#I'm too tired to fix the errors sorry

[fallra]

My attempt at Cybertronian Ratchet. He's just a mix of his TFP/RID15 design with his concept design from the TFP Artbook as a base.

Under here just sketches, the simple gang and the old piece of Orion and Ratchet dancing.

[thenerdofthegroup]

I fear some of you don’t actually like Agatha and only want lesbians and Rio...

And if you do fine but don’t complain when a show about witches isn’t focusing fully on the romance. Every character needs to be explained and this episode was EXACTLY like WV episode 4. And received the same backlash. It needed to happen and the final dialogue between Agatha and Billy tells us such BEAUTIFUL things about Agatha. How a young child who survived and used their gift should never feel ashamed. She is telling him what she wished to hear and the tears in her eyes of remembering Billy and Wanda in the hex. Just beautiful storytelling and Kathryn’s acting

But ultimately, if there is nothing more than we have been given. I will be livid. Because that IS queerbaiting. To not give us a kiss or showing their backstory etc IS queerbaiting and it would be disgusting. BUT their relationship is the heartfelt whisper behind everything. Every small action, every look, every comment and smile and interaction is beautiful and heartfelt. BUT it is the storyline that will become prominent in the final trio of episodes. It will be and we will get a kiss.

I am personally furious the first kiss of the series about women is between two men. BUT their relationship was not integral to the story. Agatha and Rio’s are. Is that not more important? There will be more. Their relationship is for the latter three because the latter three is pure Agatha. Well Lilia next episode but Agatha is much more there

Anyway welcome back to quick thoughts about Episode 6

The Eastview and Westview flags in Billy’s room were in Agatha’s trial. WHY IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE. Jac I am calling you a liar and I don't care (I'm kidding Jac you are doing a great job thank you for every Agatha thing)

Lilia putting the sigil on him is SO GOOD. My personal theory is that she saw what would happen if Wanda found him. It would have ruined both of them. It could have been because that amount of power at that age may have hurt him but Agatha has constantly been kind to him. I think it was because she saw a bad future with Wanda finding him. Idk jury is out on this but it’s a fun thing to think about. Why?

RALPH’S EXPLANATION! GOOOOOOD this is the thing I keep trying to say. Ralph described it as absolute torture. People were literally asking Wanda to kill them over that. And that was less than two weeks. Agatha has been under it for THREE YEARS. AND I would point to ep 4 where the other two was screaming in pain to the curse and she was able to withstand it. Not only does it show the sadness that she has probably been through so much pain that she can withstand it even without magic BUT ALSO think about how much torture she has felt! She deserves to murder everyone around her. My bby

The outside perspective of the interrogation scene was wonderful. Absolutely hilarious. I think the director said to Kathryn ‘make him break’ and that was where they went

And it is just… again so sad to me. She was forced to make an utter fool of herself but people went along with it and helped her. Its so sweet but so heartbreaking. I love you Agatha

The running scene. She got a cramp because she hasn’t left the house for so long

Billy sits in a chair covered in moons

THE RESEARCH SCENE I LOVED IT I LOVEEEEEED IT. and also remember this is a secondary source. I love this in media. Agatha isn’t a succubus she is a siphon but because this wiki is most likely written by a creep they turn it sexual. I mean she could be but you always have to think about WHO wrote it. Just like the Jolene article. Kathryn probably didn't fuck Dolly Parton’s boyfriend but she did get slapped by her and they ran with it, just like a tabloid would. And ALL THE PHOTOS!!! AHHHHHH I CAN’T WAIT FOR THE PROPER RUN THROUGH OF HER LIFE

On the Jolene point I think it’s a fun easter egg because it’s like Agatha’s perspective of Wanda if the ‘lover’ was magic. Look at these lyrics:

I think Agatha is the singing perspective, Wanda is Jolene and the magic is their lover. It is favouring ‘the younger more perfect’ witch (Agatha is better than everyone don't even, I'm just saying from a jealousy perspective)

AGATHA SURVIVING THE MUD AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

AHHHHHHHHHHH

GONNA SCREAM SOME MORE AHHHHHH

The fact she is one of two witches who has NOTHING and yet still survives the death sentence (which isn’t a death sentence but shouldn’t be escapable) shows how utterly incredible she is. She is a survivor which brings me to my next love

THE DUALOGUE I FUCKING LOVED IT

Okay, originally I thought that she would be mad and angry. But this made so much more sense. Her unseriousness is her hiding her anger and annoyance. But fundamentally she is connected because she relates. Wanda was too late. She was fighting so hard and Agatha tried but Billy… he is a child. He is just like her. But was given a gift not a curse like Agatha. But still, Agatha prioritised surviving and living over anything else. And that is what Billy did: survived. And she respects that. So she tells him what SHE WANTED TO HEAR as a child!!! Its so beautiful!!! Honestly utterly beautiful and Kathryn acted her ass off. Fucking Goddess

And some people are going ‘uh she knew from the start. But why did-’ she lied. ‘Why did what Rio said hurt’- she lied. She had a suspicion at the start but as it went in she thought it was Nick. That shattered around Rio’s comment because Rio would know and Agatha trusts that. Agatha trusts her in those moments. But she did think he was nick then or at least her suspicion and hope tilted towards there which is what I think. She is already covered in mud and embarrassed. Of course she is going to go ‘yeah I always knew. Never had a doubt’. Media literacy is dead my god

AND THE WAY SHE TOUCHED HER BROOCH. That proves to me she did geneuinly have the hope that he was nick. At least in the moment she truly realised the tragedy that Wanda got her son back but she never will.

Her unseriousness. Sometimes a bby girl is a 350 year old serial killer witch

I love you Agatha

And remember this is Agatha’s show. But these character’s need to be fleshed out. But by their explanations we get a greater image of Agatha. But every relationship Agatha has is equally important. I want more romance but this was not the episode for it. The latter three will

[sevgilimsatoru]

Error: 410 (Self Aware!AU Caleb Edition) Part 8

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 A/N

Summary: A self aware!AU with Caleb and NonMC! reader.

Tags: Caleb x reader, Caleb x NonMC! reader, Caleb x fem!reader, fluff, angst (slightly) Stressedout!reader. Hypersexual!reader

Word count: 1k

Inspired by: @ittybittyfanblog

A/N: Sorry for the late post, I honestly didn't feel like writing today but I think this chapter is pretty good. Atleast the first part. Hope you enjoy. Have a nice day!!

"I don't care where paradise is. The person who'll accompany me to that place is what matters."

"- Caleb, Love and Deepspace."

As days passed, a sense of familiarity had been built between you and Caleb. From the morning of your days to the end of his nights, you were a part of each other's lives.

It was little things—greetings of good morning" and good night. Joking around when you made breakfast. He'd listen to you when you'd tell him about your life, and in return he'd tell you about his day and his work without fear since you already knew more than enough.

Exchanging comforting words, making inside jokes, just talking, and peaceful silence when you'd eventually tire your vocal cords out. Consciously or unconsciously, it felt as if he was here most of the time.

Except for the times when you'd come back home to an empty apartment, lying down on the cold sheets— he was there in the back of your mind, always there but never close enough to touch.

At night, the cold sheets would feel like needles on your skin, wishing that you could touch him, wrap your arms around him, and soak in his warmth.

The texture of his skin, the warmth of his breath, the softness of his hair..- you wondered how it would feel against your skin. How would his hands feel against yours? Rough.. or soft? How would his perfume smell like? How his face would look asleep next to yours, breathing, alive... real.

How would it feel? To have his lips against yours, hear his laughter fill the room, not from behind a screen but sitting beside you? How would those teasing words sound to you when you'd actually be able to see him and touch him? How would the food taste when he'd make it? How would your apartment look if he were to move in, making small changes for it to become his, yours...?

It'd feel like home.

Your fingers poked Caleb's body over and over again, a pout on your face as you lay in bed, hugging a pillow close to your chest. The distance was starting to become unbearable for you.

You were sure it was the same for him too, just being able to look and not touch something you so desperately wanted to.

"Are you done, sunshine?" Caleb asked, sitting back relaxed on the leather couch. A book in his hand, using his evol to flip the pages. He didn't even bother looking up.

You sighed, clicking your tongue in frustration. "Yeah. I'm done." You said, looking at him with a dejected look on your face, yet your eyes softened when you looked at him. "How come you are always here? Don't you have important stuff to do as a colonel?"

"I do. And I'm not always here; I do my duties and make sure that I'm free by the time you can talk to me. Besides, I quite like that we usually talk throughout the day." Caleb said, simply. Giving you a lazy look of amusement, turning his head to fix his attention on the book in his hand.

You both did talk throughout the day, but it wasn't the usual way. It started when you had made a list of groceries and to-do's in your notes. When you opened the app to look through them, there was a small comment from Caleb at the end of the list.

You replied to it, and after that, it just became a habit. Leaving notes and texts for each other in your notes app.

"So..., how was your day?" You asked, not sure what you wanted to talk about yet.

"It was alright.., A subordinate of mine is getting married." Caleb said with a shrug. "She invited me to the wedding."

"Are you going to attend?"

"I'm not sure. I'll see if my schedule can be changed to fit that occasion in." Caleb muttered. "Have you been to weddings?"

"A few, yes. They are... something. Back home, we have huge weddings- you dress up from head to toe. Wear your best clothes and get glammed up. But here, the weddings are very tame, and you can outshine the bride by wearing something that's a little too glamerious so.. uh yeah."

"Well, isn't that interesting? I would love to see you dressed up for a wedding." Caleb said with a teasing smile, his gaze turning curious. "Which one do you prefer?"

"Either one is fine.., if you want something that is calm and short and sweet then these weddings are great. You don't have to spend hours getting ready if you are not the bride. But if you want something loud and chaotic and you wanna look your best, the weddings back home are good."

"Hmm.., what about you? Do you ever want to be the bride? Get married?" Caleb asked. In reply you just shrugged. "It's complicated.., you tell me first, do you wanna get married someday?" You asked.

"I did; there was someone I wanted to stay with forever when I was younger..," Caleb said. You both knew who he was talking about. It left a bitter taste in your mouth. "But I'm all grown up now so things are different. I wouldn't mind it. Now, it's your turn to answer me..." Caleb said, closing his book and turning his head to look at you with a soft smile.

Your teeth caught the skin inside your cheek, chewing on it as you shrugged hearing his words. "I just.., I don't know. Like I said, it's complicated if I want to get married or not. I want something out of myself and not to depend on someone else. I want to be in control of my own decisions and life and freedom, but it just feels like.. something that is expected of me-

"Somehow if I don't do it, I'm not.. it's like.. uh. I just feel like if I don't- I'm doing something wrong but if I do, I might not be able to handle everything that comes with a marriage." You said, a conflicted expression on your face.

"Well, it won't make you any less of a woman if you don't want to settle down or have children. It's your decision in the end.. The same people who'll urge you to do it. They will eventually turn away when you'll need help after following their words." Caleb said after thinking for a while. "Do what feels good to you. Your life is yours to live, not theirs, sunshine. If something does happen, I'll be there every step of the way."

You smiled at his words, shifting in your bed as you looked at him. "How do you always know what to say?" You asked, looking at him.

Caleb found the look on your face so adorable: you looked at him so lovingly. "Because I know you and because I love you.." He said, smirking.

"I love you too, Caleb."

Tag list: @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @aneertawrites @etsuniiru @demon-master-zero @angstylittleb1tch @mcdepressed290 @ittybittyfanblog @winwinwrites @alifyairl @huhleighna @calebsbeanpeeler @bookworrm1999 @mentaltrouble2201 @noxus123 @babyx91 @multisstuff @beomluvrr @sunnylittleapple @lunia-likes-pomegranet @imhere2dosomething @lostpsycho13

[nyxypoo]

@win-ters-kiss

Dad Taiju working out in the room over from you, except you start to hear giggling and walk in to see your daughter on his back while he’s doing pushups

Or like, hanging off his arm as he flexes

Or or!! He set down the weights he was using and is now lifting her as the weight and that’s why she’s giggling so much

FINN MY HEART OMG EHWJWM

when he's doing pushups in the living room, he has her sitting on his back because if she wants to hangout with him, he'll let her and it doesn't matter what he's doing. she's busy playing with his hair or tracing the parts of his tattoos that peak out from beneath the collar of his t-shirt. occasionally, he puts on some children's show on the tv so they can both enjoy this time. more than likely though, with or without the tv in the background, she's babbling utter nonsense about the most random topics. saying things like he has such funny lines on his neck, or how she wonders if mama can do this too, or she's simply telling him about whatever's going on in her little cartoons and silly shows.

lets her hang off his arm for fun sometimes, jokes about how she's like a slap bracelet with how she clings to him. makes sure she's holding on real tight before he's moving and flexing, but even then, he does it while he's sitting in case she slips. ughh and she's giggling because her dads just so strong and she's going on and on about how she's gonna train everyday and get strong so she can do the same thing to her dad when she's all grown up.

and when he decides that maybe lifting weights isn't the best thing to do when you have a curious little toddler so close by isn't the best idea but still needs to get a workout in, figures the little one is better than his old weights anyways. picks her up and starts treating her like a little dumbbell, all while she giggles and laughs when he tells her that he might need to get another one of her because she's too light for him to properly get a workout in.

[scoutofmymind]

Saw that someone said Luigi’s Reddit had a post where he eluded to a pretty heavy drinking habit in college, which then makes me think about drunk ex!luigi. I’m sorry, but you write angst too well

Unlearn Me — { Luigi x Reader}

Content: SFW, angst, yearning, slight pining, mentions of canon back pain, ex’s reminiscing, heartbreak all over again.

Wc: 4,336 (holy shit)

Notes; Two semesters of carefully crafted distance crumbles at 3AM in the computer lab when your final project implodes hours before the deadline, leaving you with no choice but to seek help from the one person you've been avoiding since the breakup.

Before we continue, I cannot ignore that wildfires continue to ravage Los Angeles, countless families have lost their homes and livelihoods. I urge you to consider supporting those affected through any of these donation links, additionally, Roadogs on Instagram is looking for fosters for mass evacuations of shelter dogs in California.

Foster or donate if you can. xo.

Now, let’s go.

"Mother fucker," you curse, attacking your keyboard with increasingly desperate keystrokes.

Each combination might be the one to salvage this disaster, but deep down you know it's hopeless — your software has corrupted itself into oblivion, taking six months of work with it.

"You can ask for an extension," Emma suggests, her voice carrying the weight of exhaustion that matches your own. Your roommate had burst into the media center still wearing her pink silk pajamas, immediately launching into a nervous tirade about after-hours permissions and potential expulsion risks.

Her constant hovering and worrying grates on your last nerve, and you tell her to leave.

Predictably, she refuses.

"Listen, I'm not just gonna leave you here on your own." She leans across your workspace, her body pressing against your laptop screen until it tilts halfway closed. You freeze, fingers suspended above the keys, terrified of losing what little progress you've made in this digital archaeology expedition. "There's - like - a murderer on campus."

"One girl said she was followed home," you gently remind. Under normal circumstances, Emma's mother-hen routine would be endearing — charming, even. But right now, with your project in shambles and deadline looming, her protective hovering feels suffocating. "Not murdered, Em."

"May as well have been." Emma fixes you with that look — the one that screams why am I the only rational person here? While her nails tap nervously against your desk. "Probably hasn't left her room since. And you know what? Smart girl.”

You scrub your hands over your face, your eyes fixed on the projector's word vomit — an endless stream of error messages and unintelligible code painting the drywall from a tired projector like some twisted modern art piece.

Not exactly what you were going for.

Emma stands mesmerized, "How did you even do this?" She watches the cryptic display crawl across the wall, her eyes tracking each line as if she could decode it. "This reminds me of-" she catches herself, the name hanging unspoken between you. She's learned that lesson the hard way. "This is wild.”

You can't help but notice.

Notice how she almost speaks his name, how these meaningless strings of letters and numbers somehow bridge the gap to memories you've tried so hard to bury — promises whispered under star-sprinkled skies, fingers intertwined beneath the cosmic glow.

Moments that felt eternal then, ephemeral now.

Your gaze drifts to your phone, lying face-down like a surrender.

You blink several times, trying to clear the ghosts from your vision before speaking, your voice emerging barely above a whisper, as if the words themselves might shatter something in the air, "Should I text him?" You ask, offering the idea as if it was something too controversial to be spoken aloud.

Emma shifts her weight, both from exhaustion and the sudden weight of responsibility.

Your night's trajectory now rests in her hands — she who has witnessed every shade of you, from triumph to devastation. Her own memories of him surface: the way he'd raid her ice cream stash only to replace it with a premium pint the next day, how he'd tackle the dish mountain without prompting, those small gestures that made him feel like family.

"He was my favorite boyfriend of yours," she'd told you once, in a moment of wine-honest conversation. "He was a good boy."

A good boy who made a couple mistakes.

