“Hey, what happened?” George asked, shifting to kneel in front of you as you curled inward. “You don't like the fox?”

“No, no—” you tried to suppress the tears forcing their way up. “I love the fox. I just—”

George's expression hardened. “Jack won't like it,” he said, an edge to his voice. “You're not going to stay with him, are you?”

You shook your head. “No, I'm not. But we're technically still together—”

“That's bullshit,” George snarled, pushing to his feet and stalking away from you. “He fucking forfeited his right when he left you alone like that. You could have gotten hurt. He just fucking abandoned you and is probably off with some other bird—”

A sob broke free from your chest, and he halted his tirade, shoulders sagging.

“Do you want him?” George asked, crouching in front of you again.

You shook your head. “No, I don’t,” you admitted.

George reached out to cradle your face, catching your tears with his thumbs. His eyes were so sweet, so sincere, it made your teeth ache. “Do you want me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but the words still felt like a punch through your chest.

Your mind was reeling. Of course, a part of you always wanted more with him, but… “I do, of course I do…but what if that ruins everything?” Your fingers curled into his shirt. “I don't want to lose you—”

“Never,” he said, shaking you so you met his eyes. “Never.”

“Relationships are different, though. What if we don't work like…that?”

His hands moved down to hold your neck, his touch gentle but insistent, your pulse thundering under his fingertips. “I’m still me, and you're still you. Are you going to look me in the eyes and tell me you haven't thought about it? That you haven't felt the pull?”

You don't reply, averting your eyes from his face.

“Not even when you're all alone, and Jack’s left you half-loved, tangled in your sheets…you don't think about me coming in there and taking care of you?”

Heat scorched your cheeks, your thighs clenching at the low purr of his voice, a pitch you hadn't heard before.

“Because I think about it all the time.”

You pussy throbbed and you gasped, shocked by the way your body was reacting to his words alone, your mind scrambling to keep up with this new reality you've stumbled into.

“Knowing I could treat you better, love you better—it keeps me up at night, baby. Imagining all the ways I could take care of you, make you happy, make you mine—”

Unable to stand it any longer, you yanked him forward and connected your mouth with his, cutting him off. He groaned, surging up to tackle you back onto his mattress, his lips hungry and rough against yours. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, his lips, his touch, his heat, burning you from the inside out.

No one has ever kissed you like that before, desperate, ravenous. With an eagerness that was palpable, his heart thundering against yours as he pressed impossibly closer to you.

He pried open your lips with his, his tongue plunging into your mouth with fervid strokes. One of his hands slid under your hoodie, caressing the bare skin of your hip and up your side, leaving tingles in the wake of his calloused palm. His other hand found the crook of your knee, lifting it up to hug his waist, opening your legs so he could press closer, harder��

“George!” You gasped when he rolled his hips against yours, the hard ridge of his cock straining against his jeans, your tiny shorts offering next to no barrier.

“Fuck, I've wanted to hear that for so long,” he panted, burying his face into your neck to kiss and lick at the sensitive skin. “Sound so pretty, baby.” He rolled his hips again, and your whole body arched closer to him, desperate for more as a weak whine spilled from your lips. The seam of his jeans caught your swelling clit just right, making your entire body hum with desire.

“Merlin’s fuck—what are you doing to me?” You keened, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, starving for the feel of his skin against yours.

“The bare minimum,” he teased, nipping at your earlobe. “You make it so easy to love you.” His hands squeezed at your flesh, his breath hot against your neck as he continued rocking your hips together. “So fucking sexy, so responsive. I knew you'd be perfect—” he grunted when you thrust your hips back up against him.

You finally managed to get his shirt off, pushing it over his shoulders and he tossed it onto the floor. The pale stretch of freckled skin on his chest made your mouth water, but you didn't get to admire him for long. He tugged your hoodie over your head, casting it across the room, and revealing the near see-through lacy red thing you'd selected for the evening and didn't bother changing out of.

A broken sound hissed through his teeth. Jealousy bloomed in his eyes, his jaw feathering with irritation.

You reached up to caress his cheek, drawing his eyes to your face. “He never got to see it,” you cooed, petting the hard line of his jaw and coaxing him to relax. “All yours now, yeah? No one else's.”

His eyes searched your face, anger melting into scalding desire. “Say it again,” he rasped.

“All yours,” you hummed, pecking his lips.

His hand spread across your collarbones, long fingers stretching nearly shoulder to shoulder, and he shoved you roughly back onto the bed. The next moment, his mouth was on your chest, hot and warm through the thin lace as he smeared open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His tongue lashed one peaked nipple, drawing a cry from your lips as he sucked the bud and fabric between his teeth.

Your hands flew into his hair, tugging and guiding his mouth where you wanted him, and he went willingly, eager for any and all contact, quick to repeat the tricks that made your breath hitch.

His hand slid down your stomach, beneath he waist band of your shorts, and he dragged his middle finger through your dripping slit, a high-pitched moaning making him smile against your chest.

“Merlin, you're soaked,” he purred, kissing up your neck and capturing your lips in a messy, top-lip kiss. His finger swirled around your puffy clit, applying just enough pressure to have pleasure radiating through your body. “You get this wet for him, baby?” He whispered, dipping his fingertips into your entrance, once, twice, before sinking down to the knuckle. “Little cunt sucking me right in. She was ready for me, hm?”

“G-George,” his name was a fractured whimper on your tongue, your mind going fuzzy when he curled his finger up, hitting a spot that you'd never felt before.

“Oh, you poor thing,” George cooed, adding a second finger and stroking the same spot again, your whole body hitching up the bed at the intensity of it. But his body weight held you down, his mouth painting gentle kisses along your skin to try and soothe you. “He never touch you like this? Never found that spot—fuck, right there, baby? That's it?”

You bobbled your head like an idiot, grinding your hips back into his hand as he started fucking his fingers into you more deliberately, the lewd, gooey smack of your pussy filling the dorm.

“Good girl,” he praised, propping himself up to peer down at you, eyes blown wide with lust as he took in your trembling, sweat-kissed skin. “How did I get so fucking lucky?” He asked, leaning down to kiss you again, all softness and affection, so different than the relentless way he was dominating your cunt.

You pawed at his jeans, tugging at his belt. “Mmph, please—need you,” you whined against his mouth, and he groaned.

“Fuck, you're killing me, love,” he grated, his hips bucking into your hand. “You want my cock that bad?”

You nodded, still struggling with his belt.

He pushed off of you and undid his belt, removing his jeans and shoes in record time, his flushed cock slapping up against his stomach. He grabbed you by the ankle and tugged you to the edge of the bed.

“You've got a slutty little thong under here, don't you?” He asked, toying with the waistband of your shorts.

“Maybe,” you said, half-distracted by his cock jumping at the sound of your voice, the tip slick with precum.

He glanced down, following your gaze, and chuckled. “My eyes are up here, pretty girl,” he chastised with a light slap to your inner thigh. He pushed your shorts down your legs, followed by the red thong your wore underneath. He tossed the thong onto his bedside table, instead of the floor with the rest of the clothes.

You raised an eyebrow at him, about to make some teasing remark, when he dragged his cockhead through your messy slit, and all thoughts tumbled right out of your brain, dripping from between your legs.

“For later, yeah?” He said, smirking when your eyes rolled back when he tapped your clit with the head. “So next time I see that fucker, I can show him exactly what he lost.”

“George—” you started to chastise him for being cruel when he notched at your entrance, sinking halfway into your willing pussy, and you both cried out. The fullness, the stretch, was mind-melting. Better than anything you'd felt in your life.

George braced his hand beside your head, sagging forward as he hissed a curse under his breath. “Fucking shit, love,” he panted, his muscles locked up so tight he was practically vibrating. “M'done for if you keep squeezin’ me like that.”

You moaned, lifting your hips to take him a little deeper, needing more even though you felt like he was ripping you apart at the seams. “Please, Georgie,” you whimpered, clawing at his skin. “Want all of you.”

“I know, honey. I know. Just give me a second.” He leaned further down, peppering kisses across your cheeks and jaw. “Don't wanna hurt you, gotta relax f’me.”

You took a few breaths, trying to get your muscles to relax as his lips moved over your fevered skin. You felt him slide a bit deeper, the stretch not quite as intense.

“Good girl, that's it. Just a little further,” he praised, his hand gripping the flesh of your hip as he started rocking into you, slow, rolling thrusts that got incrementally longer each time, until his pelvis met yours and you were a moaning mess, writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

George straightened, his hand on the bed shifting to your shoulder, and he snapped his hips forward, forcing a cry from your lips as pleasure struck you like lightning. He set a rough pace, fucking you deep and hard, his grip on your body keeping you locked in place.

You were lost in it, helpless to the pitch and roll of his ocean, completely adrift in the pleasure he was pulling from your body. You tried to fuck back against him, but your body refused to cooperate, dumb and boneless and cockdrunk.

“So fucking pretty like this. Tell me how pretty you are, baby,” he said, his hand leaving your hip to rub tight circles over your clit.

“Mmph—fuck, so pretty,” you managed, voice throttled with lust and desperation.

“Yeah, you are.” He grinned. “My pretty girl takin’ this cock so well. He fuck you like this? Have you a drooling mess for him?”

You shook your head, nails biting into his thighs as your release prowled closer, coiling tight in your belly. “No, never,” you keened, when ratcheted up the pace sensing your looming orgasm.

“That's right, all mine. Who does this pussy belong to? Who has your heart?”

“You, you! Fuck, George, I’m—”

“Go on, love. Come for me, I'm right there with you. Come on.” His thrusts grew rougher and sloppier as his own release approached, and with a final, punishing snap of his hips, you both went flying over the edge and into white hot bliss.

You screamed and he caught the sound with a kiss, fucked you through it as your pussy clamped around him. Wringing every bit of pleasure from you both until he sagged forward, his head falling into the crook of your neck as you both gasped for breath.

He kissed along the damp column of your throat, making his way to your lips, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your trembling thighs. “Did so good,” he murmured between lazy pecks. “I'm proud of you.”

You giggled, feeling almost giddy to have George in your arms, kissing you and praising you so sweetly. “That was amazing,” you breathed, and he smiled, giving one last thrust before withdrawing and using magic to clean you both up.

“You were amazing,” he corrected. “Like I said, you're easy to love.”

Butterflies rioted in your stomach. “So are you.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead before handing you your hoodie and shorts. You both got semi-dressed and snuggled into his bed, his bare chest under your ear, heart thumping steadily.

You grabbed the gift bag and took out the bracelet. “Will you put it on me?”

“Of course,” he beamed, carefully taking the the jewelry and clasping it around your wrist, kissing the tender skin of your pulse before releasing you. “Looks perfect on you,” he said, looking down at your smiling face as you turned your wrist this way and that.

“I love it, Georgie. Thank you.” You snuggled closer into his side.

“Always.” He dropped a kiss on top of your head, then grabbed the gift back from you, pulling out a handful of candy and popping one of the lollipops into his mouth. “Not as sweet as your pussy, but…”

You rolled your eyes and placed a chocolate truffle on your tongue, letting the deliciousness fill your mouth.

Bang! There was a fumbling outside of the door and George quickly yanked the curtain shut, just before what sounded like several people came tumbling into the room.

“Get the fuck off of me, Weasley—” Jack.

“Absolutely not, you're going to apologize,” Fred replied, his voice a little too chipper for the current situation.

George was up in a blink, his chest littered with the marks you gave you him, and pushed through the curtain. “Well, well. Seems you aren't dead, or maimed…so what exactly is your excuse for standing up my girl on Valentine's Day?” George asked.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you, I—your girl?” Jack hissed. “She's mine.”

George chuckled. “Love, would you like to come out here and set the record straight?”

“What?” Jack barked. “She's not here—”

You slipped out of bed and tried to right yourself before stepping out of the curtain and into the room. Fred and Lee had Jack by arms, dressed only in his boxers. Harry and Ron stood off to the side, watching everything unfold with mild amusement.

George was leaning against the bed frame, lollipop in his cheek, a triumphant smirk on his face.

“We're done, Jack,” you said, getting it over with. But strangely, you didn't feel any of the guilt from before. And you shouldn't. Jack was a prick, and didn't deserve your tears or empathy.

“I miss one date and you shack up with fucking Weasley?” Jack spit, and George's eyes darkened. “Fucking whore—”

Fred and Lee shook him roughly, yelling at him to watch his mouth, and you recoiled a bit. George seemed to stay surprisingly calm, until you saw him reach for his Beater bat beside the bed.

“George, wait—”

George jabbed the tip of the bat into Jack's sternum, and the boy went pale. “If I hear you running your fucking mouth about her again, I will smash your jaw to splinters. Clear?”

Your heart lost its rhythm. You'd never seen George like this, and you loved it. Loved being his.

Jack bobbed his head yes, trembling in Fred and Lee's hold.

Lee snickered. “Prick looks like he might piss himself.”

“Now get the fuck out,” George ordered.

“Wait, one more thing,” you said, and the boys all turned their attention to you. You sauntered up to Jack, and you saw a flicker of hope in his eyes.

Fucking idiot.

You thrust your knee up, nailing him right in the bollocks, and he howled so loud the other boys dropped him into a heap on the floor.

“Fuck you,” you spit, turning on your heel and stepping into George's open arms.

“That's my girl,” George cooed, taking the lollipop of his mouth to kiss you properly, the strawberry flavor sweet on his tongue. He waved at the others over your head as he deepened the kiss, and you heard them all file out, laughing and jeering as they dragged Jack behind them, the door swinging shut and locking.

“He deserved it,” you mumbled between kisses, giggling when George lifted you into the air, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“And now it's time you get what you deserve,” he smirked, laying you back down on the mattress and shifting down between your legs. “And I get my reward for absolutely crushing Valentine's Day.”

You burst out laughing, the sound shifting to moan as he licked a stripe through your slit. “You're right, best Valentine's Day ever.”

© agreeeeeeeeeee 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[rin-may-1103]

The Wrong Robin Au (part four)

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Danny slowed his car down, staring at the black iron gate coming into view; Bats and ivy welded on in an elegant pattern, obviously more thought-out than The Drake's ducks had been. He had to give it to Tim, the kid had been right about how stupid the ducks looked.

Glancing around, Danny found he was completely alone on the dirt road. The gray sky slowly brightened as the sun climbed higher in the distance, trees swaying in the gentle breeze, and birds chirped.

If it hadn't been for his experiences at Vlad's place, he would have found the scenery comforting, maybe even inviting. But the knowledge that this was the home of a billionaire, one that went out at night to fight crime like a furry on crack nonetheless, ruined it.

Maybe he should just head back to the motel...

...

Fuck it, when had Phantom ever backed down? That's right! Never! Danny was going to stick to his metaphorical guns and follow through with his admittedly stupid plan.

