#Short fic

[raapija]

Need to know how you think Lance would respond to being mistaken for one of Fernando’s many kids-like would he be embarrassed or pissed-would Lando be like oh that’s my other dad 💀-I feel like they’d all love using it to mess with people 😭

Okay, this is hilarious, so I'll give you some fun scenarios of this happening...

Three short stories under the cut ! 💚

In 2018, Oscar was 17 and looking for his first own apartment in London. He had made plans to go view one flat and needed an adult to accompany him, so Lance agreed to go with him.

"Hello! I'm William, I'll be showing you the apartment." a chipper estate agent greeted them at a downstairs door to a small apartment building. They all shook hands and then made their way inside and up the stairs.

"This is a really nice flat. Everything is recently renovated and they also put in new kitchen equipment." the estate agent fumbled with a big bundle of keys as they stopped at one of the apartment doors. "Just a short walk to the nearest shops, the bus leaves right from the street down there and it's a really quiet building all in all."

The estate agent finally found the right key and opened the door for Lance and Oscar to step in. It was pretty; all new surfaces and a sparkling new oven and dishwasher. And no weird smells, it was all fresh.

"Looks good, right?" Lance asked after a little tour around the flat. They were all standing in a small living area attached to the kitchen. "Small, but not too small."

"Perfect for a young lad like you!" the estate agent pointed out and Oscar nodded along.

"It okay." Oscar said. "I think I'll need to ask dad or pops to come see it, too, though."

"Oh, you boys have two dads?" the estate agent chirped in. He looked at Lance and Oscar and then the two of them looked at each other.

"Uh, we're not brothers." Lance said and the man got a bit flustered.

"No?"

"He has two dads. I'm dating one of them." Lance explained. The estate agent blushed.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry!" he hurried to apologize. Oscar had to turn away to hold in a laugh and Lance rubbed his eyebrow to do the same.

"No, it's okay. We get that a lot." Lance said to make the man feel less bad. "Anyway, we think we'll be in touch with you. Right, Osc?"

"Right." Oscar replied and the real estate agent handed them his card.

"Of course! I'd be happy to show this to you and your father again, if you'd like. Both of them! Or... You? Or... I'm sorry." he dug himself into a hole with that one.

"Yeah, thanks." Lance chuckled.

One night, Lance and Lando were at a gay bar in Montréal. Lando liked going to gay bars, because he didn't have to pay for any of his drinks the whole night. Everyone thought he was just adorable... And Lance was big enough that he could fight back any potential creeps.

They were sat at a booth, when a man approached them and sat down on the opposite side of their table.

"Hi, sweeties." the stranger said and Lance and Lando giggled.

"Hi." Lando said back and batted his eyes. Free drinks incoming.

"You two are really cute together." the man said and the pair erupted into laughter. The guy was a little taken aback. "What? You're not together?"

"No," Lance said between laughing. "I'm his step-dad."

The man leaned back, visibly confused. It didn't take him long to smirk again. "Oh? Kinky. I like it."

Lance and Lando glanced at each other, holding back another big rumble of laughter.

"Uh, no, we really are father and son." Lance continued. "I'm married to his dad."

"So, no fun for us tonight?" the man sounded glum.

"No, I'm afraid. And he's straight. Wait, are you straight?" Lance turned back to Lando, who was already giggling.

"I dunno." the younger man shrugged his shoulders. Lance laughed again, and the man was even more confused.

"You two are insane." he groaned and stood up. Lance and Lando waved him goodbye and kept on laughing, leaning into each other and probably looking absolutely unhinged with the state of blissful drunkenness they were in.

When Carlos and Charles were having their baby, Fernando and Lance rushed to the hospital and then to the receptionist to find out where they were. The woman working there looked at them a bit amused, because Fernando was fully freaking out and out of breath while Lance was calmly standing by his side.

"Sainz! And, uh, Leclerc! Un bebé! Uhm...I'm grand-dad!" Fernando blurted out, his English more broken than usual.

"Uh-huh... and him?" the receptionist pointed at Lance with a raised eyebrow.

"He's grand-dad. Also."

"Hi." Lance smiled and gave her a small wave. The receptionist looked back and forth between them, cogs turning in her head as she assessed the situation.

"Right..." she said and then turned to her computer to find where Carlos and Charles were. "Did you say Sainz?"

"Sí, uh... Yes. Carlos Sainz."

"And your name?"

"Fernando Alonso. Díaz! Alonso Díaz."

"And you?"

"Lance Stroll Díaz. S-T-R-O-L-L." Lance spelled out for her.

"Huh, you all have different last names?" she looked at Fernando a little confused.

"Yes." Fernando answered and she turned back to her computer, blowing out a breath of air as she typed all their names into the system. Fernando was struggling to stay in place, and Lance put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

"Okay..." the receptionist handed them a piece of paper. "I'll just need your signature here. They're in waiting room 21, just follow the yellow line on the floor and you'll find there."

"Gracias." Fernando said and hastily scribbled his name on the paper and then charged off. Lance chuckled after him and shook his head. He then carefully wrote his own name down, handing the paper back to the woman.

"Sorry. He's a bit extreme."

"Grandparents often are. Congratulations, by the way."

"Thank you."

[bunniesanddeer]

Touch- Pt 1

Alastor x GN!Reader

Part Two

Plot: Alastor realizes the reader is starting to get comfortable touching the other residents of the hotel, despite their discomfort with touch before. He suddenly realizes that he is not receiving any of these touches, and it annoys him.

Tags: GN! Reader, fluff, angst, short fic.

Word Count: 1,049

Touch Pt. 1

He had never noticed it before, but now that it had been mentioned, he couldn’t stop noticing it. Every time someone leaned too close, or went to bump you, you leaned away, or shrunk in on yourself. It was a visual reaction that lit up his brain; something close to kinship. You were much like him, in the way you cringed at the slightest, unprovoked touch. Unlike himself, however, you never seemed to initiate it, either. 

Alastor could see why someone like you wouldn’t bother. You didn’t have the power to make people back off if you made it seem like you were okay with casual touches. Better to avoid them altogether!

Alastor was confused, however, when you seemed to suddenly grow more… tactile with the others. It had been just before dinner, Alastor had Niffty setting the table, and everyone was slowly gathering near the dining room. 

“Gosh, how do you even do that, Angel?” You exclaimed. Your face was colored in your bafflement and disgust, even as you let a laugh out. “That’s just, overkill!”

“Just say that you’re jealous, toots. We both know ya’ wouldn’t be able ta’ handle that,” Angel said, leaning his large frame down to wiggle his eyebrows in your face. 

You were laughing again. The sound always caught Alastor’s attention. Even down in Hell, you managed to have a very happy sounding laugh. It felt strange and out of place, but not bad, per se. (Alastor did not like to linger on the ‘why's’ of such thoughts. There was no point. The one time he had, it had spiraled out of control. Not again). 