But those mistakes had compounded like interest on a debt you never agreed to pay, until the rift between you and Luigi widened into an ocean.

Everything good had been pulled out with the tide — your trust, your shared future — swept away to depths where no light could reach.

"I-" Emma's hand finds the back of her neck, her expression cycling through a slideshow of conflicted emotions. You can see her internal struggle; the desire to crawl into her bed warring with her loyalty to you. And she knows you well enough to realize you'd stay here until sunrise if necessary. "I mean — babe, I love you, but you can't fix this." The admission seems to pain her, as if acknowledging your limitations feels like betrayal. "We aren't techies."

You stare helplessly at your gutted gallery, stripped bare by your own accidental digital vandalism. Your artwork, your portfolio, your future — all reduced to incomprehensible strings of code projected onto an indifferent wall.

"Do you think he'd come?" The question escapes before you can stop it, your eyes magnetized to your phone as if your stare alone could resurrect that old text thread, buried beneath months of careful silence.

"Of course he would."

A soft, defeated whine escapes you as you turn back to glare at your corrupted work, as if you could intimidate it into fixing itself through sheer force of will.

Emma's voice softens, "Hey, he's mature enough to understand you've exhausted your options."

A violent shudder runs through you at the thought of Luigi being your last resort.

You'd managed to exile the visceral memories — the heated arguments that left you gasping for air, the promises that turned to vapor in the morning light.

"Which are?"

Emma looks down at her Pokemon-clad self, then back at you. "Me." She gestures vaguely in your direction, "and you."

The campus sleeps around you, everyone else lost to their dreams or late-night calls home. Just the two of you remain, trapped in this dimly-lit purgatory on a Wednesday night, while error messages mock your existence with their endless scroll.

"Slim pickin's," you mutter as your fingers betray you, finding Luigi's contact with muscle memory that refuses to die.

How many times had you pressed these same digits before?

But this is different.

Different because you haven't spoken since that night in your kitchen, when you stood with your back to him, voice steady despite the trembling in your hands, "So, we aren't going to try to figure this out?" You asked, and he’d responded with some pretentious comparison about your relationship being like corrupted code, fundamentally flawed, destined to fail its own quality test.

The irony isn't lost on you — the very metaphor he used to end things is now the thread that might pull you back into his orbit. Your only connection besides the elaborate dance of avoidance across campus, treating each other's paths like holy ground neither dares to tread.

Opening the thread, you're greeted by your last exchange — your final words to him blazing across the screen in angry blue bubbles: "I want my fucking shit back or I'll make your life a living hell." Such poetry. Your new message hovers in the text box, simpler, desperate in its brevity.

Hey need help with somethin. U up??

You thrust your phone at Emma like it's burning your fingers, watching her eyes widen as they catch on those months-old texts — digital artifacts of your rage that should have been scrubbed before tonight's desperate plea. "Jesus," she whispers, amusement dancing in her expression. "I'd still be licking my wounds if I were hi-"

The familiar buzz cuts through the air, a notification chime that once made your heart leap but now makes it sink.

"What'd he say?" You mumble, gaze fixed on the mocking projection that bathes the room in its sickly digital glow, code continuing its relentless march across the wall.

Emma settles into a chair, hunching over your laptop's makeshift altar. "Said he's at Ruddy's." She squints at a fresh message. "He said 'what do you want?'" She deepens her voice into a cartoonish baritone, making him sound like a caveman discovering text messaging for the first time.

You can't blame him for the cold response — you’d scorched that earth thoroughly.

But a selfish part of you wants to delete the whole exchange, pretend this moment of weakness never happened, go back to the careful choreography of avoiding each other's existence.

But you can't.

The corrupted gallery looming on the wall is a stark reminder that pride is a luxury you can't afford right now.

His icy reception is the natural consequence of your scorched-earth campaign, those venom-laced messages sent in the throes of heartbreak and confusion.

You'd played the role of the woman scorned perfectly, even though you'd written your own tragic script.

"Just send him a picture." You wave listlessly at the wall, where your work continues its digital decomposition, folding in on itself like a dying star. The error messages stretch into an endless serpent of nonsense, each iteration making less sense than the last.

The artificial shutter sound of Emma's photo breaks the silence, followed by the soft swoosh of sending. The wait feels eternal until-

Ding

Emma's attention snaps to your phone resting on her thigh, her eyes widening. "He's typing like he-"

Sorry;m,, I’m fucked uo

Up

I am

fucked up

Emma clicks her tongue and rises, crossing the room to lob your phone into your lap, screen up. "Guess some things don't change." You manage a weak half-grin, memories flooding back unbidden — Luigi stumbling into your dorm in the small hours, wrapped in whiskeys warmth, all soft edges and desperate hands.

"Well, make up your mind." Emma's yawn threatens to unhinge her jaw, arms wrapping around herself like armor. "Are we done here, or are you gonna have him come take a look?"

I’n be there son

I’ll be rherw soo

I’ll be there soon

You stand to wrap your arms around Emma’s shoulders who reluctantly curves her arms upward to squeeze your shoulders. “Go home.” She seems reluctant to listen, staring at your phone screen as if it would take her home itself. “I promise, I’ll be just fine.”

The space between you pulses with that unique warmth reserved for someone who shares your roof, your darkest secrets, and the monthly struggle with Con Edison. "Just don't make any brash decisions."

"Oh, Em." You press a kiss to her forehead. "You think I'm so much cooler than I am."

Emma's laugh follows her as she spins toward the door, collecting pieces of herself like breadcrumbs — the scarf draped over a chair, the coat hung forgotten, the backpack abandoned when the day still held promise.

Each item a marker of how long this digital nightmare has stretched, from sunshine to moonlight.

And as if summoned by cosmic irony, the lab door swings open to reveal Luigi. "Oh - hey, E." The surprise flickers across his face before he schools his features back to neutral.

"Hey, Lu." Her greeting carries the easy familiarity of their old routine, like NPCs in a cozy game exchanging preset dialogue, their paths crossing exactly as programmed.

"You g'na help me with this?"

Emma shakes her head, patting his shoulder as she passes — a gentle handoff. "I did my time." You want to protest, but words fail as you absorb the sight of him, eight months of careful avoidance crumbling in an instant.

"Ahh-" Luigi waves, feigning disappointment through the druken haze. "Need a walk back home?"

Ever the shepherd, guardian of late-night wanderers.

It didn't matter who you were — friend, stranger, ex-lover’s best friend and roommate — his self-appointed mission to ensure everyone's safe return never wavered.

You'd once wondered if it stemmed from some deeper anxiety, his mind unable to rest until every sheep was accounted for in its fold.

Tonight though, the alcohol has mercifully dulled that protective instinct. Emma's potential disappearance into the night ranks lower on his list of concerns than usual, although Emma herself had been the one earlier to warn you of the murderer on campus.

"You still got my location," Emma reminds him — a callback to conversations past, to the day she'd granted Luigi permanent access to her whereabouts, a level of trust you'd wisely withheld.

"Right."

She presses a kiss to her fingers, flashing you a peace sign with the same hand before it briefly lands on Luigi's shoulder. Then she's gone, disappearing into the snow-globe world he'd just stumbled in from. He stands before you now, arms hanging like dead weight, his eyes somehow both wide and narrow.

"Hey," you whisper.

"Hey."

You gesture weakly at the wall where your work writhes in digital agony. "So, uh — remember that time you salvaged Professor Wren’s entire thesis when her drive crashed?"

Luigi's eyes follow your hand, professional interest temporarily overriding the awkwardness. He steps closer, squinting at the corrupted display, "Jesus," he mutters, "what did you do to it?"

"Would you believe me if I said nothing?" The laugh that escapes is more nervous than you'd like. "It just. - it started disintegrating during final checks."

He's already pulling out his laptop, muscle memory from countless late-night tech rescues. The familiarity of it hits you in the chest — how many times had you watched him do this same thing, hunched over his keyboard, bottom lip caught between his teeth in concentration?

"I can try," he says finally, not quite meeting your eyes. "But no promises. When's this due?"

"Tomorrow at nine."

"Of course it is." He drops into the chair beside you, close enough that your elbows almost touch, but enough of a distance to still feel far away. “Okay, walk me through what it's supposed to look like when it's not — uh - whatever this is."

For a moment, Luigi stares at the corrupted display where red pixels bleed and stutter across the wall. His fingers hover over his keyboard, then pause. "Wait. This is your circulatory modeling project? The one you were-“ He cuts himself off, remembering this was before the eight months of silence.

"Yeah." You swallow. "It was working perfectly until an hour ago. Real-time hemodynamics, pressure differentials, vessel elasticity. Everything." Your voice cracks slightly on the last word, feeling more helpless when you verbalize it.

He nods, already typing with uncanny precision despite the slight sway in his posture. "Show me the base code. Did you save any backups?"

"Three. All corrupted." You lean forward, careful not to crowd him as you pull up the mangled files. "It's like something got into the core simulation and just - I dunno - started rewriting them."

"Hm." His eyes scan the screen with that laser focus he somehow maintains no matter how much he drinks, that familiar furrow appearing between his brows. "These values are cascading. One corrupted variable triggering a chain reaction through the whole system." He glances at you, slightly overshooting before correcting. "When's the last time it ran correctly?"

You check your phone. "6:43 PM. I have a screen recording from then."

"Good. That's good." He pulls up a second window, his typing still flawless even as he reaches with his free hand to steady himself against the desk. "We can compare the execution logs, maybe isolate where it started going wrong." His fingers fly across the keys with a precision that seems to mock his clearly inebriated state, and for a moment, it feels like those eight months never happened. "I'm going to need coffee for this." He looks up at you from where he sat, “Or more booze.”

You land on coffee, your feet carrying you down the familiar path to the kitchenette.

The fluorescent lights flicker dimly at this hour, casting strange shadows across the linoleum, the lab's overpriced espresso machine hums to life under your touch, its gentle whirring a counterpoint to the distant sound of Luigi's typing.

Suddenly you're back in that first year, both of you hunched over at 3 AM, him teaching you the proper way to pull a shot: “You're murdering it, stop torturing the beans”, your quiet laughter echoing through empty halls.

"Got it.” His voice carries down the corridor, slurred but triumphant, snapping you back to present.

You return to find him illuminated by screen-glow, his tie loosened and dark hair disheveled. The paper cup lands in front of him — double shot, one packet of raw sugar.

He doesn't stir it, never has.

Instead, he tips the cup back, and you hear that familiar crunch of sugar crystals between his teeth, a sound that used to drive you crazy, until somewhere along the way it became endearing.

Still, the jumbled code taunts you from the screen, though its chaos seems less threatening now. Under Luigi's touch — steady despite the alcohol — your final project is slowly remembering its original shape.

"You should have texted sooner," Luigi murmurs, tilting his head back to collect the last sugar crystals from his cup. The movement exposes his throat, his collar wrinkled where he's been tugging at it all night.

"Well," you say, watching the way his fingers dance across the keys, each stroke precise despite his obvious intoxication, "takes a minute to swallow something as big as my pride."

The corners of his mouth twitch upward, eyes never leaving the screen where broken code is knitting itself back together under his attention.

"Oh," he huffs out a laugh, the sound low and dangerous in the quiet lab, "I've seen you swallow far bigger things before."

It strikes like summer lightning — quick, bright, and leaving the air charged in its wake. The innuendo lands with no real bite, yet you find your jaw slack, a startled laugh shaking loose from your chest.

"Kidding," Luigi says, his eyes flicking from screen to you and back again. There’s a ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, softened by the alcohol but still sharp enough to cut. You wave him back to his work, grateful for the blue glow of monitors that hides your flush. "You kinda set that up perfectly, though."

He squints up at the projection where your broken code still bleeds across the wall, letting out a soft grunt of frustration at some digital roadblock. "Just mean — ya know, you could have caught me two beers deep instead of seven."

You shrug a shoulder, watching as the projection slowly crystallizes into something recognizable. "Seems you work better under such conditions."

The lie tastes metallic.

You both know the truth.

Luigi would have come if he was sober as sunrise or drowning in bourbon. Would have come with broken ribs or pneumonia or his heart barely beating. Would have traced these familiar hallways blind, deaf, or dying — because that's what the two of you do.

Have always done.

You've seen him at rock bottom, curled into himself on cold bathroom tiles at midnight, trembling hands pressed against his mouth as if he could physically hold back the pain that wracked his body. Watched him try to explain to puzzled doctors how someone so young could hurt so constantly, the frustration in his voice when they suggested it was all in his head.

You were there through the trials of medications, the nights when existence itself seemed too heavy to bear.

And you've seen him soar; standing tall in that charcoal suit that made him look older, more polished, shaking hands with tech giants who saw in him what you'd always known was there, his future spreading out before him like a golden road, brilliant and boundless.

Now he sits here, seven drinks deep but coding like he's never been clearer, and you realize that maybe both versions are equally true.

Maybe that's what makes him Luigi — the ability to contain multitudes, to be simultaneously broken and brilliant, wounded and wonderful.

He catches you watching him and raises an eyebrow, the gesture slightly delayed, which means you must have been a bit too obvious. "What?"

"Nothing.”

His fingers pause on the keys, and even through the alcoholic haze, his gaze pins you like a butterfly to cork. "No, really. What?" The words have a slight blur around their edges, but his focus is knife-sharp.

You could deflect again, but there's something about 4 AM and code that glows like dying stars that makes honesty feel less dangerous, perhaps you’re finding comfort in the fact that Luigi is drunk, although you’re stone cold sober.

"Just thinking about that time in the Thompson building bathroom." Your voice comes out softer than intended. "When you couldn't stand up, and I had to convince the janitor you had food poisoning."

He doesn't flinch from the memory like he used to.

Instead, his mouth curves into something caught between a smile and a grimace. "You told him it was from the cafeteria." His fingers resume their dance across the keyboard, but slower now. "Got the whole place investigated by health services."

"Yeah, but got us three days off while they checked fucking everything.” you remind him.

"Got me through that week," he corrects quietly, and for a moment, the mask of that brilliant-drunk-techie slips, showing the man underneath who still remembers what it feels like to be held together by nothing but someone else's faith in you.

Then he blinks, and the vulnerability is gone, replaced by that familiar crooked grin. "Though I maintain the cafeteria deserved the inspection anyway."

The projection flickers, another section of code healing itself under his touch, and you wonder if he knows you'd do it all again.

Every bathroom floor, every late-night crisis, every moment of putting him back together - you'd choose it every time.

"Speaking of which," you venture carefully, watching his hands move across the keyboard. "How's the new treatment working?"

His right shoulder shifts in what might be a shrug, but there's a shadow of a real smile playing at his mouth.

Not the sharp, defensive one he wears like armor, but something softer, more genuine. "Six months post-op and I actually slept through the night last week. First time in -“ he pauses, considering, "Fuck, I don't even remember how long."

The admission hangs in the air between you, weighted with the two years of 2 AM phone calls, of nights spent pacing, of pain medications that never quite touched the core of the problem.

Watching him try to code through hands that wouldn't stop shaking.

"Still hurts sometimes," he adds, almost absently. "But it's different now. More like background noise than a scream." His fingers still on the keyboard, and for a moment he looks almost surprised by his own words. "Guess that's what normal people feel like all the time, huh?"

The question carries an edge of wonder, like someone who's lived in darkness suddenly discovering dawn.

You watch him roll his shoulder — a gesture that used to be followed by a wince but now flows smooth and unconscious — and think about how strange it must be, learning to live without constant pain after it's become part of your identity.

"Though I kind of miss having an excuse to drunk-code at 4 AM" he adds, but you both know it's a lie.

The code blurs on the projection as silence settles between you, charged with something that's been building for ages — through bathroom floors and hospital visits, through triumphs and failures, through pain and healing.

The alcohol has stripped away Luigi’s careful boundaries, leaving raw honesty in their place.

"You know," Luigi says slowly, finally turning from the screen to face you fully, "I never thanked you properly. For all of it."

"You don't need to-"

Your diagram pulses back to life, the holographic heart rotating lazily against the wall.

Its red glow bathes the room in a surreal warmth, catching on the sharp angles of Luigi's face, softening them into something almost dreamlike.

The light flickers across his cheekbones, turns his eyes to amber, makes the whole moment feel suspended between reality and imagination.

"I do." His voice is quiet but firm, steadier than someone seven drinks deep should manage. "Because I've been thinking — now that I can actually think clearly without-“he gestures vaguely at his back, at all the years of pain, "I've been thinking about how you're the only constant. The only person who never-“ He trails off.

You lean a little closer, drawn by the vulnerability in his voice. "Never what?"

"Never saw me as broken." He turns himself toward you, and there's something desperate in his eyes, something the alcohol has finally given him the courage to show. "Never treated me like I needed fixing. Just stayed. Through everything."