Taking his foot off the brake; Danny activated his intangibility, shared it with the car, and drove through the gate. (look, what were his powers for if not to make his life convenient? He deserved it after literally dying for them. AND the gate was probably locked. There was no way he could convince someone to let him in at this time in the morning, so...)

Danny kept an eye on his surroundings as he drove, he doubted Bruce Wayne would have ghost vultures working for him, but that doesn't mean Danny wouldn't be prepared if he did.

Eventually, a large building came into view. Its gothic architecture and obvious timely design set it apart from Vlad's modern monstrosity of a castle. Danny could just tell this was a home for a family with old money; the weathered roof and aged water fountain told stories of the people who used to live there. This was a home, not just a house.

Pulling his car over and parking, Danny quickly sent a mental prayer to the home's ancestors. He hoped they could forgive him for what he was about to do.

Grabbing his backup phone and his keys, Danny tossed the car door open and stepped out. Immediately his senses were clouded with grief and anger. It was so strong he almost lost his footing. The house was just drenched in the emotions, tendrils reaching out and wrapping around anything and everything.

Closing his eyes, Danny held his breath so he could focus on blocking the emotions out. (flashes of someone else's memories rushed past his mind; a glimpse of a young boy sitting in a library reading a book. An older man sitting next to him silently. In another flash, the two were now in a dark cave, the light of a computer the only thing illuminating them as the older man draped a blanket across the boy's back. whispered words of sincere promises echoed in his head.)

He had believed Tim, but he hadn't expected it to be this bad. Ancients, this was worse than when he had to deal with Spectra.

Batman definitely needed therapy.

...

Maybe Jazz should be Robin instead, she'd know how to handle this properly. but Jazz wasn't here right now, she was in Sweden learning all about mental health. Which meant Danny would have to do this himself.

yay.

He had two options; One, he sits down with the man and they have a sincere and very emotional conversation. Or two, he beats it into the guy's head that he needs to stop going out and trying to get himself killed. Based on everything he knows about Batman? It was going to be number two that was going to get results... Well, at least Danny had experience punching things until he got what he wanted. (even if it didn't always work.)

Shaking himself out of his mind, Danny started making his way to the front door. It was past five in the morning, Bruce should be home now. Whether he was sleeping like Danny would assume he usually did, was a different question altogether.

Glancing around the door, Danny found there was a large rope hanging to the left. Vlad had the same thing at his place, it was an old-fashioned doorbell.

shrugging, Danny pulled on the rope and waited.

and waited.

and waited.

After a minute or two, Danny pulled the rope again. Suddenly the door swung open to reveal an older man dressed in a nice waistcoat and trousers.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, a British accent completing the look.

Danny blinked for a second before quickly focusing back on his task. "My name's Danny. Bruce is being a dumbass who needs to take a chill pill and take a step back from hospitalizing criminals. Can I come in?"

It was the old man's turn to stare and blink at him. After a minute, the man stepped back and opened the door, his eyebrow raised. "I would like to see how you plan to tell this to Master Bruce. His office is this way, young man."

"May I ask what exactly you're doing here?" the man asked, closing the door behind Danny.

Danny shrugged, "I'm here to beat some sense into him. He's going to get himself killed and no one wants to see what happens when he does."

The butler, because the rich fruitloop would obviously have one, hummed as he nodded his head in agreement. "I see. Maybe this is what he needs then. he won't listen to me, no matter how much I nag him."

Nothing else was said as he guided Danny through the manor, eventually stopping at a fancy dark wooden door. "Master Bruce, you appear to have a visitor." Then He opened the door and gestured for Danny to enter.

He only had a moment to ponder how he should do this before he entered the room. He should keep his powers hidden, for now at least.

He was greeted with the sight of an exhausted man in a bathrobe sitting at his desk and staring out the window. He was clutching a very worn and loved book in his hands, his brows slightly furrowed. (Danny noted that it was the same book the kid had been reading, The Hero and the Crown... or something like that, Danny hadn't really gotten a good look at the title.)

The butler stepped back, closing the door, and stood next to it to maybe await his new orders. Ones he probably wouldn't get any time soon, if the way Bruce hadn't moved or responded meant anything.

Well, if the old man wanted to see this then who was Danny to stop him?

Stepping forward, Danny leaned over the desk and slapped the back of Bruce's head. The man swiftly turned and stared at him, raising one of his hands to touch his head in shock. Danny heard the butler choke in surprise but ignored him. He could only pray to Clockwork that Bruce didn't kill him for this.

"You are being absolutely idiotic, dude." Danny declared. "Do you think Jason would have wanted you to act like this?" Bruce stood up, his chair slamming into the wall, his eyes burning in anger. "No? Then get your shit together and be the man he would be proud of."

Bruce lunged over the desk, his fist pulled back to hit Danny. It was just like Danny expected, just like Tim had told him, the man was letting his emotions control his actions. Dodging to the side, Danny continued talking, "This going out every night, fighting more and more dangerous and outlandish people all by yourself? It's going to get you killed."

Bruce gave up on trying to punch him, instead, he threw himself forward and body-slammed Danny to the floor. Danny coughed, quickly blocking his face as Bruce took a swing at him. Using the man's blind anger to his advantage, Danny kicked Bruce in the chest and sent him flying into his desk. "Jason's dead. It sucks. and it hurts. It's probably the worst pain you've ever experienced, but there's nothing you can do about it."

Danny glared at the man as he scrambled into a crouch, waiting to see what Bruce did next. "Shut up," the man growled, shoving himself up and away from his desk. He picked up his stapler; he was probably either going to use it as a blunt weapon or throw it at Danny. Widening his stance, Danny got ready to dodge or lunge.

He remembered reading about him, online when he first became Phantom. He remembered reading about Robin and Batman and how they worked together to protect Gotham. How they tirelessly worked day and night to put their rogues away every time they got out again.

He remembered seeing pictures of Batman standing next to little Robin, a proud smile on his face as the police took the criminals away. Pictures of the man helping and protecting Robin whenever the boy couldn't handle whatever mess he had gotten into. There was even a memorable one of Batman scolding an obviously sheepish Robin, a knocked-out Riddler slumped behind him.

He had wished so badly for someone to help him back them, for someone to be his Batman when times got hard. He remembered how devastated he was when it turned out the only person like him was Vlad. Vlad, who had wanted to murder his father and marry his mother. Vlad, who had overshadowed people to gain more wealth and power. Vlad, who hadn't seen how wrong it was to try and clone him.

He remembered the comments and videos from the citizens of Gotham, cheering for their heroes when they succeeded in capturing the rogues. How they still supported them when they failed. It was nothing like Amity's reaction to him.

He remembered how Gothom reacted when Robin was pronounced dead. How the city had cried and raged. He felt it all the way over in Amity, the grief and anger. The whole city had come together to mourn the boy who protected them. Even two years later, Danny could still feel the echoes.

"Jason's dead. He's dead and gone and you're letting yourself get consumed with your grief. but you made a promise Bruce."

Danny knew he had, it was the same promise Danny had made just four years ago.

Bruce's eyes widened and the anger that was surging in his eyes froze for just a moment. His hand loosened around the stapler but didn't let it go. The butler looked concerned, unsure if he should interfere or not.

"You made a promise all those years ago when you first dawned that stupid bat suit. You promised to do everything in your power to help your city. To protect it. Robin made the same promise. When he took up his suit. They both did."

Bruce's jaw tensed, his eyes narrowing. Danny lowered his body, still ready to dodge at a moment's notice.

"You made a promise to your son, Bruce. Even if he didn't know it. One that you couldn't keep."

Bruce threw the stapler, making Danny jump to the side to dodge it. His mistake was not keeping an eye on what Bruce did after throwing it. The man quickly rushed up to him, eyes blazing in anger. "You don't know anything!" he cried, his fist slamming into Danny's jaw. Danny staggered back but ducked under the next punch.

"I lost my son! I wasn't there!" Bruce shouted, kicking Danny's legs out from under him. Danny's back hit the floor, knocking the breath out of him. Bruce followed him down, breaking his nose with another punch to the face. "I promised I would protect him and I wasn't there!"

Danny growled, catching Bruce's fist in his hand and sending a punch at the side of Bruce's head. Bruce tried to lean back, Danny's fist clipping his forehead. Bruce grunted, reaching up to grab Danny's fist to keep him from punching him again.

"You couldn't protect him! I get it, it sucks!" Danny shouted back, flashes of Dani's melting form grasping at his shirt in panic pulled to the front of his mind. "It leaves a black hole in the center of your chest! It sucks all the warmth out of you, leaving only the cold bitter knowledge that you couldn't save him!" (that he couldn't save her)

Bruce pulled his fist out of Danny's hand, slamming his elbow down into Danny's chest and twisting Danny's right arm sharply in an attempt to break it. Danny kept talking though, ignoring the pain as he pulled his arm out of Bruce's grasp, "But Jason made a promise! and you're doing nothing to keep it!"

Danny grabbed onto Bruce's bathrobe and flipped them so Bruce was the one on the floor now. Quickly reaching up, Danny grabbed both of Bruce's hands and held them as still as he could. Bruce was strong, but Danny had years of fighting Skulker and the other super-strong ghosts under his belt. "He made that promise knowing that you had made the same one!"

Bruce growled, throwing his head up in an attempt to hit Danny with it. Danny leaned back, accidentally loosening his grip just enough for Bruce to break out of it. Bruce shoved him off of him, making Danny slide back and hit a chair.

Grunting, Danny stood up and lunged at Bruce. Bruce dodged to the side, dropping down to pick the stapler back up. "I can't claim to know what Jason would have wanted," Danny spat, backing up to give himself more space as Bruce stepped toward him. "but I know as someone who made the same promise, I wouldn't have wanted you to change into what you are now!"

Bruce narrowed his eyes at Danny, "Yeah, and what's that?" he growled.

"A careless, suicidal, moron," Danny growled back.

Bruce froze, stopping in place as he stared at Danny.

Danny took his chance to drive his point home; standing up straight, he raised his hands up in surrender. "He was your son. He looked up to you for protection. For guidance. And sure, maybe you weren't the best dad, and maybe you made mistakes. But you were his dad."

Danny stepped forward, watching as the butler stepped forward to reach out to the man. "and what kind of son would want his dad to kill himself?"

Bruce dropped his stapler, his eyes falling to the ground and catching onto the book he had dropped earlier. It was opened to the front page, written words in messy writing covering it.

"You need to stop, Bruce," Danny said, slowly crouching down and reaching out for the book. Bruce watched him as he stood up, the book still open to the front page in his hands. Jason's writing visible to all of them.

"you couldn't keep your promise to protect him. It sucks and it hurts. but you can keep his promise. The same promise you made all those years ago."

Bruce looked up at him, his blue eyes filling with tears, the butler's hand resting on his shoulder. Danny stepped forward again, holding the book out for Bruce to take.

"You can't protect Gotham if you're dead."

Jason's handwritten note stared up at them, the ink messy and smudged.

'to the best dad in the world and the many adventures we'll go on!'

and Bruce? Bruce crumbled to the floor with a sob, leaving Danny to stand in front of him. Blood running down his face, staining his hoodie and pink Hello Kitty pants, the book still held out with steady hands.

Next

[tteokdoroki]

tw ! slight age gap, reader is older, cheating, fingering, smut.

hello going on a business trip or to a conference, escaping your mundane life and the marriage that brings you nothing.

you’ve really gone on this trip to get away from your dead bedroom and the spouse that treats you like nothing more than a money maker.

which leads you to having a chance encounter with bakugou at the bar of the hotel your conference is at. you remember him from one of the panels — he’s young for this field of work but incredibly handsome, has brilliant red eyes that draw you in like magnetising poles, he makes you laugh and from your belly too. he’s everything your current spouse is not, there’s a spark inside you that you haven’t felt in years and bakugou knows it too. he makes you feel beautiful and seen and all he’s done is buy you a drink with a sour olive in it.

you find yourself stumbling behind him after one too many drinks, katsuki guiding you back to your hotel room — the good man that he is. you’ve both got panels to attend tomorrow morning at 9am sharp. it wouldn’t be wise to spend the rest of the night basking in booze and one another’s company. but when you get the door, failing to slip your key card into the slot — the blonde’s hand touches yours to help you get it in and all sense of logic is lost.

you no longer feel drained by mundane life waiting for you back home, you no longer think of your boring spouse in currently sleeping in your marital bed where they fail to make you feel loved. from the moment katsuki’s hand had touched yours, all you could feel was electricity, the longing and the wanting you’ve been desperately craving.

his lips drag sweep across your skin in heated motions and they find pleasure spots you’re not sure you even knew existed. bakugou’s fingers map out every inch of your body as though he may never touch you again, they dip past the forbidden band of your a-line skirt and write secret promises of pleasure against your clit because you’re married and the both of you know this is wrong.

one touch turns into another, dull and thick fingers stretch you open and graze your g-spot with an ease your spouse could never find. you e never felt this good, your lashes flutter against katsuki’s neck as he holds you to his chest and finger fucks you to the high heavens…because you’re just a hardworking woman who hasn’t had her pussy ruined in a long time, not like you deserve. he grins when you cream on just two of his fingers, such a good girl, so easy to please.

“such a pretty girl… such a hard worker ‘n no one to take care of you,” the blonde purrs into your ear before pushing you into the plush pillows and blankets below. there’s a gravel in his voice that raises at the heartbeat between your legs, not to mention the perfect view of him loosening his shirt and tie above you. “s’that why you’ve fallen into bed with the youngest guy here. ‘cause i got what it takes t’keep up with ya, yeah? make you feel better than that poor excuse of a fuck you got back home?”

bakugou grins slow and sexy when your hips rise from the bed on instinct at his words and he kisses you just to reward you, a poor touch starved little thing. its hungry and sloppy and messy and somewhere in the mix of his tongue wrapped around yours and your hands in his hair — the blonde has ripped through your stockings and slipped his aching, dripping slick cock past your quivering entrance.

he feels like home inside you, feels you up to the brim and sends your eyes rolling back into the depths of your skull. every stroke is calculated, every piston of katsuki’s meaty girth purposive and intentional — crafted to make you see stars with every jolt of your body up the bed. you can’t go back to regular old life after tonight, you won’t be able to go back to the way things were without picturing bakugou’s tie hanging loosely above you and hearing his deep moans echo throughout your mind.

that night you leave marks on one another that you’ll be hiding for weeks, smiling at when no one is looking, reminiscing the sinful experience shared in this very hotel room. there’s too much passion in the room for this to just remain a one time thing, too much emotion behind the act saliva swept lip lock or love bite left below the line of future clothes to be worn.

you know that you won’t give katsuki up especially when he kisses you as you cum together, thick white seeping between your swollen and ravaged folds.

you’ll do anything to be underneath bakugou like this again, even if it means planning fake business trips every other weekend to get away from your spouse and get fucked to the high heavens by your young hot colleague.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[milkteahood]

together through it all

Simon Riley x fem!reader

Summary: being there for Simon during one of his many night terrors

“No! No! Fuck no! Please… please not her. DON’T TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME”

Sweat broke on Simon’s forehead as he jolted awake, gasping for air. Stumbling, almost as if running from something, he made it to the bathroom where he threw himself over the toilet, puking his guts out. His whole body was breaking in cold sweat, shaking, with a blurry vision.