When Alastor turned to look, he always did, not that he would admit it, your hands were on Angel's face, pushing him back with a grin. 

“Keep yourself away from me, you weirdo! You gotta have like a snake jaw to do that. I want nothing to do with it!” Your hands were still on Angel. Why? You didn’t like touch. Why were you doing it now?

That moment plagued him for a few days, especially as he noticed you touching Angel more. Were you and the effeminate fellow an item? He thought for sure that Angel’s tastes swung the other direction. His theory was smashed to smithereens when he saw you and Husker later on.

You were helping Husker clean smashed glass from the ground, listening to the cat-demon talk. It was often Husker listening to others, so the sight cough Alastor’s attention. He lingered off to the side, and watched, as he was wont to do.

Something the demon said made your eyebrows furrow, and sympathy flit across your face. Alastor watched your lips move, as if you were speaking softly. Then your arm was across Husker’s shoulder, a soft squeeze pulling him against you, for only a moment.

The moment was said and done in mere seconds, but it idled in Alastor’s memory. He could not fathom why things had changed. It only got worse as he realized you were doing it with near everyone in the hotel. Charlie got soft shoulder pats, and light hugs. Vaggie received fist-bumps, (what a strange gesture), and some small hugs. Angel got hip checked and often pulled into impromptu wrestling matches, (he could always hear Angel complain about them, but he never bothered to try and stop you. Maybe the spider didn’t hate it?) Sir Pentious, the cowardly snake, was allowed to pick you up and move you sometimes. Niffty got head pats, and she got picked up by you, sometimes. Husker received the least amount of physical contact, but there were moments where the cat’s tail would brush up against you, or you would squeeze his hand.

Over the course of a few weeks, Alastor couldn’t fathom why everyone else in the hotel was receiving these tender touches from you? He couldn’t tell what the change was. You were still your chipper self, and you helped out as normal. Nothing had changed except the way you interacted with the others. And then it hit him. Others. Your interactions with him hadn’t changed in the slightest.

Your smiles were always soft, and you still laughed at his jokes. You still got spooked when he snuck up on you, and you still shied away when his anger made his form change. He couldn’t spot a single difference! It was after a particularly long day of dealing with Vox, that things hit a tipping point.

Alastor had just gotten back to the hotel, having torn apart goons sent to bother him. Vox was always pulling stupid things like that, but it was more annoying when his technique was suddenly being ridiculed on every screen in Hell! He had managed to send a nasty message to Vox at the end of it all, but it remained a dampener on his day. And then he had spotted you, milling about in the lobby.

“Good afternoon!” He had practically yelled, forcing exuberance into his voice. “How are you this fine afternoon, dear?”

You whipped around, a smile already on your face. “Hi, Alastor! I’m doing okay.” Then a wince washed over your expression. “Saw that stuff on TV, earlier. Hope you got back at him, for it.”

Ah, of course you would mention it. Always worried about how others feel. (He would tell himself that it meant nothing. Because it did. Mean nothing, that is). 

“Of course I did, my dear! The belligerent fool will remember today as a failure, for sure!” He had finally made it over towards you, and had moved to pull you against his side, when you ducked under his arms, stepping a few feet back. 

But you just kept talking to him, like you hadn't moved! The static of his power surging made your words blur in his mind. He couldn’t hear a single word as his mind raced. How dare you? Was he not good enough? Why did each of the others get to touch you now, but he was a problem?

It was the frown on your face that pulled him back down. “Are you okay,” you asked, your face full of concern for him. It didn’t help. 

When Alastor had finally waived away your worries, he had shadow-stepped to his room. He needed to think.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hello! I love your writing so much! It always gives me such a good chill and I absolutely adore the way the words all flow together! May I request a hero trying to escape from a villain and when the villain finally catches them there's a bit where they lift the hero's chin with a sword?

"Ah, good," the villain drawled. "You managed to apprehend our little runaway."

The hero grunted in pain, as the guards threw them down onto their knees. Their gaze darted around the room - a war room of maps and schemes too high up on the table for them to see properly, the dulled silver of the guards uniforms, and the perfectly polished leather boots standing not far ahead of them.

"Though not," the villain said, "without a little bloodshed, I see? Take yourself to the infirmary tent. I can handle him from here."

The hero's jaw clenched. They kept their head bowed, doing their best to keep their face obscured.

"My lord," the guard said.

As the room emptied, the hero tested the tightness of the ropes binding their wrists and ankles. They strained for the knots. No good. Before they could even start to rise, the villain had drawn their sword with a soft shick and pressed it to the hero's throat in one swift move.

"Suddenly shy?" the villain asked. "I was expecting spitted defiance and glares. Maybe some elegant spiel at what a monster I am and how I will never get away with this."

The hero said nothing.

The villain hummed, using the tip of the blade to tilt the hero's head up.

The hero braced themselves as their gazes met.

The villain froze.

The hero's lip curled; a smile most mocking.

"Guards!" the villain yelled.

The guards returned immediately from outside, even as the villain's attention stayed locked on the hero's face.

"Would you like to tell me," the villain's voice was silken, dangerous, "why you've captured the wrong person?"

"I - my lord?"

"This is not the prince. Do you not know your own prince?" the villain asked.

"But they - they wielded the royal blade, my lord - they -"

Power, dark and ominous, ripped through the room like a thousand shadowy swords appearing in the air.

The guards fell silent.

"Fooled ya," the hero rasped. "Sucker."

"Go to where you found them," the villain ordered. "The prince can't have got far-"

The guards stayed silent. They didn't move. The smile on the hero's lips grew a little more.

"What?" the villain snapped.

"They put up - that is - the fight and the chase went on for some time, my lord." The head guard sounded strained. "Any of their tracks would have been destroyed by our own. The prince is long gone, my lord."

The power struck in an instant.

The lead guard dropped, dripping blood from a thousand blade cuts. The hero managed not to flinch. Somehow.

"Would somebody like to try that again?" the villain asked.

"We'll find him, my lord," another guard said, pasty with sweat. "We'll go and look now."

Most of the guards left, on that hopeless errand. Someone dragged the head guard's body out. His blood was already beginning to turn inky.

The hero felt light-headed with a mixture of triumph and terror, as they eyed the villain over the hilt of their sword. The villain studied them in turn.

The running, after all, had been genuine. Escape had always been the plan. Still. They supposed the ruse had fulfilled its purpose either way, just so long as no one was stupid enough to come back for them.

"Who are you?" the villain demanded.

The hero shrugged.

The villain pressed the blade in a little harder. "Who. Are. you."

"I'm your tailor's assistant."

"...excuse me?"

"I help mend your clothes and the clothes of your soldiers," the hero said. "Thrilling, isn't it?"

The villain stared at the hero like they thought they might be joking. They weren't.

"You were skilled enough with a blade to fool my highest ranking officers."