Your lips part, but the words catch in your throat. He takes your silence as a sign, turning back to the screen with a sharp exhale that might be resignation or relief — you're not sure which would be worse.

"Lu,” you say softly, and something in your voice makes his fingers still on the keyboard. "Look at me."

He does, slowly, like he's afraid of what he might find.

The neon bathes half his face in crimson, leaving the other half in shadow, and you see the moment his carefully constructed walls start to crumble.

"Time hasn’t changed that much about me.” you say, each word deliberate, heavy with meaning.

His breath catches audibly. You watch the impact of your words ripple across his face — surprise, understanding, and something else, something that makes your heart race against your ribs.

"Hasn’t it?” Luigi is focusing on you now, the reason he really came here now practically completed but pushed aside until further notice. “Eight months is a long time to hold onto -“ he gestures vaguely between you, as if he can’t quite say what it was. Hopeless devotion, the right person, wrong time.

“Not long enough to forget.”

“Forget what?”

“You.”

His breath catches again, a sharp inhale that seems to pull all the oxygen from the room. When he speaks, his voice is rough and ragged, “Maybe that’s the problem.” His gaze drifts down to watch as you lick your lips, and back up again. “Maybe you should have.”

[5ueckers]

but i'm a cheerleader

pairing : paige bueckers x cheerleader!reader

warnings : smut. semi–public sex.

notes : this is highkey unrealistic af so don't think too hard abt it! also i got kinda lazy while proofreading and editing, so there may be some errors/might feel a bit clunky at times, sorry in advance 🫠

words : 2148

xl center erupts with screams and applause as the final buzzer rings out— the university of connecticut’s women’s basketball team, for the tenth game in a row, has come out victorious, winning with a whopping forty–seven points over their competitors.

you jump up from where you’ve been sitting cross–legged at the baseline of the court and shake your bright red pom–poms, yelling out one of your cheers. the rest of the girls follow suit after you, their captain, perfectly in sync as the pep band begins to play the uconn husky fight song.

you’re never not tired as hell at the end of a game— the exhaustion from your halftime performance starting to set in and your head dully aching from your tight half–up–half–down hairstyle— but none of that ever deters you. you’re captain for a reason, bringing sharp precision, clean lines, and high energy to every performance, whether its on a court, field, or stage.

but of course, even the best of best have their weaknesses.

yours has actually landed you in trouble before, just once— you missed a whole count because you were distracted by a pair of icy blue eyes watching you intently from uconn’s bench, her intrigued expression being replaced by a smirk once she realized she’d caused your mishap. coach really chewed you out next practice, but you got got the blue–eyed girl’s number after that game, so it was honestly kind of worth it.

your post–game cheer earns its own round of applause from the remaining fans in the stands, and you bow, shaking your poms the whole way back to the baseline, where your coach awaits you. she offers a few nice jobs and back pats, as well as a fair share of critiques, before finally telling you all you’re free to go.

while the rest of your team head for the cheer locker room, you start toward the opposite direction. “y/n?!” one of your teammates calls out after you, confused.

“go on, i’ll meet you guys later!” you reply, before running to meet paige at the other side of the court, by the stands.

there’s still a large crowd of fans waiting to take pictures and have their jerseys signed by your girlfriend, but once she notices you approaching, she yells out, “alright, y’all, that’s it for tonight! thanks for coming!”

her voice softens when she turns to you and smiles, “hey.”

“hey, you,” you say gingerly, hyper–aware of the cameras fixed on paige, and so also you, by extension.

she nods her head in the direction of the arena’s large exit doors, silently instructing you to follow her.

you keep a safe distance while you’re still in the presence of the fans and cameras and the media, but as soon as you’re both in the tunnel, so dark that no one can see you, paige is all over you. her hands fly to your waist if they’re under the control of a magnetic pull as her lips press to yours, gasping into your mouth. you shudder as you melt into the kiss, into her, throwing your arms around her neck. you part your lips, allowing her to lick into your mouth— you want her to eat you alive.

“you were so good out there,” you tell her once you part, voice breathy.

paige grins cockily, already knowing that she played well, and you can see that your red lipstick has transferred onto her mouth, making you laugh. “what? what’s funny?” she questions, confused but chuckling a bit herself.

you shake your head. “nothing, just—” you point at your own lips, which you’re sure have also gotten smudged. “you’ve got something.”

“ah,” she rolls her eyes, genuinely sounding irked, which only makes you laugh harder. “well, you’ve got something—”

she cuts herself off by simply kissing you again, a light peck, taking your hand into hers soon after she separates your bodies.

high on the rush of the win and each other, you two walk hand–in–hand to the women’s locker room— only to be met with aubrey, crouched at her locker as she finishes packing up her things. if not your lipstick literally being smeared all over paige’s lips, then the flush on both of your faces and the way you freeze and suddenly drop each other’s hands, even though both of your teams are aware of your relationship and you have nothing to hide, certainly tells the older girl everything she needs to know.

she simply stuffs a few more of her things into her bag before heading out, lightly punching paige on the shoulder and laughing as she passes by, “see y’all!”

one you hear the door close, you and paige just look at each other before bursting into giggles at the interaction. “she’s never gonna let me live that down.” the blonde groans, wrapping her arms around your waist again.

you just laugh, falling quiet as you find yourself lost in her eyes for the nth time since you first met her. those eyes will be the death of you, you’re sure of it. she gets kind of sheepish whenever you look at her for too long, avoiding your gaze and blushing— you’re not sure why, she’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. “i love you.” you say, very seriously.

“i love you, too, y/n,” she responds, just as earnest, and leans in to kiss you, only to be stopped.

“wait,” you say, reaching up and finally taking that godforsaken ponytail down, feeling all the tension in your head release as soon as you do. you drop the hair tie and bow to the ground, haphazardly brushing your hair out of your face with your fingers as it falls out of the style.

“god, you’re so fucking pretty,” the blonde marvels aloud, before finally kissing you again.

your lips move together languidly as her hands move down until they’re cupping your ass, kneading the soft flesh in her palms. “paige,” you whine into her mouth, allowing your head to roll back as her lips trail wet, open–mouthed kisses from your jawline all the way down your exposed collarbones.

“yeah, baby?” she replies and then sucks harshly at a particularly sensitive spot, making you whimper.

“want you,”

“here?” she pulls back slightly to scan the locker room— everyone else’s belongings are gone, it’s just her bag and shoes left in front of her storage space. still, someone may have forgotten something and could easily walk in on you while trying to find it. “someone could see—”

you don’t care. you pull paige back in, connecting your lips again, pushing your tongue into her mouth and kissing her with the kind of fervor that makes it impossible for her to deny you. she guides you backwards until your back is pressed to the one navy blue wall that isn’t lined with lockers, her hands feeling you all over.

her fingertips find their way to the hem of your tiny skirt, pulling up until the fabric is bunched up high on your hips, revealing the even smaller red safety shorts you’re required to wear under your uniform. she steps back briefly to give you some space so you can push them and your panties down your legs, kicking them aside, before she slots her thigh between your legs. already knowing exactly what to do from experience, you grind down against her thigh, and it feels so good when you clit drags against her bare skin, you whimper and repeat the motion again and again.

paige uses one hand to hold you steady with a strong grip on your waist, while the other works at pushing up the top piece to your uniform and bra, exposing your breasts to the cool air of the locker room. she immediately leans down to suck and lick at one of your firm nipples while rolling over the other with her free thumb. the sounds are obscene— your moans, paige’s slurping, and the squelch of your wet pussy rubbing against her thigh all coming together to fill the room.

“fuck, p,” you moan, eyes squeezing shut. “so good.”

paige releases your nipple from her mouth with low groan, briefly licks at the other, before standing upright. she leans in, dangerously close and she whispers into your ear, “i can feel it, y’know. you really want my fingers that bad?”

you blush, flustered by her referring to the way your pussy keeps clenching against her thigh, showing how needy you are, but still nod. “need it, paige, please,” you whimper, hoping she’ll give in quicker if you beg for it.

you’re proven correct, because your girlfriend plants a quick kiss on your cheek, murmuring, “anything for my girl,” before removing her thigh from between your legs, dropping down to her knees and crouching in front of you. ever the tease, she starts by kissing at your thighs, whispering sweet nothings into your skin— beautiful, so pretty, good girl, all mine.

and then two of of her long, slender fingers are prodding at your entrance, easing in nice and slowly. your pussy clenches around the digits, welcoming her inside like an old friend, your walls slick and velvety.

you allow your head to tip back against the wall, eyes closing again, “oh my god.” paige knows your body so well, knows just how to angle her fingers and jab at that sweet spot inside you, the one that makes you cry every time. she adds her mouth to the mix, kitten–licking at your clit before sucking it into her mouth, sending shivers up your spine.

“i’m close,” you cry out, and paige hums against you encouragingly, sending vibrations all throughout your core.

what really has you tipping over the edge is the look in her eyes when you finally will yours open, staring up at you with such adoration as she gets you off. you always said those eyes would be the death of you; your kryptonite. you nearly fold over as your orgasm hits you, legs shaking as the pleasure ebbs throughout your whole body, sobbing out your girlfriend’s name.

“you good?” paige chuckles, amused by your struggling. her lips, covered in your cum and arousal, plus your lipstick from earlier, are glistening in the fluorescent lighting of the locker room— the sight is so hot, you almost feel ready to orgasm again. almost.

“y–yeah, i just—” you swallow thickly, heaving. “need a minute.”

paige’s hands grip your hips, holding you steady until she feels you’re able to stand on your own. only when she’s certain you won’t topple over does she let go of you, sweetly kissing you on your forehead when she stands up. “i’ll be right back, wait here,” she tells you, disappearing momentarily.

“dude! i look fucking insane!” you hear her yell out, making you laugh weakly. you figure she’s found a mirror.

she returns with a wet hand towel, having washed off her mouth, hands, and thigh. she’s gentle as she cleans you up, knowing you’re still sensitive. then, she grabs your panties and shorts from off the carpeted floor, bending over and holding them at your ankles to help you re–dress.

“wait, but i wanted to do you, too,” you whine, a genuine pout setting in on your face as you step back into the panties.

paige shakes her head. “when we get home,” she offers. “i don’t wanna… defile this place any more than we already have.”

you laugh, again, at her choice of words. paige helps you get back into your shorts, as well, and you pull your skirt, bra, and top back down to their regular positions, smoothing over your uniform with the palms of your hands, trying to look at least a little bit presentable for when you walk out of here. paige wanders off toward her locker, changing out of her uniform.

finally feeling stable enough to walk, you find your hair tie and bow on the ground, rolling the former onto your wrist. “wait, c’mere,” you wave paige over, just as she’s pulling a fresh t–shirt over her head.

“hm?” she hums as she approaches, but you just motion for her to lean down a bit. she complies, and you place your bright red bow in her hair, right at the top of her ponytail.

“awww,” you gush at the sight. paige just looks at you, trying her best to appear unimpressed, but you can see the smile playing at her lips. “so pretty! cheer captain!”

she spends all of thirty seconds pretending like she’s not enjoying this, before breaking out into a dance, very poorly imitating your cheer routine from earlier. you encourage her, nonetheless, clapping and cheering, “go paige! go paige!”

she finishes with a ridiculously complex move that you’re pretty sure belongs to some tiktok dance learned recently with kk, grinning, “how was that?”

“10/10, hands down!”

[vanteguccir]

Hey, can you please do a chratt blurb or fic where they aren’t just fucking you. Maybe one where they just act like your boyfriends and just take you out to eat or shop or something! You could add some drama to that too. Thanks!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤPERIOD * CHRATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N gets her period while Chris and Matt are out, which makes her grumpy and anxious for their return.

FEATURING　matt & chris sturniolo x reader

WARNINGS　::　period cramps.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

The sun had long set by the time Chris and Matt finally returned home. Their day had been a whirlwind of meetings and filming videos with Nick, each task pulling them further away from the comforting confines of their shared home. The brothers were exhausted, their shoulders heavy with the weight of the day's demands, yet an underlying excitement to see Y/N fueled their steps as they entered the house.

Matt tossed his keys onto the kitchen table, the metallic clink echoing through the quiet hallway. Nick followed suit, setting down the camera bag and their other equipment before going straight to his own room while Chris locked the front door.

Matt and Chris moved in synchrony, a silent agreement to wrap up their post-work routine quickly. Shoes were kicked off, jackets were hung, and phones were set to silent. The familiar ritual usually brought a sense of closure to their hectic days, but tonight, an unusual stillness in the house kept them on edge.

"Where do you think she is?" Chris asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he glanced around.

"Probably in my room." Matt replied, a furrow forming between his brows, knowing how much comfort she found on his bed. "She was feeling off this morning."

Chris nodded, the concern in Matt's voice mirroring his own worries. They made their way through the dimly lit small hallway, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound accompanying their footsteps. The door to Matt's room was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling into the hallway.

Pushing the door open gently, they found Y/N fast asleep on Matt's bed. Her form was curled into a tight ball, hands clutching Mr. Wrinkleton and pressing it against her stomach, a pronounced pout very visible on her plump and pink-ish lips accompanied with a slightly frown on her pretty eyebrows. The sight tugged at their hearts, a stark reminder of how much they'd missed throughout the day.

Matt moved closer, his steps cautious.

"She looks like she's in pain." He murmured, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Chris followed, standing beside him, their gazes fixed on Y/N's peaceful yet troubled expression.

"Did she texted you during the day?" Chris asked in a whisper, his eyes scanning her face for any clues before catching the shake of Matt's head. "What could've happened?"

"I don't know." Matt replied, shrugging, his voice laced with concern as his eyes searched around the room momentarily. "She didn't mention anything this morning, too."

Chris suddenly stiffened, his eyes widening as a thought struck him.

"Matt, what day is it today?"

Matt glanced at him, confused.

"It's the fourth, why?"

Chris's eyes softened with realization.

"It's her period day."

Understanding dawned on Matt's face, and he sighed softly.

"Of course. Fuck, no wonder she's like this." Matt shook his head, his right hand messing up his hair in a nervous movement. "Should we wait for her to wake up?"

Their whispers seemed to reach Y/N in her sleep. She stirred slightly, her eyelids fluttering before they opened, revealing her tired eyes. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the dim light and the sight of her two boyfriends watching over her, her hands curling more firmly around the stuffed pug, bringing it closer.

"Hey." She murmured, her voice groggy with sleep.

"Hey, petal." Chris replied softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, the tip of his nose caressing her skin gently. "How are you feeling?"

Y/N's pout deepened, and she shifted slightly, wincing as she did, a new wave of pain crashing over her body.

"Been better." She admitted. "I don't feel very good..."

Matt reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his tumb caressing her ear softly.

"Oh yeah? What doesn't feel good, sweetheart?" He asked gently, watching her closely.

"I had my fucking period today and..." Her bottom lip trembled slightly with the new wave of unwelcomed emotions. "I didn't had any of you with me to keep me company or help with the pain as you guys always do." She hated how vulnerable and dramatic she sounded, but it was the pure truth.

"Why didn't you call us? We would have come home earlier, some of the videos are going to be posted only next week." Matt whispered softly, furrowing his eyebrows in worry at her reactions.

"I didn't want to bother you." She replied, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes going from one of her boys to the other. "You guys were busy."

Chris shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips.

"You could never bother us, baby. We hate that you've been alone all day feeling like this."

Y/N's eyes softened at their concern, a wave of emotion washing over her.

"I just... missed you guys today." She confessed.

Matt leaned down, capturing her lips in a tender kiss, his right hand going to her cheek, caressing her soft skin.

"We missed you too, you know?" He said against her lips before pulling back slightly. "We always do."

Chris shifted, lying down beside her and wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her close, his palm pressing down softly against her stomach.

"We're here now." He whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. "And we're not going anywhere, okay?"

Y/N sighed contentedly, the warmth of their bodies providing a soothing contrast to the dull ache in her abdomen. Matt lay down on her other side, his hand finding hers and intertwining their fingers.

They lay there in a comfortable silence, the world outside fading away. Chris's hand gently rubbed soothing circles on her stomach and pelvic area, while Matt's thumb stroked the back of her hand. The simple gestures, filled with love and care, slowly eased the tension from her body.

"Did you eat anything?" Matt asked softly after a while, searching for her eyes.

Y/N shook her head.

"Wasn't really hungry... and didn't felt like standing up at all."

Chris frowned, exchanging looks with Matt momentarily before going back to Y/N.

"You need to eat, petal. How about we order you something light? Some chicken soup? And then we can watch some movie, yeah?" Chris proposed, his free hand reaching for his hoodie pocket, fishing out his phone.

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"That sounds nice."

And that's how the day went on, Y/N's food arrived a little under an hour later which lead the boys do rock, paper, scissors to see who was going to get the food downstairs. Matt ended up being the loser one, and while he was gone, Chris took the chance to pull Y/N closer to his body, her back now pressed against his chest, feeling his heart beating against her skin with the proximity that his strong arms around her middle created.