He didn’t hear you come in and almost attacked you when you placed a hand on him. He stopped midway, eyes bloodshot, his body only shaking harder when he realized it was only you.

“Si? Baby, it’s ok” your soft voice echoed in his mind, hand running up and down his back as he started vomiting again.

It wasn’t the first time this happened. Simon had severe ptsd, and this reaction was nothing new. He tried to warn you, saying you wouldn’t be happy with him. To go find someone that can actually love you normally. But he didn’t get to decide for you. And over time you got better and better at helping him when needed.

“You’re ok Si” you spoke gently, using a towel to wipe the sweat off his face.

He didn’t respond, but when he finally looked up at you, his face was incredibly pale. His lips were losing color too, and his eyes were a little glossy. This panic attack was one of the worst you’d seen him have.

Your hands cupped his face, and without even realizing it, he leaned into your touch, almost to see if you were actually real.

“You’re ok now” you said. Again, he didn’t respond. His breathing was heavy, and he closed his eyes, leaning more into your touch.

You held him for a while, giving him time to relax. His head almost fell onto your chest and strong arms wrapped themselves around you. There was something different about all of it. The way he held you, as if he was almost afraid you would vanish into thin air.

“Do you feel alright enough to walk?” you asked, arms wrapped around his neck, holding his head close to your chest. He only nodded in response.

As you stood up, you gently helped him up too, using your body to support his.

Once you made it to the bedroom, he collapsed on the bed, but still refused to let go of you.

He didn’t speak, his body still slowly shaking as he buried his face deeper into your chest, taking in your scent, trying to convince himself you’re actually real. He’s not hallucinating. You’re indeed there, trying to wrap a blanket around him as he refuses to let you move.

Once the blanket was over both of you, you resumed your gentle touches, fingers running through his hair as his breathing was slowing. Your fingers worked like magic on him. Your patience, something he never saw himself worthy of. All the times he yelled at you during one of his episodes. And even now, he was about to attack you. He didn't understand why someone like you would put up with someone like him. He didn't deserve you, he was sure of that. But he will be damned before he lets anyone take you away from him.

“You’re ok now” you said again, kissing the top of his head “it’s just us here” you continued, nose nuzzling his hair.

He nodded, closing his eyes.

You only closed yours once you heard the soft snoring coming out of your lover’s mouth.

“I love you, Si” you said, earning yourself a little snore in return, which made you chuckle.

[nemisuki]

After Hours

Comfort AU | Just helping the blonde feel better about himself because he deserves the world.

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, fluff and angst, no smut, reverse comfort, wholesome oneshot, words of affirmation, he’s just a lil guy fr, 668 word count

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed throughout his silent dorm room. The only other noise being the rustling leaves outside his window - strong winds causing the autumn tree branches to sway in the chilly air beyond the glass.

"We really need to work on this habit of yours Katsuki."

The mattress slightly dips with the new added weight as she sits on the edge of his bed, likely staring at him, though he wouldn't know, as he lays backside to her - mindlessly staring at the wall.

He told her to not show, yet she did anyway, as always.

"Go away Y/N."

If only he'd looked at her, then he would've seen the way she simply smiled at his remark, unbothered by his blunt words.

She slowly lays beside him to make herself comfortable, a small yawn escaping her as she turns on her side to face his back.

"You can't keep pushing me away" she says softly, so much so that it could be considered a whisper.

"I said go away."

"I think your hurting-"

"Stop it" he mumbles, sharply cutting off her words with a huff. As his body tensed from her field of view. 

But he knows she isn't one to back down.

"You know.... to me you're the most important hero in my life" she hums, her hand slowly wrapping around his torso to spoon him from behind.

He doesn't push her away - making her only be met with silence. Seems he's already lost the urge to fight back, which only heightens her concerns.

Her grip on him tightens at that realization, "You don't have to blame yourself Katsuki, you're only human."

She doesn't say much after that, understanding the best form of comfort for him is offering silence.

In other terms - the invitation to speak if needed, while staying by his side, waiting patiently for him to let her in.

As time passes, she doesn't know how long it's been, the only thing occupying her mind being the urge to get a glimpse of his face.

He hasn't made a sound or moved in a while. Has he fallen asleep?

Her own question gets answered as she takes notice of his sudden shaking body, making her heart lurch at the immediate breakdown, his emotions finally reaching a breaking point.

Small sniffles escaping him as he finally lets his walls break down.

".....please let me hug you properly" she whispers, biting the inside of her cheek to not cry alongside him. It's not often he's so vulnerable like this, that she can't help but to feel pain at his own suffering.

It takes him a moment but he reluctantly shifts around, finally facing her as those red glossed orbs meet hers.

On that pretty face typically seen with his signature scowl now lies a defenseless version of Katsuki that only those closest to him get to witness.

"....hurts..."

Her eyes slightly widen at his small mumble, her body quickly moving on its own, pulling him into a tight embrace as one hand caresses his back while the other gently runs through his hair.

It doesn't take long as he decides to cling to her, burying himself against her body as muffled sobs escape him.

Silent tears flow down her face as she presses soft kisses against his scalp, "I know... but I'll listen. When you're ready, okay?"

He quietly nods beside her, pulling himself closer as she drapes the blanket over the two of them. It takes him a while but "....sorry for earlier."

"mhm i know katsuki."

There's no doubt in her mind that she's the only one with the privilege to hold him like this - so she'll wait for him, listen to his troubles and soothe the blonde seeking refuge.

In her eyes she doesn't see the angry hothead who strangers tend to avoid in the halls, but a wounded boy attempting to fix his past mistakes and accept himself to move forward.

Maybe this time - she can be his hero.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

a/n ||| this was inspired by an album called 'Cry' by Cigarettes After Sex (specifically the song 'cry' which can be heard at 27:44-32:01) : link! I think Bakugo is such a complex character and as seen in the show he often struggles with personal issues. In this fic, it's up to your interruption on what he's battling against! tags ||| @leleyro @zaiban2989 ໒꒰ྀི ´๑  ̫๑`  ꒱ྀིა

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ     ⎯⎯ ✦

also i tried something different in the layout! as u can see i used colors for the first time to highlight a characters dialogue. whats more important is if YOU GUYS prefer this or not. please vote in the poll below so i can meet ur standards bc thats all i care about!

i put examples below if your confused (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭

Option 1 Example : Bakugo mumbles with a scowl, "vote or your pillow will be warm tonight."

Option 2 Example : Bakugo mumbles with a scowl, "now fucking vote nerd."

[m00nlight-ramblings]

Eat Your Young

Astarion and Tav take advantage of the rainy weather in camp. Pure smut, no plot.

Pairings: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: smut, p in v sex, swearing. 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Listen, usually I like a lil plot but Astarion sometimes deserves just some good ole smut, right?! Also inspired by the Hozier song, "Eat Your Young"

REMINDER: my inbox is open for requests!

Astarion's hand roughly ran down your neck, the candles in his tent casting shadows over the space. He hissed in pleasure as his fingers gracefully found your collarbone, his nails tickling the skin around your neck. You groaned, your eyes fluttering closed.

"This is not what I came in here for." You said, even though you knew that was a lie.

Well, partly.

Basically since the beginning of your adventure with the companions, you and Astarion had found yourselves drawn to each other. First as friends, but then quickly into a sexual situation. A way to satiate yourselves, and to have a bit of shining light in the darkness that was all the doom and gloom and battle and blood.

"Oh?" Astarion asked, his mouth dangerously close to your neck, "And what did you actually come in here for?" His voice was melodic, almost a purr. You felt his fangs lightly drag across your neck - enough to leave a scratch, but not enough to break skin. You gasped.

"F-for the book," You were able to choke out, one of your hands finding his hair. You ran your fingers through his locks, earning a quick moan from Astarion, "The book I lent you last week. I know you're done reading it, so-"

"You came all the way across camp in a rain storm for a book you could easily get from me tomorrow?" He pulled away, his eyes twinkling. It was bullshit, and he knew it. "Is that why both of our clothes are off, and were discarded on the floor within 45 seconds of you coming into my tent, my pet?"

"Um..." You bit your lip and both of you smiled, "I'm easily distracted." You tried to argue, but Astarion's lips were on you again, his tongue quickly finding yours. You moaned into his mouth as he pressed his body on yours, his erection pressing into your stomach. Thunder clapped outside, causing you to jump, which caused Astarion to wrap his arm around your back tighter, bringing you closer.

"What do you want, my darling? Tell me," He pulled away from your mouth, but his lips were still touching yours. Your heart pounded in your chest from his breath on your face, "Tell me what you want." His voice was velvet smooth, causing your stomach to clench. You groaned, unable to stop yourself - how did this fucking man know exactly what to say, and exactly what to do to get you going?

"I want your cock in my mouth," You said quickly, it coming out as one breath. His eyebrows raised and he smirked, wordlessly pushing himself to the edge of the bed to give you space. Looking down at his erection, you felt a wave of heat rush to your clit, unable to contain yourself.

Before he could even lay down, your mouth was on his cock hungrily. He moaned in surprise, his voice echoing off the tent walls. Immediately your mouth filled with spit as you worked on his thick member, using your tongue the exact way you knew he loved. His hands found their way into your hair and pulled, causing you to grip the blankets underneath your hands.

"Hells, you're so fucking good," Astarion grumbled, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, "Deeper." He commanded.

You made your way fully down on his member, causing his hips to buck in your mouth. You felt your eyes water a bit, and pulled up, taking your mouth completely off of his cock. "Does that feel good?" You toyed, pumping him in your hand. He moved his head back to look at you, his eyes a deep red. You watched the end of his mouth turn up in the shadow of a smile.

Suddenly, the rain started to beat harder against the tent walls.

In one swift movement, Astarion's hand grabbed your chin, pull you on top of him. His member, slick with your spit and precum, slid against your body, causing you to gasp. He looked between your eyes before hungrily crashing his lips against yours again, this time pulling your hair roughly.

"Not as good as it'll feel when I'm inside of you." He said in your ear, before biting your lobe. You moaned loudly, the noise getting lost in the rain.

"Then fuck me."

"Say please."

"Please, Astarion! I need you."

"You need me to what?"

"To fuck me. I need your dick inside of me." You reached down to his cock and started to pump him again, causing Astarion to erupt a small moan from his lips. He looked into your eyes one final time before he flipped you below him.

"On your stomach." He said, waiting patiently. He was sitting high up on his knees, looking down on you. Now, his cock was in his own hand and he stroked it slowly, taking the full length of his member in his palm. He didn't break eye contact as you got on your belly. Soon, you felt him spread your legs gently, and his body weight pressed on top of you.

"I'm going to fuck you so good, you'll be screaming to the gods by the end of it." He murmured in your ear. You shuddered at his voice, and soon you felt him lining himself up at your entrance.

"Oh, Astarion..." You breathe, your thoughts becoming a jumbled mess. You heard him chuckle before he continued on.

"Are you ready?" He asked. You felt like you couldn't speak, your stomach was so clenched in anticipation. You nodded, and almost instantly his cock was deep inside of you, sending ripples of pleasure throughout your body. You called out, lifting your head. As you lifted your head, Astarion took hold of your hair and pulled.

"Gods, you are so fucking tight." He groaned, every word accentuated by a thrust inside of you. You clapped you hand over your mouth so you wouldn't cry out, but he pulled it away, "Don't. I want everyone to hear."

"Fuck, Astarion!" You called out, his hands finding your hips for better leverage. You felt a heat start to rise within you, causing you to breath harder. "Don't stop! Right there-"

"Right there?" He purred, his voice teasing, "Right there and I'm going to make my good girl come?"

"Yes!" You moaned, his voice ripping through you, "Yes right there and I'm going to come. Don't stop!"

The sound of his cock pounding into you filled the tent as your mind became foggy. The pleasure started to soften the sides of your vision as Astarion gripped your hips, definitely leaving marks for tomorrow. As your words turned into incoherent noises, you felt Astarion thrust into you harder, making sure you felt filled.

"Show me you're a good girl," He murmured, his voice steady; in control. As Astarion often was - in control. It drove you crazy, usually the catalyst in tipping you over the edge. "Be my good girl and come for me."

Finally, you felt yourself spill over him as you cried out his name - the heat rose completely in you and for a moment, Astarion stopped thrusting in you, taking his hands and wrapping them around your waist, so that he could feel your orgasm completely. With your head so close to his, he whispered words of praise in your ear - "Good girl. That's it - come for me. Let me feel it. Give me all of it."

You panted, your thoughts finally starting to align again. As you regained control of your body, Astarion gently flipped you over. Spreading your legs open, he entered you again slowly, earning a whimper from you. Two thrusts in and he caused you to throw your head back, crying his name.

"That's it - that's my girl," He hissed, speeding his thrusts up slowly, "Let me see that pretty face, darling. Your pretty face is going to make me come."

"Astarion, FUCK. You feel so good!" You couldn't help yourself as he started again, one of his hands finding it's way to your erect nipples. He pinched and palmed your tits as they bounced with every thrust - the sight of your body bouncing, and your face calling his name, he wasn't far behind you with an orgasm. But, he wanted it to last...

He wanted to wear you out.

It was always so sexy seeing you struggle in the following days, knowing that he alone was the cause.

"Your cock...feels so good..." You panted, your hands finding their way to his shoulder blades. Thunder clapped again, drowning out the scream you cried as Astarion hit your spot. Once he realized how crazy he was driving you, he smiled.

"All for you," He grunted, "This cock is all for you." Sweat beaded at his temples as he stared into your eyes. They were dark, hungry - he started to get the glint in his eyes that he would before he was sent over the edge.

Astarion pounded into so hard that the bed groaned under the pressure. You could feel Astarion's body start to tense above you, so you gripped Astarion's ass, pushing him deeper into you.

The extra effort made you start to see stars, and Astarion was on the same page; "I'm close," He grunted, touching his forehead to yours, "Hells, you're going to make me come."

"Come for me," You breathed, placing a sloppy, rough kiss on his lips, "Come for me."

Suddenly, Astarion called out your name, and you felt him spill into you. The tension in his body reached his climax and gradually released, his body laying completely on top of you.

The only noise in the tent - besides the pounding rain - was your and Astarion's breathing. The shallow, quick breaths turned into deeper, heftier breaths and you regained your composure, the heating slowly leaving your body.