The hero shrugged again.

The villain used the blade to tilt the hero's head the other way. "You really do look remarkably similar to the prince, on first glance."

"Bet you regret killing your own men in a strop now."

The villain draw the blade down again, opening the smallest wound. Blood pooled in the hero's collar bone, shimmering a faint, barely there silver.

"You're one of the king's bastards," the villain said.

The hero resisted the urge to swallow.

The villain's eyes narrowed, liquid shadow, as they seemed to consider their options, before a truly terrible smile flashed across their face. Charming. Beguiling.

They looked up at their guards.

"Take our little runaway to my quarters. Do make sure that they're secure this time, won't you?"

They definitely should have ran faster.

[loviatarsluv]

The Last Vampire Spawn

inspired by this post by @fangsandfeels as well as this gorgeous art by @ria-neearts above that may or may not have made me sob at work when I saw it :)

also inspired by my dire need to hug this poor baby in this scene in particular and give him literally any sort of comfort because god knows he needs it 😭

Astarion x gn!tav / Astarion x gn!reader

SPOILER WARNING! act 3 and the climax of Astarion’s quest line!

CW: violence, death, anguish, angst, blood, gore

rating: sfw (still mature for the listed content above)

in summary: Astarion finally kills cazador and bro needs a hug and a therapist fr

this one is very short I don’t even know the word count lol

Astarion’s guttural and enraged wails echo against the stone walls of the crypt, nearly drowning the sounds of Cazador’s failed attempts at gurgled shrieks as the dagger pierced his body over, and over, and over.

You stand at the bottom of the stairs and watch, gripping onto Halsin as he wraps a comforting arm around your shoulders as the three of you watch in horror while Astarion lets out two hundred years worth of pain, and agony, and hatred into every single thrust of the blade through his old master’s body. Hot tears sting your face as you watch on, tension filling the gaps of silence between your companions.

The vampire lord’s body falls limp before Astarion, bloodied and covered in viscera, lifeless. He takes a deep breath, falling back on his feet as his knees dig into the bloody marble floor. Sobs wrack through his body as he looks down with disdain at the corpse before him.

You exchange a glance with Halsin, a deeply unsettled and concerned face set into his features that wasn’t typical for his usually calm and collected persona. He looks between you and Astarion, and with just a glance, you realize what he’s thinking.

Before you can stop yourself, you run to Astarion, kneeling beside him. He’s too distraught to notice your presence beside him, so you place a gentle hand on his shoulder. He jolts slightly at your touch, then turns his face - his bloody, tear stained, and ever beautiful face to you, crimson eyes filled with a million emotions you couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

“I’m here, my love. It’s over. You did it,” you whisper, voice trembling and breaking.

His eyes scan your face frantically, chest rising and falling rapidly and anxiously, his breathing ragged and uneven - he looks at you, and you look back at him, as you try to force a reassuring smile through your own tears.

His face twists into an even deeper scowl as his eyes dart between you and the ruined corpse crumpled on the floor next to you.

“His death isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough.” He growls, his fists clenching onto the fabric of his breeches.

You stare at him, speechless. You know that no words could suffice or possibly begin to dull the pain that was evident in his face.

“I suffered through two hundred years of pain and starvation and torture… and all I’ve gotten from it all was being the one to see the light leave that monster’s eyes,” he whispers angrily, tears still rapidly streaming down his blood covered cheeks. “It isn’t fair.”

You tentatively move your face so that your eyes meet his once again, nearly afraid of what you’ll see when you do.

His eyes scan your face for a moment, and he presses his lips into a thin line.

“And where were you twenty years ago? A hundred? Where were you when I was new? When I was one of those innocent young men you’d come to the rescue for?” He barks, his voice booming and bouncing off of the stone walls and into your ears making your head pound.

“Astarion—“

“How dare you! How dare you come to me now… when I’m this!” He wails, his voice cracking on the last word, his shoulders slumping.

Hot tears return to your waterline and pour over your lashes as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into your chest and cradling his head.

He presses his face into your chest, eventually wrapping his arms around your waist and melting into you, causing you to fall backwards slightly as he practically lays on your body, sobbing into your gear. He grips the back of your shirt as if his life depended on it, even though for the first time in what felt like a while, perhaps it didn’t.

Because despite the roiling dread in his gut - he was free. At long last.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, gently rubbing circles into his bare back as you let him cry. Sob. Scream. For as long as he needs.

The others slowly migrate closer, but not too close, not wanting to interrupt or intrude, just silently exchanging sympathetic glances, and a flash of pride across Karlach’s face as she looks on.

After what felt like hours, Astarion goes quiet, his breath slowly evening out. He sniffles, then slowly lifts his head so his eyes meet yours.

You place a hand on his cheek, wiping a tear away with your thumb. He closes his eyes, savoring your touch, and sighs.

“He’s gone,” he whispers, almost too quietly for you to hear. As if he were mostly whispering it to himself. “He’s really gone…”

You nod, rubbing small circles on his cheek with your thumb. “I am so, so proud of you.”

He offers you a small, weak smile, that you return in kind. You place a kiss to the spot between his furrowed brows, his tense body relaxing only slightly into your touch. He still feels coiled up like a serpent ready to strike, still heavily on guard despite Cazador and his minions being long gone. You presume it will be a long while before he truly relaxes, but you feel more than willing and ready to be there every step of the way.

[leahsgf]

cuddles

lucy bronze x reader

summary. your girlfriend can’t sleep, and you’re the only fix

warnings. slightly suggestive language. other than that it’s just entirely fluff

lucy sighed softly as she blinked at the alarm clock on her bedside table, and the realisation that yet another hour had passed without her being able to drift off hit her. glancing down at your sleeping frame, a smile creeped onto her face - as you lay in her arms, pretty much out like a light. you had knocked out practically the second your head had hit your pillow (her) and had stayed that way for the last now three hours.

your cheek was pressed firmly against her chest, your mouth hanging open ever so slightly, allowing soft snores (that she adored, and would never dare tell you about) to slip past every now and again. simply just letting her eyes glance over you, even in complete darkness, made her heart flutter, and the way you were sprawled on top of her, with your arms loosely wrapped around her, only made her smile widen - and caused her to wonder how she ended up with someone as effortlessly beautiful as you were - even when dead asleep, you were breathtaking.

there was no denying that lucy was truly and utterly whipped for you - a fact that everybody around her knew, you included. she would do anything for you, without question.

you began to stir the instant that her fingers subconsciously found your hair, and she panicked internally, not wanting to wake you - pulling you tighter into her embrace and moving her hands to rub soothing circles into the curve of your back, praying that you would settle back down again without fuss.

but to no avail.

“luce? what are you doing up?” you grumbled into her, lifting your head slightly as your girlfriend just shushed you and continued to caress your back in response.