Her ears were able to pick the small "I love you's" that Chris whispered after each soft kiss that he planted against her head, shoulders and neck, his lips and nose caressing all of her softly, creating a permanent smile on Y/N's face, the pain fading slowly.

"Food is here!"

© vanteguccir

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Dec 19th

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1. Hello! I'm looking for a fic post canon in which the Lan elders get tired of LWJ and WWX going like rabbits so they give a teaching position to WWX, it sounds a lot tame than how it sounds hahaha

WWX teaches arrays and uses creative ways to make time to be with LWJ. I remember a lot of original lan juniors, all with names and Sizhui appears a little bit later. I think the story actually starts from Jin Ling POV because he's angry the Lan juniors become too good at escaping traps

Thanks a lot for your help :) @lauyuu

FOUND! 🔒 A More Practical Approach by Elhana (T, 9k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, Teacher WWX, Humour, POV Multiple, Implied Sexual Content, when you just want to get frisky with your hot husband but your in-laws crave their peace and quiet, huge conflict of interest right there, WWX is resourceful, wuxia magic shenanigans, Post-Canon)

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2. Hello! Thank you all for the work y'all do <3

I've been looking for a fic called negative: shoot or smth similar with model wwx and lwj studying... smth to do with business law, iirc. wwx ends up modelling to make money but wants to study toxicology and I think there's a recurring OC by the name Tang Liwei who's a photographer. I've been trying to find the fic but I cannot seem to and idk if it's been set to private or deleted or if it's just me. Any help would be appreciated <3 @rue-cimon

2 appears to have been deleted. I clicked the link from an old subscription email and it came up error 404

FOUND? Thanks! the fic is "Negative:Shoot" by AvoOWO. (mentioning it b/c i'm not sure anyone has given the title & author yet)

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3. Hi, I'm sorry for bothering you with this request. Do you know of a wangxian fic were towards the climax of the story Jin Guangshan tries to assault Qin Su, but she knows that he's her father and stabs him. The entire fic wangxian and company know something is up with the Jin sect and are trying to prove it. Also, I think the wen sect still exists after the war and some of them are demonic cultivators who are working with Jin Guangshan? And I think earlier in the fic Jin Guangshan uses a demonic cultivation array to mess with the sect leaders durring a cultivation conference?

I thought I bookmarked it, but I went through them and wasn't able to find it. Thank you for listening.

FOUND? Back To The River (So Learn To Swim) by kalany (M, 83k, CSSR/WCZ/JFM/YZY, XuanLi, WangXian, Fix-it fic, self-reincarnation, autotransmigration, time travel adjacent Pregnancy, access to appropriate obstetrics care, Childbirth, Unplanned Pregnancy, Polyamory, Polygamy, survival sex, unwanted pregnancy ending in termination, on-page death of a child, Murder of a Child, non-explicit discussion of sexual assault, Sexual Coercion, brief glimpse of sexual assault, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Sexism, background asexual JC, bisexual JFM, bisexual YZY, Bisexual CSSR, bisexual WCZ, Sect Heir JYLLZ) sounds like 'Back to the River (So Learn To Swim) by kalany. It's a time travel fic where Yu Ziyuan goes back in time.

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4. Hi i'm looking for a fic set post cloud recesses study arc. Wei wuxian returned to gusu to for individual study but he and Lan wanji haven't really spoken since he returned. This is all background for the fic. The main plot is centered around a nighthunt in which Lan Xichen takes wwx, lwj, jc and i think su she. They are their to restore a barrier of sorts that surround the town. The head of the town is a creep and is realised to be the reason for all the resentment trapped within the town. His new target was wei ying. Wei ying gets nose bleeds and has a ghastly encounter with a spirit while in the bath. I dont think it's finished but the last chapter ended with wei ying and lan wanji fending off the mayor guy- he falls off a railing i think. Idk why I didnt bookmark it but I can't find it for the life of me. I'm pretty sure I read it on ao3 but idk if it was posted anywhere else. Not sure if you'll be able to find it but thanks so much for your help!

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5. Hello:

First THANK YOU for finding fics its awesome that you help us that way;

Now there are 2 fics that I cannot remember well but

A- WY brings A-Juan to work he’s an office tech put him in a file cabinet LZ comes in and finds A-Juan then takes him to walk around while WY works and LXC and LQR buy stuff for him something like Gucci, Prada or another $$ stuff and a crib and more …

I know is pretty vague specially when there is a similar fic

B- this one has a lost A-Juan from LZ office and is found with WY antagonizing JC by making A-Juan press a button to mess with JC computer, WY send msg to come collect child because he is running out of red vines not sure

Thank you @bkpmystinen

5B)

FOUND? The Little Lost Piece... by Liebing (T, 4k, WangXian, Cute, LWJ dad, Business man, WWX is the IT support, LWJ is upper management, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Soft, child goes missing, Mild Peril, Happy Ending, Found Family, Modern AU)

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6. I am looking for a fic I read when I first got into this fandom. I cant remember much about it but Wei Wuxian is dead and Lan Wangji is angry at everyone who played a part (including his brother and uncle). What I remember the most is that he refuses to wear the Lan colors and starts wearing black and red, I think as both a synbel of love and grief, Everyone does eventual learn that Wei Wuxian was innocent and Lan Xichen tried to apologies to his brother but Wangji ignores him (I am pretty sure). Thank you @alyholmesz

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7. Could you help me find this fic? It’s one where lan wangji traveled back in time to during the sunshot campaign shortly After reviving his lashes as punishment and going to the burial mounds to find Wei wuxian but finding LAN shizui instead. Everyone around at the camp is confused on why lan wangji is acting strange and where the small child with him came from. @djalexdask

FOUND? Lan Yuan’s War by BurningTea (G, 196k, WIP, LWJ & LSZ, LXC & LWJ, WangXian, LWJ & WQ, Time Travel, Dad LWJ, Sunshot Campaign, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Rumours, Lots of rumours about LWJ, several people worry about LWJ, CQL Verse, Mental Health Issues, LWJ is very much not okay, Time travel has consequences, Sick LWJ)

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8. Hi! This is for fic finder. I dont remember much. It was canon divergent post war au i think. I dont know when but WWX and LWJ figure out their relationship and then gets enganged. JWY act as chaperone and bring a stick so everytime WWX and LWJ gets to close to each other, he use the stick to separate them and says that they need to get away to each other minimum as far as the stick that he hold. I think in one scene he give his stick to his diciple to chaperone them but that diciple is failed at the task. Thats all i can remember. Thanks @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

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9. Hi! So appreciate your recs!

Im looking for a fic where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan decide to dual cultivate before killing the Xuanwu of Slaughter and WY gets pregnant but nobody believes them.

I know that Wei Ying still gets thrown in the burial mounds and thinks he lost the baby but then he ends up having the baby (a-Yuan) and they have his 30 day event in a tent (I think) still around nightless city?

I know that he loses his core but because of the baby gets a new core too

FOUND! Impermanence, Transience, Permanence by Best Bepsy (BepsyGray) (E, 39k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Sunshot Campaign, Unplanned Pregnancy, Mpreg, Gore, Medical Procedures, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Assumed Miscarriage, Explicit Sexual Content, Cesarean Section, Childbirth, Golden Core Reveal, Impermanencia, Transitoriedad, Permanencia By Best Bepsy (BepsyGray) by VicoMejia73 (VicoMejia733))

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10. Hello! I’m trying to find a fic where Madam Yu and JFM lived and Madam Yu was specifically raising WWX to be a sort of bodyguard to Jiang Yanli and to follow her to Koi Tower after her marriage. And WWX felt a lot of guilt over it because he had fallen in love with LWJ and thus also wanted to get married and move to Cloud Recesses.

The specific thing I remember was a conversation between Madam Yu and JFM about WWX moving to Koi Toawer after Yanli’s marriage and another conversation with WWX, JYL, and JC talking about what WWX wants in life.

Both conversations happened at the end of the fix though, so I can’t recall the rest of the the plot, though presumably it was a Sunshot Campaign retelling.

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11. Hi! I’m trying to find a fic where Wei Wuxian has an OnlyFans and Lan Wangji finds out about it. Lan Wangji agonized over how to tell Wei Wuxian he has found it (I believe they are friends in the fic). Eventually they talk and Lan Wangji ends up helping with the OnlyFans (camera and lighting type help). Eventually Jin Zixun finds the account and sends it to WWX’s family members. That is all I remember. It was a multi chapter fic and it wasn’t very explicit at all. Thank you for all your help!! @kjwaikiki

FOUND? For a Good Time, Call by ScarlettStorm (E, 170k, WangXian, Modern AU, Getting Together, Pining, Porn, like in the writing and also as a plot point, onlyfans au, repressed LWJ, sex worker WWX, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, Background ChengQing, background NieLan, background XuanLi, Nonbinary NHS)

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12. Hello! I have lost a fic and would love help finding it again - it was a long form modern au where Wangji was kidnapped as a child and trained as a fighter for the Wens. He was kept in a cage where all he had was a picture book and his stuffed rabbit and he had a collar they put him in that he was terrified to remove cause they trained him to be super violent without it. Wei Ying played piano or guitar and it made Wangji come to him for help. Help me wangxianficrecs mods, you’re my only hope! @the-vaguely-shifting-void

FOUND? Across the street to another life by danegen (M, 99k, WangXian, Modern AU, unleashed au Family Fluff, Set in America, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Addiction, Crime, Amnesia, Ableist, Language, another fridged mother, POV Alternating, past wwx/ofc, past wwx/omc, Medium parent YZY, A-Yuan is wwx’s biological son, Musicians, Happy Ending)

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13. Hi! I'm looking for a wangxian fic but I don't remember it too well. Basically I remember that Cangse Sanren was still alive and she and Wei Wuxian were rogue cultivators. And Lan Wangji meets Wei Wuxian for the first during a night hunt I think. I'm pretty sure Wei Wuxian is bathing and then later everyone initially mistakes Wei Wuxian for a girl because he's used to wearing female clothes because of the way his mom raised him.

Thanks for helping!!

FOUND? 🧡 Resplendence by FrozenMarVel ( E, 187k, WIP, WangXian, CS Lives, Rouge cultivator WWX, Crossdressing, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of sorts, Fluff, Explicit smut)

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14. Hello! I'm looking for a fic where wangxian are sent back in time. They begin to change things for the better but as time passes lwjs core begins to weaken until he almost dies. The only other thing I really remember is that lwj was upset/uncomfortable around lxc and didn't really trust him. Thank you and hope you can help me find it!

Hi! Back again because I remembered a few more details. It was an established relationship and lwj feels his core weakening but he doesn't say anything about it because he wants wwx to be happy, and they're in lotus pier when he collapses on the brink of death. They summon lxc to give him spiritual energy but lwj isn't happy to see him and doesn't want to be left alone with him because he hasn't forgiven the past lxc for not believing him and helping wwx. I've been desperately trying to find this fic for like a month and a half now,, I'm beginning to think maybe it's been deleted but I really hope not. Sorry for sending another ask about it but I thought perhaps the new details might help if someone else has read it? Thank you for all you do!

Question, was it both traveling in time or just LWJ? Because I have a faint memory of a fic with just LWJ time traveling and sacrificing his core to change things. I think it had more to do with choices rather than time with the weakening effect but I'm not sure

FOUND! Sacrifices Made with Blood by nocturnal_writes (M, 80k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, Trauma, Eventual Healing, Trust Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, he get's better though, Canon-Typical Violence, Temporary Character Death, Fix-It of Sorts, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Time Shenanigans, Idiots in Love, nielan (implied), Angst with a Happy Ending, Temporary Mute Character, sick lwj, fusion of canon, Heavy Angst)

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15. Hi, I really need help on that one fic in which WWX time travels temporarily to his Yiling Laozu self, back in the archery contest with the Jins, older WWX seduces LWJ and then they have sex in the forest, which was supposed to be the mystery kiss (WWX with his canon CNC kink and roping young LWJ with it) Younger WWX was aware and he was also there inside his body, but can feel everything. Later, older WWX leaves and gives advice that “If you want him to go harder, beg for him to have mercy on you” and “if you really want him to stop, go still”

Younger WWX pleaded for mercy (and he wanted it harder) and later get caught by Madam Jin, Jiang Yanli, and Jin Zixuan. His reputation was down the drain but at least he got the love of his life.

Like, he went from rapist to a smitten lover for WY.

Please please please, I knew I saved it but I can't find it anymore on my bookmarks.

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16. Hi so this is what I remember I think it's an alternate universe canon divergence wwx did not get adopted by Jiang and he's a prostitute he was given as a present to lwj but the person who gave it to lwj was kind of like mocking him and the person who was giving wwx to lwj was the horrible Jin cousin I can never remember his name because I can't be bothered because he's really irrelevant and it was a podfic as well I think it was a cold read or maybe not oh and wwx is not a cultivator and from what I remember there was only one chapter because the original work is still ongoing @constancebloodstone

FOUND? Gifted by Deastar (E, 7k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Courtesan WWX, Sex Work, but not between the main characters, as in canon the real villain is sex work stigm, Supportive LQR, 🔒 [Podfic of] Gifted by AuntieIroh)

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17. I am going crazy trying to find a fic based off of a screenshot I have. It's one where Lwj is an author and hgj and yll are the characters in his book. The scene is wwx screaming that the characters don't end up together but they do in the last line of the book. @abijo2024-blog

Hey, thank you for looking for the fic I messaged about, sadly not the right fic but it's so close. I wonder if the fic was taken down that has the quote from the in fic novel "come back with me. Come home. Home. I thought you'd never ask" I have a screenshot of the fic scene where wwx is yelling at Lwj and Lwj shows him the last page with that quote.

NOT FOUND! when we’re full of stories to be told by fakeplasticlily (M, 45k, WangXian, Modern AU, journalist wwx, Writer LWJ, Kid Fic, Fluff and Angst, Childhood Friends, Pining, Mutual Pining, Mild Smut)

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18. Hello, thank you for your hard work! Could you please help with finding a fic that's about soulmates, where if I'm not mistaken you only know who they are when they die, and no one alse can see the soulmate's ghost. What I remember most clearly was that apart from WangXian, LXC and NMJ were also soulmates and LXC banished JGY from Cloud Recess because upon NMJ's death he learned of JGY's treachery. WWX helped calm NMJ who was full of resentment. Thank you so much!

FOUND? The Cruelty of Fate by Procrastination_Sensation (T, 9k, WangXian, Major Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor LXC/NMJ)

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19. Hi! I've been looking for a fic where I remember wei ying living with his parents in a nomad community(?), I don't remember why but qinghen-jun kidnaps him to give as a gift to lan zhan, I think it was his birthday(?) and therefore lives in the harem, that's what I clearly remember, in one chapter lan zhan gifts(?) or allows wei ying to go riding with him and that's all I know, it was the royalty type

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20. hello I’m looking for a fic read a while ago, I don’t remember much aside from it being an omegaverse, lan wangji an alpha and Wei Wuxi an an omega. It was set during their time in cloud recesses and I think Wei wuxian presented, and lan wangji went feral or his instincts made his go crazy and hover over him to protect him. Sorry it’s not much but it’s all I remember. @djalexdask

FOUND? Yiling Laozu Reincarnated: The Alpha's Soulmate by Luna_Klebsiella (Not Rated, 39k, WIP, WangXian, Reincarnation, Time Travel Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Alpha LXC, Alpha JC, Omega JYL, A/B/O Dynamics, Omega Verse, No Golden Core Transfer, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Smut, Anal Sex, Mpreg)

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[gothicallybright]

JOB? DONE!

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰ You've had some issues with the air conditioning system in your house and the heat is melting away your sanity. Your husband isn't much of use, so you decide to look through some ad flyers to help find someone to fix your air conditioning and make your summer less miserable. ⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

𓆩♡𓆪 A/N 𓆩♡𓆪 Inspired by Chappell's promo posters for The Giver. If it wasn't obvious. Thinking about making my next post inspired by Lost Records: Bloom & Rage- If anyone has played that game fully, PLEASE hmu I have NO ONE to talk about it, AND I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY. thank you mwah, enjoy reading! (excuse any errors i'm exhausted)

''Ugh! Damn it!'' You hit the air conditioner with a wrench, your final sign of surrender. You are once again defeated by household devices. You have been trying to fix this damn thing for weeks now! Strangely, one day, the conditioner wasn't providing as much cold air as it did days before, making you sweat uncontrollably. The heat is making you nauseous to a certain degree. Your body physically can't endure the heat anymore.

''Hey, babe? Could you get this checked out, please?'' You shout from up the stairs, where the conditioner is, to your husband. The frantic sound of a bag zipping up gives you a clear vision of his response. ''Sorry, honey! I'm late, I have to go.'' He calls from the living room as he starts running up the stairs. He places a plain kiss on your lips before mumbling a quick ''I love you'' and leaving the house. Classic. You murmur an annoyed ''I love you too'' back.