"Gods, you're beautiful." Astarion murmured, brushing your sweaty hair behind your ear gently. He delicately placed a kiss on your lips as he slid down to your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you tight. You sighed contently, running a hand over his side and snuggling your head closer into his shoulder. A moment of silence passed before you spoke.

"I did actually come here for that book, you know." You teased, causing him to chuckle.

"Oh? Would you like me to go get it for you then?" He asked, pretending to get out of bed. You giggled and gently pushed him back down.

"Shut up," You playfully scolded him, "I just wanted to let you know that I didn't just come here to seduce you."

"But darling, it's so much fun getting seduced by you." He looked at you and smirked, his eyes sparkling. You rolled your eyes and placed a kiss on his mouth.

"Well...I guess I'll have to let you borrow my books more often, then."

------

My first time doing smut with no plot - I'm gonna be honest, I don't know how I feel about it yet! What did you all think?

Just a reminder: my inbox is open for requestions!

[st4rgiirll]

rose petals

evan buckley x firefighter!gf!reader

creds: roseraris for dividers!

today, you had the day off, and evan was determined to make it special.

“alright, i’ll see you in a bit,” you called over your shoulder, grabbing your keys and heading out the door.

the plan was simple: you’d run to the store for some last-minute supplies, and evan would handle the rest. he’d been acting a little mysterious lately, which was either a sign of something amazing or a new firehouse prank.

you got back and pushed the door open, the sight that greeted you made your heart race. the living room was transformed.

candles flickered softly, casting warm shadows on the walls. rose petals were scattered around, and in the center was a blanket laid out with an array of goodies—chocolate-covered strawberries, a bottle of champagne, and a couple of glasses.

“surprise!” evan’s voice rang out, full of excitement.

“wow, you really went all out!” you exclaimed, your eyes wide as you took in the scene.

he was leaning against the kitchen counter, a proud grin plastered on his face. “i figured it was about time we had a proper valentine’s day. you know, without the fire alarms and chaos.”

you laughed, stepping further inside. “this is incredible! I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“just wait,” he said, winking. “there’s more.”

“more? what else could you possibly do?” you teased, arching an eyebrow.

“just sit down and relax,” he instructed, motioning to the blanket.

“i’ve got the next part covered.” you plopped down, sinking into the softness of the blanket.

“okay, im intrigued. what’s next?” evan walked over and poured us both glasses of champagne, the bubbly fizzing to the top.

“to us,” he said, raising his glass.

“to us,” you echoed, clinking your glass against his before taking a sip.

the sweet taste danced on your tongue, making you smile. as you both settled into a comfortable conversation, you couldn’t help but admire him.

his hair fell slightly over his forehead, and the way his eyes sparkled with mischief reminded me of a kid who’d just gotten away with something.

“so, what’s the big secret you’re hiding?” you asked, leaning closer, curiosity getting the best of you.

“oh, you’ll see,” he replied, taking a dramatic pause. “but first, i want to give you something.”

he stood and disappeared into the hallway, leaving you in eager suspense. you could hear him rummaging through a drawer, and my mind raced with possibilities. was it a gift? a love letter?

when he returned, he held a small, intricately wrapped box.

“happy valentine’s day!” he said, his excitement palpable. you took the box and turned it over in your hands.

“you didn’t have to get me anything, but thank you!” you said, genuinely touched.

“trust me, this one’s special. open it!” he urged, bouncing on his heels.

with a grin, you tore off the wrapping to reveal a delicate silver necklace, a small heart pendant glinting in the light.

“evan, it’s beautiful!” you exclaimed, your heart swelling. “you really didn’t have to.”

“iwanted to,” he said softly, his gaze sincere. “you mean the world to me.”

you slipped the necklace around your neck, feeling the cool metal settle against your skin. “i love it. thank you.”

he stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating as he brushed a stray hair behind your ear.

“you deserve all the love in the world.”

you felt a flutter in your stomach, the kind that had become all too familiar around evan. “so, what’s next on our romantic agenda?”

“well… i was thinking we do a bit of a… firefighter workout of our own..” evan smirked, ever the nympho he was.

“oh you were?” you grin.

“yeah… so get your ass up those damn stairs and strip, my fire jacket’s in the closet. get that on before i get up those stairs after you.”

[pretzel-box]

I’m back!! And I have an idea!

Mkmk so could we please get a Happy Ending type fic where after reader and Sebastian escape the facility, reader brings him home and makes him a good, home cooked meal?? I’m such a sucker for sweet domestic shit and I NEED Sebastian to finally be able to relax.

Thank you so much!

Tags: Established Relationship, Happy End, Fluff, Domestic Life, Reader and Sebastian are living together in a sea-side home. Both are emotional.

Words: 2,2k

Authors note: I wrote it on two different days and isn't proof read, so maybe it sounds weird.

Sebastian’s heart pounded in his chest, the echoes of gunshots still reverberating in his mind. He stared at you, disoriented, his eyes wide with the lingering terror of his situation. It took him a moment to realize where he was, to understand that the screams, the glass shattering, and you. He saw you in front of him, screaming in panic, yelling, pulling on his coat as if your life depends on it. And somehow, he couldn't hear your voice no matter how hard he tried, his ears blocking out the sound.

“Se…b…ti..n”

“Seb…ast…ian…”

“Sebas…tian.”

He blinked a few times, his vision adjusting to the soft morning light streaming through the curtains that floated gently in the sea-breeze. The smell of the salty ocean mixed with the delicious aroma of the breakfast you had prepared for him. His body, tense and curled up, began to relax as the reality of the present settled in.

You stood by his bedside, your expression a mix of concern and tenderness. Your hand rested gently on his shoulder, the warmth of your touch grounding him, pulling him back from the depths of his nightmare. A nightmare. It was just a memory after all and the realization made him sink back in the pile of pillows you got him.

"Sebastian," you repeated softly, your voice steady and calm. “You were having a nightmare again.” You offered a small smile, trying to comfort him. It wasn’t the first time and wouldn't be the last. The events were still fresh in your memories. "I brought you breakfast. I thought it might help."

He looked at the tray, eyes lingering on the sunny-side-up eggs, the crispy bacon, the fresh slices of bread, and the hand-poured coffee that steamed invitingly. His stomach growled in response, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten properly in… well, he couldn’t remember how long. The sight of the food, the smell of it, suddenly made him aware of just how hungry he was.

“It looks… really good,” he murmured, his voice still a bit shaky. “Thank you.”

You smiled warmly, setting the tray down on the small bedside table in his reach. "It’s the least I could do," you said softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside him. His body was squished in the bed, his tail sticking a bit over the bed frame, so there wasn't much space for you. “You’ve been through a lot. I thought maybe a good meal might help you feel a bit more at home.”

Sebastian nodded, his eyes still searching your face, as if looking for reassurance that this wasn’t another cruel trick of his mind. That you were really there, that this place—this peaceful, cozy home by the sea—was real.

He sat up slowly, the rather small blanket falling away from his shoulders. His tail, which had been twitching anxiously, calmed as he reached for the coffee. He took a careful sip, savoring the rich, warm taste. It was a simple thing, but it was the best coffee he had ever had.

“This is… nice,” he said, his voice soft, almost uncertain. “I’ve never had anything like this.”

You chuckled, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his eyes. “It’s just coffee, Sebastian. Nothing fancy.”

“To me, it is,” he replied, his gaze meeting yours. There was a softness in his eyes, a vulnerability that he rarely showed. “All of this… it’s more than I’ve ever had.”

You reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “You deserve this, Sebastian. You deserve a home, a place to feel safe. And I’m glad you’re here with me.”

He felt his heart swell at your words, a mix of emotions swirling inside him—relief, gratitude, something warmer, something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. He had been through so much—too much—but here, with you, he felt a glimmer of hope. A chance for something better.

He set the coffee down and turned to you, his hand still in yours. “Thank you,” he said again, his voice thick with emotion. “For everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

You leaned in closer, your forehead resting against his. “You don’t have to thank me, Sebastian. We’re in this together. Always.”

He closed his eyes, taking in the comfort of your presence, the softness of your touch. He breathed in deeply, letting the scent of the sea and the breakfast you made fill his senses. For the first time in a long time, he felt… at peace.

“Do you want to eat together?” you asked softly, not wanting to break the moment but knowing he needed to eat.

He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

You moved the tray onto your lap, cutting into the eggs and bacon, offering him a forkful. He hesitated for a moment, blushing hard at the sudden offer, then leaned forward, taking the bite. His eyes closed as he savored the taste, a soft hum of approval escaping his lips. The taste of a lovingly self-made breakfast filled his mouth and it touched him to have such a meal after years of isolation and trauma.

“This is amazing,” he said, opening his eyes to look at you with genuine appreciation. “You’re amazing.”

You laughed softly, a blush creeping onto your own cheeks. “I’m just glad you like it. I wasn’t sure if you’d have an appetite after… well, everything.”

He nodded, understanding. “It’s… it’s a lot to take in. But this,” he gestured around the room, “this is good. Better than good. It feels… right.”

You smiled, your heart warming at his words. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

For a while, the two of you ate in comfortable silence, enjoying the simple pleasure of a home-cooked meal. The tension from Sebastian’s nightmare slowly ebbed away, replaced by a sense of calm, of normalcy.

After breakfast, you helped him out of bed, leading him to the small kitchen where you started brewing another pot of coffee. The room was filled with the rich, warm scent, and Sebastian leaned against the counter, watching you with a soft smile.

As the coffee brewed, you turned to him, reaching out to brush a thumb across his cheek. “You’re safe here, Sebastian. I promise. No more nightmares. No more running.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes once more to savor the moment. “I know,” he whispered. “With you, I finally feel… like I’m home.”

You pulled him into a gentle hug, his arms wrapping around you in return. You stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, listening to the soft rhythm of the waves outside.

When you finally pulled back, you cupped his face in your hands, looking into his eyes. “Stay with me, Sebastian. We can make a life here, together. A real life.”

He nodded, his eyes brimming with emotion. “I’d like that,” he said, his voice a soft whisper. “I’d like that a lot.”

And in that moment, in the quiet comfort of your kitchen, with the sea breeze drifting through the open windows, you both knew that you had found something precious—something worth fighting for. A chance at happiness, at love, at a life free from the horrors of the past.

The sun had risen higher in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over your small seaside home. The breakfast dishes were cleared away, and the rich aroma of fresh coffee still lingered in the air. Sebastian was seated at the kitchen table as best as he could with his tall size, his eyes following your every move as you bustled about, wiping down counters and humming a soft tune.

You could feel his gaze on you, warm and intent, and it sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. Ever since you had rescued him from the facility, brought him back to this sanctuary you called home, there had been a quiet understanding between you—a deep, unspoken bond that had grown stronger with each passing day.

Finally, you turned to face him, leaning back against the counter with a playful smile. “You know, you’re allowed to help around here,” you teased, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not your maid, you know.”

Sebastian chuckled, his lips curling into a soft smile that reached his eyes. “I would, but I’m not sure I’d do it right. You seem to have a system,” he said, his voice warm and teasing.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Are you saying I’m a neat freak?”

“Maybe,” he teased back, his smile growing wider. “But I don’t mind. It’s… comforting. Feels natural.”

Your heart swelled at his words. You knew how much he had been through, the horrors he had witnessed and endured, and to hear him say that this place—the home you had made together—felt like home to him meant more than you could express.

Pushing off the counter, you moved to stand in front of him, placing your hands on the back of the chair he was sitting in. “Well,” you said softly, your tone turning more serious, “I want you to feel at home here, Sebastian. I want you to feel like this is where you belong.”

His gaze softened, his eyes searching yours. “I do,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I really do.”

There was a moment of silence, the air between you thick with unspoken emotions. Then, almost without thinking, you reached out, your fingers gently brushing against his cheek. His skin was warm under your touch, and you felt him lean into your hand, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Sebastian…” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. “I… I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know what I would have done if…” Your own memories of the escape flashed through your mind.

He opened his eyes, capturing your gaze with an intensity that took your breath away. “I’m here,” he said firmly, his voice steady. “And I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

The weight of his words settled over you, filling you with a warmth that spread from your chest to the tips of your fingers. Without thinking, you leaned down, your forehead resting against his. The world seemed to pause, the only sound the gentle crashing of the waves outside and the soft beating of your heart.

“I’m glad,” you whispered, your lips so close to his that you could feel his breath against your skin. “I’m really, really glad.”

And then, as if drawn by some invisible force, you closed the distance between you, your lips brushing against his in a soft, tentative kiss. Sebastian’s breath hitched, and for a moment, you worried you had crossed a line. But then his hand came up to cup the back of your head, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

It was slow and sweet, a gentle interaction, a promise of something more. His lips were soft against yours, his touch tender and careful, as if he were afraid you might disappear if he held on too tightly.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads still touching. You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation, but all you saw was warmth and affection—a deep, unspoken love that made your heart flutter.

“Sorry,” you murmured, a small, shy smile playing on your lips. “I just… I needed to know.”

Sebastian smiled, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “Know what?”

“That this is real,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. “That we’re real.”

He nodded, his smile soft and reassuring. “It is,” he said softly. “It’s as real as it gets.”

You smiled back, your heart swelling with happiness. “Good,” you said, your voice light and teasing. “Because I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

Sebastian chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You stood there for a moment longer, just holding each other, savoring the quiet comfort of the moment. Then, with a soft sigh, you pulled away, your hand slipping into his. “Come on,” you said, your tone bright and cheerful. “I’ll show you around the rest of the house. There’s a lot more to see than just the inside. I haven't showed you the back.”

He grinned, standing up and following you as you led him out of the kitchen and into the cozy backside of the house. The sun was streaming down from the blue sky, casting warm patches of light on the worn but comfortable outdoor furniture. An old wooden bench, placed with pillows and a jar of seashells you had collected over the years.

“This is nice,” Sebastian said, looking around with a smile. “Feels… free. "Comfortable."

The back of the house is directly connected to the sea, like a little porch hovering above the water.

You nodded, squeezing his hand gently. “It is.”

He looked at you, his expression soft and full of affection. “Thank you,” he said again, his voice full of sincerity. “For everything.”

You smiled, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You don’t have to thank me, Sebastian.”

He nodded, his smile widening. “Yeah,” he said softly. “But I still want to.”

Your eyes sparkled in the sunlight. "Let’s go back inside...P.AI.nter must be awake by now too."

And as you walked together, hand in hand, the sun warming your skin, you knew that no matter what the future held, you would face it together. Because here, in this cozy home by the sea, with Sebastian by your side, you had found something precious—something worth holding onto after all the pain.