“can’t sleep.” she whispered into your hair, placing a kiss there before you nodded, shifting slightly to press your face into the crook of her neck, and peck softly at the skin that was left uncovered by her hoodie. “what time is it?”

“like two.” she sighed.

“god. how long have you been up?” you asked in between kisses, stroking at her arm mindlessly.

“i never fell asleep - couldn’t switch off. dunno why.” she replied, a slight shrug following her words.

“what? baby why didn’t you wake me up?” you suddenly sat up on her lap, pouting and staring into her sleepless eyes, searching for an explanation.

“you looked so peaceful.” she murmured, cupping your cheeks and pulling you back down to meet your lips. “didn’t want to disturb you sweetheart, especially when there’s no reason to.”

“i’d happily have disturbed sleep anytime for you luce. you know that.” you argued gently, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world - a small smile crossing your features as you pulled away from her a little.

“i know darling, you’re too good to me, thank you. well, gimme cuddles, maybe it’ll help.”

“you don’t even have to ask, silly. come here.” you chirped, sleep returning to scratch at your voice as you dropped your head back down into its previous position, resting in her neck. “did you try counting sheep?”

“i don’t think that has ever worked for anyone.” she only grumbled in response, her own tiredness more evident than ever.

“you never know until you try.” you shrugged, causing lucy to sigh in response, before wrapping her arms around your back, and letting herself be completely enveloped by you. the silence that settled between the pair of you lasted no more than a few minutes - her frustrated groan that broke it travelling across the room.

“doesn’t work.”

“just clear your mind, yeah? let all your thoughts and everything just float away. it’s just you and me.” you whispered, remaining still and quiet in hopes that it’d eventually take some influence.

“can we sleep naked? maybe that’s what it is. wanna be close to you. wanna feel your skin.”

“if you think that’ll help babe.” you mumbled, sitting up to pull your lucy’s oversized shirt up and over your head, leaving you almost completely bare in front of your girlfriend.

you watched her intently, searching for any sign of sleep in her eyes, rolling your own when you instead caught her eyeing you up and down hungrily, smirking up at you.

“absolutely not. don’t even think about it. sex isn’t going to work either. it didn’t last time - just got you all riled up, and then neither of us slept. remember how many laps ale made us do that day?”

“well how exactly can you expect me to not want to when you look like that.”

“lucy.” you warned, raising an eyebrow at her before lifting off her to slip off your panties, and mindlessly throwing them across the room - ruling them a problem for the morning. “are you going to strip too or are you just going to stare at me the entire night? this was your idea, remember?”

“alright, alright, fine.” she paused both her staring and complaints about your lack of use of a nickname to pull her own shirt and underwear off, in a speed that was almost impressive.

“if i can’t stare, neither can you, hypocrite.”

“you suck.” you whined, shifting once more to the same position you’d woken up in, sprawled across her - arms clumsily moving to wrap around her.

“its hot in here.” lucy gulped from below you, her signature smirk, that almost always made you melt, returning to spread across her face.

“it’s the middle of january, it’s freezing. you’re just horny, and we’re going to sleep.”

“ugh.” she groaned, lacking the energy to fully tease you and get what she wanted. her arms pulled you impossibly closer into her, her skin flush against your own. the sheer comfort and warmth that radiated off of her made you beam, as you let sleep begin to creep back up on you.

you laid in a comfortable silence for a good while, almost long enough for you to fully drift off, believing that she had too - before you felt her tracing shapes on the bare skin of your back - and the sound of her humming hit your ears.

“will you hum with me?”

“of course.” you chuckled to yourself silently, melting at how much of a dork lucy truly was, despite the front she put on - and how offended she got when you called her that.

you picked up on her tune with ease, this being a rather common occurrence with the two of you, joining in and humming alongside her, only stopping when you noticed that hers had trailed off, and that her eyes had fluttered shut, at last.

“goodnight my love. i love you so much.” you said, so quietly that it was more mouthed, allowing yourself to easily fall back to sleep.

“love you too.” she mumbled into your hair - words so thick with sleep that they sounded more like random sounds.

-

this was actually inspired by a glee fic i read years ago yet still remember, and the fact that i’m also desperate to fall asleep but can’t !!

i’ve got to be up early in the morning to go to liverpool to watch arsenal play (terrified and praying that we aren’t shit) so i will proof read and upload more works on the journey!

hope you enjoyed this - apologies that it’s not my best!

[simp-ly-writes]

Okay but Price on a road trip would 100% be the guy to stick his hand around to the backseat. Shaking his palm around upwards for snacks to be poured in as he drives and you voice out navigations from the passengers seat. You turn around to watch the rest of the boys all huddled up in the back- shifting around and fighting one another for space as you snap a picture for the album.

[squirrel-gay]

Enid: Yeah my mum loves the scars

they remind her of me wolfing out, that i'm no longer a disgrace

Wednesday: I like looking at them

they remind me of your love for me

Excuse me, but consider this: Enid doesn't like her scars, because they get more attention than she ever did. It's the first thing her mother notices, and she almost cries of joy because she didn't believe it when they told her she'd finally turned. Enid catches her mom looking proudly at her scars from time to time, which is more attention than she ever gave her before. "Let me get a good look at you" she says, turning Enid's head to the side, tracing the scars. Enid wants to run away. Her mom doesn't say "I'm glad you're okay" she doesn't ask if it hurt. She says "finally" because Enid almost dying is less important than her wolfing out.

Enid starts wearing her hair in a way that hides them as much as possible. Until one day Wednesday asks her about it, "do you regret how you got your scars?" and Enid's words get stuck in her throat. And Wednesday, carefully tracing the area on Enid's cheek so she doesn't touch still healing wounds, tells her that they're just a visual representation of her choices. A part of her now, sure, but they're more like a footnote, an added detail to the intricacy of her. And when Wednesday looks at them she remembers how she saved her life that day.

"If you regret saving me, that's okay, but I can't bear to see you hiding yourself like this"

And Enid stops her then, because she would never regret what she did that day.

"It's just... it feels like my scars are the only thing mum loves about me"

And Wednesday says her mom's a fool, because "What's not to love about you?"

[claw404]

A c o l d n i g h t s h a r e d

× pairing: venture x reader

× words: 1109

× content: gender neutral reader, fluff, comfort, slight crushing

× summary: After a long day of work at the dig site, the two of you help eachother wind down and get ready for sleep.

[ A/N ] : Hello hi ive become severely obsessed with this Venture creature and im not seeing enough fanfics with them so of course i had to pick the pen up myself and get to work.

After a long day of work at the dig site, the two of you help eachother wind down and get ready for sleep. Sitting close by the fire, you help them clean up.

Holding the tissues you brought with you in hand, you began gently wiping Ventures face from all the dirt and dust as they sat slightly hunched over to help you reach better.

"Aw come on, do we really have to?" They playfully whined with a weak laugh, not truly being against this but they would rather be asleep right now.