You sigh in determination, ready to take on the cold air beast once more. Your hand slips inside of the machine, wrench gripped between your fingers as you twist it. And twist it. Still nothing. The damn thing won't even start at this point. You grip the wrench in frustration, your knuckles turning white due to the force. Your blood is boiling with rage and the heat isn't helping. You give up, throwing the wrench on the floor, creating a loud metallic thud.

You make your way down the stairs, thinking about your useless husband and how he's not capable of fixing an air conditioner, let alone making you feel good. ''This is who I'm married to?!'' You think out loud, plopping on the couch. Your hand rests on your forehead, feeling the heat of your body's temperature. Your tired eyes wander around the living room, landing on the small glass table next to the couch. At least your husband brought the mail in. You pick up the various ad fylers and begin flipping through them. Most of them bombarded you with huge ''SALE!'' signs in bright red from stores no one buys from anymore. You sigh, getting up from the couch to throw them in the trash. As you walk, you continue to flip through the fylers, eventually landing on something interesting.

You throw away the rest of the fylers, keeping a single one in your hands. You chuckle to yourself as your read the fyler. ''YOUR WIFE'S HOT, I'LL FIX HER AIR CONDITIONER. CALL 620-HOT-TO-GO. I GET THE JOB DONE!'' This fyler was definitely made for you. Your eyes land on the woman in the fyler, lingering for a moment. The woman in the image is dressed in construction style attire, wearing a bright orange hard hat that is slightly tilted on her head. With that, she's also wearing a high-visibility safety vest in neon yellow with reflective silver stripes. Her hair is long and curly, makeup bold. In her hands a red and black power drill, giving a confident pose. Hell yeah.

You grab your phone and dial the number. You listen to the ringing sound for a few moments before the woman picks up. The sound of teeth brushing paired with muffled music somewhere in the background fills the silence. The woman spits the toothpaste out and speaks up. ''This is Chappell Roan speaking. How may I be of service?'' Oh, wow. Her voice is… attractive.

''Hi…'' You begin, gathering your thoughts. ''I found your ad and… I could use a little help with the air conditioning system in my house. It stopped blowing cold air last week. My husband's no use, really. The heat's getting to me. Can you help?'' On the other side of the line, Chappell's already packing up her tools, swaying to the music on the radio. ''Of course I can help! It's my job to make unhappy wives happy.'' She chuckles, and you laugh in response. Whatever that means. ''I'd appreciate if you come by next week, but if you can't, that's okay.'' Chappell chuckles once again. ''I'm just getting in my car. What's your address again?'' Alright. This is certainly something. You give her your address and she assures you she'll be here in fifteen minutes.

Indeed, fifteen minutes later, you hear a car pulling up into your driveway. You rush outside to greet the repairer. Loud classic rock music echoes through the empty street as Chappell opens the car door and steps outside. With the door now shut, the music turns off. She grabs the toolbox from the backseat and comes up to you. She extends her hand out for a handshake and you awkwardly shake her hand. ''It's a pleasure meeting you, miss.'' She exclaims and you nod your head with a smile. ''You too… uh…'' She chuckles. ''It's Chappell.'' ''Pleasure meeting you too, Chappell.''

You lead her inside and point towards the air conditioner. ''Phew… it's as hot in here as it is outside…'' Chappell says, placing her forearm on her already damp forehead. ''I know, it's horrible! I'll go get you a chair.'' You bring in the chair and Chappell uses it to get to the air conditioner's level. Her toolbox is open and laid neatly on the windowsill. You watch as she pulls out a screwdriver from the toolbox, prying open the front panel, revealing the filter clogged in dust. ''Ah! Thought so!'' Chappell exclaims, setting down the screwdriver. ''Ever cleaned this big boy?'' You awkwardly rub the back of your neck. ''No…'' ''Well, you should have. The filter's clogged, preventing the cold air from coming out. Don't worry, I'll get it fixed.''

Chappell sets the panel aside, exposing the clogged filter fully. She carefully takes out the filter, handing it to you. ''Go wash it, under cold water.'' You nod and rush to do so. The rinse under the cool water sent a cloud of dust down the drain. You place the filter on the towel to dry and reunite with Chappell. She seems to be squinting into the depths of the conditioner, feeling around with the screwdriver.

She's wearing a white tank top which greatly exposes her tattoos, and her toned physique. You find yourself rather staring. You watch how her muscles shape each time she moves her arm or leg. God. Your husband is a lanky prick, and this woman is everything he's not. She notices your staring and smirks down at you, her eyes wandering around you. You look away, embarrassed. A familiar feeling engulfs your body and mind. Hm. Something you felt when you first met your husband, however that feeling with him is long gone now. Perhaps, a spark of sorts?

Chappell grabs a small flashlight from the toolbox and aims it inside of the conditioner. ''Hm, everything else seems to be intact. Just put back the filter when it dryes and that should be it.'' You breathe a sigh of relief. ''Oh, thank God. Miserable summer is finally over!'' She smiles at your comment. ''Glad I could help.'' Carefully getting down from the chair, Chappell closes her toolbox and walks past you towards the front door. Upon opening the front door, she is hit by the force of a strong summer storm, stumbling backwards. Refreshing cold air fills the house, but you swiftly close the front door upon seeing the pool of rain that already formed at the entrance.

''Oh my… haven't had one of those in a while.'' You comment, grabbing the towels from the bathroom to soak up the puddle of rain. However, Chappell is pinching the bridge of her nose. ''Damn it… I forgot my umbrella. Hey miss, do you think I could borrow one of your spare umbrellas? I'll return them tomorrow.'' No way you'll let her outside during this weather. So, you suggest a better idea. ''You can stay here until the storm passes. My husband travels for work, he's not home often.'' You offer, hoping for a positive response. It does get lonely with a traveling husband. ''Oh? It's not trouble, really. It's a short walk. I best be go-'' Chappell walks away while talking, but you grab her wrist, stopping her. ''Chappell, please… I'd love some company.'' You plead and she sighs with a smile. ''Okay, okay, fine.'' She grabs your hand and you lead her into the living room. ''Sorry about the mess… wasn't expecting anyone today.'' Chappell looks around. ''What mess?'' ''Well, the floor isn't mop-'' ''Shush. As if I'm any better, and I have guests all the time!''

You spend the rest of the stormy afternoon with Chappell, watching movies and having fun in general. You never felt this good with someone, let alone your husband. You wish she could stay forever. You wish. The raging storm outside seems to have eased down by the time your attention shifted to something else other than Chappell. You draw the curtains open, revealing the soaked street, but no more rain in sight. ''Hey, look! The rain stopped finally!'' You exclaim with a smile. But, your smile fades upon seeing Chappell already picking up her toolbox and making her way towards the front door. You follow her.

''I hope I was good company. Not used to having my work days look like this. Thank you, miss.'' She puts her hand on her heart, bowing down slightly. A simple gesture of pure gratitude. But, you can't let her go just yet. Chappell reaches for the front door, but you grab her wrist once more. She turns to you with a curious look on her face and you waste no seconds. Fuck the marriage anyway. You kiss your repairer, in a way you've never kissed your husband. Chappell is taken aback, but quickly catches on, laying the toolbox down on the stairs to wrap her hands around your waist. The kiss is quick, but definitely leaves a sweet taste on your lips after she pulls away.

''Here.'' She hands you a piece of paper with her number on it. ''If you need a job done, call me.'' She winks at you before finally leaving.

[misotsukiiyeooo]

Streetlamp

Pairing: Xu Minghao xF! Reader

A/N: honestly I realized I haven't really written much angst so I think I'll start writing a lot more. (not proofread so I apologize for errors)

Genre: Angst

Word count: 5.9k

Synopsis: After a heated argument, Minghao finds you under a streetlamp.

Just moments ago, their cozy living room had been alive with laughter and stories, but everything shifted when the argument erupted unexpectedly.

“I can’t believe you would do something so reckless!” Your voice trembled, caught between anger and hurt.

Minghao stood a few paces away, his composure unshaken, but deep down, he struggled to maintain his calm façade. “I thought you understood where I was coming from. Why can’t you see it’s not that simple?”

You shook your head, frustration boiling over. “You just don’t get it! You can’t decide everything on your own and expect me to be okay with it!”

The argument spiraled out of control, words thrown like daggers in the heat of the moment.

His cool finally snapped. “Well, if you're always going to try to decide things for me, I don't think we're right for each other!”

Silence stretched out, heavy and full of tension. You stared at him in disbelief. “You know what? Maybe we aren't.”

The hurt in your voice stung. Minghao clenched his fists, feeling the urge to reach out and bridge the growing distance between you both. However, he chose to stay still, hoping that giving you space would help cool the flames of your dispute.

Breathless moments passed before you, overwhelmed by emotion, turned on your heels and walked out of the house.

The sight made Minghao's heart sink. His instinct was to call out, to chase after you immediately, but he hesitated, wanting to give you a chance to breathe.

You began to speedwalk, almost running while wiping your tears; you couldn't believe he even dared to say that.

Minutes passed as Minghao remained in the same position, his mind racing with everything he wanted to say.

Finally, he came to his senses and, not even bothering to grab a coat, ran out of the house, not wanting to leave you alone on such a cold night.

Minghao ran with everything he had in him. He noticed a small figure crouching under the streetlamp.

There you were, crouched on the ground, realizing that while running away seemed like a good idea at the moment, the darkness and cold began to weigh heavily on you. The chill of the night air bit at your skin as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

Minghao stopped in his tracks. He wanted to reach out and fix this mess, but fear held him back.

Noticing a presence, you looked up with teary eyes. The streetlights cast a soft glow, illuminating the tension that hung thick in the air between Minghao and you.

“Y/N,” he said softly this time, biting his lip nervously. He took a moment to compose himself, searching for the right words amidst the chaos of your disagreement. “I know I shouldn’t have said those things… but we can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.”

He noticed you trembling slightly and immediately took off his hoodie, crouching down to your level to cover you before standing back up to give you the space you needed.

You turned to him, anger and hurt still simmering beneath the surface. “You don’t get to decide what happens next, Minghao. You pushed me away with your words.”

“I know, and I'm sorry. I want to fix this, but I can’t do it if we’re not talking.” He sighed, considering what to say next. "We've been arguing so much…"

He stepped closer, allowing the space between you to close just a fraction. Your eyes locked, and in that moment, the air shifted—a hint of vulnerability underlined by a stubbornness that neither could ignore.

Your expression softened, and your shoulders relaxed just a bit. “I know…it’s just… sometimes you make decisions and forget I’m part of this too. I can’t just stand by and watch.”

Minghao nodded, guilt washing over him. “I know, and I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel left out.”

You let out a sigh, feeling too tired and cold to argue. “I just want you to consider me… to think of us.”

“I will,” Minghao promised, stepping even closer, the tension slowly dissolving. “We’re a team, right?”

“Right,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper. The fight in you was replaced by a tentative hope.

"Can we go back home now?" His voice was barely above a whisper as he looked down at you, his expression filled with regret. You nodded softly, feeling the weight of his sorrow, and stood up, the air between you heavy with unspoken apologies.

"Do you want your hoodie back? You're only wearing a thin shirt…" You worried about taking off the hoodie to hand it to him.

He put the hoodie back on you. "No, you keep it. I'm alright like this; I'll consider it a punishment for the way I treated you." He replied, attempting to hide the fact that he was trembling.

You nodded once more. "Yeah, maybe you're right." You attempted to joke to clear the tension a bit.

He didn't laugh but agreed, feeling sorry.

You both arrive home, and not much is said during the walk. Minghao unlocks the door and holds it open for you.

As you enter the house quietly, you make your way to the bathroom to wash up. He sits on the couch, his hands intertwined as he takes a deep breath.

When you exit the bathroom, Minghao immediately looks up at you. Unable to meet his gaze, you walk to the bedroom, leaving him behind.

He sighs, unsure of what to do next.

After a couple of minutes, you leave the bedroom and look at him, confused. "Why are you still sitting there?" you ask. He still occupies the same spot on the couch.

"I wasn't sure if I should join you…" he fidgets with his fingers. You approach him and say, "Hao, I'm still hurt by your words, but I'm no better than you. I shouldn't have left; I should have stayed to talk things out." You look into his eyes.

“But what’s done is done, and we can’t change it. So please come to bed; I don’t want you sleeping on the couch, okay?” He nods gently before standing up and taking your hand with care.

Although the tension in the air is noticeable, it dissipates quickly as he wraps his arms around you, allowing you both to fall asleep together.

Taglist!!

@jjunie-0 @honglynights @allieyaaa @bath1lda @minminghao @hanniehae-yoon @black-swan-blog27 @wonunonu

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

Every step to win your heart.

König x FEM reader.

Short version, your little crush turned into a dark obsession with this big guy. You weren't expecting he could actually fall for you.

Warning: Stalking, spying, mentions of drugs, Grammatical and spelling errors, image not mine. I think there's no specific description of the reader so you can read it as a Neutral too.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

König barely goes to his house, he prefers to work without stopping. But after almost 4 months without appearing there he decides after this mission he would take some rest.

You've been observing him for a while, you're like his shadow, poor guy, he doesn't even know about your existence but you already know some good things about him.

His morning routine, his favorite fruit, the size of his clothes and combat boots, you already know that he likes the cloth softener with that baby smell, you know he prefers the minimalism deco at home, he doesn't like the raw yolk egg and sometimes he simply eats the egg white with fresh grounded black pepper and salt, he eats pancakes and waffles without honey or any other topping, coffee needs to be black without sugar but if you offer him some tea he likes with two teaspoons of sugar and a little bit of milk.

How do you know all these things about him without even talking to him? Simple, you've been following him everywhere, spying on him, of course in your mind everything is innocent, you can't see the dark side of your obsession. All started after he saved you, you were a hostage a few years ago, he arrived and rescued you and your parents, he was kind and very protective over you and the other hostages, you couldn't avoid developing feelings for the man.

It was hard to find him, his name and everything about his personal information was a secret, until one day you saw a man, tall and muscular, bright dark brown hair, blue eyes and a perfect nose, some scars accentuating his features just walking by the street, he went inside a grocery store and bought a bottle of sparkling water, you weren't sure but something told you that body and the way he was walking was familiar to you, quickly you crossed the street and went inside the grocery store too, observing him more close, definitely was him, you confirmed it after you heard his accent and his voice.

That was the beginning, you quickly understood he was rarely at home, you found his address walking behind him, you saw where he usually saved his keys, he never felt your presence you were quiet and discreet so it was easy, you passed a great part of your time spying on him, if you weren't working you were searching and spying.

Today is the day of your master plan, you've been waiting for him out of the base where he works, you know he's there, finally at 19:00h, he appears with another man, not so tall and with asiatic features, both talk and then say goodbye, that's when you turned on your car and started to drive slow, you know he lives close to his work so he simply walks, he enjoys to walk everywhere.

Once you're sure he will go directly to home you drive fast to arrive before him, you park in front of his house, no one is out observing you, so you quickly pinched your car's tire and ran quickly to König's principal door, you put a strange liquid on the lock and handgrip, it's simply to make him faint, then you go back to the car, now you wait to see him arrive and ask him for help.

There he comes, his face is serious and lacklustre, you leave the car and ask him for help.

- Hey, excuse me, I'm so sorry to bother you but could you help me? I have a flat tire and I don't know how to fix it, my phone's dead and you're the first person I see walking here...

Clearly annoyed he agrees and asks you to give him your Toolbox and spare tire. While he holds the tire you decide to put some more liquid on the tools he will be using to fix that flat tire.

König doesn't feel any effect until he finishes his work with your tires, you're very friendly and somehow he feels like he has seen you before but doesn't know where or when.

-Ja, Kein Problem (yes, no problem)... Ah...Have I seen you before?

You offer him a kind smile and before you can answer you can see his face, he doesn't feel well. König feels like his head is spinning and feels sleepy, he doesn't say anything else and simply walks as fast as possible to his door, he opens it with a lot of difficulty but once the door is open, he falls on the floor.

You quickly walk to him, once you're sure he's not hurt you drag him inside the house, it was more difficult that you expected but finally he's on his bed. You close his bedroom door and go quickly to grab his backpack and park your car in his garage.

König wakes up feeling nauseous as if he drank too much the previous night or something, then after a couple minutes he realizes he slept in underwear, he doesn't remember when he changed his clothes, his head hurts, his boots are clean and in his usual place, why can't he remember when he did all those things? Finally, the sound of music catches his attention, He's not alone.

Quickly but silently he tries to stand up and tries to grab a small gun he has under the nightstand beside his bed, unfortunately he realizes he's chained to the bed, he thinks he's not being listened to but in fact you already heard him, you're simply finishing to decorate his plate for the breakfast, after a few minutes he can hear steps walking through the corridor of his house, the music comes from the kitchen and it's not only music, the smell of food fills his lungs and then a voice, singing.

