#because that would make me feel like I'm taking too much time of their stream

[a-living-canvas]

Burnt matches

Whumpee  stirred open in his sleep. He blinked his eyes a few times as he sat up and looked at the person across the room. It's not Whumper this time…it's…

Whumpee 2!

Chained up, wearing a white shirt with eyes staring into space. The guy looked more like a ghost than a person. His shirt even had a blood stain…much more worse than Whumpee. Whumpee frowned, confused at his friend's state. Whumper separated them for the past few weeks and he never expected that they would meet like this. It's like seeing a different person now.

"Um, hello…dude?" 

Whumpee's voice echoing through the dark basement. Whumpee 2 just stayed silent, not even daring to move. What was he even scared about? It's not like Whumper is here. Whumpee moved the chain around his wrist, he tried to emit some sound to catch the guy's attention. But just like before, that creature just glued to the floor. 

Whumpee gave up. He leaned his head on the wall, closing his eyes. After that he heard the sound of the door being unlocked and opened by Whumper. Whumpee opened his eyes and to his surprise, Whumpee 2 crawled up and hugged Whumper's leg. He frowned, immediately annoyed while Whumper just smirked down at the guy and ruffled his hair affectionately.

Just like how you treat an obedient dog.

Whumper chuckled upon seeing the frustrated look on Whumpee's face. "Aww, are you jealous that I'm being all loving with him rather than you? Maybe you should just submit to me…you will get all the attention too."

Whumper leaned down and stroked the guy's cheek gently. Whumpee looked at them in disgust as Whumper kissed the guy's forehead and squeezed his throat playfully. 

So pathetic, letting someone treat you like that. 

Whumpee swore to his life that he would never break because of someone like Whumper. He would stay strong until Caretaker came and saved him. That's his promise to her. But seeing Whumpee 2 like this broke his heart, what would Caretaker say if she saw him in that condition?

"What did you do to him? What did you do that made him change?" Whumpee asked, with a slight hint of anger in his voice.

Whumper hummed, "Oh, nothing much. Just touch him here and there…you know?"

Whumpee huffed out a sigh, "Touch him with what?"

Whumper squeezed Whumpee 2's cheeks, "With the whip, hammer, shock collar…oh, and a loving touch from me. He takes it like the good boy he is."

Whumpee swallowed hard, Whumper never hurt him using those things before. He only got a few cuts on his body, Whumper drowned him once, and a few kicks and punches every time he made a ruckus. 

"Oh, don't be so surprised that I treated you much better than him. He's the one who offered to take your punishments for you." Whumper said, looking down at Whumpee 2 with a smirk. 

"And now, look at him. He's just a broken doll now, only exists to please me. His dear master."

Whumpee too stunned to make any snarky remarks like always. His eyes glued to his friend. Whumper's right, he's nothing more than a lifeless body. He wanted to yell at Whumper for being the reason he lost his friend forever, but nothing came out of his mouth.

Whumper snickered as he walked out of the basement, locking the door before leaving the two alone. Whumpee looked at Whumpee 2 with his eyes full of…betrayal?

They locked eye contact with each other and Whumpee couldn't help but feel tears burning in his eyes. That's not Whumpee 2, he's a different person now. He used to be so annoying, so cheerful, always encouraging Whumpee to do stupid things. He's also the one who used to get mad at Whumpee when he nearly gave up until that asshole separated them two.

"Whumpee 2…" Whumpee started. "Why? Why did you took my punishments for me? Do you think I'm that weak?" 

Whumpee 2 just stayed silent. He opened his mouth slightly before closing them again. His gaze fell to the ground, not having enough strength to look at Whumpee. But Whumpee ended up feeling more anger towards him. Tears streamed down his face.

"Answer me you idiot! Who asked you to do that for me?! Why are you always like this? Always think about other people rather than yourself! Do you think I would be happy seeing you like this, huh?!"

Whumpee 2 still didn't move nor say anything. Whumpee wanted to yell at him again when he saw a tear rolled down his face. Whumpee could feel his heart shattered at the sight. He pushed his knees to his chest and buried his face on it. 

"Dummy…" Whumpee muttered with a broken voice.

[theplantbish]

I feel awkward asking my friends to repeat what they said to/asked me during their streams, so instead I write down the time stamp, watch that part of the VOD later and then never answer their question because that would be awkward too 🙃

[shiningstages]

Me lookin' at my lil content: d'aaaaaaaw it's so cute~

I wanted to do stuff before work, but I like blanked out since I'm sleepy (went to bed around 1? 2?? then woke up at 7:11; not terrible but not like Great) then did my required stretchies / looked up stuff for things~ Tomorrow I have my last PT session and follow-up, and then I plan on cleaning my room / generally just chilling out since it has been Forever, but now...I will try and schedule in time for OC thoughts today and tomorrow (still have to decide if Atlas would be primal or astral...and maybe compare some story stuff to make sure it's not stepping on any Canon toes...but maybe we also don't care about that second bit ghffjghfgvcccgkhf).

[abandonedandforgottentimes]

Many of the younger ccs speaking up about Wilbur's manipulation is INCREDIBLY concerning, and I don't think they'll be the last. I think it's also a big indication that it happened to Tommy too, and that he'll take a while to respond. People demanding an immediate response need to remember that he was likely a victim of it too, he just may not have been aware of it.

I mean, Wilbur's ADMITTED he relied on Tommy for his mental health when he was still a minor. That is NOT something adults should ever do and it has always been odd to me. It also makes it very hard for the minor involved to leave the friendship, since they see themselves as responsible for the older person. I don't think I need to really go into how unhealthy that sort of thing is, it isn't an uncommon occurrence and lot of people will have a better explanation than me. But it is something to keep in mind, that Tommy may feel responsible or have been groomed to excuse the behavior.