"Oh shush" you replied with a soft smile, playfully wiping their lips to keep Venture quiet, their complaints now muffled.

You knew Venture would crawl into their tent all dusty and not see a problem with it, focused only on the excitement of getting back to work first thing in the very early morning. But knowing you- they knew you wouldn't let that happen.

After wiping their mouth clean you pause, staring at their lips, thoughts trailing somewhere else, somewhere pleasant, while your other hand cupped their face and thumb began to stroke their features...

Venture noticed your pause after a moment and blushed averting their eyes. Not knowing what to do they cleared their throat.

"Hm? Oh!" You caught yourself.

You yourself were now blushing while you continued your work. Now wiping their eyebrows, cheeks and then nose. A chill visibly ran through your body as the cold night wind picked up ever so slightly. You gently tilt Ventures face to get their chin and neck as well, trying not too be overly obvious while staring at their tattoo. The touch of your fingers, soft and slow, was so soothing to them, so sweet and comforting, relaxing even. They'd fall asleep in your hands any moment you worried.

They draw out a big, exaggerated yawn.

"Mmmokay!" they exclaim as they quickly pat their thighs before getting up in what seemed to be a hurry.

"Since we are done here-" Venture turned while dragging you by the hand as if you two agreed prior to whatever they were planning now.

"Huh??!"

Venture turned to you with an innocent look and their lips pouted slightly before they defend themselves "I mean, the night is cold, i thought we could- uh -share my tent and keep eachother warm?"

You just stare at eachother for a moment before you speak.

"I uh, sure, it is rather... cold" You're not sure how else to answer, too focused on the idea of being so close as to share a tent with them.

"Cool!"

Hands still intertwined, theirs much rougher to the touch than yours, you walked over to Ventures humble tent which was only a couple steps away from the fire. You wished it wasn't so close...

...

Venture let you crawl in first and the tent seemed pretty spacious at first, with soft bedding spread beneath and a small oil lamp next to the pillow, until Venture crawled in after you. Venture is broad and tall after all, you wondered how they even fit here without you.

You were propped up on your elbow as you watched Venture fluff up the pillow for the both of you, finally resting their head on one end. Their eyes looked deeply into yours, an invitation.

You haven't been this close with them ever before, your stomach quickly began doing somersaults at this realization, heart pumping faster. There was no backing out now, you yearned for their warmth.

Having to scoot a little closer, you lay down next to them, fitting your head on the other end of the pillow. Your faces were close, so close you could see Ventures eyes gleam with the soft glow cast from the oil lamp, the light catching the shine of their eyebrow piercing as well. In turn, they observed your face and its shine.

There was a silence between you two, a comfortable yet tense one. The sound of your calm breathes filled the tent, accompanied by the crackling of the campfire outside. Even further out crickets and other bugs could be heard singing their lullabies quietly, as if they knew not to disturb this moment.

You decide then to be bold and run your fingers, hesitantly at first as if afraid to be burnt, through Ventures wild locks. They were so soft yet thick and- dirt... grains of dirt and sand fell from Ventures strands, only a few but noticeable to you.

You clicked your tongue. "Guess i missed a spot" you scold yourself.

"Its okay" They take your hand in theirs and rest them between the two of you, giving yours a squeeze " you can get it next time" Venture said with a lazy smile, letting their chipped tooth peak through their lips. Their thumb running circles onto your palm.

The lack of distance between you became comfortable soon, so Venture decided to to shrink it even further when they laid their hand on your lower back grasping it, your body instinctively stiffened at their unannounced touch and they yanked you closer. Bodies pressing against one another, noses almost touching. Your heart picked up the pace again, thumping in response before Ventures hand started trailing further down all the while you still maintained eye contact.

With confidence Venture ran their large hand down your back, then hip, then thigh, then leg, hooking a hand under your knee on their way up and lifting your leg letting it snake around theirs.

Seeing you were still red and stunned by their advances, Venture decided to help you out. Taking your hand in theirs they guided it to their waist, firmly leaving it there. You got the hint and held them as their hand returned to your thigh.

Breaking that intense eye contact you had to close your eyes for a moment, the situation becoming a lot for you all at once, all too quickly. But then, all of the sudden a surge of energy rushed through your body and you kissed Venture. You kissed them, placing a sweet but small kiss on their lips and let it linger for only a short second before pulling away, now watching their reaction.

Ventures face was beaming like a thousand suns, they didn't think you had it in you and as a reward they returned the favour. With confidence they kissed you passionately yet gently, only for a moment, before pulling away and then kissing you once more. You locked eyes again while exchanging sweet smiles, yours shy, their smug.

Venture gave you one last pull connecting their forehead with yours as they closed their eyes. Soon, you did the same.

[michelle-is-writing]

Tired, Spencer Reid

Word Count: 800~

A case that takes more than a week to solve usually tires Spencer out to the point that he's zoning in and out of sleep as he enters the apartment. This case was no different. In fact, he was so tired out from everything that the first thing he did was plop down on the couch after dropping his bags by the door. Usually, he'll take them to the bedroom and unpack, and usually, he won't start falling asleep two seconds after pushing his face into my lap either.

Moving the book in my hands over to the side, I peer down at him and smile with an eyebrow raised. "Tired much?" I joke with him, taking a hand away from my book and placing it on top of Spencer's fluffy hair. He tiredly groans in response to my words before turning his face up to greet mine, only to be blocked by the book in my hands.

"I see you've begun reading from my side of the bookshelf," He notes with an exhausted smile. My smile brightens as I look back at the printed words of the many poets and writers during the transcendentalism era. "It fell when I was dusting earlier, and I've always enjoyed poems and short stories, so I decided I would read it," I explain, placing a finger in the book so I don't lose my place.

Planting his face back into my lap, Spencer speaks up. "How far have you gotten?" He asks, his voice muffled by my legs. I look back at the unread page in my hands and look for my previous spot.

"Currently, I'm in the middle of The Birthmark by Nathanael Hawthorne," I answer. "Do you want me to read it to you?" I question him, smiling as I comb my fingers through his hair.

"I would love that," He tells me, his eyes closing soon after. As soon as I see him do this, I just know he's going to fall asleep within a few seconds. Nonetheless, I still begin reading it to him, trying to make him stay awake for just a bit longer by keeping my voice slightly raised.

"Such a union took place and was attended with truly remark- Spencer?" Not even ten seconds pass after I begin reading that Spencer's snores start overriding my voice. Looking down at him, I hold back a laugh before nudging his shoulder. "Spencer?" I say his name. "Spencer...?" I repeat myself, drawing on his name until I see him lightly jolt and wake up.

"Did you already finish?" He asks, his voice already groggy. This time, I don't hold back my amused laughter and watch as the messy-haired goofball stares at me, confused.

"Baby," I begin. "I barely even started before you fell asleep," I inform him, his eyebrows furrowing in even more confusion. Upon realizing it's the truth, he sighs before replanting his head back onto my lap.