[imnameimswrld]

ⵌ ׄ ۪ 𝐀 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑 ⁴⁴ ׄ ⑅ LH44 ‌˖ ֺ ᰮ

— DESCRIPTION ੭ in which getting stuck in an elevator brings you to a truth that had been hiding and eating away at your heart.

— PAIRING ੭ lewis hamilton x fem!ready.

— FILE ੭ imagine.

— DISCLAIMERS ੭ angsty with fluff at the end and a little in between, not (currently) edited.

❪ main masterlist | f1 masterlist | lewis hamilton masterlist ❫

━━━━━━━━━━❪ 🖤 ❫━━━━━━━━━━

"Fuck !"

Lewis delivers a rattling kick to the sealed shut elevator doors, and the action pulls an eyeroll from you.

"Oh yeah, kick it some more maybe the stainless steel doors will open on Sir Lewis Hamilton's command !" your words drip in sarcasm, you tone causing your boyfriend to turn and face you in the corner you're slumped back in.

You hands rub at your arms that your knitted sweater is failing to block the cold from, and despite the tension between the two of you, Lewis can't stand the site of you cold. So, he rips his jacket off with a huff, walks over to the corner you wish could swallow you whole if it meant giving space from him, and tucks the jacket so carefully and neatly around your front that you almost regret your thought about the corner of the elevator snatching you away from him – almost.

The atmosphere in the broken down elevator becomes even more chilly with the tension that settles between the two of you. Half of you wants to hobble closer and cling to his natural body heat, and the other half wants to firmly plant your hands on his shoulders just to shove him further away.

His presence right now is simultaneously making you beg for space and wallow in guilt, and the only way things could get worse is if he starts talking-

"I just don't understand it, Y/n."

A groan of annoyance echoes loudly in the square space. "Seriously Lewis ? You're gonna make me feel bad about declining your proposal ?".

He rounds on you, facing you fully with anger simmering in his gaze; but it's mixed eith another emotion. Hurt.

"Of course not, but what I want is an apology."

Matching his defensive stance, the jacket slips from your shoulders as you turn so quickly to face him. "An apology ? You want me to apologize for saying "no Lewis, I'm not ready for another marriage yet" ?"

Lewis shakes his head, his eyes dead set on yours. "That's exactly it actually. But not for declining me, but for lying to me, Y/n."

A silence blankets the two of you, but unlike the purpose of the item, it doesn't enclose you in warmth and comfort; no, it suffocates you with a so deeply embedded feeling of guilt, that your breathing halts for just a moment.

You and Lewis have been dating for three years now. Before him, the thought of committing yourself to another after the disloyalty of your last, made you shudder and almost feel sick to the stomach. You minded your business and kept in your own bubble for the good part of a year, and then Lewis so calmly squeezed himself into your life with a charming accent and a dashing smile, and with how he made you feel, you knew that he was here to stay. You love him, more than you've ever loved anyone before. He would make the perfect husband; he's loyal, kind, loving, uplifting – but, in the midst of those thoughts, and the wonderful adventures you experienced together, you failed to mention that you just weren't ready.

Your throat bobs sorely with the harsh gulp you take, and with how Lewis follows the action action closely, he knows exactly how you feel. He knows he's right. He knows he deserves an apology, and he's not stopping until he gets it. Breaking up isn't an option for him; he's chosen you to spend forever with, and that's not going to change. What has to change for him, however, is the treatment in this relationship.

If you expect honesty and loyalty from him, then he expects the exact same in return.

"You lied," he states softly, his brows losing the angry knot they were in as he remembers that night. "You said you were ready. You know you said it, and yet...".

The second the tears start welling up in his coffee brown eyes, yours immediately respond in the same way.

"You lied."

"I know." you whisper, even your voice facing the aftermath of your dishonesty.

"Why, Y/n ?" he shakes his head slowly now, hand coming up on pure instinct just to swipe your falling tears away quickly, before returning to his sides. "It's not fair, and you know it."

You sniffle, your gaze failing to continue it's silent words with his and you drop it, eyes staring down at his Tommy H sneakers instead. This whole thing is the effect of your dishonesty back then, so it's best if you're honest now.

"I was scared."

"Scared ?" he repeats, before tucking your chin in between his forefinger and thumb to gently lift your chin, resetting your gaze with his. "Scared of what, love ?"

Lewis inches closer, and with each step your confidence in yourself breaks.

"I was scares that, if I said that I wasn't ready to be married again, you'd...you'd..." the words can't even leave your mouth, let alone formulate in your brain properly with the pain the bring you.

"Talk to me, my love."

And with his arms enveloping you to eliminate the remaining space separating you from him, you break in his warmth.

"I was scared that you'd leave me, Lewis."

The truth is here, revealed, and she's rattling your entire being with cries and guilt. Lewis rubs a hand on your back while the other holds you close, your tear-stained face buried deep into his chest where his heart beats in your ear. You don't understand why he's trying to soothe you when you're totally in the wrong here.

Still, you will never refuse anything he offers you. He just means that much to you.

"If that was ever a fear for you Y/n, then I haven't been doing my duty in loving you like I truly do." he says ever so softly in your ear, and you immediately pull away to stare up at him with reddening eyes.

"No, Lewis," you shake your head as he wipes more of your tears sway. "I am in the wrong. You have shown me what it is like to be loved wholly and with passion."

"So then why have such an irrational fear, my love ? I love you with my entire being, and I want to spend forever with you," he says, cradling your pink cheeks in his hands with the utmost amount of care.

"Now that doesn't mean we have to get married any time soon, because of course I want us both to be ready for a step like that. But I would appreciate your honesty where it is vitally needed."

You nod in, your hands going numb from the death grip that have on the material of his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Lew," you state. "Right now, I'm not ready for the step of marriage, however, I am positive that I do, want to spend my forever, with you."

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he places a blossoming kiss to your forehead. "Perfect."

"What ? My apology ?" you snort, peering up at him with glassy eyes.

He nods as he begins to help you into his jacket. "That, and just you in general."

You slip your arms in as you shake your head in disagreement. "Perfect people don't make mistakes."

Tucked warmly into his jacket, Lewis pulls you close once again to thread his finger into your hair as you close your arms around his waist.

"Call me insane or hopelessly in love," his gaze is filled with every passionate emotion unde under the sun as he stares into your eyes.

"But you'll always be perfect to me, my love."

[girlyrafe]

──── ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇꜱ .ᐟ

ᡣ𐭩 ❝ ꜰᴀʀᴍᴇʀꜱ¡ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ⟡ ݁₊ ❞ 

⌗ with rafe cameron .ᐟ.ᐟ

ᝰ summary .ᐟ Rafe sneaks into your room at dawn, shyly leaving flowers with a note he’s nervous to write. When you wake, he’s caught, but a soft kiss makes his heart skip. Later, he nervously asks you out—his heart is all in.

₊ ⊹ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

The farmhouse is still, wrapped in the hush of dawn, the sky outside tinged with the softest shades of lavender and gold. The wooden floors creak beneath Rafe’s careful steps as he slips inside your bedroom, holding his breath like he’s walking a tightrope. The scent of wildflowers clings to him—fresh earth and morning dew—because he spent the last hour before sunrise gathering them, hands rough but careful as he picked each one with you in mind.

He crafted the bouquet himself, painstakingly, because nothing at the market felt right. Daisies, because they reminded him of the way you twirl through the fields without a care in the world. Pink carnations, because they match the blush that dusts your cheeks whenever he teases you. Baby’s breath, because they’re small and delicate and pure—just like you. 

It’s not perfect. He must’ve rearranged it ten times, second-guessing himself, but when he looks at the bundle of colour in his hands, all he can think is,  This is her. 

He’s nervous. Which is stupid, because it’s just you. But that doesn’t stop the way his pulse thuds against his ribs as he edges toward your bedside table, gaze flickering to your sleeping form.

And damn, you’re beautiful.

You’re curled up beneath the blankets, hair splayed across the pillow, lips parted in the softest, dream-heavy breaths. The morning light spilling through the window casts golden patterns across your skin, and he just… stares. Can’t help it.

You always look pretty, but like this? Soft and warm and completely unaware of the way you drive him crazy? It knocks the breath right out of his lungs.

Rafe swallows, his grip on the bouquet tightening. He should just set it down and leave. That was the plan. No waking you up, no standing here like a lovesick idiot. But as he gently places the flowers beside your bed, he hesitates.

You’ll wake up and see them, yeah, but would you know they were from him?

Would you know that he spent all morning thinking about you, about how he couldn’t let Valentine’s Day go by without making sure you had something—something—to smile about?

Probably not.

Shit.

Rafe sighs and digs into his back pocket, pulling out the worn notebook he uses to jot down farm schedules and numbers. He flips past scribbled feed orders and half-finished sketches, rips out a page, and—without thinking too hard—scrawls a note.

For you, sweetheart. 

You deserve flowers today. 

Can’t have someone as pretty as you moping about not getting any. 

— Rafe 

It’s rushed, his handwriting slanted and uneven, but it’s honest. His heart clenches as he sets it beside the bouquet, fingers lingering on the edge of the paper for just a second too long before he forces himself to step back.

He needs to leave.

Now. 

But the moment he turns, his boot presses into the wrong damn floorboard, and the sharp, traitorous creak that echoes through the quiet room might as well be a gunshot. 

He freezes. 

A soft, sleepy noise escapes you—half a murmur, half a yawn—and then, groggy and laced with amusement:

"Rafe?"

His stomach drops. 

Slowly, slowly, he turns, caught like a deer in headlights. 

Your eyes are barely open, heavy with sleep, but the second they land on him, your lips curve into the smallest, drowsy smile. You’re still tucked beneath the blankets, all cosy and warm, blinking at him like you’re not entirely sure if he’s real.

"...Are you sneaking into my room?" 

Rafe’s face burns. 

"N—no? I mean—yes? But—" He gestures wildly toward the flowers, completely unravelling, his usual cool confidence crumbling like dust. "I was just—I—" 

Your giggle is soft, barely there, but it hits him like a freight train.

"You’re cute when you’re all flustered," you tease, voice warm and sweet, stretching lazily beneath the covers. The sleepiness in your tone makes something tighten in his chest.

He groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I just thought—you should have flowers today. That’s it. No big deal." 

Your heart melts. Completely. 

You reach a hand toward him, eyes still heavy with sleep. "Come here." 

Rafe hesitates. He shouldn’t. He should leave before he embarrasses himself any more than he already has. But he can’t say no to you.

So he steps closer, awkward and stiff—until you reach up, fingers curling around the sleeve of his flannel, and press the sweetest, sleep-soft kiss to his cheek.

His breath stops. 

"You’re sweet," you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. 

Rafe blinks, ears burning. "Nah," he mutters, voice rough as he scratches at his jaw, looking anywhere but at you. But the way he lingers, the way his fingers twitch at his sides like he wants to touch you, tells a different story.

And when you roll over, sighing into your pillow with the softest little smile, the flowers beside you? 

Yeah. 

That was worth every bit of his dignity.

later that day.ᐟ

The sun hangs high in the afternoon sky, beating down on Rafe’s back as he swings the axe over his shoulder, planting it deep into the log with a sharp crack. He should be focused. Should be getting through the stack of firewood without his thoughts drifting back to this morning, to the way you looked all soft and sleepy, voice warm as honey when you called him sweet.

But he’s been useless all damn day.

Keeps replaying the moment over and over, the way your lips brushed against his cheek, the way you sighed into your pillow, all curled up next to those flowers like you actually liked them.

Like you actually liked him. 

He shakes his head, exhaling sharply, flexing his fingers around the axe handle.

No. No thinking about that. He needs to focus. Chop the wood. Get the work done. 

Then he hears the screen door creak open. 

Rafe glances up—just a quick look, just enough to see you stepping out onto the porch—and his brain short-circuits. 

You’re in a sundress. 

Not just any sundress, either. The prettiest little thing, soft and flowy, the colour bright against your sun-kissed skin. The kind of dress that clings in the right places but billows with the breeze, brushing against your legs as you step onto the dirt path, barefoot, making your way toward him.

Rafe grips the axe tighter. Swallows hard.

He’s so fucked. 

You’re just walking, just minding your business, but his heart is pounding, his hands feel sweaty, and suddenly, chopping wood seems a lot more complicated than it did two minutes ago.

By the time you reach him, he’s still standing there, staring, jaw clenched so tight it might snap. 

"Hi," you say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, cheeks tinged pink as how scrumptious he looked right now.

Rafe blinks. Opens his mouth. Closes it. 

Then—brilliantly—he says, "Uh." 

Your lips twitch. "Uh?" 

Shit.

"I mean—" He clears his throat, dragging a hand through his already messy hair. "Hi." 

You giggle, swaying slightly, looking down at the hem of your dress as you toy with it between your fingers.

No one’s ever really looked at you like this before. Not like you’re something else. Not like you’re this pretty, soft little thing worth staring at.

And certainly not like they don’t even know what to do with themselves. 

Rafe shifts, gripping the axe handle so tight his knuckles go white. His ears burn, his heart hurts, and he knows he’s doomed when the only thing he can think about is how badly he wants to pull you in, rest his hands on your waist, and tell you just how damn pretty you look. 

But he won’t.

Because he’s already made a fool of himself today, and he sure as hell doesn’t need to do it again.

Instead, he clears his throat again—real smooth—and mutters, "You, uh… you wanna get outta here for a bit?" 

Your brows lift. "Go where?" 

"I dunno." He shrugs, trying to play it off. "Town? We could walk around or something." 

Your heart stumbles over itself. No one’s ever really asked you to do things like that before.

"You want to take me into town?" 

Rafe scratches the back of his neck, suddenly second-guessing himself. "Only if you want to go. No big deal." 

But your smile is so bright, so sincere, that he feels it straight in his chest. 

"Okay," you say softly, tucking your hands behind your back. "Yeah. I’d like that." 

And with that, you turn and float back toward the house, leaving him standing there like an idiot, trying to remember how to breathe.

in the evening...town .ᐟ

The truck rolls to a slow stop on the main street of town, its old engine humming low beneath the golden stretch of dusk. The world is settling into itself, bathed in the last, sleepy light of the sun. It drapes over the small row of shops and cafés, flickering against brick shopfronts and catching in the glass windows of dimly lit boutiques. String lights stretch from lamppost to lamppost, weaving a soft glow above the quiet street, and the air is thick with the scent of fresh bread, roasted coffee, and something sweet—maybe cinnamon or caramel drifting from the bakery on the corner.

It’s peaceful. Familiar. The kind of town where people move slow, where everyone knows each other, where you can hear the faint sounds of an old record playing through a shop’s open door.

You take a deep breath, clutching your little purse in your lap.

Rafe glances at you, fingers flexing against the steering wheel. "You, uh… still want to walk around?" 