The library stream is another example of the manipulation, and I'm surprised no one is talking about it. Tommy literally talked about how uncomfortable he was at Wilbur's house. It was cold, he had no blanket, he didn't want to keep staying there, he would rather be out in public at night in a strange place. Then Wilbur just shows up out of nowhere and tells Tommy he's misremembering/being dramatic and pretty much shuts him up, gets him to stop talking shit about him. Everyone's exasperation with Tommy in the situation (being a minor alone and uncomfortable and uncertain of what to do, far from home with nowhere to go), helped Wilbur pull Tommy back in and convince him to go back to his house, especially since it was passed off as Wilbur being caring.

It was obvious to me during the stream that Tommy was telling the truth and Wilbur was the one lying, but I figured he was just being defensive because he didn't want all that online. Now we know that he had a LOT more to hide about his living situation that he didn't want being spilled, and manipulators/abusers don't tend to like it when someone goes and starts talking about the truth. They want to downplay it as much as possible, and Wilbur showing up in person to shut Tommy up and make fun of him for not wanting to stay with him, make it more lighthearted, is incredibly telling and I'm surprised I haven't seen anyone point that out.

There are so many other things I found odd throughout the years that finally have a proper explanation to them, but that's just a few examples. I'm not going to get too much further into it. Wilbur isn't who we should be focusing on, I just needed to get that out to move on from it.

I do think pointing out that Tommy has openly been manipulated is important because it may cause him to take a while to respond openly to all this while he processes. If Wilbur treated so many of his ex-friends badly it's safe to assume he did it to all of them, and we need to give everyone involved time to stop and think about the situation. A lot of people want Tommy to respond immediately, but he will need time to do that and it's only fair we give him the space to do that properly.

I also think it is so, so incredible that Shelby has given so many people the space and bravery to come forward. I believe there will be more people speaking up soon, they just need time. Support her and other victims!

[lecsainz]

A headcanon of Percy Jackson x reader daughter of Zeus, where he has been in love since the first day he saw her, and he had also recently arrived at the camp, please

˒ ⌕ SHE IS LIKE THUNDER

parings: percy jackson x zeus!reader

an:I know I disappeared, forgive me 🤧, but picture me writing this at 3 AM, dying of sleepiness after watching the last episode of PJO, AND ANNIE USED THE NICKNAME 😭 THIS EPISODE IS STILL TOO MUCH FOR ME TO PROCESS!!!!

summary: the one where you're a daughter of zeus, exploring your relationship with percy.

( my last work || my last work for riodanverse || go to main masterlist )

You and Percy crossed paths during one of your training sessions. Luke was giving Percy a tour of the camp, and when Percy laid eyes on you, he halted abruptly, as if struck by lightning. For some inexplicable reason, he felt an urgent need to know who you were, as if the gods themselves demanded it.

Percy's eyes widened as he observed you from across the training grounds. "Who's that?" he asked, pointing a finger in your direction. Luke suppressed a chuckle, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Her? Oh, that's Y/N, daughter of Zeus." Percy squinted, trying to decipher your actions, as you accidentally summoned a small lightning bolt that fizzled out near your feet. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Does that happen often?" Luke grinned. "Only when she's particularly excited, which, by the way, is most of the time. You should see her during thunderstorms!" Percy blinked, watching as you waved sheepishly, causing another faint spark to crackle in the air.

You and Percy found common ground in venting about the gods upon his arrival.

"Hey, little thunder, how's it going?" Percy grinned. "Don't call me that," you replied, trying to keep a straight face. "I'm good too, thanks for asking, Lightning Rod," Percy joked, emphasizing his newfound nickname for you.

Attempts at using your powers together proved futile, as water and electricity didn't exactly make for a harmonious combination.

According to Percy, Cabin 3 was way too big for just him, and assuming you felt the same way about Cabin 1, he started a tradition. At 12:00, he'd show up at your cabin, asking to share it, turning into a routine of hosting pajama parties in each other's cabins.

After you discovered that your half-sister, Thalia, had been turned into a pine tree to save her, Percy couldn't resist teasing you about it.

"Do you think your dad would turn you into, what, a fountain? Or maybe a cherry blossom tree would suit you?" Percy grinned, enjoying the opportunity to rib you. "Jackson, shut up," you retorted, rolling your eyes at his antics. Later, when Grover and Annabeth intervened, trying to keep you two from frying each other, Percy couldn't resist a parting shot. He had soaked you with water from a nearby forest stream during the mission, leaving you drenched and fueling your desire to electrocute him. "Next time you want to electrocute Percy, make sure I'm not around," Annabeth teased as they separated you, noticing your soaked state. Grover, being the peacekeeper, started singing the song of friendship, encouraging both of you to hug it out and apologize. Percy, however, observed that you were shivering from the cold as you walked. Realizing this, he handed you his jacket, concerned. "You'll catch a cold if you stay wet like this," he said, offering you warmth amidst the chilly aftermath of your water-based altercation.

Since neither you nor Percy admit to having feelings for each other, you find yourselves in constant teasing and banter.

During a mission, you two start a squabble because you want to lead everything, and he just wants to do his thing or isn't paying attention to what you're saying. Grover and Annabeth exchange glances, seeking a way to mediate.

It takes a long time before you muster the courage to admit you have feelings for the son of Poseidon. You decide to confess first because, knowing Percy, it would take ages if you waited for him.