"I'm sorry..." he apologizes, reaching a hand up to rest on my knee. He runs his thumb against the soft material of my pajama pants before eventually stopping, growing tired even with that.

"It's okay, sweetie," I assure Spencer, placing his book beside me on the couch before moving to stand up. Taking his hands into mine, I pull him up with me, causing his sluggish body to slump against me. However, Spencer quickly takes this chance to wrap his arms around me and hold me closer to him as he gently sways us in his hold. For a few moments, I savor his touch until the thought occurs to me that if he falls asleep and goes down, I'm going down with him.

"Spencer, honey, let's get you to bed," I murmur to him, receiving a small nod against my neck in response. Still, it takes a few seconds for Spencer to pull his face away from my neck and part from my embrace, showing me Spencer was probably enjoying our embrace like me as well.

After walking to our shared room with Spencer nearly stumbling behind me, I help him change out of his work clothes and into just his boxers before turning to grab him his pajamas. However, before I can grab anything, I feel Spencer wrap his arms around me from behind. "Honey, let me grab your pajamas," I tell him with a small laugh as he almost whines.

"I'm okay, baby," He murmurs as he nuzzles his face into my neck like earlier. "Let's just get to bed," he adds. I can't help but simply nod at his words before turning and walking us over to our bed. As I pull the bed covers over, I feel Spencer begin to place light kisses down my neck. "I'll make it up to you for coming home so late~"

Shaking my head at his sudden mood change, I smirk at him before helping him lie down on our beige sheets and pulling the comforter over him despite his weak protests. "Tomorrow," I promise him, moving over to my side of the bed where I lie next to him. Without a second to spare, I feel myself become trapped in Spencer's arms just as he succumbs to a deep slumber. Spencer's soft snores from earlier return within seconds, making me slightly laugh to myself. He's so tired, it's like he's drunk - hence the sudden want for intimacy. I think I'll have a talk with Hotch tomorrow; he needs to stop sending my boyfriend home half-asleep and unsupervised.

[jellymellydraws]

Gortash has to sit there while he gets glimpses of his dead wife favorite assassin haunting the sword coast through the lenses of Scrying Eyes and Steel Watchers.

The first time he sees her, he can't believe it. It's a trick of the light. Orin fooling him again. But no, Orin is right beside him. In the Scrying Eye, it's her. It's Rose. Falling into ever so familiar habits, but still something different about her. A new way of carrying herself. A new smile upon her lips. A different glint in her eye. She talks to Minthara, discussing plans of The Absolute, and saunters away with a pale elf that she playfully nudges and laughs with.

Then on his way to Moonrise, he's checking in on Ketheric. She's there. She doesn't command the room how she used to-- like she's a stranger to this place. But that isn't the part that catches grips him. It's when that same damned pale elf is pacing outside of her old room-- now taken over by Balthazar. When he hesitantly asks her if they could talk. When she invites him to join her outside.

The look of concern is foreign to him. Her soft gaze shakes his core.

He can't remember if she ever whispered so tenderly the way she does to the elf. The face she makes as she slowly wraps her arms around him, like she's afraid her touch would shatter something so delicate and dear. They hold each other, for ages.

He breaks the connection.

Finally she's home, in their city. The damned elf is with her. Their hands are inseparable as they frolic the streets, taunting the Archduke-to-be with their laughter and adoration of each other. Orin made a mess of her, this much was true.

But if he could just get a moment of her time. A private meeting...

He'd help her remember what she was. What they were.

They could have everything they promised, together.

He was sure of it.

[elitadream]

Midnight Thoughts 🌃💙

Based on the heartfelt scene written by @s-creations. I loved the idea of Mario feeling conflicted and worried for Luigi's sake, and seeking his approval regarding their current situation! His little bro's happiness means everything to him. 🥺🙏

[lesbiansforastarion]

Exposed Back

Astarion x gnTav

Summary: A short but sweet moment where Astarion feels comfortable and safe with Tav.

“I know you don’t like your back- for obvious reasons- but it truly can’t be stated enough how beautiful you are.” The way Tav said it was borderline dreamy to his ears. The two were laying together on their bedroll with his back to them for a change as he read. They laid behind him slowly stroking the small of his back, just below his scars, admiring the elegant dip and curve of his spine. At this point it wasn’t just Tav’s tent anymore with how present Astarion always was in it, even when they weren’t there. He always tried staying in his own but he couldn’t rest when he craved the comfort of theirs.Their tent always surrounded him in a blanket of their scent that his own just lacked. Their things were just simply better than his own because of it.

He made a small hum of acknowledgement at their comment. Normally people focusing on that specific aspect of him made him uneased but they even made his back feel precious. “You can touch it, you know.”

Acting on impulse Tav gave his tush a little pinch over his trousers. They had known what he ment but they couldn’t help themself. He was too fun to tease and they felt the need to lighten the mood.

Astarion couldn’t fight the giggle he let out and playfully smacked whatever of them he could reach behind him with his book. “Not that you fool.” His wide grin could be heard in his voice. How they could turn a sleepy soft moment into such a warm humorous time he’d never know, but he hoped they’d never stop. It always made these vulnerable moments so much more comfortable. Really just having them there made being vulnerable so much more natural to him. “I meant the scar. You can get your pinches in later.”

He heard the remaining chuckles bubble from them as they calmed into the intimate moment. What he wouldn’t do to always be the reason for that sound. The soft draw of fingers slowly worked their way up from his lower back to up his spine. They’re hands gently traced the line down the center of his back. Focusing on the curve. While he was braced at first, he slowly relaxed under their repetitive motion. Their warmth melting into the cold flesh. Tav only explored further after they felt his body fully untense itself. Moving on from the delicate dip of his spine to the muscles covering his shoulder blades. Smoothing the skin with their gentle hands, massaging their warmth into his muscles. The scars were barely a thought for either of them as Astarion melted under their sickeningly sweet touch.

Tav could stay here forever watching their guarded lover grow soft in their arms. And Astarion could stay here forever, letting himself enjoy the cathartic comfort of being in his favorite person’s space, with his favorite person wrapped around him.

[defectivehero]

If you'd like, please write about an injured hero who needs to be carried around by villain! >:D

“One more complaint and I’m dropping you,” the villain announces, briefly readjusting their grip. They have one arm looped under the hero's knee and the other supporting their enemy's back.

The hero has been steadily avoiding eye contact, instead looking ahead. They look a bit flustered, for some reason. “This is humiliating,” the hero sighs, looking down at their ankle with a menacing glare.

“Yes, it is humiliating,” the villain agrees, an annoyed expression on their face as they stare ahead. They thank the stars that they're walking down a rather narrow and abandoned side street. They wouldn't be able to do this downtown, in broad daylight—both because they're too prideful, and because someone may recognize them. “Maybe if you had paid attention instead of tripping over nothing-”

“Hey, that’s not very nice bedside manner,” the hero interjects. The villain has to take a moment to process that statement.