You nod, lips curling into a soft smile as you push open the truck door and step out, your sundress brushing against your legs in the evening breeze. The moment your feet hit the pavement, you turn in a slow circle, taking in the sights, the warmth, the ease of it all.

Rafe shoves his hands into his pockets, watching you with something fond, something careful, like he’s trying so hard not to let it show just how bad he has it for you. 

"You’ve been here before, right?" he asks, falling into step beside you as you drift down the sidewalk.

You hum, nodding. "Not often. Just when I need something from the market or when my dad sends me on errands." 

"You never come just for fun?" 

You shake your head, eyes flicking toward a small flower shop, its window display full of tulips and baby’s breath, wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. "No one’s ever asked me to." 

Something flickers across Rafe’s face, something tight and unreadable. He exhales through his nose, his hands clenching in his pockets like he wants to say something about that, something big, something too much.

But instead, he just says, "Well. You should come more." 

You smile at him, all soft and knowing, and he swears it knocks the wind out of him. 

You continue walking, stopping at a tiny bookshop tucked between two brick buildings. The windows are smudged with fingerprints, and the door is slightly ajar, the faint smell of old pages and vanilla drifting out.

You sigh, practically dreamy. "I love this place." 

Rafe watches as you push inside, running your fingers along the worn spines, flipping through the first few pages of an old novel. You look so at home here, so effortless, so easy. 

"You read a lot?" he asks, leaning against the doorway, watching you.

You nod, eyes tracing the words of an aged, yellowed page. "All the time. I like how books let you live a different life for a while." 

Rafe swallows, dragging a hand through his hair. "Yeah," he mutters, "I get that." 

And he does. 

Because right now, with you standing there in your pretty little dress, in the soft glow of a quiet bookshop, looking at him like that—like he’s good—he feels like he’s living a different life too.

After a few minutes, you leave the shop, slipping back onto the street, the cool breeze tugging at your dress. The little bell above the bakery jingles as a couple walks out, and you glance up, eyeing the rows of pastries glistening under the display case.

Rafe follows your gaze. He doesn’t even think—just opens the door and nudges you inside with a quiet "C’mon." 

The bakery smells like sugar and cinnamon, warm and familiar, with woven baskets of fresh bread sitting near the counter. You watch, wide-eyed, as Rafe strides over to the glass display, pointing at a couple of pastries. He slips a bill across the counter, then turns back to you, handing you a little paper bag.

You peek inside. The pastries you love. 

Your chest tightens, your fingers curling around the bag.

"You didn’t have to," you whisper. 

Rafe just shrugs, looking away, feigning indifference even as his ears turn pink. "Figured you might want somethin’ sweet." 

Your heart stumbles.

You’ve never had someone notice you like this.

Never had someone think about you like this. 

It’s enough to make your throat close up, enough to make you glance down, flustered, as you take a small bite of the pastry, your lips brushing against the sugar-dusted surface.

Rafe watches, swallowing hard.

He’s so fucking gone for you. 

The two of you step back out onto the street, the night stretching on around you, golden lights blinking overhead, soft music spilling from an open café door.

And when you look up at him, lips still dusted with sugar, eyes soft, voice sweet as you murmur, "You’re too nice to me, Rafe,"— 

Rafe scoffs, nudging your elbow gently as he leads you down the sidewalk. "’S’cause you deserve it, sweetheart." 

And that?

That’s the moment you realise—really realise—just how far gone he is for you. 

And maybe, just maybe, you’re a little bit gone for him too.

under the stars .ᐟ

The truck rumbles softly down the quiet road, the town’s golden glow fading in the rearview mirror. The night is cool, the breeze slipping through the open windows, tousling your hair as you fight off sleep in the passenger seat. You’ve had one of the best nights ever.

Rafe glances over at you, his heart clenching at the way your head dips slightly, the fabric of your cardigan bunching around your fingers where you clutch it close. You look so cosy, so soft, and the thought of taking you home—of the night ending—makes something ache in his chest. The way the moonlight catches in his tousled hair, making him look even more perfect than usual, makes it even harder to imagine saying goodbye.

So, instead of turning back toward the farm, he makes a quiet turn onto an old dirt road.

Your brows knit in confusion, but you don’t question it, just watch him through sleep-heavy lashes as he pulls up to a clearing. The trees part just enough to give you both an open stretch of sky, scattered with a thousand blinking stars.

“C’mon,” Rafe murmurs, pushing open the door.

You yawn, rubbing at your eyes as you follow him, watching the way his lean frame moves, how the sleeves of his shirt stretch over his strong arms. There's a quiet confidence in every step he takes, even in the way he tosses the blankets over the worn metal of the truck bed, his movements a little rushed, a little unsure—like he’s nervous. But you can’t help but think it’s the kind of nervousness that makes him even more irresistible.

And that’s what makes you smile.

He’s still a little awkward with you, still trying so hard to be respectful even though you can feel how much he wants to be close to you.

When he turns back, you’re already climbing into the truck bed, your dress slipping off one shoulder, looking up at him expectantly. You notice how the moonlight reflects off his skin, highlighting his sharp jaw and the soft, boyish curve of his lips. He’s breathtaking.

Rafe swallows thickly, forcing himself to breathe before sliding in beside you, settling against the blankets with a quiet exhale. His scent—something earthy, fresh, and entirely him—surrounds you, making everything feel warmer, cozier.

You curl up next to him, knees pulled to your chest, fingers brushing against his sleeve. “You do this a lot?” you ask, voice hushed.

He shakes his head. “Used to, when I was a kid.” He gestures toward the stars, reaching for something tucked in his back pocket. “I’d, uh… bring this out here.”

You watch as he pulls out a small, worn book—the kind of thing that’s been thumbed through a thousand times, its corners bent and frayed. You lean in, tilting your head as you read the title.

“A book of constellations?”

Rafe shrugs, suddenly sheepish. “Didn’t have much else to do out here.”

You smile, nudging him playfully. “That’s cute.”

He groans, tipping his head back. “I knew you were going to say that.”

You giggle, and God, he thinks he’d do anything to hear that sound forever. Especially when you look at him like that—eyes bright, soft and glowing under the starry sky. He’s captivated by the way you light up in the darkness.

He opens the book, flipping to a dog-eared page. “Look—this one.” He points up toward the sky, his other arm propped beneath his head. “Cassiopeia.”

You follow his gaze, eyes tracing the lazy ‘W’ shape of the constellation. Your lips part slightly, something dreamy settling in your expression. The way you look at the stars, all soft and thoughtful, makes him even more drawn to you.

“It’s my favourite,” you say softly.

Rafe tilts his head toward you, watching the way your lashes cast little shadows against your cheeks, how your nose scrunches just a little as you concentrate. The way the moonlight makes your skin look even more delicate, like you’re glowing in the night. You’re so beautiful. Prettier than Cassiopeia. Prettier than every damn star in the sky.

He swallows. “Why?”

You hum, resting your chin on your knees. “Because she was vain. She thought she was the most beautiful thing in the universe.”

Rafe raises an eyebrow. “That’s a little cocky of her.”

You laugh, and it’s so light, so effortless. You make everything seem easy. “Maybe. But I think it’s kind of funny. To love yourself so much the gods get mad about it.”

Rafe huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Guess that means you should have your own constellation, huh?”

You blink at him, caught off guard by his words, by the way his voice is quieter, more certain.

And when you turn your head to look at him—really look at him—he does something stupid.

Something reckless.

He leans in, just enough to brush his lips against yours, tentative and searching. His heart races, the warmth of your breath mingling with his. And damn, he’s never wanted anyone more.

And you don’t pull away.

You breathe in sharply, your fingers curling into the blanket, your heart hammering against your ribs. His lips are so soft, and the way they feel against yours makes everything in you light up. It’s gentle, just barely there, but it sets your skin on fire. You can’t think straight, and you never want it to stop.

When he pulls back, his breath is shaky, his lips parted, his gaze flickering over your face like he’s trying to commit this moment to memory. His intense blue eyes lock on yours, so full of something you can’t place.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, but it doesn’t sound like he really is.

You swallow, your cheeks warm, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t be.”

And that’s all he needs to hear before he’s leaning in again, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth, and another, and another—until you’re giggling against his lips, shoving at his chest, cheeks flushed and aching from how much you’re smiling.

And Rafe?

He just grins, curling an arm behind his head, eyes tracing the stars as you cuddle in closer, your warmth against his side, your laughter settling deep in his bones. His hand brushes against your cheek, his touch lingering, just a little longer than necessary.

Yeah.

He’s so gone for you.

ᝰ Avery yaps .ᐟ Hey, gorgeous. I know this might be a bit long, but honestly, I don’t even care because I’m completely in love with this. It’s been so much fun working on it, and I can’t help but feel like it’s something special. If you’re loving this, be sure to check out the rest of my Valentine’s series—I’ve poured a lot of heart into it, and I think you’re going to enjoy the rest just as much. Thank you for all your support, and I hope this little piece brings a smile to your face! 

©GIRLYRAFE

[babyleostuff]

my little gamer | jeon wonwoo

when wonwoo came home from work, happy they let him and the boys end their schedule a bit earlier, he definitely didn’t expect you to be passed out on the couch.

with groceries, and your favourite candy in the bags he was sure you’d get to spend a bit of well deserved quality time over making dinner, maybe end the night with a movie, or him reading you a book in bed. but it looked like you had other plans. 

wonwoo quietly grabbed the blanket that was draped over your couch, and gently tucked you in, making sure you were properly covered, kneeling before your sleeping figure. his fingertips found their way to your hair that fell over your face, and gently, as not to wake you, he swept them away, revealing your pouty mouth, and rosy cheeks. 

wonwoo knew you didn’t like it when he took pictures of you when you were sleeping, always insisting you looked horrible when asleep, but wonwoo would do everything to have his polaroid with him now so he could capture this moment. 

he grabbed the bags from the floor, and not thinking too much about what made you so tired that you needed to nap in the middle of the day, he started preparing dinner, so you could eat when you woke up. 

“so cute,” he thought to himself, as he peeked from around the corner to see if you were still sleeping. 

soon, the smell of food woke you up from your slumber, making your stomach growl. at first, you were very confused why you could smell food, when your fridge and cabinets were out of anything proper to eat, but that’s when you noticed a familiar pair of glasses laying on the table. 

“wonwoo?” you raised yourself to sitting, fixing the cardigan of his you were wearing. he wasn’t supposed to be back for another couple of hours, and it was very unusual for the boys to end things so early in the afternoon. your mind started racing in worry that something bad had happened. 

“wonwoo?” you asked a bit louder, stumbling because of the blanket, which was wrapped around your body. weird, you couldn’t remember covering yourself with it. 

passing by the kitchen, you noticed a pot on the stove with something bubbling inside, and from the smell alone, you knew it was your favourite ramyeon. but wonwoo was nowhere to be seen. 

deciding to help him out with dinner, you turned down the heat a bit, so it wouldn’t spill, and busied yourself with cutting the vegetables that were already laying on the counter, convinced that your boyfriend just went to the bathroom. 

“what are these?” suddenly, wonwoo’s voice echoed through your rather quiet apartment, scaring you to the point where you almost cut yourself with the knife. offended, you turned to him. “i could’ve hurt myself,” but your voice faltered, as you saw what he was holding. 

in his left hand, he was clutching his old gaming headset, and in the other, some games you knew he didn’t play anymore. a warm rush of embarrassment rushed through your body, your cheeks turning into a pretty shade of red. wonwoo, on the other hand, seemed rather amused - both by the thighs he found in your room, and your reaction. 

you weren’t much of a gamer - you didn’t find it entertaining, and you weren’t really good at it either. you usually watched him play, cuddled to his side with a teacup in your hands. that was so much more fun than gaming. 

“care to explain, baby?” he smiled at you, setting the stuff on the counter. you knew wonwoo would never judge you for what you did, yet you couldn’t help but look down avoiding his gaze. “hey, it’s okay. look at me, baby,” he gently cupped your face, lifting your head, so your eyes could meet, as his thumbs stroked your cheeks in a soothing manner.

“i just…,” you took a deep inhale, trying to calm yourself before the embarrassment would eat you up. “i just wanted to be better at gaming,” you admitted, fiddling with the hem of wonwoo’s shirt. 

he looked at you with a puzzled expression, his brows furrowed, and mouth in a small pout. “but you don’t like gaming. i don’t think i’ve ever seen you game since we began dating.” 

you sighed in defeat - you had to tell him why you took his stuff, wonwoo would not back down now. “i don’t like it, but i wanted to be better… for you,” you shyly admitted. “i know how much you enjoy gaming, and i didn’t want to be that girlfriend who doesn’t give a shit about her boyfriend's hobbies.” 

“but why would you force yourself?” wonwoo asked, stunned by your confession. his thumbs halted their movement, his whole attention focused on you. “you know i would never expect you to do something you don’t enjoy.” 

“i know. i just thought you’d be happy if i learned how to play.”

wonwoo let out a sigh, sneaking his hand to the back of your head, cradling it closer to his chest, so he could place his head on top of yours. “i would be happy knowing you do something you truly enjoy, and not force yourself to do something you don't like just to please me,” he wrapped his other arm around your waist, bringing you even closer to his body. 

“i love it when you watch me game. i love your presence next to me, and i wouldn’t change it for the world.” he smiled softly at you, patting your head, as you fell into a comfortable silence. with the feeling of embarrassment long forgotten, you let yourself melt into his embrace, nuzzling your head further up his neck, as you inhaled the familiar smell of his cologne. 

“wait,” wonwoo suddenly pulled your head back, and looked at you with a slightly worried expression. “don’t tell me you were sleeping now, because you stayed up last night gaming.” 

“please, don’t be mad?” you tried giving him your best puppy eyes, knowing that one - he wouldn’t fall for them either way, and two - he’d end up scolding you for staying up so late. “you’re such a hypocrite, honey. how many times have you told me to go to bed, and scolded me for staying up so late, hm?” he cupped your cheek, his gaze full of concern. 

“i did it for you, won.”

“you’re truly unbelievable, honey. 

the bubbling of the ramyeon brought you back to reality, wonwoo’s grip loosening to quickly take care of the boiling soup.

“would you help me?” 

“what was that, baby?” 

you put your hand on his back. “i want you to teach me how to game, and not because i want to make you happy. i really want to try.” 

“of course i’ll help you,” he smiled, and pecked your forehead. “my little gamer.”

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife @uniq-tastic @wonvsmile @wonuwoo12 @marisblogg @whatsgyud @aaniag @vicehectic

[drluvsick]

𝟑𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 — 𝐦𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐨

you and muichiro chat at 3am, leading to him making sure you know that you deserve him. for context, you both are hashiras who sleep in the same estate but in different rooms. established dating.

word count : 698

you waited for the herbal tea boiling on the stove as you took part in listening to the pour of the rain outside. it was comforting to say the least as it was chilly, bringing you to take the spare blanket you kept to drape it over your shoulders.

small footsteps echoed through the halls, immediately averting your attention to the sounds. you must’ve woken up muichiro. sure enough, as he stumbled into the kitchen, his sleepy face greeted you as he made his way over.