"Percy, I need to talk in case we don't get out of here." "Spark Plug, we're getting out of here; trust me." "I like you, Seaweed Brain." He stands there in shock, mouth hanging open, unable to believe that you like him back.

After Percy managed to confess that he also liked you, you enjoyed teasing him about his stunned reaction. But deep down, you were terrified that he might have said he didn't like you back.

Percy becomes incredibly protective of you.

"Touch her, and you'll be dead."

You love stormy days and spend hours on the beach with Percy because he can control the water, ensuring you both stay dry.

"Isn't it beautiful?" "What, little storm?" You pause, gazing out at the tumultuous sea, the waves crashing against the shore. "It's like the ocean is in harmony with this storm. It's as if they understand each other, finding peace in the chaos." "Maybe," Percy finally responds, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Maybe storms and the sea have a way of finding peace in chaos because they understand that even in the wildest moments, there's a certain kind of order."

You appreciate the profound simplicity of his words, and in that moment, he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder. For the first time in a long while, you feel at home

[astraystayyh]

can i request hyunjin x touch starved reader?

sure you can!! fluff and a pinch of angst. newly established relationship.

You never really had a problem with not being held; with living your life without a hand squeezing your shoulder, or gentle fingers trailing down your spine. You got used to it- to patting your own back and holding your hand in the dark. 

That is until Hyunjin came into your life.

Suddenly your touch was no longer enough. You craved much more- you wanted Hyunjin to wrap himself around you, not letting go until all your years of feeling alone were erased from your memory, one by one. 

But you couldn't tell him this, you were scared he'd find you too intense, too clingy. You've only been dating for two months, yet your yearning for him was overwhelming you already. 

You were afraid that the line between loving him and suffocating him would blur, and that he'd want to leave. So, when he held your hand, you always let go first. And when he went to cradle your face, you quickly moved away. You didn't want to discover what would happen if you didn't. 

But today, all your efforts to keep him at arms length went down the drain.

Hyunjin came over after a week of not seeing you. And as soon as you opened the door, he pulled you in for a bone-crushing hug. His head nestles in the crook of your neck, and you can feel him exhaling in relief, as if a huge weight is lifted off of him. His hand is on the back of your hair, smoothing it down gently. "Missed you," you hear him mumble, his breath tickling your skin, "missed you so much." 

"I missed you too," you smile, pulling away slightly from him, as you usually do, but this time he tightens his hold on you. 

You didn't know how much you needed someone not to let go of you until Hyunjin did it. 

You freeze in your place as he rocks you slowly from left to right, his arms still encircling your waist. His warmth seeps from his body to yours, filling your insides entirely. You feel your eyes well with tears, as you realize that Hyunjin likes touching you. That he finds comfort in it as well- by the way he's relaxing under your hold, his breaths coming out softly now. 

He's never hugged you for this long before, and you choke out a sob as he kisses your neck tenderly. "I missed hugging you," he whispers, pecking your bare skin once again. "I missed you," he repeats, trailing his hands up and down your arm, his shin now resting on your shoulder.

Your arms go limp by your sides as he pulls away from you, a wide smile on his face, only for it to disappear when he notices the tears in your eyes.

 "Baby?" he asks, confusion clearly painted across his pretty features. But then you see fear growing in his eyes, as he takes a step back away from you.

"Did you not want me to hug you? I'm so sorry I should've let go when you tried to pull away. I won't- I won't do it again. Please don't cry, I'm so-" You cut him off with your mouth crashing on his. You couldn't bare seeing the distraught look on his face anymore.

"Thank you for not letting go. I needed that so much," you whisper against his lips, your hands cradling his face gently. 

"Really? Then why were you crying?" he asks doubtfully, his eyes racking through your face for any sign of discomfort. 

"Because no one has ever held me as tightly before." You confess quietly, and Hyunjin's eyes soften at your words, his hand reaching up to rest on your own.

"You promise? I didn't make you uncomfortable?"

"You didn't, I promise you," you smile, wrapping your arms around him to further reassure him. He holds you to him instinctively, his hand rubbing soothing circles across your back.

You both hug each other for a while, standing in the middle of your apartment, the sun rays streaming through your curtains basking you both in a golden glow. 

Hyunjin places his chin on the top of your head, and you further sink into his chest. He smells nice, immensely so, and you try to find a word to describe how you're feeling in this moment. But all the descriptions pale in comparison to the warmth cursing through your veins. 

You imagine that this is what butterflies feel when they finally emerge from their chrysalises. When the first breeze caresses their fluttering wings- a need satiated after a long time of waiting.

"I won't let go if you don't," you giggle, your feet growing tired from standing for so long.

"That's the plan, my love."

"We'll hug here all day then?" you grin, leaning a bit away so you'd be able to look at his face.

"Yes," he beams at you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "Doesn't that sound nice?"

"It does," you smile, resting your cheek on his chest once again.

[lizkreates]

Reflection ~A Trigun fan comic~ (Comic Script in the Keep Reading)

Context note: This takes place just after the events of TriMax Vol 10 on Brad’s ship going to December. I’m giving them more time on the trip because Livio grew a full-ass beard between pickup and drop-off (prob because of his healing factor, who knows.) Enjoy!

Vash's coffee is a reference to my first comic Black Coffee & Donuts!

Comic Script for Reflection: A Trigun Fan Comic

PAGE 1

Panel 1: Vash, with his hair down and dressed in his black undersuit, wakes up startled in a cold sweat. He clearly slept poorly bags under his eyes. It’s only been a day or two since he laid Wolfwood to rest.

Panel 2: A full body shot of him stepping out of the bed, his Colt weight down his hip, face obscured.

Panel 3: He leans over the counter in front of a mirror, shoulders hunched, head hanging.