“Bedside manner is for people who are ill or dying,” the villain sighs, “You’re just dramatic.” Gods, why do they even bother? They could be at home right now, washing the dried blood from their skin and melting under the warm water from their shower. Instead, they're carrying the hero across town as if they're some sort of delivery service. Absolutely ridiculous.

“You haven’t dropped me,” the hero points out. They look far too smug for the villain's liking. Indeed, their next remark nearly makes the villain's jaw crack from how hard they're gritting their teeth. “So I must be doing something right.”

The villain takes a deep breath, trying to maintain their composure. Leave it to their enemy to make a simple act of kindness so painful, overcomplicated, and tedious. “You’re clinging onto my neck so tightly that I’ll get whiplash if I drop you,” the villain feels the need to point out.

“Fair enough,” the hero acquiesces. After a moment’s contemplation, they loosen their grip on their neck. The villain can almost feel the weight slowly seeping from their shoulders. They had underestimated the hero's grip strength, it seems.

They expect the hero to be still once more, but their enemy doesn't relax. It only takes a few moments for them to snap. "Stop squirming," the villain demands.

"I was loosening my grip, asshole-" The hero seethes irritatedly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, what was that?" The villain asks, making a show of looking around at the empty street around them. "Was I just insulted for helping my enemy back to their agency—which, might I say, is an entirely voluntary and selfless act of heroism?"

The hero scoffs and rolls their eyes. "Oh, please," they huff. The villain gets the feeling that, if their arms were free, they'd cross them over their chest in indignation. "You wouldn't know heroism if it punched you in the face."

The villain just stares at them, waiting for them to catch on to what they just said. The hero connects the dots moments later, as they evidently realize that they themself have indeed punched the villain in the face before.

An awkward tension clings to the air. The villain continues walking down the street towards the hero's agency, internally cursing their pure heart. If this is how inconvenient it is to be a hero, then they don't plan on doing anything remotely good ever again.

Mercifully, the building begins to appear in the distance. As the villain crosses the street, the hero begins to murmur. “Let’s go in through the back,” they say, “Just turn the corner, there’s a door back there-”

“Oh, absolutely not,” the villain interjects immediately. "If we're doing this, then we're doing this." They readjust their grip once more and stroll towards the elaborate front doors of the city's top superhero agency. They can feel the hero stiffen in their arms.

“Please, no,” the hero begs them. The villain doesn’t bother listening, instead continuing to walk purposefully towards the entrance. The security is laughably lax at this hour. It's when they cross the threshold of the entrance that the hero attempts to break free from their grasp. Thankfully, the villain had been expecting them to do just that, and they manage to hold tight.

The villain pointedly clears their throat, satisfied with the way the occupants of the foyer immediately swivel around and stare with gazes of recognition. “I think I have something of yours,” they announce, looking down at the hero in their arms. At this point, the hero is positively wriggling in their arms—desperate for escape. The villain finally decides to take pity on them and they release their grip, leaving the hero to fall to the ground.

“Ouch.” The hero mutters once they hit the ground. The villain rolls their eyes, knowing that the hero managed to break their fall with a tactical roll and land without injury. They push themselves to stand on one foot and someone nearby rushes to their side, providing them adequate support to remain balanced on one side.

Everyone's eyes are on them, as if they're waiting for the villain to do something. "You may carry on," the villain orders, when a few seconds pass and the onlookers continue to stare expectantly. Their voice seems to break through the confusion and anticipation, and the people scattered around the space return to whatever they were doing. "I've done my civic duty for the year." They mutter to themself, turning on their heel and heading for the door.

"Hey." The hero's voice makes them freeze in place. The villain inhales slowly, summoning more patience. They turn around and manifest a calm expression.

"What?" They ask, struggling to keep the frustration from their voice.

"Thanks." The hero smiles.

"Just- don't let it happen again," the villain answers, looking away from the hero's far-too-bright smile. They turn on their heel and walk away, pushing away any and all feelings born from their enemy's gratitude.

©2024, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

endnotes below!

the villain, holding the hero by the scruff of their neck: look what i foundddd!

the villain: this heroism stuff sucks. the hero: *expresses their gratitude and smiles* the villain, visibly flustered: now hold on a second...

this dynamic really amuses me. I can't get rid of the mental image of the villain holding the hero by the scruff of the neck like a kitten, and the hero just kind of hanging there in defeat. good stuff.

the villain lies awake that night, unable to stop thinking about the hero. :3

and thanks to the anon who sent this request! I posted a cry for help yesterday very briefly and then got embarrassed and deleted it, but! the original point still stands: my ask box is open! send me stuff and i *may* write it!

if ur reading this, ily <3 hehe

tag list: @lateuplight @wit-is-wisdom @greengableswriting @whump-me-all-night-long @noawhite @rekhyt-of-arcadia @the-blind-one-speaks @sufferfictionalcharacters @basically-psyduck @alexkolax @subval01 @emerald-blade @felicia609 @surplus-of-sarcasm @ilickedanenvelopeandilikedit @a-chaotic-gremlin @unknownogre @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @whatwhumpcomments @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @agayprince @starsick1979 @a-lonely-little-ghost @agayprince @plum-tello

click here if you’d like to be on/off the tag list!

[xlpoww]

she'll be the best you ever had, if you let her-

you know it's for the better, you really do

who are you to ask for more really? you had already been so lucky to have crossed path with the self proclaimed “future king of the pirates” why do you think you deserve to the heart of the best chef in the east blue?

opla sanji! x f! reader

part two: let him

part three: when you were a waiting room

it stung, watching him falling over his own feet at every beautiful girl that walked by. 

the way he would blush so brightly, being so forward in his affections. 

every encounter chipping away at an already so fragile heart.

how lucky were you to be on board the same ship as him! to have your meals lovingly prepared by the chef of the going merry. why should it matter that it stung everytime his eyes lingered on your orange haired friend, when he jumped up at any request she made of him.

you knew she had no interest in him, none in the slightest. why couldn't he see it wasnt her who held such a burning flame for him inside?

she wasn't to blame, no, you adored nami. she’s so beautiful on the inside and out, and nothing short of a wonderful friend. everyone of the straw hat crew was, and you felt honored to have found a home among them.

you can wish all that you want, but it won’t bring you together. and you know, whatever happens, it’s for the better.

as the ship nears the dock of the island luffy had decided upon, you hear shuffling feet and a familiar voice exclaiming on the deck. it’s muffled, but the words sting nonetheless.

“how lucky am i to have been graced at the sight of such beauty! mademoiselle, what is your name?”

you don’t know how much more your heart can take.

[iluvmorales]

Spider-Man?

Summary miles has a panic attack while on patrol, for what reason??

a/n requests are open stillll (P.S this fic is kinda short.)