What the hell is going on? You're standing on his bedroom door with a tray full of meals, He observes your body and the way you move, you're very pretty but... Why are you there? Are you dangerous? What do you want from him?. You gasp a little excited, he's awake, but sadly he doesn't seem happy.

- Who are you? What are you doing in my house and what do you want from me?

- Hi, you're finally awake, I'm y/n and I bring you the breakfast... König calm down please.

Your pleading eyes can't convince him, he needs more answers.

- What do you want from me? HOW DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? TELL ME!

- I... I can explain it, just... Calm down... I'm not a menace.

he quickly considered his options and then he nodded. You point at his bed to indicate you will put the tray there.

He doesn't look at somewhere else but your eyes, he's focused on your eyes. Once the tray is over the bed you step back, you're ready to explain yourself but the sea of questions starts again.

- How do I know you will not try to poison me? What do you want from me?

- Eat first, I spent the whole morning cooking all your favorite meals. You haven't eaten since... God knows when.

He finally looks at the tray in front of him, indeed, there's a lot of food, all his favorites for breakfast, but then he looks at you, his look says he still doesn't trust in your word.

- König, if I wanted to hurt you I could do it while you were... Unconscious, instead of that, I cleaned the fresh wound you have on your bicep and your thigh, I cleaned your boots and knives, your laundry and I cooked for you. Once again, I'm not a menace.

He takes the plate and before starting to eat he sees a small note at one side of the plate «welcome home 🩷». Home? When was the last time someone felt happy to see him? When was the last time he felt that his house was actually a home? For him it was just the place where he can go whenever he feels seriously tired of his comrades at work.

His thoughts are interrupted by you when he listens to your question.

- Is it good? I hope it tastes good...I tried to make it in the way you usually do it.

He can't lie, it actually tastes better than when he cooks.

- Yes, it is. Can you tell me what you want now?

- It's a long story... But I've been looking for you, observing you, following you since... I don't know, maybe you don't remember but you saved me and my parents and some other hostages, we were in a hotel, you saved us.

- Ja! I remember, it was like 5 years ago. So what?

- Well, maybe for you it was as any other successful mission, but for me it was... A realization about the kind of man I wanted for me. You stole my heart, König.

You approach König who's now observing you as if you were insane, you slowly kneel down in from of him.

- I looked for you, for months until I found you, then I started to follow you everywhere, learning about you, the things you like, the thing you hate, your story, who you were when you were young, what you did during your young years...

He's quiet, he can't believe your words, your innocent look is adorable and almost convincing but all this 'love' that turned into something else, something dark but strangely... Attractive, makes him feel out of place, something unexpected.

Of course women approach him occasionally, but he never gives them a chance, he has always been alone, he never thought someone could give him love, that's why he never went through relationships or meeting people in a romantic way. Now you're here, in front him, you literally kidnapped him in his own house to finally introduce yourself, talking about love, is he dreaming?

- König, I know maybe it wasn't a good way to do it and you have all the reasons to not trust me, but I noticed when women try to get close to you, you leave, I didn't want you to run away...

- I don't run, I just reject them. Do you think I'm a man who can have love? I am not the man you created in your head.

He says it without caring, he doesn't even look at you, but it's not because he doesn't care, he wants to know if you're talking seriously.

- You're. I Know very well who you are... and if you want to reject me, fine. But I'm not going to give up, do you understand? When I want something I get it in a way or another.

- Is that a menace, Liebling?

He finally stares at you, your look is not bright and innocent, is dark, determined and cold.

- It's a warning, baby. So, you have two options, give me a chance now that I'm doing everything for the good way or call the police and send me away, but trust me when I say this. Your missions will be the least of your problems, I will not give up, you will not keep me away, I'll be there, I'll be like your shadow, hunting you, step by step until I can finally call you mine.

König smirks. You unchained him from the bed and walked away, he stays there thinking about you and your words, he can't lie to himself. You're pretty, hot and you look smart, the determination in your eyes and voice, you send shivers through his spine, he continues eating, after all, you spend the morning cooking, for him, you cooked for him, no one cared about him in that way, the few times he tried to be with a woman, they don't even offer him a glass of water or show at least a little bit of affection, they just wanted a quick fuck.

Now you're here, craving for his acceptance, for his affection. He's not afraid of you or your warnings, he simply thinks he's not in a position to reject you.

He walks to the kitchen and there you are Washing dishes and singing in a low voice. He stops and observes you, such a tiny doll, he could easily erase you from the map, but, he already made a decision.

He slowly walks to you, at this point you already feel his presence, you're waiting for his next move. Suddenly a pair of strong arms are around your waist, the warmth of his Chest and abdomen is pressed against your back.

You waited for this moment, since he appeared in your life, you saw this moment in your dreams, now it's happening, you close your eyes and slowly turn to him, you return the hug.

- You have one chance, that's all.

- I'll make it worth.

You kept your promise, it was slow since he was in long missions, but he started to enjoy the attention you had with him. When he was at home you had plenty of dates and time together, sometimes he was concerned about how jealous and possessive you could be but he admitted, it was a great feeling.

Every time he was back in the base he called you to let you know he was alive, when he would be at home and to know how you were doing.

Once you knew he would be at home, you cleaned the entire house and spent your day cooking, you bought him flowers, beer, candles and prepared him a hot bath.

When he arrived at the door you always jumped on him, kissing his face, he loved it, König never expected he could actually feel that happiness, eventually he invited you to meet some of his colleagues, everybody adored you, he was a proud man, he loved you, he fell hard for you.

[loeyslover]

Liaison

TW: Obsessive behavior, infidelity, power dynamic (boss x employee), mentions of drink spiking.

The ache in the arches of your feet became more present with each step you took into your office, finally breathing a sigh of relief when you took a seat. Your hand reached for the neatly filed resignation letter you'd prepared on a whim last night, skimming through the New Times Roman font printed, trying to find errors before you presented it to your boss.

You knew Andy would be anything but content to see you go, you couldn't deny you felt the same way. After a tiring year of internship you'd finally found the place to call a second home; a paralegal position with District Attorney Andy Barber. Things had appeared to go smoothly, getting commended for doing an incredible job with very little experience. There had been no paralegal before you who could understand Andy's way of working the way you did, nobody could meet his expectations. You like to think you met them a little too good that night, hence your current position.

You feel a slight burning in your core and your breath hitches as you remember that night. The city mayor's annual party started out on a good note, you'd met some of the biggest names in the city and tried to network as much as possible, an eager mind never resting. Still, you never strayed from Andy, keeping close to him the entire night as you were seated together. The lingering looks and soft touches going unnoticed by the alcohol creeping in your system, the wine glass in your hand refilled a few too many times.

You can still remember the way he wrapped his arm tightly around your waist for the group photo, the phantom touch sliding down further as the photographer retreated. The rest of the night was a blur of hushed moans and wet kisses, only realizing what had happened when you woke up in your boss' arms, your left hand on his chest, displaying the diamond ring on your finger.

You rushed out quickly, putting your clothes on and leaving without offering him another glance. The entire Sunday night was spent typing the resignation letter, knowing it was impossible to continue working with the same man you slept with while your husband was away at work. You'd have to build the courage to tell him what happened and exactly why you resigned, but for now the matter at hand was breaking the news to Andy.

The sound of your heels clacking on the floor as you walked to Andy's office created a pit in your stomach the closer you got, and you took a breath in as you knocked softly on the closed door. "Come in!" he yelled, his voice straining. You open the door, his eyes immediately looking up at the sound of the door opening. The baby blue orbs meet yours and he opens his mouth to speak, "Are you okay there, sweetheart? You're looking a little pale," he says, offering a slight smile.

"We need to talk, Andy," you said sternly, taking a seat. "We do, actually. I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to after, you know. When I woke up you were gone, I didn't get a chance to tell you how amazing it was," he said, a slight smirk appearing on his face. "Andy, Saturday night was a mistake. I was drunk, and had no rationale in my system but wine. I'm married, and I don't wanna ruin my marriage over this. So, I brought you my resignation letter, it felt better to do it in person," you say, putting the letter on his desk.

His eyebrows furrow and the once baby blue orbs darken, a scowl appearing, "Your what?" he asks. "Andy there's no way I can work with you, not after this. If I want to fix what's left of my marriage, I have to do this," you say, staring at the scattered papers on his desk as he reads over the content of your letter. "You really think you can do this? That you can just up and leave as you please? Sweetheart, there's a contract binding you to me," he says, his tone stern.

You stare at him blankly, a confused look on your face, "What are you talking about? There's no legalities involved with you and I," you respond, scrunching your face in question. "You're telling me my best paralegal didn't read over the contract she signed? Sweetheart, you didn't read any of the papers the firm gave you when I hired you? You signed your life to me, there's no escaping me," he said, his voice deepening.

"Those were typical work papers, Andy. Of course I went over them, you're playing some sort of sick trick on me, and it's not working," you say, shaking your head at his remarks. "Your internships never taught you to read fine print? Because you agreed to become mine in those papers," he said.

You straighten up in your chair, "I'm not yours, Andy. I don't know what impression that night gave you, but there's nothing between you and I. I'm married, and I'm gonna fix this mistake I made in my marriage." Andy lets out a mocking laugh, "Sweetheart, there's nothing left to fix in that marriage. I promised I'd make you mine the moment I saw you walk into my office and I'm not letting some degenerate prick you call your husband or a resignation letter stop me."

You feel a chill creeping up your spine, sitting up from the chair, "You are insane, Andy. You're my boss, what you are doing isn't right," you say, Andy jolting from his chair and rounding the corner to tightly hold your wrists in place, pushing his body against your own. "Sweetheart, love doesn't make you insane. I didn't go through all the trouble to spike your drinks and legally bind you to me just so you can decide to walk out on me, you don't do that. You won't do that."

[oceansssblue]

For Silco oneshots - Silco is a control freak. But sometimes, in the privacy of his locked office, he needs to give up control... And Sevika is happy to privately oblige him.

Poor Silco, such a stressing life being a crime boss... Thank god his number 2 is always close enough. Sorry for the delay!

Xx, Blue.

"TAKE A BREAK" – SILCO/SEVIKA

WARNINGS: D (Fem) /S (male) DYNAMICS, ORAL, ROPE, GRAPHIC SEX SCENES. MENTIONS OF BLOOD, AND ALCOHOL. 🔥

He can feel it; the need to crawl out of his own skin. One would think everything to be easier in a position of power; but it is all but the opposite. The future of Zaun is in his hands; his growing empire depends on wether he is capable or not to sort through the dozens of problems that pile upon his –now– very disorganized desk.

He doesn't like that either. He is a methodical person. Organised. Perhaps a tad too obsessive; a useful trait for a leader in the Undercity, if any. The chaos that roams through the office is only a vague representation of the one he feels inside.

When Sevika blasts through the door, he doesn't even spare her a glance. His eyes are fixed on the reports of the last batch of shimmer distributed throughout the west of Piltover; and the carefully hidden incongruences there.

He knows the sound of her steps and particular way of moving by now. How she favors the right side of her body to counter the extra weight given by her metallic arm. Silco wouldn't say they are exactly friends –he wouldn't make that mistake again–; but she's no stranger to him by now.

He can feel the intensity of her stare no matter how hard he tries to concentrate and find any more errors on the reports. Sevika has stopped a few steps away from his desk; analysing him with silent sharpness. Her dark eyes jump from the mess of his hair to his tired, tense posture and the irritated purse of his lips. She hums insightfully.

"You look like shit".

Silco snorts.

"Wonderfull" he drawls, voice as dry as his sore throat, too drained to even use his wit to battle her cruel observation.

Sevika stays quiet and observes him for a whole minute. Silco stubbornly ignores her and scribbles on his papers.

"You could do with a break" she says, voice too firm for that to be a suggestion.

Silco doesn't listen.

"I'm busy" he answers, irritated. "If you don't have anything important to say I sugest you go make yourself useful".

Sevika takes a few lazy steps towards him; planting her human and metalic hand on his desk firmly. The sound makes Silco almost flinch, and he is inevitably forced to look up into the cage of her arms.

"I sugest you crawl down on your knees and make yourself useful".

She stares down at him in that heated, powerful way of hers; and a small electrifying shiver shoots through Silco's spine. He holds her stare for a few seconds, almost fighting her; but she doesn't waver, answering with an almost imperceptible arch of her eyebrow.

Silco could tell her to fuck off.

He doesn't want to.

Sevika watches him while he slowly abandons the reports on his desk and makes his carefull way around it towards her. Standing side by side it's impossible not to notice the physical differences between them; Silco isn't short by any means, but Sevika is huge. It's not a matter of height, really; but where Silco is slim and slender –all sharp bones and edges–, Sevika is strong and bulky. It makes him feel small. He wouldn't admit to anyone –but her– how much he likes that.

Sevika hums, the sound trapped in her chest and throat. She reaches a hand for Silco's face; and firmly grasps the right side of his jaw in a strong –yet carefull– hold. Silco has no other option than to stare back at her; still tense but not daring to move a single inch in an effort to pull away.

"What are you in the mood for today?" She asks in a low voice, calm, controlled.

Silco shuts down the need to squirm in her hold. He takes his time to answer; because it's still difficult to bare his needs and desires no matter how many times they've done this. He hates being vulnerable.

"Something light" he answers quietly, voice clipped. "No edging".

Images flash through Silco's mind; nights spent shaking on his bed with Sevika touching him and using him to make herself cum but never allowing him to tilt over the edge. It's not like he hadn't loved the experience; but he doesn't have the patience for it today. It would be torture if anything else.

"Okay" she answers, finally dropping her hand down and giving him some false ilusion of space. "Bring me the rope, then".

If Silco's knees almost buckle then and there, no one notices.

Slowly, after staring at Sevika a few more seconds in silence –in an almost pensive way–, he turns around and fishes the carefully wrapped black rope from the drawer of his desk. It's long, plenty to spin around each of his muscles a few times, and of great quality to avoid unwanted –and suspitiously obvious– rashes.

Sevika offers her hand and Silco gives it to her without adding a word.

"Turn around".

Silco still marvels at the confidence and power of that voice.

His turning feet make the wooden floor creak; followed by a heavier one when Sevika takes a few steps closer to him.

She hovers behind his back. Silco can almost feel her heat, her presence, and the anticipation builds up. When her fingers make contact with his vest, he tenses up.

"Don't make a fuss" she snaps back.

Silco bites his tongue.

Sevika is quiet while she takes his clothes off; though the weight of her stare is obnoxiously loud. Silco doesn't quite understand how she can get turned on by him this much. It's not that he considers himself to be bad-looking, even with the scar and the restless eye. But he's nothing special either; just another bag of bones in the Lanes, being objective. Perhaps she takes some sort of satisfaction on fucking her boss onto his knees –which is totally okay with him–.

Sevika hums when all the clothes are abandonned on the floor and a wave of goosebumps erase on Silco's skin. He's still tense, a man waiting to jump and bail, bite and claw to defend himself; but Sevika doesn't want to hurt him. Other times, maybe. It's not like it doesn't get her off, either, and some of their sesions have definitly ended in small, proud lines of blood; but hurting him is never the goal, no. She wants to posses him. She wants to bring the man to a freeing, catarthic pleasure that empties his mind. She'll get off to that too.

"Clasp your hands together behind your back. Elbows pressed. I'm going to tie you up".

Silco complies. Other days Sevika has to force him to; sometimes they even fight like rabid dogs until one overpowers the other. This sweet, quiet surrender is just as exciting, though. It feels like a gift. A price.

Silco's muscles lock together as soon as Sevika starts moving the rope around him. She starts with his wrists, making sure the rope is not too tight to cut the flow, and then it travels up his forearms to include his elbows. The woman adds a few more knots and loops here and there to secure the whole thing together; assuring Silco will have no other option but to stay in place.

He tests the strength anyways. He only feels warmer when he realises just how effective the ropes are.

Silco hears Sevika moving behind him. Away. His breathing is altered by his strain to try to gauge her intentions by sound alone.

She reclines back on the small sofa of Silco's office and drags her pants down. She smirks at the sight of Silco's pale cute ass; hums at the black ropes that snake around his lean arms.

"Kneel in front of me" she orders, and Silco turns around.

Sevika doesn't bother to pay attention to him. She won't make him suffer, but she's not delaying her own pleasure either.

By the time Silco has fought his reluctance to drop down on his knees –carefully swaying to one side without the help of his own hands to stabilise himself–, Sevika already has a hand between her legs.

A small, relieved exhale escapes her lips. She throws her head back, relaxing in the softness of the sofa; swipping two of her fingers through the growing wetness of her lower lips. It's been too long since she last had the time to do this. To enjoy herself without hastily having to rush and rub one out before trying to solve Zaun's next fiasco.