Panel 4: He looks up, hand covering the remaining blonde of his hair so it appears full black. Large pale portraits of Rem and Wolfwood flank Vash on each side in the background.

Vash: Rem, Wolfwood, you both sacrificed everything. Funny isn’t it that I’m beginning to look more like you?

PAGE 2

Panel 1: Vash flashes back to a moment when he and Wolfwood walked side by side in the arid desert of No Man’s Land.

Vash: Wolfwood, you were there every day by my side, now I'm alone again. 

Panel 2: Another flashback to a moment Vash and Wolfwood sat on the edge of a rooftop and looked out over the cityscape to the stars pricking the sky.

Vash: There was so much unsaid between us.

Panel 3: A fresh flashback to the couch, where Vash held Wolfwood's hand in his final moments.

Vash: I wish I had known how to tell you that I loved you before it was too late.

Panel 4: A dramatic crop of half of Vash’s lower face, tears streaming down his cheeks as he cries out.

PAGE 3

Panel 1: Livio, a tall, tan, broad-shoulder, white-haired man with a tribal tattoo over his left eye, dressed in a white shirt and black pants, bursts through the bedroom door concerned.

Livio: Mr. Vash, I heard crying, are you okay?!

Panel 2: Vash looks over, a little comically rattled and surprised

Vash: Livio?

Panel 3: Close-up of Vash’s lower face smiling, a tear rolling down his face.

Vash: I’m alright.

Panel 4: A blank Panel, filled with still air

Vash: Actually.

Panel 5: Big Panel, Vash crying into the crook of his arm.

Vash: I'm not... I miss him. I can’t stop missing him.

PAGE 4

Panel 1: Vash rubs the tears from his eyes, Livio grabs his arm shamefully, his body language clearly showing regret and discomfort.

Livio: I’ll uh, leave you to it, and see myself out.

Vash: It’s okay, I just didn’t want anyone to see me like this.

Panel 2: Close-up of Livio looking down.

Livio: It’s better to let yer feelin’s out than to hide ‘em and let ‘em fester, I should know.

Panel 3: Livio turns to the side and a sad snot stream runs down his nose he was trying to keep in. Livio is very much struggling allowing himself to miss Wolfwood. He doesn’t feel like, he should even though he desperately does.

Sounds effects: sniff

Vash: Now who’s keeping in their feelings? Let it out! He was your friend too, wasn’t he? You deserve to cry too.

Panel 4: Livio smiles sheepishly. He wants to make Wolfwood proud of him first.

Livio: Yeah, I suppose he was, all this time. But I don’t think I’ve earned that right yet.

Panel 5: Livio’s stomach growls LOUDLY. Draw in a chibi style, breaking the tension.

Sound effects: grumble

Panel 6: Drawn in chibi style, Vash waves around his noddle arms and Livio’s mood brightens, grinning with excitement.

Vash: Oh, are you hungry?

Livio: Hell yeah, I am!

Vash: What would you like?

Livio: Uh, pancakes!

Vash: Alright, pancakes it is!

PAGE 5

Panel 1: They sit down and eat at a retro 50s-style diner booth in a small nook of the ship. Livio swirls the last of his pancake in syrup on the plate. Vash cradles a black coffee with both hands looking at Livio.

Vash: Hey, Livio, what do you want to do when this is all over?

Livio: Dunno, maybe wander around for a while or return to the orphanage to help make up for what I and the other guy did.

Panel 2: Livio hangs his head, eyebrows worried.

Livio: If I can be honest with ya, I'm scared to face them.

Panel 3: Zoomed out drawn in chibi style to break the tension. Livio shivers.

Vash: Is that scarier than Elendira?

Sound effects: shivers

Panel 4: They laugh.

Livio: Well, when ya put it like, hell no!

Vash: Haha!

Panel 5: Extreme close-up of Livio’s eyes softening as he remembers back to his time at the orphanage.

Livio: I think he’d like that. They were my first real family.

Panel 6: Vash is hit with a sudden realization, Livio has no one right now. In a misty background, he remembers when Razlo cried out after Wolfwood did in Master Chapel.

Vash (internal): Wolfwood, you left Livio in my care... so we wouldn’t be alone.

Razlo (background): ...I’m all alone again!

PAGE 6

Panel 1: Close-up of Vash with the sincerest smile.

Vash: I hope you know you’re not alone. You have me now.

Panel 2: Livio’s face contorts sorrowfully.

Livio/Razlo (internal): I don’t deserve this.

Livio: Mr. Vash I --

Vash: Wait, before you say anything...

Panel 3: Zoom out so we can see both of them and the table. Vash extends his leg as he digs deep into his pants pocket. Livio leans on the table watching him.

Vash: I know that we don’t know each other well yet, but he trusted you with me and I trusted him, wholly and completely, so…

Panel 4: Extreme close-up, Vash pulls out 2 black leather wristbands with silver latches.

PAGE 7

Panel 1: Vash offers Livio a wristband while holding one for himself in the same hand.

Vash: Here. One for you, one for me. I used a strap from his cross to make it, so part of him will always be with us.

Panel 2: Livio puts the wristband on his left hand.

Livio: Thank you.

Panel 3: Extreme close-up of Livio’s non-tattooed eye, tears pricking his lashes.

Livio: I hope one day I can repay yer kindness.

Panel 4: They fist bump wristbands in view.

Vash: Welcome to the family, Livio.

PAGE 8

Panel 1: A large portrait of Wolfwood with his sunglasses and back turned, fills the background, smiling as he holds his cigarette in his hand.

Livio: Hey, Mr. Vash?

Vash: Mm?