“sorry, muichiro. didn’t mean to cause such a ruckus,” you apologized with a tired tone, “go back to bed, alright? i’ll try to be there soon.”

he had his blanket draped around his shoulders as well. his voice, equally as drained as yours, spoke as he wrapped his arms around you. “i can’t sleep. can we cuddle?”

you loved this side of him, the side that awakened once having first tried hugging you. even after he’d regained his memories, there were still some emotions that he held away from others but opened up to you, such as his clinginess.

you reciprocated muichiro’s actions, moving your arms under his blanket to feel closer to him. you slid the cover off, throwing it onto the nearby chair as well as yours.

you made a noise of approval before ruffling his hair a bit. you both listened to the pitter-patters of the rain as it felt as if you two were the only ones in the world awake at that moment.

“…i made some tea, by the way. i’ll get two cups for us.” you reluctantly separated from him, much to his dismay. as if on cue, once you got the two said cups, the tea kettle whistled for you to fetch the contents inside.

having both your drinks in hand, you and muichiro sat down at the table.

blowing the steam rising from the tea away, muichiro shimmied his chair closer to yours. small talk was a thing you’d both enjoyed on early mornings like this, so he asked, “how was your last mission?”

“went well, nothing too exciting,” you shrugged, taking a sip from your tea. “you?”

“same here. but that demon pissed me off,” his brows furrowed ever so slightly.

“oh, the infamously stoic muichiro tokito being angry? how so?” you lightly teased.

“apparently he knew about us. he cursed you out. so i slashed him to pieces after slitting his mouth.” he said, perfectly serious before his mouth curved upwards a bit sinisterly at the memory.

you giggled and said you appreciated the gesture. he rested his head on your shoulder, carefully drinking his share of the tea. “oh, muichiro, i don’t deserve you…” you murmured mostly to yourself after a pause, hoping the rain would cover what you’d said.

he lifted his head up to look at you with a questioning gaze. “what makes you say that?”

“well…”—you looked up, away from his staring—“…you just…i guess…” you stumbled over your words, figuring out how to word this.

“if anything, i don’t deserve you.” he boldly said, making you snap your head to look at him in surprise. the usually calm, “air headed” hashira saying this? even if you two had been dating for quite a while, it still took you by surprise.

he continued. “remember when we first met? and the few times after when i’d forgotten who you were and you kept having to remind me?”

“but everyone did tha—”

“and how you kept being nice to me; even if you sometimes scolded me on my arrogance, which was rightfully done, after i’d brushed you off multiple times? i think i even called you ‘annoying’ and ‘a waste of breath’.” muichiro had put his cup down on the table, holding your arm. “i take those insults back, by the way.”

“you…remember that?” you were even more in awe of him.

“…i can remember a lot about you.” he finished with a slight smile.

you smiled back and ran your fingers through his hair. “i love you.”

“i love you, too.” he shut his eyes, the two of you in a comforting space in time listening to the continuous rain.

overluvsick | please do not repost, translate, and/or claim my works as yours !!

[usagiarchive]

angel of the codeine scene — [07] fan the flames of the fire

prev / masterlist / next

sypnosis. [ 1.4k words. slightly suggestive two sentences? ] — blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name, backstory stuff, um, what else?

usagi's note: hi 😊 i feel like you guys deserve to have a update because im in a good mood and also because i painted today, i really like painting.

“Where are we going?” you ask as your eyes were covered by your lover.

“We're almost there, don't worry,” he murmurs as he guides you to step over what seems like an uphill path.

You feel the winds whip at your body, you could hear the birds chirping and echoing from however high you were right now.

“Open your eyes,”

When you do, you could only see the tops of the mountains from the fog covering them, the sunset almost makes it look walkable with how the sun's rays filter through the clouds.

“It's beautiful,” you whisper.

“Yeah, it is,”

You look back at Xiao as he puts a flower in your hair.

“It really is,” he repeats.

Your face burns at his words and you look away, “How'd you find this place anyway?”

“Found it while Bona and I took down that one god that had wings,” he says as he picks up another flower, “Was really hard to kill, but we pulled it off, found this place as we headed back to base,���

He twirled the flower in his hand.

“It's called qingxin,” he murmurs, “A flower that grows in hard to reach places, but can be used for medicinal purposes,” he looks up, meeting your eyes.

“Just like you.”

…

Xiao's anger for you leaving (but really, it's just him worrying, anger is often a blanket for emotions one does not want to face after all) disappates the moment he hears you say that.

“Y-you’re- you remember?” he asks as he steps closer to you.

You shrug, twirling a horsetail in your hand, “I don't remember everything…?” you look up at him, “But I remember enough,”

Xiao was still in awe, there were so many things he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to tell you.

Instead, he settles for sitting down next to you and holding your hand gently.

You smile at him a little, intertwining your fingers with his.

“I'm glad,” he finally says, “Welcome home, qingxin,”

The two of you enjoy the sound of the running water, the cool breeze, and the rays of the sun on your skin, until Xiao speaks up.

“Can- can you not do that again?”

“Hm? Do what?”

“Leave without saying anything,”

“Oh,” you felt really guilty when he said that, “Sorry, I didn't think you'd let me go to the Harbor alone or find out who I am to you,”

In hindsight, it would've been better to leave a message with Verr, but you think she would've called Xiao in that moment.

He sighs, “I have no care for what you do in the Harbor, so long as I know where you are or who you're with,”

“Okay,”

It was… awkward.

“Was this why you didn't get close to me before?”

“Yes,” he says, “I didn't… know if you were the same as the past you or if you were someone new entirely.”

“Oh,”

“I… I know now you're not the same, you're not my past,” he takes a breath, “But rather my future,”

You laugh a bit, “I think we're moving a little fast, xiansheng,”

He flushes green, ah, you missed that.

Xiao stutters which makes you laugh harder, “Don't worry, I’ll be happy to choose you as my future, too, Xiao,”

He closes his eyes and presses his forehead to yours, “I missed you, welcome home,”

…

From a distance, an Archon of old smiles as he witnesses the sight of two lovers reuniting.

“So Morax, how's being Cupid going for you?”

“Barbatos, I have told you not to drop in unannounced, yes?”

“But the wind told me you were up to something!”

He sighs in resignation.

…

In the following months, Xiao has been closer to you, he's more talkative, too. He usually tells you stuff he's seen while on patrol as you wait on the balcony of the inn.

Recently, he's acted more and more like a bird, he's taken to bringing you shiny trinkets, gems of cor lapis, crystalfly cores, jewelry he knows you like, and the most recent one, a jade bi tethered to him.

(“It's so I know you're safe, even if we're not together, just in case,” he tells you as he enchants the jade to your being and sews it to his sleeve after.)

He's taken you closer during fights, too. Morax-shen says it's because he's learning to trust you.

Baizhu is still surprised at the development when you tell him about it after your lessons, speaking of which, you've recently been hired at Bubu Pharmacy as an Apothecary.

A position you've been granted after you've surpassed Baizhu, courtesy of Changsheng-xiaoren who was the one to suggest a position and the one to recognise your abilities.

Everyday, Xiao is there to pick you up and take you home, staying in the city or up in the cliffs as he waits. He still doesn't like being away from you.

…

Zhongli-shen asks you about the situation wth the traveller a while later as the two of you are having tea in the harbor.

“Oh, that, yeah we talked about it,” you say and tell him the details.

(“Lumine isn't like that to me, she is only someone I owe, she helped me in my duty to protect Liyue, Zhongli also considers her to be a dear friend, so I must honour that sentiment, too,” Xiao tells you as he eats the Almond Tofu you've cooked for him.

“You have no need to worry, my heart and soul only belongs to you,” he says as he chews, “I have waited this long for you, do not think I will look to someone else for your affection,”

He says it so casually you think it wouldn't be a line in a best selling romance book.)

“Seems like your jealousy has been solved,” Zhongli says as he hides behind his tea, “Xiao has been enthusiastic, I see,” he teases, eyeing the marks under your collar.

“Zhongli-shen!” you squawk as you flick him playfully, half ashamed, “We haven't gone that far,” you murmur.

Which was true, partially, Xiao did get pretty heated during kisses, the farthest the two of you have gone was you sitting on his lap, but never farther than that.

“I am glad both if you have resolved it,” he says.

“Me, too…”

…

Thankfully, the frustrating dreams of not knowing had come to a stop, your memories didn't completely come back, but it was enough to know what had happened between the past you and Xiao.

You remember the important parts at least.

With those stopping, you had been sleeping well more, giving more of your energy to hone your healing abilities.

Recently, Xiao had gotten into a pretty big scuffle with the Fatui as they terrorized a merchant caravan.

You had to heal him a lot for the first time in a while, which led the both of you to discover that it takes out a lot of energy out of you.

(“It's only the balance of the universe, Xiao, a give and take of energies. I'll be okay, I just need to-” you yawn, “-get some rest…”

You see him frown and you smile a bit.

“So worried over me, xiansheng,” you tease and he flicks your forehead but sighs.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he says softly as he kisses your cheek.

You lean into him more.

“I love you, too, Xiao,”)

…

“Is it too tight?” Xiao asks as he ties the ribbon on your cheongsam.

You shake your head, “No, just right.”

“You've eaten?”

You turn around and cradle his face, “Yes, xiansheng, I have, please stop worrying, come on you still have patrol.”

Xiao sighs, “Fine, let's go.”

He pulls you into a princess carry and asks if you're ready before he warps to the top of a cliff, close enough that he can see you, but far enough away from trouble.

He opens his mouth but you speak first.

“I'll stay here, I'll be good, I'll get out in case of trouble,” you say, just as he recites every patrol.

You stifle a laugh as he just stares at you, “Fine, I love you,” he says and warps away.

“Hey!”

…

It takes some time for Xiao to return, in half an hour, you couldn't see him anymore, you figured he might've been chasing monsters so you turn to studying the herbs on the cliff instead.

With your notebook opened, you plucked a violetgrass from the side of the cliff, let's just not tell your lover that you had to lay down to not fall off.

You log where you are and what kind of plants were on the cliff. Mints, violetgrass, and sweet flowers were the ones present there.

“The sweet flowers would make good sugar for Almond Tofu,” you say and began to pluck those you see around the cliff.

You spot another patch in clumps, but the moment you had a hard time pulling the second one, you knew exactly what you pulled. Fuck.

“Xiao!”

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usagi's note: in case it wasn't clear, the italicized texts are flashbacks or memories. anyway, i will post the next chapter later? or tomorrow? idk u guys tell me pls in the comments or send an ask. ENJOY LANTERN RITE BYE!!

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@usagiarchive 2024. do not repost, translate, or use for AI. reblogs, likes, and comments are very appreciated!!

[crowsofdarkness]

You and Eric decide to make a little tape.

18+ CW's underneath the cut(unprotected p in v, bondage, spanking, oral with male receiving, fingering, making of a sex tape)

"You're late." 

Goosebumps pricked at my skin and I dropped my purse to the floor, ice cold fear filling my veins. I’d been hanging out with some of my friends tonight, leaving Eric home alone which made him send me various naughty text messages. 

Did I purposely come home late? Absolutely. 

Did I also respond to his naughty texts with my own, explaining how I want him to fuck me with the dark make up around his eyes? Hell yes I did. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize what time it was," I tried to explain through my shaky voice.

He breathed me in then let go of his grip around my throat, pushing me forward slightly. Suddenly the room was blanketed in darkness again and I tried to maneuver my way through the dark until the bedside table lamp clicked on, a warm yellow glow showcasing the man that sat on the edge of the bed right in front of me blanketed in his own darkness. He was wearing a shirt, jacket, and black jeans. Eric’s eyes were surrounded by that black paint he liked to wear every now and then. 

Holy. Shit.

"Take off your dress," Eric’s deep voice demanded.

With a squeak, I shed off my black sundress with ease letting it fall to the ground at my feet. I stood in front of him in nothing but a matching red bra and panties set. 

"On your knees."

I was on my knees so fast the carpet beneath my skin burned.

"Off."

One word that held so much power it made my body shiver with pleasure. Feeling cheeky, I unhooked my bra and slung it into his lap, the red lace contrasting to the darkness of his pants.

"Oops," I shrugged innocently.

His lips twitched into a scowl and hooked a finger towards me, beckoning over. My mouth ran dry when I realized I was in trouble and rose to my feet.

"No. Crawl to me."

Oh, so this is how it's going to be.

Whatever reserve I have about doing this was far gone along with my dignity. He wants me to crawl to him? With fucking pleasure.

The carpet scratched at my palms and knees until I stopped right in front of him and peered up at him through dark lashes. A gloved hand cupped my chin and forced me to look deeper into his eyes; dark and not a hint of the brightness I adored.

"You want to please me, don't you?"

I eagerly nodded. "Please."

His thumb brushed over my bottom lip. "Good girl. Take my cock out."

The sound of his belt clinking to the ground and then a zipper echoed in the eerily quiet hotel room and soon, his thick cock sprung free. Pre-cum built at the head and I licked my lips, wanting a taste, but his grip on my chin tightened.

"Not yet. I need you to put your hands behind your back."

Once my hands were clasped together, he stood to his feet, hard cock right in front of my face and I whined when the pre-cum now spilled onto my lips.

Such a fucking tease.

Eric bent over my head to tie my hands together with his belt, pulling it tight.

"How is it?" His voice was lighter than he'd been using, full of concern.

Our facade slipped away for a moment as I smiled up at him. "I'm good, trust me."

His thumb grazed over my cheek then slipping back into character, he sat back onto the bed with his hand wrapped around his cock.

"Open."

Mouth wide for him, I moaned around his cock as it slipped between my lips finally getting a taste of him. I bobbed my head up and down the length as much as I could; the head hitting the back of my throat but I didn't gag; I wanted this to be perfect for him.

He deserved this.

"Such a good girl," his head fell back in ecstasy when my tongue flattened against the underside of his cock.

I moaned in agreement as I continued to suck him despite the pain in my jaw. His hips raised up in my face so he could bury his cock deeper in my throat while his hand pulled tight at the ends of my hair. He was close, I could practically taste it but before I could beg him to cum; he pulled me off of him with a loud pop echoing throughout the room.

"On the bed," Eric grunted while lifting me to my feet.

I scrambled onto the bed as best as I could since my hands were still tied behind my back. Both hands gripped my hips as he helped me face the mirror on the wall to my right and I nearly came at the sight that stared back at me. Drool stuck to my face, mascara running down my cheeks from how hard I was sucking, and lips swollen from the thickness of his cock.