Eyes closed, she feels Silco hovering closer –not touching her yet–, but she ignores him for now.

She plays with herself for a minute; the tip of her fingers teasing her entrance before going up to draw slow, precise circles over her clit. The pleasure scales slowly but surely, but it's not enough stimulation for her to cum yet.

She opens her eyes, fixes her position spreading her legs a tiny bit wider, and shoots Silco a glance.

"Go on. Put that smart mouth to good use, then" she mocks him, half expecting to see an irritated answering expresion on his face.

Silco doesn't bother himself with that. He has been growing hard while watching the woman pleasure herself; fighting the impatience and need to act on it away. He's not wasting the oportunity.

Silco dives down, sinking his tongue on Sevika's wet folds and pressing a firm, generous trace up her pussy. She moans, hips rocking with the sudden attack, a bit surprised Silco had given in into her order that easily. He eats her out like a man starved.

"Fuck" she groans, dropping her head back on the sofa, relaxing and enjoying Silco's undivided attention. "Yeah, lick it all up, baby".

The tiny little moan that escapes Silco's throat will forever echo in Sevika's memory.

Warmth and pleasure expanding in waves inside of her, she sinks her fingers in Silco's hair and forces him closer against her, almost suffocating him with her pussy while she moves her hips freely against his face. Silco lets himself be used as she wishes, and soon Sevika is close to her orgasm.

"Fuck" she mumbles again, suddenly closing her hand around Silco's neck and forcebly dragging him up to a bent stand, growing impatient. "Is your cock hard enough so you can fuck me with it?"

Silco trembles. His erection twitches.

"Yes" his voice wavers with the excitement.

He wasn't sure if she'd allowed him the pleasure of slipping inside of her today.

"Yes, what" she barks, squeezing her fingers around his neck, applying warning pressure.

Silco's breathing turns heavier. A drop of precum runs down the head of his dick. Their eyes lock.

"Yes, mam" he whispers back.

Sevika's grin is almost contagious.

She nods, and Silco is granted permision to push it in.

They both sigh simultaneously.

"Can I?" He asks, voice almost meek now, all traces of the dangerous, crime boss gone.

"You know better than to leave questions at half" she answers, squeezing her walls around him.

Silco's hips falter.

"Can I move now?" Sevika stares. Silco surrenders. "Please?"

Sevika sighs, relaxing again. She drops her hand from Silco's neck.

"Yeah. Fuck me rough and deep, slut".

It's all a sucession of pants and moans and whines from there. Sevika tugs his hair, plays with his throat, sticks her fingers inside his mouth so he has nothing to do but to choke on them while his hips chase hers. Silco is like her own little robot, her personal pleasure slave. She uses him for minutes that feel like hours, aware that he's been holding himself back as for not to cum.

He told her he wasn't in the mood for edging; but she's not letting him finish until he asks for it.

"I-I can't..." he mumbles, drown in pleasure.

"Ask for it" she snaps.

She's close too. She's just as needy and impatient. She's about to explode.

Silco's eyebrow furrors with the effort.

"Please can I cum? Inside of you, please?"

Silco's words sound so sweet and submissive there and then, and his cock drags just right against her walls, fucking her in deep, powerfull moves that feels fucking glorious. His pale skin is flushed, thin lips parted and blue eye hooded; hands still tied behind his back. He looks like her toy, her plaything. With that thought, Sevika cums.

"F-fuck!"

The wave of the orgasm makes the woman clench like a vice around Silco's cock, and then, a few seconds after, drop dead like a ragdoll. Silco makes a keen noise, eyes shutting close, thighs trembling while he fucks her through it. He doesn't think he'll be able to stop himself if he keeps going; but he will not rest unless she explicitly tells him to.

Thankfully, Sevika takes his needs in interest. His moods, his limits with each new face of the day. And she, for once, is simply mercifull.

"Cum" she whispers, breath panting while she recovers from her high.

And like magic, Silco shudders, moans, and cums. He slumps forward, face-first into Sevika's warm, strong heavy chest. The stress dissolves and the voices quietens inside his head.

He barely registers the womans fingers fiddling with the knot of his confinement until he finds his hands free.

THE END.

[maldaptivedreamer]

From Afar P. 7

With your heart aching and your ego is bruised, can you bring yourself to forgive him? Will you give him the chance to fix what he broke?… Is he worth a second chance?

content: Errors and mistakes, not entirely accurate to alien universe, angst with happy ending, name calling (asshole, darling, etc.)

wc: ~2.9

a/n: I'm not sure about how I feel about the ending, but I did try to make it happy. Didn't wanna draw things out too much, but not sure if it landed. Feels kinda rushed. Anyway, thanks for reading!

Masterlist     

Work had been a shitshow. The lack of sleep was starting to take its toll on your body, and the constant ache in your muscles only worsened throughout the day.

You accidentally dropped your drill, and the loud clanging noise reverberated through the stuffy tunnel. Normally, everyone kept to themselves and ignored the sounds of their coworkers, focused on meeting their quota by the end of their shift. But this time, all eyes were on you. A nearby worker shouted over the deafening noises, “Damn, I feel sorry for that bastard.”

Finishing your shift and returning your drill, you couldn't help but agree with their sentiment. The attendant quickly noticed the damaged drill and tsked disapprovingly before adding more time to your work contract as compensation for the damage.

Ultimately, your shift ended with more time owed than less.

As you near your front door, all you can think about is a long shower and crawling into bed.

Lost in thought, you almost miss the figure sitting on your doorstep until you're only a few doors away. Gnawing on your lip, you sigh and begin to mentally prepare yourself.

Schooling your face into an expression of dry neutrality, you apprehensively approach the door. The figure stands up and brushes himself off, his voice shaking with fake enthusiasm, “Hey, haven’t seen you in a while.”

Bjorn looks almost exactly the same as he did the last time you saw him. Almost.

But you know him better than that. Have come to know him more intimately than, dare you say, anyone else ever had.

His stress is evident in the creases on his clothes, the headband he wears with little concern for its placement, and the fidgety movements of his hands as he twists his ring or wipes them on his jeans. It's also visible in the darker shade of pink on his bottom lip from constant biting.

He stands in front of your door, silently pleading for entry. You say nothing, and he swallows hard at your silence.

With a nod and a downward glance, he shuffles his feet in the dirt and speaks, “You, uh… You changed the code to your door, and I wasn’t really able to catch you…” His voice trails off and you simply watch him.

His chest puffs with a deep, audible breath, “Guess you’ve just been busy… I guess. Would you… may I come in?”

Silently, you gesture towards your door, and he quickly moves aside. Your body shields the keypad as you enter the code and unlock the door. Turning to face him, you tilt your head up to meet his gaze.

Finally speaking, you utter out a simple, “No.” You watch as the hope in his eyes is quickly replaced by desperation.

His voice is rushed as you move to shut the door, “Please! Please… I just want to talk. I want to… to apologize. To say I’m sorry.”

Your neutral expression drops into a frown as you respond with an unforgiving tone, “You just did, why should I let you in? … I’m tired and I’ve had a shit day at work. I’m really, really not in the mood, nor do I have the energy to have this conversation.”

Bjorn forces his anxious eyes to focus on yours as he speaks in a low, watery voice, “You’re right… You’re always right love. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… You’ve given me so many chances. So, so many. And-” His voice becomes choked, “and I fucked every single one of them up… But I’m asking, begging for one more love. Please- just, just to talk.”

You pause before giving him a forced nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. Your voice is blunt, “Okay, but I need to take a quick shower first, so… just go wait in the kitchen or something.”

Without waiting for his response, you swing open the door and retreat to your room.

As you turn on the faucets and gather a change of clothes, you can still feel his pleading eyes piercing into you from two rooms away.

You briefly lean on the counter with both hands and stretch your tense body. With a grimace, you strip off your clothes and step into the warm stream of water.

As the warm water cascades over you, you feel the strain in your muscles begin to relax. You take a deep breath and decide that this shower will, in fact, not be quick – He’d wasted your time before why not return the favor. Trying to disregard your spiteful thoughts, you focus on clearing your mind before what will surely be a draining conversation.

As you dry off and get dressed, your body pulses with adrenaline. The urge to run or fight is intense and your body tenses with restraint.

Making your way into the kitchen, you can see him sit awkwardly on the chair. Deciding to keep your distance, you force your shaking hands to still as you lean against the kitchen counter.

You roll your eyes and tiredly speak, “Go on then.”

There is a tense silence as Bjorn avoids looking at you. His voice is shaky and falters as he speaks, “I’m sorry.”

Another silence follows, and your grip on the counter tightens. Scoffing with disbelief, your voice sharp, “‘I’m sorry.’ That’s it?"

You push yourself off the counter, fists clenched and hissing with frustration. “You can’t even bother to look me in the fucking eye?… What? What did you think this was gonnna be, huh?” you seethe. You pause to let your question hang in the air before continuing.

You stare at him as your brows are furrowed in anger. Scoffing, you begin to pace on the kitchen floor, “Nothing to say? Is it because you thought that you’d come here… say sorry… and then everything would be, okay?”

Your pacing on the kitchen floor intensifies as Bjorn swallows, watching you rub your hands across your face. "No, I-" he begins.

Cutting him off, you continue with a bitter tone, “No? You didn’t come here expecting make up sex? Or better yet, angry sex? … You never really wanted to talk about any of this,” you gesture between you angrily, “That was the problem, but now that I’m done… You want to fix it…”

Your voice falters and you feel treacherous tears cloud your eyes, “You know… It hurt… It fucking hurt when you repeatedly, repeatedly kept putting the conversation off?

Dragging a harsh hand through your hair and chest heaving, you hiss, “Do you know how fucking embarrassing it is to be with someone everyone calls an asshole?”

Your voice turns mocking, “They were joking, sure. But I’m not finding the joke very funny right now… I have been soo patient with you. Why do you think that was?”

Not pausing for him to answer, your voice holds so much sorrow and anger, “Because I fucking liked you Bjorn.”

“Liked?”, he chokes out, pain evident on his face.

Slowly nodding, you give him a sarcastic smile, “Yeah liked… Did you think that I stayed and put up with your shit because of the sex? No," you scoff and laugh bitterly.

Leaning on the counter with your head down, your voice is now quiet, “I stayed because I started to fucking like you. The humiliating thing is I really, really liked you.”

Both of you remain silent as you process the weight of your words. The surge of anger and adrenaline may have given you a temporary boost, but now you feel completely drained. Your body slumps as all the emotions that you had been suppressing finally spill out. The argument has left you with an empty feeling in your chest.

When Bjorn finally speaks, his voice is laced with guilt. He stands up, gesturing with open hands as he apologizes, “I understand… and I am so, so sorry for how much I’ve hurt you, for hurting you. I’m sorry for how much I’ve put you through.” There is a pause as he gathers his thoughts, it gives you a chance to do the same. You allow yourself to slide down to the floor, your limbs feeling exhausted and useless.

His face is open and genuine, with gleaming eyes that never waver from your gaze. The pain in your chest intensifies as he lowers himself to the ground, settling a few feet away from you.

Bjorn lets out a wet laugh as he speaks, “You’re right. I’m an asshole, I can be one, but never to you. I never wanted to be that to you. I…”

He draws in a deep breath and licks his dry lips. His hands ball into fists as he struggles against the urge to reach out and touch yours. A few stray tears slide down his flushed cheeks, “I want a relationship with you. I want to be with you… I want to be your partner if you’ll still have me, and if not… then I would like to be a part of your life. I… care about you. I really, really like you. I don’t exactly know if what we have… had… was love, but it was the closest thing I’ve ever come to it. I’m not sure if you feel, or felt, the same but I am so fuckin’ sorry that I ruined it darling.”

Bringing himself closer to you, his tone soft and vulnerable, “I want to work on this, on me…” He licks his lips again, searching for the right words, “If not with you then for you. I want to be better.”

You sigh and reach out a trembling hand towards him. Bjorn immediately crawls closer and takes your hand in his. You study his face and shake your head, gently brushing his hair away back, “Bjorn, I don’t want you to change for me. I want you to do it for you… This won’t work if you do it for me. I accept your apology, but I don’t forgive you…”

You can see the glimmer of hope in his eyes as he tentatively reaches out to wipe away your tears. You force yourself to shake your head and raise a hand to do it yourself.

As his hand falls away, you steel yourself and speak firmly despite the heaviness in your chest, “We are not picking up where we left off… As much as I would really like to believe you, I don’t. I don’t trust you. We need to take things slow, to be friends. I just, just need time… I can’t be around you right now. I’m still so angry and I don’t want to start a friendship with you still angry.”

Licking your dry lips, your breaths come out in choppy bursts. A frown creases your face.

Bjorn swallows hard and gives you space. His voice is strained - it's hard to tell if it's from hurt or hope or both - when he speaks again, “Thank you lo-”

You quickly interrupt him, “And don’t, don’t call me love. It’s-”, you pause, “Nicknames need to be kept to a minimum, but don’t call me love. Please.”

A small part of you is hopeful, cautiously hopeful. Very cautiously hopeful.

“Easy darling, you’ll end up cuttin’ yourself if you keep on,” Bjorn’s teasing and stupidly annoying voice reaches your ears.

Groaning, you flip him off, “Then fucking help me asshat.”

He throws his head back in a laugh as he uncrosses his arms. Pushing himself from the wall he’d leant on, he makes his way toward you.

"Alright, alright," he chuckles, reaching out to you. Your face scrunches with one final attempt before begrudgingly handing the bottle to him. Sitting by you, his fingers brush yours as they grasp the neck of the bottle. You try to ignore the warmth that spreads through your body at his touch.

Bjorn effortlessly opens the beer, and he hands it to you. You purposefully brush your fingers against his as he speaks.

“There you are darling,” he murmurs, his voice suddenly low and serious. Feeling drawn to his blue eyes, you meet his intense gaze. For a moment, the world seems to stand still.

Shaking yourself out of it, you clear your throat. "Thanks," you mutter.

Sighing, you try to focus on why you asked him here in the first place. Your voice is noticeably worried as you speak, “Tyler and Navarro will be distracting Kay, so I need help setting everything up for her. So, can you help me? There’s a lot I wanna to get done.”

Bjorn grins, the earlier tension dissipating. "Depends. What's in it for me?"

As you focus on his familiar teasing, the stress dissipates. You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile. "The pleasure of my company, obviously."

"Oh, obviously," he drawls. "Because that's such a treat."

Your playful tone reaches his ears as he nudges you, "Oh please, you love my company. You’re always around, practically obsessed with me... Who knows maybe one day I’m gonna find a way to get rid of your annoying ass.”

He stretches out next to you as he speaks, “Come now darling, you’d miss me and my pretty face too much.”

He tilts his head towards you and his voice is suddenly serious, genuine, “Hey lo-.”

Your heart jumps as you hear his slip up, but you ignore it.

Clearing his throat, he continues, “Course I’ll help with everything. And she’s gonna love it. Everything will be perfect. With her bleeding heart, she would’ve loved just the cake you’d made her, she’ll crash when she sees what you’ve got planned.”

His light nudges bring you back to reality, pulling you out of your racing thoughts. The teasing grin is back on his face, “Relax princess, it’s ‘sposed to be a party.”

You try. You roll your shoulders, but the attempt is useless. It will be, until everything is done, possibly even after.

Watching you, he bites his lip briefly before furrowing his brows, “C’mon, we’ll work on fixin’ it til everything looks good, yeah?”

Glancing at him, your eyes hold a genuine appreciation for him. Appreciation for more than just his help with Kay’s party.

Holding air in your cheeks, you nod at him. Bjorn’s smile is enough to slightly lessen the anxiety in your chest.

With his reassurance and comforting presence beside you, you become lost in your thoughts.

It took a considerable amount of time and effort to get where you both are now, but you are grateful that you allowed him back into your life. You thought you had strong feelings for him before, but they have only intensified since then.

Bjorn has changed; you have seen how hard he's worked to improve himself and to be better. Everyone around him has noticed; all of them mentioning that he is significantly more tolerable now, attributing that change to you. You don’t want to take the credit for his hard work to change, but… his relationship with you did play a significant role in motivating him to change.

You pause your thoughts and sneak a glance at him from the corner of your eye.

He gets up to grab another beer and stumbles over the trash on the floor, cursing under his breath. You can't help but release a small, breathless giggle, causing him to turn towards you with a playful glare.

The smile on your face softens as he makes his way back towards you. You both sit in silence before your gentle voice breaks it, “I forgive you Bjorn.”

You shift your gaze from the people around you to his pretty blue eyes, "I forgive you," you say softly. "And maybe not now… but if you wanna start dating, start a relationship together… then I’m ready.”

A wide grin spreads across his face at your words, and he bites his lip to contain it. You can't help but smile in return.

The warm feeling in your chest intensifies as he takes your hand in his. Squeezing your clasped hands, he swallows.