Livio: Would you mind tellin’ me a lil more about him… Wolfwood? Ya see, we were close at the orphanage as kids, but I don’t know who he became. I’ll understand if you don’t want to, you owe me absolutely nothin’.

Panel 2: A close-up of Vash’s coffee, Wolfwood’s staple morning drink, Vash’s reflection smiles back, tears in his eyes.

Vash: I’d love to.

PAGE 9

Panel 1: Bonus! Sometime later.  Drawn in chibi style.

Livio: Can I hug ya?

Vash: Sure, buddy!

Panel 2: They hug, Vash smiles, and Livio whimpers as he lets out the waterworks. He’s thankful for Vash’s kindness.

Panel 3: This sets Vash off, who also sobs. They cry in each other’s arms.

[chenfleur]

dreamy nights

summary. you finally make your grand appearance on jake's subathon.

pairing. streamer!jake x y/n ft twitch chat

genre. fluff, twitch streamer au

word count. 1.9k

released. 10.18.2023

author’s note. feedback is appreciated! i don't know if this requires context but just in case: a subathon is a stream where each time the streamer gets a sub, it adds time to the length of the stream!

masterlist

"That's not how the game works, chat!"

Even with a door separating you, Jake's whines still manage to reach your ears. Pushing down a smile, you delicately knock your first against the cold wood before slowly pushing in.

The room is shrouded in darkness, with the only source of light being the two large monitor screens set up; they're terribly blinding, causing you to recoil ever so slightly.

Too invested in the game in front of him, your boyfriend doesn't notice you've entered the room. This realization dawns on you, and instead of making your way towards him like you'd originally planned, you lean your weight against his doorway, simply watching him.

A fond smile dances on your lips.

The subathon's something he's been planning for ages.

It's something he had promised to his viewers, promised to himself that he'd carry out at least once in his streaming career. He's taken practically everything into consideration—what games he'd play, what guests he'd bring onto his stream, what would serve as entertainment while he's asleep. At the end, a chunk of the proceeds would go towards your local children's charity.

"Why?" you'd asked when he initially introduced the idea months ago.

He'd brought it up over some late night takeout—the two of you sharing food with distant sounds of traffic and quiet, curious conversations woven in between.

The plastic bag rustled as Jake pulled it closer to him, reaching in and taking out two bubble teas. As he slid your drink over to you, he had replied softly:

"Because I don't remember a time where I haven't wanted to do this. I've been given the privilege to give back to all of the people who have made my dream come true. I want this."

Jake Sim never fails to amaze you. You can't fathom how someone has been crafted with so much raw kindness—much less that you had managed to land that someone as your better half.

ari_01: look behind you bozo

"Look behind you, bozo- huh?"

Jake hastily spins his chair around. His eyes search through the dark before landing on you, tucked away in the safety of his doorway.

The sight of you eliminates tension in his body that he didn't even realize existed. A soft smile finds its way onto his face at the way your figure is illuminated from the pale blue glow of his monitor screens.

"Hi, beautiful."

It's been years and he still manages to make you reel at the simplest of compliments.

"Hi," you whisper back.

Turning back towards his monitor, Jake pauses his game. "Alright chat, Y/N's here. She's still a bit camera shy, so no monkey business, okay? You'll scare her," he scolds. You have to press a hand to your mouth to contain your laughter.

milkbread: MONKEY BUSINESS?

user1993: jake get out we want y/n

mariluvr: OMG ITS THE PRETTY GIRL!!! HIHIHIIIIIII

Jake playfully rolls his eyes before beckoning for you to join him. You oblige, pulling out a chair from the side and taking a seat. Habitually your hand reaches for his, fingers intertwining underneath the desk.

"Hi chat," you greet, a smile growing on your face as an influx of enthusiastic greeting messages appear on the screen.

A huff sounds from beside you. "Gosh, they're never this excited to see me."

"Don't dwell on it. I'm just naturally likeable," you tease, casting a brief glance off to the side. You expect a retort, yet it never comes.

Instead, you feel a squeeze of your hand. "How come you're up? It's late."

You purse your lips together, embarrassment filling your body at the thought of being in front of an audience of thousands of people.

"Go on," Jake presses.

"Just... missed you."

Jake swears his entire stream can see the way your words makes him melt into a puddle. He tries to—and fails spectacularly at—keeping his smile at bay.

"Yeah? Missed me?" he whispers. You nod, head lowered.

It's day four of what Jake had predicted to be an around week-long endeavour, but clearly he's underestimated how much his viewers love him (or hate him?) as the timer seems to see no end in sight. The only moments you've really gotten to spend with him over the course of the past few days are when he stumbles into bed late at night.

You've spent longer time periods apart, but you're still stirred by longing.

A small sigh leaves his lips. He runs his tongue over his teeth before lightly tugging you towards him.

"C'mere," he says, motioning towards his lap.

You look at him in bewilderment, reluctance etching itself into each of your facial features. "Jake, you're streaming-"

"Mmm," he hums, shaking his head childishly. "Don't care. They already know how far I'm gone. Besides, I need to prove them wrong—they keep calling me rizzless."

A laugh leaves your lips, but you still don't make any move towards him. Sensing your unwillingness, he places a gentle hand on your shoulder to encourage you.

"It's okay," he cooes. "It's okay, I promise."

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, as if challenging one another. His gaze is heavy on you, and eventually, you find yourself folding.

Carefully, you place yourself into his lap, the warmth emanating off of him instantly making you relax. His arms wrap around you loosely, resting on the curve of your hips.