Warnings panic attack

the clock on your phone read 10:30, you needed help with physics but the only person that could help would be Miles.

You shot miles a text, asking if he wanted to call and work on the vision academy’s packet they gave over break.

Usually, the boy replied within a couple seconds, but for some reason once it was dark out, he would take hours. Sighing, you placed your phone screen down on your desk as you got to work on the physics sheet, knowing you’d definitely pass if miles would help you.

Your pencil wrote down equations that you truthfully, did not really understand but it seemed like the answers were close enough. Just as you’d gotten into your little study bubble, mind elsewhere, you saw a figure on your window, leaning against it with a thud.

You rolled your chair back to your night stand, picking up your taser from the top drawer before getting up from the chair slowly creeping back. You opened the blinds and saw a black suit.. Spider-Man?

You opened the window, only to see him on the floor of the fire escape level, sitting with his head thrown back as his chest rose and fell quickly.

You could definitely hear his hyperventilation all the way from the cracked window, and saw blood as well. You felt scared, of him and the situation. “Spider-Man?” You called out, voice lacing concern as you stepped out onto the fire escape, dropping your taser.

The hero only continued to hyperventilate, his body trembling. You walked to him and knelt in-front of him, hand on his shoulder now. His body only flinched at your contact but he continued to breathe raggedly as if he could not catch his breath. He lifted his arm, slipped off his mask, revealing miles.

Your eyes grew wide, watching the fear in the boys face and the way his lips were parted as he tried to breathe. “Miles? What the fuck happened?” You whisper yelled, now actually concerned instead of scared.

He closed his eyes, face and eyebrows twisting as if he were in pain. He was having flashbacks of what he had seen before he came to you. You lifted his legs to his chest, and took both of his hands in yours.

He was still shaking like crazy, but he’d brought his head back down to look at you before closing his eyes again trying to not think about it.

“Miles, breathe” you breathed in, placing one of his hands to feel your breathing, then breathed out. “Focus on your breathing, focus on how I’m doing it” your voice was low and calm, demonstrating a breathing exercise for him.

He nodded, eyes shutting closed as he followed your breathing. Miles tuned out the loud police sirens, people walking down the street and the dim neon lights, hyper focusing on your heart beat and breathing.

He noticed how fast your heart was beating, but your breathing was still calm and regular, he attempted his best to copy you, breathing in when you did and letting it out when you did.

His slowly returned back to normal, the shaking coming to a stop. You felt his arm go limp, the stiffness that came from the panic attack melted away. “Miles talk to me,” you breathed out, scooting closer as you watched his head droop to his knees.

“I’m- okay..” he whispered, voice so soft but shrill, it pained you to hear him like this. Miles was always positive, joyful and so loud. This was, a panic attack? You could only reach your arms out to him, giving him a choice to either come into your embrace or stay how he was.

Miles looked up at you, the tears that pricked his eyes already spilled and stopped. He leaned forward into your open arms, arms around your waist as his head rested on your chest. You wrapped one arm around him and another caressing his head.

You both sat there in silence, miles listening to your heart beat as you rubbed circles into his back. “You wanna talk about it?” You whispered, not stopping your motions. Miles shook his head slightly; “jus’ wanna stay like this for a lil longer” he mumbled, cheek squished from him laying on your chest.

You just nodded, throwing your head back as you looked up at the barely visible stars. Having the top floor apartment was a blessing right about now.

You stayed like that, never moving miles as he’d fallen fast asleep, his breaths were light but finally going at a normal pace. You figured you’d talk to him about everything when he was ready to open up. “goodnight miles.” You whispered, placing a kiss on the top of his head.

[axtrr]

Routine

I've been gone far too long. To make up for my absence, here is some pure filth for y'all.

Runt Werewolf x Fem!Reader (18+, minors do not interact)

Summary: Your boyfriend may be the runt of his pack, but that doesn't mean he's any less affected by his "wolf problems."

Warnings: nsft, monsterfucking (obviously), knotting, breeding, heat, use of the phrase "good girl," belly bulge, and a pathetic wolfboy <3

You came home late from work, expecting to find your boyfriend, Jonah, passed out on the couch. The werewolf had made a habit of waiting like a lost puppy for you to come home. Today, however, the living room was empty, and you were faced with something else: the sounds of soft whines and whimpers coming from your bedroom. His whimpers. Almost like the ones he’d squeak out when he got hurt, but…a little different. You entered the room quietly, leaning slightly on the doorframe. Noah was curled in on himself, his face buried in the mattress, his clawed hands gripping the sheets tightly enough to rip them. 

“Jonah, baby,” you said, “is everything okay?”

When he realized you were there, his head snapped up, wide eyes surrounded by red from crying. He panted, struggling to force out a coherent sentence. 

“Ngh— c’mere…please,” he groaned, “Need…you. Need you bad…fuck…”

“Aw,” you cooed, realizing what was going on, “my poor baby’s in heat, huh?”

He nodded, his eyes pleading for you to get on the bed and help him. 

“Babe…” he whined, moving his leg and allowing you to catch a glimpse of his throbbing boner. You sighed, taking off your shirt. “Alright, baby, gimme a minute. Let me get undressed and I’m all yours.”

And when you said you were going to be all his, you meant it. You’ve helped Jonah through his heat cycles before and you knew you were in for a long night. 

When you finished stripping down, you joined the werewolf in bed, laying back on the pillows as he quickly climbed on top of you, impatient and desperate for relief. Normally, he’d enter slowly, letting you adjust to his girth, but tonight he pushed himself in to the base, eliciting a surprised yelp from you. 

“Good girl…good girl,” he growled softly, his claws digging into the mattress as he started to thrust roughly inside you, his movements erratic and needy. Even as he railed you, he was adorably vocal, letting out a “please,” or “oh, fuck,” between pleading moans. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and heavy on your skin as he drove himself deeper inside your wet cunt. You wrapped your legs around his waist and held onto him tightly, enjoying every bit of this pleasure. 

After a while, Jonah slowed his thrusting, panting heavily as he kissed along the shell of your ear.

“Fuck,” he panted, desperately pounding in and out of your sloppy cunt, “I love you— I love you so much, baby, oh, fuck…“

As he painted your walls with his cream, the head of his cock swelled to fill you, stopping him from pulling out as he came, dumping load after thick load inside your sensitive hole until your tummy bulged with hot come. He clung to you as he calmed down, dick still being hugged tight by your warm walls. He moved so the two of you were laying on your sides, holding you close to his chest.

“Mm,” he sighed, “Thank you, baby...Needed to get off…so bad…”

You smiled softly and snuggled closer to him. 

“Of course,” you murmured, leaving a kiss on his neck. You laid back, getting yourself comfortable beside him and ready to sleep when you heard the low rumble of his voice in your ear.

“No, baby,” he purred, “I'm not done yet.”