Bjorn's eyes shine with emotion as he gazes at you, he squeezes your hand tighter. "Are you sure?" he asks softly, his voice filled with hope and a hint of disbelief.

You squeeze his hand back, feeling a surge of warmth at his consideration. "I'm sure. We've taken things slow, built a friendship. I trust you again, Bjorn. And I..." You pause, gathering your courage. "I think I'm falling in love with you."

His breath catches and for a moment he's speechless. Then a brilliant smile spreads across his face. "I love you too," he murmurs.

Bjorn lets out a shaky breath, bringing your joined hands to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. "Thank you," he murmurs against your skin. "I promise I won't let you down this time. I'll do whatever it takes to make this work."

You can't help but smile at the sincerity in his voice. "I know you will. We'll make it work together."

Bjorn leans in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you want. But you don't. Your eyes flutter closed as his lips meet yours in a tender kiss.

Pulling away, you feel the familiar warmth of his forehead against yours. You laugh and caress his cheek with your thumb, teasingly saying, “That’s all you’re getting til you take me out on a date.”

His warm breath tickles your face as he chuckles, "A date, huh?" Bjorn murmurs, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I think I can manage that.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulder, and you lean into him, both of you lost in comfortable silence. Kissing your forehead, Bjorn's arms feel like home.

[xo3ll1e]

Little!Reader x Billy Hargrove, how regressing in front of him goes

I was looking through my docs and found this! Isn't that neat? I'm not into Stranger Things as much as I used to be but I still wanted to post this. Sorry if there's misspellings or grammatical errors, never proofread as usual.

“You have fun tonight sweetheart?” My boyfriend Billy had asked me. Tonight we had went on a date to a drive-in movie theater. The movie was scary and due to that I had the mind to regress a bit. He knows about my little side, with him finding out by complete accident. Although I had fessed up and told him at that point, I never really regressed near him. Yeah he said he was fine with it but was he really? That’s what always ran through my mind when I wanted to regress near him so I never did. 

“mhm” i said with a small smile and nod, he looked at me with his usual smirk

“You sure? i saw you jump quite a bit” he chuckled out

i huffed, looking away embarrassed and mumbled out a whatever as he continued to drive out of the movie and into the road. he looked turned his head towards me 

“y’know the night is still young, we could still stay out, if you want” he said looking at me hopefully, i gave him a smile and nodded

“Can we just drive around then? i dont really feel like doing anything else” i say reaching my hand over to grab his hand to play with his fingers. 

“Anything you want sweetheart,” he says, turning his head back to the road and suddenly moving his hand to my stomach, tickling me, I let out a yelp and giggle and grab his hand to hold it away from me. I put our hands back to my lap and turn my whole body towards him, my back towards the window. I admire all his features, from his hair, to his eyes, that perfectly sculpted jawline. he looks at me with his eyebrow raised

“What sweetpea? Can't get enough of me?” he asks, i sigh and close my eyes, snuggling into the seat, hugging his hand as if it was a stuffie. 

“ Tired honey? you can always go in the back to laydown there, got a blanket back there too” he says not taking his eyes off the road, i shake my head 

“nuh uh” I say, I feel myself regressing but I'm sure if I just gradually get more non verbal he shouldn't be able to tell, right? He glances at me and takes the hand I'm holding back, I let out a whine and in my head even I regretted it, keeping my eyes closed out of embarrassment, I couldn't see but I could just imagine his surprised face. 

“alright sweetgirl, let me pull over and i’ll situate you alright?” he says finding a spot to pull over, he turns on the heater as well as the radio (think if some 80’s rock song that would play idk) putting it on the lowest setting and volume. he gets out of the car and i start tearing up, feeling that i had really just regressed in front of him, i should've known he would've found it weird. i try not to let the tears fall or let my sniffles get out but he rounds towards my side of the car and pulls me out, holding me bridal style, close to his chest

“c’mere honey,” he pulled the passenger seat down to reveal the back seats that he puts me in. he climbs in after, i open my eyes to look at him

“shh shh, its alright, go back to sleep, im just tucking you in, i’ll bring you back home in a jiff” he says quickly, climbing back out, putting the passenger seat back, closing the door and going back over to the drivers side. he fixes the rear view mirror to get a good look at me 

“you okay back there sweetheart?” He asked. I mumble a “mhm”, still feeling unwanted. as he starts the car and continues to drive, now heading to my place. My parents were out for vacation so I had the house alone. The tears I had pushed back had decided to resurface now but i didnt have the strength to hold them back, as well as my sniffles. Obviously Billy had heard and glanced at me through the mirror, he sighs and i open my mouth

“m sorries” i say he looks at me confused

“sorry for what?” turning his focus back to the road

“for being wike this, i-i know you must not wanna deaw wif me” i say slipping in and out of baby words. he sighs and pulls over, no cars in sight for miles, due to it being very late into the night at this point. he gets out and that's when all my tears fall, sobbing and whining. He does the whole process with the passenger seat again and climbs in. He looks at me with a soft look and brings me into his arms. He starts rocking us back and forth in hopes to soothe me but all i do is regress more and cry more. 

“sh sh shhhhh, dont ever think like that, dont ever think i dont want you or dont want to “deal with you” as you say it,” he says “i’ll do anything for you sweetgirl, even if i dont understand, im willing to learn. I want to learn, just to make you feel comfortable” he says sincerely, kissing my forehead tenderly. 

i look up at him with big wide eyes, “weally? Are you sure this isn’t pressuring?” i ask

“Well, learning anything is pressuring but I don't mind if it's for you” Billy says, bringing me into his chest, I grab onto his shirt and cling there. We stayed like that for a while, me almost being on the brink of falling asleep. until he started to move. i immediately whine but he shushes me and somehow shimmies the both of us out of the back. he pushes the seat back and goes to the front, bringing me with him. he gets in, tucking my head underneath his chin so I don't hit my head on the roof of the car and situates us to where im straddling his lap, cuddling him. I snuggle deeper into his chest as he tugs the blanket tightly to me, almost in a swaddle. I sigh in delight and the feeling of sleeping overcomes me once more. He rubs his hand on my back, keeping one of the steering, as he taps his hand along the steering wheel to the beat of the song. 

I fully fall asleep but every so minutes I feel a kiss on my head. 

[r0tting-rat]

DCA PROMPTOBER 2024

I should go to sleep. Not proofread so sorry but I'm so tired so pls don't mind the errors.

Day 24 - Error

Pairing: Glitch!Eclipse &/x GN reader Warning: None Words: 2000+ Summary: You found an interesting game and decided to fix it up a lil. What could go wrong?

-Oh, come on!- Your fingers pressed the buttons insistently, trying to reanimate the arcade machine you were working on without succeeding. -Everything was fine 5 minutes ago, what the fuck is wrong with you?!-

Of course, the machine didn’t give you an appropriate answer, it just zapped you as soon as you tried to put your hand in the open hatch in its back. You winced and waved your hand in the air as an attempt to make the pain fade away while staring down at the arcade game in front of you. You had found, a few days prior, that old—no, ancient—arcade in the back of an abandoned pizza place. It was a weird sight, that blue machine painted with red borders and white clouds, looking so innocent and peaceful between debris and trash. You had decided to take it home and see if you could make it work once more, despite its age, but as soon as you had managed to clean most of the shit off its surface you had realized that you had made a mistake. 

One day, in the middle of the night, the arcade machine had turned on randomly without being plugged in, scaring you shitless. You had placed it in your basement, refusing to keep such a nasty thing in your living room, but you found yourself thinking about it constantly. You couldn’t get the Balloon World out of your mind no matter where you were or what you did, so you decided that you were not only going to fix the game but also win it. 

Finally, after hours of replacing parts and wiping gunk, you managed to turn on the machine successfully. Rejoicing, you jumped up and immediately hit play, excited to see if the game was really worth the work you had put into it, ignoring the oily stains you were leaving on the buttons with your dirty fingers. In white letters over a dark screen, you read “insert coin” followed by the classification of all the different people that had played the game before, so you slipped in one of the many coins you had prepared and started the game. 

The starting screen of the Balloon World arcade machine showed the game’s name in red and yellow letters floating in a bright blue sky. Next to them was a little kid holding three balloons in his hand; one red, one blue, and one yellow. In the background, you saw some kind of circus, depicted with its stereotypical white and red tent and colorful balloons, while in the top right corner, through the mountains, was a smiling sun. It was kinda disturbing, in your opinion; its eyes were white and its smile was way too large, but you ignored it. The main focus of the game was the little boy, right? The one with the propeller hat. You pressed start and began playing, finding “yourself—the propeller hat kid, to be specific— on top of a red platform. As soon as you began playing, you immediately understood the goal of the game: don’t fall, collect the balloons, and evade the obstacles. Easy peasy, you had played much more difficult games, except something about this specific arcade game unnerved you. It was probably the ever so constant presence of the smiling sun—which was much bigger than before—staring at you through the screen like a maniac. Still, you refused to let it faze you and continued playing, successfully gathering 3 balloons and moving on to the second phase of the game. 

The second phase was so much worse than the previous. The sun had left, the sky had darkened and was now littered by stars, and on the top right side of the screen you found a smiling and horrifying moon. Its creepy red eyes were staring at you insistently, like it knew you found it disturbing, and its smile was much worse than the sun’s. The night level had multiple bats coming at you, which you had to dodge, hitting a few in the process, but after a while of cursing you managed to enter the day level once more, followed by a second night level. That game wasn’t that hard, to be honest. You were almost beginning to get bored, until with the corner of your eye you saw something—a glitchy purple texture in one of the tree logs at the bottom of the screen.

-What the fuck…?- you whispered, staring at it, and as soon as you spoke you felt something zapping your finger, -Ow, shit!- 

You release the button, falling with your character right on the glitched log and losing a life, but immediately you regained control of the game and went back up. Too bad, as soon as you did the game glitched, becoming a red, black, and purple mess. The sky was crimson, the stars were orange, and the sun had been replaced by a terrifying version of it: black with yellow rays, eyes, and sharp teeth. Unable to take your eyes off the screen, you stared at the flickering chaos in front of you, confused and scared, until the world map literally ended in front of you and your character remained stuck in the air, completely still, in front of the glitched sun. You released the button and stared into the sun’s eyes, not sure what to do. Did the game just… freeze?

-Oh, come on!- you gave the side of the arcade a light slap, but almost immediately it zapped you back, -What the fuck is going on with you?!-

Honestly, you didn’t want to play anymore, not at all. You were freaking out, so instead of manually turning off the game like you should have, you went to pull out the charging cable from the wall. When you turned back around, the game was still on, and the sun’s face was covering the entire screen. Your balloon boy character had vanished and the rays of the sun were spinning around its head, which meant the game was still working completely fine.

“Ṯ̶́ ̴͑R̴̸͓̃ Y̵̴͇̿̚  A̶̕ ̷̱̃G̵̛ ̶͈͠A̵ ̷̬͋I̴ ̴̢̌N̶̂” was written on the screen in bold purple letters. It wasn’t a question; it was a statement, an order. The game was telling you to keep playing. 

-No thank you,- you said, beginning to walk up the stairs of your basement and towards the door, -I’d rather not, you creepy fucking thing!-

You didn’t believe in ghosts, but when your hand closed around the knob of the door which you knew had been open only 2 minutes before and twisted, you began to believe in them just a little. Another twist, but the door didn’t budge. 

-What the fuck…?- you whispered, looking down at the knob. Could a draft have closed it? No, it was a hot summer day and the slightest breath of wind was a luxury you had stopped believing in. The light above your head flickered before suddenly turning off with a click, and no matter how many times you pressed the light switch, it wouldn’t turn on.

-Shit, shit, shit!- Turning back towards your basement, you saw that the colorful screen of the arcade machine was the only source of light in the entire room. The machine hummed and buzzed, inviting, beckoning you closer to its buttons and joystick. The red and black sun had been replaced with the starting menu, which looked completely normal if that terrifying face hadn’t been staring at you in the top right corner, from beyond the mountains and clouds, and if the words “BALLOON WORLD” hadn’t been replaced with purple bold letters. 

“P̵ ̶̔͜L ̵̢̾A̷ ̶̤͘Y ̸̤͘ W ̴̫͆I̶ ̵̛̻T ̸̮̽H̵  ̷̿M ̶̬̇E”

You didn’t want to play, no, fuck, you didn’t want to play at all! What had you done to deserve such a treatment? You just wanted to restore an arcade game to its lost splendor, that thing should have thanked you for doing that! Could it be that you had awakened some kind of electric paranormal presence?

-Can I leave once I play?- you asked, not knowing how to act with a sentient machine. The words on the screen disappeared for a moment before coming back three seconds after. 

“O̷ ̴͇̽F ̶̣̈ ̵̗͂C̶ ̶͚̓O̴ ̴͝U ̵̮̉R̴ ̸̳̏S ̴͕̂E̶  :)”

Hesitantly you walked back to the game, still unsure if you actually wanted to touch it, but you were suddenly pushed—violently too— against it by an invisible force behind you, sending you against the machine. The moment your hands brushed against the glitchy screen the game started without you having to press anything, forcing you to scramble back up into a standing position to avoid making your character fall. You noticed that this round balloon boy didn’t look as happy as he was before; his face was turned to look at you, his blue eyes were full of distress and his smile had turned into a pained grimace. He looked terrified, but you weren’t sure if for you or for himself. 

You were sweating as you began to play, missing many balloons due to your shaking and causing you to hit many obstacles on the path. You lost as soon as the day turned into night for the first time. Sighing, you ducked your head, begging your heart to stop beating this fast, almost like you feared the thing inside the machine could feel your fear and decide to never let you go. 

-S-Shit, sorry, I don’t know what came over me,- you tried to excuse yourself, -Next time I’ll… I’ll pay more attention, now I really need to…-

You were interrupted by the purple words reappearing on the screen.

“T̶ ̷̰̄H̷ ̴̿A̵ ̶̨͌T ̸̰̕'̵ ̶̰͒S ̸̧̛ ̷̲͂F̴ ̴̝̉I̸ ̶̤̕N̷ ̵͔̈́E ̶

̶̾E̸ ̵͓̔V̶ ̶͓̇E̵ ̶̘͠R ̵̞͒Y̸ ̵̈B̵ ̷̨́O̸ ̸̼̓D̶ ̸̗̏Y̸ ̴̬̊ ̶̍M̵̕ ̷̠̆A̸ ̸͕̕K̷ ̴̧̒E ̶̯̈́S ̸̯̏ ̴͌M̴ ̶I̶ ̶̏S̶̒ ̵̘̀T̷̈ ̵͝A ̴̯͛K̷ ̶͈̽E ̵̨̒S̶”

The machine brought you back to the start of the game, to the red platform where the first day begins.

“P ̸̠̅R̷ ̸̱̒A ̷̨̓C̸ ̶̩̑T̴ ̸͔͛I ̸̘̕C̶ ̵̛͙E̵ ̵̪̊ ̵̹͑M ̶̬̓A̵ ̶̡̈́K̵ ̶̫́E ̸̣̔S̵ ̴͉͑ ̵̰̈́P̴ E̷ ̵͚̚R̵ ̸̮̋F̷ ̷̮̈́E ̷̘̎R̵ ̸̛̗C̴ ̶͐͜T̶”

The message was clear. Play again. And again, and again, and again. You didn’t know when you started crying, maybe around the third or fourth death, all you could remember of that night were your fingers locked over the buttons, unable to pull away, stuck over them like they had been grabbed by an unspeakable force. When you died the fifth time, you started to sob uncontrollably. 

-P-Please!- you begged, -Let me go, please, I d-don’t want to play anymore!-

Finally, the game froze, making your heart stop beating as well in fear of what was going to happen to you. 

-Let’s change game, Firefly,- spoke a rumbling voice from behind you just as a pair of long and slender fingers wrapped around your throat and tilted your head backwards. Under the creature’s touch, your skin burned and reddened, creating long-lasting marks on your flesh. -What do you think about a round of Tag?-

Behind you, pressed against your back and towering over your very human frame, was something that you couldn’t describe with words. All you knew, all you could see and think, was that the thing holding you by the neck had the same face as the sun inside of the Balloon World game, except this one was tangible and real. Not a picture on a screen, not a grinning image you could ignore, this one was inching his face closer and closer to you while emitting a low rumbling sound from the depths of his chest. 

-Start running, Firefly, or I’ll catch you before you even leave this basement,- he laughed, and the sound moved something inside of you—a primal feeling of pure and abject terror. The ape inside of you woke up, screaming at you to run for your life, and that’s exactly what you did the moment the “ghost” released his hold on you. You ran, out the basement and then out of your house, finding no locked door to stop you in your tracks. You ran, but despite everything, you could still hear the sun’s rattling laughter echoing in your head. 

“Hop, hop, little bunny! Hop, hop jolly high!”