"Stop subbing, chat. You're making my girlfriend miss me."

h3artz: i will literally gift 20 rn. do not start

minlmn: sounds like smth a PISSBABY would say

user0304: think about the children jake

"Think about the childr- Okay! Okay. Of course, for the kids," he laughs, rolling his eyes before redirecting his attention to you.

"Tired?" he asks, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You nod, sinking further into his embrace. "Are you gonna start up the mods segment soon?" you mumble into the soft fabric of his sweater.

Whenever it's time for him to go to bed, his moderators take over the stream for the night to ensure that there's always something going on—whether that's playing games or hosting a makeshift podcast.

"Yeah, soon. Via told me she wasn't available until midnight, so just a little longer. Then we can go to bed," he whispers, fingers gently tapping a rhythm on your lower back. When he feels you nod against him, he turns his attention back to his screen.

mi11: u guys r the reason why i believe in love

urmom123: BOOOOOOO YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE LAME LIKE THE REST OF US #NOTMYSTREAMER

streetfighter: u literally played league for 8 hours yesterday... what am i doing wrong with my life...

"Chat, stop being annoying. You should be happy for me," Jake grumbles. "And hey, to any league players out there-" he points at his webcam. "This is a sign. Don't lose hope, soldiers."

You erupt into soft laughter, removing your face from the crook of his neck and slapping him on the shoulder.

"Shut the hell up," you groan, eliciting a loud laugh from him.

Eyes scanning the live chat, you point out a message. "Look, Jake. Someone said 'not my streamer'," you snort.

"I'm used to it. I think I was collectively disowned yesterday during Uno."

"I heard about that from Jay. You must really suck at Uno."

He grins, hands travelling up to your waist. "But you still love me right?"

You scoff incredulously. "I loved you when you wore highlighter clothing to school everyday. It's going to take more than sucking at Uno for me to stop loving you, idiot."

Jake affectionately pinches your sides, causing you to yelp. Scowling, you begin to berate your snickering boyfriend before the sound of a notification interrupts you.

Upon reading it, Jake groans. "Oh, lord. Thank you for the twenty gifted."

You watch as the timer instantly shoots up another two hours, making your boyfriend close his eyes in defeat, leaning his head back against the headrest of his chair. Smiling, you brush some hair out of his face.

"They keep subbing," he whines. "It's like they enjoy watching my suffering."

You chuckle. "I don't think you should be badmouthing them. They're the ones who fund your stupid financial decisions, like buying a cardboard cutout of Heeseung. Which, by the way, came in today."

"Oh. You weren't supposed to see that."

"What is that even for?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

The two of you spend some more time talking with chat. You share what you've been doing for the past few days since Jake's been preoccupied with the subathon, recounting the bowling night you did with Jay and Sunghoon the other day. It takes you physically shutting Jake up with your hand to make him stop whining.

Exhaustion finally fully catches up to you, making you yawn. Jake watches you fondly before turning towards his monitor and swiftly muting his microphone.

"Go to bed," he coaxes, a hand smoothing over your hair.

You nod drowsily, slowly peeling yourself up from his hold. "Okay. Bye, chat."

"Mic's muted, baby."

"Oh."

You settle for some waves towards the camera, watching as messages bidding you goodnight flood in with a small smile. You think that you're incredibly lucky to be so well-received by his chat.

Jake's hand lingers on the small of your back. "I'll come join you in a bit, okay? I love you."

"Love you too," you mumble.

You begin to step towards the exit when suddenly, you're jerked backwards. A yell would've escaped you if it weren't for the fact that in a fraction of a second, your lips are on Jake's.

One of his hands is at the back of your neck gently pulling you down towards him, while the other one comes up into your hair.

For a second, you completely forget that you're on camera. The feeling of his plush lips on yours overwhelms you—your mind can't help but go blank.

But when that second is over, your eyes immediately snap open. You push at his shoulders, quickly stepping away from him. A scowl overtakes your face as he snickers at your reaction.

You flush crimson. "Next time, if you're going do that, turn off your webcam," you hiss.

"Mhm. Whatever you say, angel."

When you stumble out the door and frantically close it behind you, Jake turns back towards his stream and unmutes his microphone.

user899: MY EYES

redskies: highway looking so comfy rn

plays101: mom and dad get a fucking ROOM challenge

user555: this guy's asking to be slammed with a ban LMAO

Leaning back in his chair with a slight smirk, Jake's hands rest behind his head.

"Relax, chat. I'm not going to get banned. You know-" he pauses, his bottom lip between his teeth as he fails to contain his smile for the hundredth time since you appeared.

Jake hears you turn on the sink in the bathroom, yet the ghost of your presence still lingers in the way his body is still warm from your touch—the way he can smell the citrusy undertones of your shampoo.

"...that's what love is. Makes you do all sorts of stupid shit."

[purplegrapevines]

Arcane Preferences/Kinks Headcannons

Pairing: Vi, Caitlyn, Sevika, Grayson, Ambessa, Jayce x fem!reader

Vi

Vi would be a switch. She doesn't seem very kinky, but I feel like she would be into praise and choking. She loves to tell you that you're doing a good job, and she loves hearing the same back. If she's choking you, she'd make sure not to press too hard that you actually couldn't breathe. But she just loves the sight of you underneath her, getting fucked out of your mind with her bandaged hand around your neck.

"Fuck, you look so pretty like this. Getting fucked with my hand around your little neck. You're such a good girl for me."

Caitlyn

She's definitely a dom. I feel like Caitlyn's pretty experienced with sex and various kinks. She's definitely into some bondage and overstimulation. She just wants to make you feel good, even if it gets too much for you. She'd tie you up however she likes and make you take whatever she gives you. She'd press a vibrator to your clit and watch you as you fall apart, no matter how many times you cum.