I was a mess, but he didn't mind because he all but ripped my panties off, leaving me bare in front of him while he remained fully clothed. Eric pushed my upper body down to the bed while my ass was raised in the air, the cool air from the fan causing my skin to rise with pricks. My pussy shivered with desire when I watched him in the mirror stare hungrily at me, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"I'm so fucking hungry, little crow," he groaned.

I pushed my ass back towards his face. "Stop fucking teasing me-."

A hard smack to my ass echoed in the room and I mewled in pain at first then pleasure seconds after.

"Such a nasty mouth. Did my cock not teach you anything?"

I feverishly nodded. "Yes, it did."

Through the mirror, I noticed him tilt his face to the side while a finger brushed over my wet cunt. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, crow," I moaned.

He rewarded me by slipping a finger in me, knuckle deep as he fingered me hard and fast.

"Oh god," I buried my face into the blanket beneath me.

His large body loomed over my back and left kisses along my spine. "Remember little crow, there's no God here, just us."

"Yes, fuck that feels so good," I gasped when he slipped another finger inside of me.

Through lidded eyes, I looked into the mirror to see his cock was still out of his pants; red and hard. Angry as it begged for release with the cum that dripped down to the bed. His name fell off my lips as I begged for his cock. While his fingers were long and could reach that spot with ease, I needed the thickness of him to feel full.

"What do you want?" Eric purred while brushing his lips over my back, fingers slowing to an unmoving pace now.

"Please, I want your cock."

He hummed in response. "Anything for you, little crow."

I screamed out as he pressed himself deep inside of me with one fast snap of his hips. One arm wrapped around my stomach from behind, enclosing my tied hands to his stomach, while his other hand kept us upright on the bed, palm flattened right next to my face.

"Eric," I moaned when I felt my orgasm build to a fever high, it needed to snap before it took me under.

He lifted me from the bed to adjust our position so we both were on our knees in front of the mirror. With his free hand, he spread my legs wider apart, and I leaned my head back against his chest with the new angle making him all of my most sensitive places all at once.

"Look at yourself," he demeaned.

I was exhausted but did what he asked by looking in the mirror, the sight so unholy. A man dressed in black spearing me wide open on his cock.

"You're beautiful, little crow," Eric praised with a hard thrust.

"Mine."

Thrust.

"Fuck," his burrowed his lips into my neck to bite down hard on the skin.

My throat was dry, raw, and I could barely make a noise as my orgasm finally ripped through me with such force I fell limp in his arms, my arousal coating his dick and pants.

"I love you," Eric moaned as he finally spilled himself into me, coating my walls.

We sat there for a long moment to let our breathing fall in slow sync with each other then Eric gently laid me on the bed so he could remove the binds from my wrists. He rubbed the red marks before bringing them to his soft lips, peppering it in kisses.

"Are you alright?"

I gave him a blissed out, goofy smile, and nodded. "More than alright. Thank you for this, Eric."

He made a noise low in his throat as he bent down to press a kiss to my lips and covered me with the blanket. I held it to my exhausted body as I watched him remove the mask from his face, chocolate waves of his hair sticking up in many directions. Sweat beaded at his eyebrows and ran down the side of his face, making the dark paint around his eyes run down his face, and he made his way across the room. 

Eric fiddled with something that was poised on the table pointed directly towards the bed and mirror.

"Did you get what you needed?" I wondered with a cheeky smile.

He held the camera up towards me, the bright red light still blinking. "Sure did. Anything you want to say to the camera?"

I flipped it off. "If anyone sees this Eric, I'll kill you.”

Eric's vibrant laughter bounced off the walls of the room as he shut the camera off, letting it rest on the floor at our feet before he crawled into bed with me. He pulled me into his chest and left a chaste kiss on the back of my shoulder.

"I really should shower," I noted.

Sweat covered every inch of me, and I was a sticky mess between my legs.

Eric yawned while turning off the lights, drowning us in that same darkness from before. "In the morning, little crow. Let's get some sleep."

[vesearlee]

──── 𝑺𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑰𝒏𝒌

To treat an ailment, you first had to identify a cause and enact treatment to better the patient’s physical or mental state. After years and years of knowing him, it was lucky you were the best doc-tor around to care for him.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ── Zayne x F!Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ── 2.0k 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ── Fluff, caretaking 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐀 ── @sgt-seabass 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐒 ── American Beauty by Thomas Newman 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ── HERE 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ── I am a caretaker by nature, and this just wouldn't leave my mind, like at all.

─── 𝑳𝑨𝑫𝑺 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ───

The evening was slow — echoed car horns and shouts from people in the streets below quietened by the height of Zayne’s apartment. It had only been twenty minutes since you received a text from him stating simply that he would be home shortly; no emojis or tone conveyed, which only meant that it was a long, long shift. 

Surgeries were abundant, you knew this for sure as you watched Zayne come home for only a few hours at a time, wiped and exhausted to only get a few hours of rest before he would be called back for another critical case or life threatening surgery. 

It was worrisome, and the tight feeling in your chest as you observed his hunched shoulders and the growing, dark bags beneath his hazel eyes only worsened. You knew that his reserves were beyond depleted, and the determination to make him put himself first — for once — was overwhelming. 

With that in mind, you hummed and hawed, deliberating how best to pause the world he lived in, just for a little while. “Candles…?” The clink of glass jars against each other filled the silence of his bedroom. You looked around you briefly, stopping only to stare at the comfortable couch that was pushed up against the floor to ceiling window, and it hit you. “Candles,” you repeated more certainly, a smile pulling at the corner of your lips. 

The couch would serve as a resting haven — piled high with cushions, pillows, and blankets of the fluffiest and softest varieties. The warmth would be irresistible to Zayne, it was one of the few weaknesses he willingly showed to you, and there would be no use in letting that information go to waste. Beside the couch was a small coffee table, where you placed your tools of choice. 

A simple array of make-up brushes and a selection of eyeshadow colour palettes sat neatly in place — the thought of the ebony ink drifting across Zayne’s pale skin made you shiver with anticipation. It was yet another weakness of his: the gentle touch or brush of your fingers over any part of his body, but most notably his neck and jaw. 

“You’re gentle,” he’d said once, and in an undertone, low enough you almost didn’t hear, continued with, “more than I would be with myself; more than I deserve.”

That train of thought earned him a hard kiss to silence the words. 

From then on, the thought of decorating Zayne’s skin with designs and patterns grew more appealing. Nothing too brash and large to overtake your canvas, but delicate and beautiful, to match the wound fibers of his existence. 

The flicker from behind the curtain caught your eye, and the warm white lights that cascaded down from the ceiling grew sharper. “I could use those…” You stepped closer towards the curtain, and gently moved a few hanging strands out from behind the fabric. “As my light source.”

A click from the lock of the front door caught your attention, then the soft click of dress shoes on tile followed soon after. “Darling?”

“I’m here,” you called, rushing from his bedroom and then into the hall to greet him. Only you paused in slight shock — it was so much worse than you could have imagined. 

Zayne was drawn, his face pale from exhaustion; the light in his eyes reflected the soft lighting of the living room rather than absorbing it, a hard sight to see. The briefcase in his hand was placed onto the hall table with a solid thump — no doubt burdened with endless paperwork, and the coat over his arm was placed haphazardly on the hook. He smiled, a genuine though strained gesture, and you walked forward. 

“Are you okay?” Your hands held the outer side of his elbows, and you tried to ignore how cold he felt, or how he seemed to lean into the touch far too desperately. “What happened, c’mon, come with me.” 

He followed wordlessly, until his bedroom came into sight. “No– No, I… Don’t want to sleep yet.” There was a slight tug back against your grip, and you frowned at him before opening your mouth to retort. “I have missed you,” he cut in before you could speak. “I want to just sit with you, please. Not to talk, just to… To be with you.”

The crack in your heart rapidly spread from its precarious place to the core of your being, shattering you from the inside out at his plea. It wasn’t so much as the words that you grew emotional over, but the utter need in them — Zayne never, ever voiced a need beyond what was acceptable in your relationship, and having known him for so long you could read his queues, but that was all washed away. 

“Of course,” you replied quietly, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his scarred knuckles. “Of course, baby. C’mon, I have a surprise for you.”

The mention of a surprise allowed a slight bit of life to flicker in Zayne’s eyes, and you laughed softly as you pulled him towards his bedroom. “Do you want to change?” Silence answered your question, and when you glanced over your shoulder, you found his eyes half lidded. He was almost asleep standing up. “Oh, Zayne.”

Carefully, you pulled him towards the end of his bed and helped him change from his rumpled work attire to more comfortable pajamas. A henley shirt and grey slack fit loosely on his tall frame, and you watched with a soft smile as he rubbed at his eyes. “What’s the surprise?” he asked tiredly, staring at you through one opened eye. 

“Over here,” you said, gesturing at the couch. “Come sit, and you can relax with me, just for a little bit.”

“Mm.” His slippered feet shuffled over the dark carpet, and he settled on the couch before he looked up at you tiredly. “Can I…”

“You can rest your eyes, sweetheart, close them,” you whispered quietly. “Just relax and let me work, alright?”

It was by the grace of his trust in you that his tired eyes slipped closed slowly, and his head tilted backwards to rest against the back of the couch. The quiet clink of your tools didn’t even startle him, the rise of his chest remained slow, deep, and steady — if you didn’t know any better, you would have guessed he was already fast asleep.

“I’m going to start now, it may tickle,” you warned quietly, and you shook the bottle of liquid once, twice, before unscrewing the cap. He arched a brow in curiosity at the clicking noise, but he didn’t open his eyes. “But I need you to sit still.”

Zayne didn’t reply with words, only a slight nod, and with that as your consent, you gently lowered yourself onto his lap. Your thighs rested either side of his, while the back of them brushed against the fabric of his sweatpants as you settled down. 

Whether it was by instinct or need, Zayne’s hands moved from the couch cushions to hold your hips, the pad of his thumb rubbing up underneath the shirt you wore to touch your skin. It sent a small thrill down your spine, but you ignored the feeling, intent on focusing on what lay before you. 

With his chin up and head relaxed backwards, you could stare at your canvas more thoroughly to map your plan. “A snowflake here,” you murmured, brushing the tip of your index finger just above his collar bone. “Another one here, maybe here too,” you continued, enjoying the feel of him shivering at your touch. 

“Don’t tease,” Zayne croaked, his voice hoarse and strained now that he had a chance to rest it. 

“I’m not!” The tip of the brush moved easily over his skin, and you bit your lip at the sound that escaped his part lips — a choked, surprised gasp that made his ears flush pink. “Just sit still, and let me work.”

“Fine,” he breathed, squeezing your hips once. 

The silence swelled around you, but it was comforting to feel the presence of his sleepy demeanour while you helped him relax. The occasional sniff or shiver going ignored as you painted over your canvas, the tickle of the brush fibers minute against the cool, inky liquid. 

It was only when you managed to finally complete the final line that you were able to sit back and admire your work. 

Snowflakes of all shapes, sizes, and designs artfully decorated the curve of his neck and down to his collarbone. They stretched with the slow deep breaths from his lungs, and every time he cleared his throat, the elongated snowflake shifted with the movement of his Adam's apple. “I think that part’s done, love.”

“Mm.”

You reached over the arm of the couch to grab the palettes of eyeshadow and a selection of precise brushes. “Time to colour now, okay? You still with me?”

Zayne’s eyelids fluttered, then one opened a slither. “Yes. Don’t stop.”

“Okay, okay. Yessir.”

The brush of the softer fibers made him hum contentedly, and you resumed your painting — blues and greens populated his skin more than any other colour, but no dark shades could be seen. All of the pigments were only shadowed with saturation, it was a testament to his growth and grown control of his evol that you strived to capture, and you couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at the progress of it. 

Before long, a masterpiece was spread from the very tops of either shoulder, towards the lower part of his jaw. Each line represented a battle or a memory, either sweet or melancholy in nature, and you smiled as you read the story spread over his skin. 

“I think it’s done,” you declared quietly, and you reached out to brush the pad of your thumb over his bottom lip. “You can wake up now.”

“No.” A slight huff made his chest heave, and he kept his eyes closed. “Don’t stop, please, it was nice.”

You stared at him, the light from the cascading source beside him gave the snowflakes the illusion of moving, dancing over the skin as he breathed deep. “I mean, I can…” 

The coolness of his palm startled you, though you didn’t drop it. A small scar on the outer side of his hand, down from the pinky, was particularly pink in the yellowed light. They were old, far older than what would be thought as irritation, and you nodded decisively. “Okay, I’ll keep going.”

The brush in hand felt familiar as you held his hand up to your face, and you started the motions over his skin, careful to not put too much of the inky black over the raised pink line. 

Zayne’s hand suddenly jerked out of your hold, and you gasped. “What the–?”

“That tickled,” he said simply, one eye open and bore into your face. “Be gentle.”

“I am,” you insisted, smiling nervously. “Just sit still.” Zayne rolled his eyes and returned to resting once more, allowing you the chance to continue, only this time you held his hand tighter in your grip. “Thank you.”

“Mmph.”

You continued to work, drawing circles where the contours of his fine muscles allowed, until a semblance of a winter scene took shape. A small snowman with a large, round base sat atop the line of his scar, while two of the smaller scars were strategically placed where the arms of the snowman would be, only, you drew three small lines either side to create fingers. 

A small top hat was decorated with a snowflake, while an artistically curved breeze threatened to blow it off of his head. In the background were mounds and mounds of snow, with snow angels carved into the larger, lined lumps. 

“What do you think?” you asked quietly, holding up Zayne’s own hand to his face. 

He blinked to clear the sleep from his eyes, and he smiled back at you. “It is adorable, much like you.” His free hand grabbed the collar of your shirt and pulled you forward, gently coaxing you close. “Thank you.” 

Your lips met his in a soft, chaste kiss, one you wished would last forever. 

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 ── Medical Edition Bingo (@fandom-free-bingo) ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ "Close your eyes." • G5 ── MASTERLIST ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Always there when they need them ── MASTERLIST ── Gingerbread Edition Bingo (@fandom-free-bingo) ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Doing Their Makeup • G2 ── MASTERLIST ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Covered With [Makeup] • B1 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Deep Breathing • N4 ── MASTERLIST ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Fairy Lights • I1 ── MASTERLIST ── Hurt/Comfort Bingo (@sweetspicybingo) ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Taking their mind off of it • N2 ── MASTERLIST ── Hurt and Comfort Bingo (@hurtcomfort-bingo) ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Caretaking • N2 ── MASTERLIST ── Eclipsing Bingo (@eclipsingbingo) ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Taking care of the other • O4 ── MASTERLIST ── Language of Flowers Bingo (@seasonaldelightsbingo) ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Drawing in between scars ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Being taken care of ── MASTERLIST