"Aw, is it too much for my girl? You're too sensitive, baby? C'mon, just one more, just give me one more..."

Sevika

Do I even gotta say she's a hard and mean dom? This woman is definitely kinky as FUCK, too. Heavy bondage, dacryphilia, pet play, denial, spanking, just to name a few. She'd love to put some cat ears on you, and a pretty little tail in you, as you sit in front of her on your knees. She'd ignore you and continue with some paperwork until you're clawing at her knee and begging her to help you. Even after tears stream down your face in frustration, she'd just laugh and mock you.

"Aw, my pet, are you crying? Crying because you want me to touch you, hm? That bad? Fuck, you're so pathetic. You just have to shut up and look pretty for me."

Grayson

Grayson's definitely a gentle dom. She also has a mommy kink, for sure. She'd fuck you slowly on her fingers and praise you for doing so good. She loves hearing your moans and pleas for her to go faster, to touch you more.

"Does my pretty girl want me to go faster? Well, since you've been so good for me, I suppose I can... is this good?"

Ambessa

Hard dom. She would definitely be into size kink, manhandling, mommy kink, spanking kink, and body worship. She loves how big and strong she is compared to you, and how much power she has to be able to contort your body into any position she wants. She loves relaxing on the sofa while you go down and eat her out or kiss all over her body. She'd also love doing the same to you. And if you're a bad girl, she'd have no hesitation to spank you or slap you until you're her good girl again.

"Didn't I tell you to stay still? Aw, you couldn't? The stimulation was too much? I don't care. Over my lap, now. Hey, where do you think you're going? Don't make mommy put you over her lap herself..."

Jayce

Lil subby boy with a praise kink who definitely tries to mask it at first. It would take a while to get him to feel comfortable enough with you to share his preferences/desires. But once he does, he'd love being your good boy and getting praised by you. He'd be nervous and hesitant at first if you asked to peg him, but he trusts you and he'd let you do it eventually. Also mommy kink (sorry, I love this one).

"Mommy, it hurts. Ow, ow... please slower... thank you, mommy. Am I being good for you? Please tell me I'm your good boy. Ah, fuck, it feels so nice... you're so nice to me, mommy..."

[appocalipse]

summary: you were way too drunk last night and said some funny things...so, of course, steve had no other option but take you to his place to take care of you. :)

read part 1 here

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ ⁀➷

Your head hurts.

Everything feels a little weird, in fact, but especially your head, spinning and throbbing and, when you try to pry your eyes open, the sudden harsh light streaming into the room feels like it's physically boring straight through your brain.

"Fuck," you whimper pitifully, eyes squeezing shut once more. Your ears are ringing, there's a coppery film lining the inside of your mouth and, for a terrible second, your stomach churns dangerously. "Fuck."

Someone hums somewhere near your right ear. A low, gravelly, vaguely amused sort of hum. There is absolutely nothing and no one alive on this green earth that would hum in that particular fashion except your best friend.

You peel your eyelids apart with great difficulty. When you tilt your head to the right, you see Steve sitting on the edge of the bed, gazing down at you with a soft look on his face.

Naturally, you proceed to freak the fuck out.

"Jesus Christ," you cry, scrambling backwards until you feel the back of your head slam against the headboard with a resounding thud. The dull throb in the back of your skull intensifies, and you have to fight back the urge to throw up. "Ow! Shit, I—What—what happened? Why are you in my—"

Hold on a second...this is not your room.

You cast an anxious, furtive glance around the unfamiliar setting of Steve Harrington's guest room. Panic floods your veins and has your heart hammering in your chest when you notice that you're clad in only one of his shirts and sweatpants that definitely don't belong to you.

Oh, Dear Lord.

Did something happen last night that you can't remember? Did something — oh, God, no.

Steve raises his eyebrows at you as though he can read your mind. "Relax. Nothing happened, relax, come back down," he coos gently, placing a placating hand on your arm. "And I...I didn't see anything, if that's what you're worried about. Nancy and Robin, uh...they helped you shower and get changed last night. Not me."

You cover your face with both hands, letting out a muffled groan as your memories come trickling back in. You don't remember every little detail from the previous night, but what you do remember is already more than enough to fill you with mortification and regret.

"...you said some pretty interesting things while you were drunk, though."

"Shut up," you mumble, peeking up at him through splayed fingers, "go away."

"Really, though," Steve continues, the teasing glint in his eyes a sure sign that he is very much enjoying your suffering, "who knew you found me so attractive?"

"Oh, Jesus," you mutter, groaning as you slide down to hide underneath the comforter, "where are my clothes? I want to leave now."

Steve snickers but makes no move to get up from his perch on the bed. You can hear the rustling of fabric, like he's adjusting his position as he waits for you to come out from under the blanket. "Clothes are in the wash, sorry," he says, sounding very much not sorry at all. "You, um, thought it was a good idea to lie down on the grass last night."

"Kill me now."

"Nope," he chirps, quite cheerfully so, "can't do that, because then who would watch Back to the Future with me tonight?"

You part the comforter just enough to peer up at him from beneath the thick layer of blanket.

"'Back to the Future'?" you echo, trying to ignore the fact that you feel a little lightheaded when Steve smiles down at you.

He looks nice. He always does, but even more so now for some reason — you're guessing it has something to do with the fact that you just woke up and haven't had the time to mentally prepare yourself for seeing him up close yet.

"Mmhmm. You up for it?"

"I'm pretty sure that my head is literally going to explode any time now." 

It's really not that bad anymore, but Steve doesn't need to know that, does he?

He nods seriously in agreement. "Right, because you drank way more than you should've last night. Might have mentioned something about rules and...mhmm, what was it? Oh, yes, dying if I didn't let you touch my hair…?"

"No, I didn't."

"You really did," he tells you, leaning back on the heels of his palms, "but don't worry, it was cute."

"I am very much worried," you say miserably.

Steve lets out a quiet sigh and leans forward again, hands reaching out to tug the blanket down far enough to uncover your face completely. "Come on," he says, "do you need anything? Aspirin, maybe? Food? Water?"

You consider his offer, taking the time to mull it over while you avoid his gaze. 

"Why did you bring me home with you?" you ask, curious despite yourself. "Why didn't you just take me home?"

"You, uh...really didn't want me to. Pretty much refused to let go of me all night."

"Steve."

"No, really!" he insists, holding both hands up in surrender. "It was like trying to pry a koala off a tree. You even asked—"

You let out a helpless moan of protest and turn away from him as much as you can, hiding your face in the pillow. Steve laughs, clearly delighted by the fact that he's managed to thoroughly embarrass you in less than ten minutes.

"You asked me if I—"

"I don't wanna know!"

"—would sleep in your bed with you."

"Nope," you whisper, your voice coming out a little garbled due to the way you've pressed your face into the pillows, "don't wanna hear it. Shut up, Steve, oh my God. Please."

"It was very adorable."

"I was drunk."

"Still. Cute."

You prop your head up on your elbow so that you can see him a little better, keeping the blanket held tightly around your shoulders as you do. "Sorry I called you. I don't even remember doing it, Tina just told me to and…sorry."

Steve looks down at his lap, shifting a little uncomfortably on the bed.

"I don't mind," he says, lifting his gaze up to meet yours briefly. "You said you missed me. At the party."

A dry, humorless chuckle leaves you and you cringe when the sudden motion sends a sharp pain lancing through your forehead. "Ow. Of course you would remember that," you say, cheeks heating up.

"Do you...remember everything?"

You blink, momentarily confused by the sudden change in conversation. "Everything?" you ask, more to buy yourself some time than anything else.

"You, um..." Steve trails off, clearly unsure of how to broach the topic with you, "you said I made you feel…stuff inside. That you felt stuff. Or something like that. Do you...remember saying that?"

You can practically feel all the color draining out of your face, leaving behind a blank canvas that hides none of your inner panic. 

"Uh...no, no, I don't. Do you have a...I need to, um, use your bathroom, like, right now, if you don't mind."

Steve blinks. "Oh, okay. Sure. I bought you a toothbrush earlier, by the way. It's in the medicine cabinet if...if you want."

"Yep," you say, climbing out from under the blanket with as much dignity as you can muster (which is very little), "yep, okay, thanks. I'm...gonna go do that. Now. Okay, bye."

You spend a good five minutes inside the bathroom splashing water in your face while silently wishing for death to come claim you sooner rather than later. Then, you brush your teeth with the toothbrush Steve left out for you — which is totally not cute, it's not cute, why did he do that, ugh, damn him — before venturing out into the hall.

"Steve?"

"Kitchen," he calls out from somewhere at the bottom of the stairs, "you want pancakes?"

You hesitate.

The idea of staying to have breakfast alone with Steve Harrington seems oddly intimate after last night, a dangerous prospect that will undoubtedly lead to awkward small talk and more teasing. However, he did go out of his way to buy you a toothbrush this morning...

You swallow down the nervousness you feel and pad barefoot down the staircase into the foyer, following the sounds of clinking utensils and soft humming to the kitchen.

Steve looks up from his place at the stove when you appear in the doorway.

"Hey," he greets, giving you a quick once over. "How's your head?"

"Feels like there's a little person in there hitting it repeatedly with a little hammer," you admit, grimacing a little as you come further into the room and sit down at the island. "Thanks, by the way. For helping me out last night. And today. I really am sorry for...um, you know, that."

"'That'?"

You purse your lips and Steve grins.

"Yes, that," you mutter, swiveling your seat from left to right while you watch him attempt to read a recipe on the back of a box of pancake mix. "Drunk me is like, twice as embarrassing as sober me."

"Embarrassing isn't the word I'd use."

"Please," you scoff, "I was pathetic. I could barely walk by myself."

Steve glances back at you. "I didn't think you were pathetic."

You raise an eyebrow at him skeptically.

"Okay, maybe a little pathetic," he concedes with a little snort, "but mostly just…sweet."

"Sweet?"

"Yeah, sweet. Don't know if anyone's ever told you that before."

"Sweet," you say again, the headache suddenly no more than an afterthought. "That's how you'd describe me?"

Steve, apparently having given up on making sense out of the instructions on the back of the box, turns around to lean against the counter behind him and studies you with his arms folded loosely over his chest.

"Yes," he says, tilting his head to the side a little. "Not the word you expected me to say?"

There's something about the way he's looking at you. It's warm and piercing all at once, like he can see right through you. It makes it hard for you to breathe all of a sudden, hard for you to do anything but gape at him like a goldfish that's been pulled out of water.

"Uh, I'm...confused."

"Me too," he admits with a little huff of laughter. "I was thinking about what you said."

"About your hair?"

"No, well, yeah, but—" Steve pauses, dragging a hand down his face with a weary sigh. "Look, what you said to me yesterday, about the things I make you feel, I—"

"I said I'm sorry—"

"Don't apologize," Steve interrupts, shooting you an unamused look, "I'm trying to say something here, come on, give me a sec."

"Right. Sorry. Go on."

"You're not supposed to apologize for apologizing."

"I'm s—okay, right. Mouth shut."

Steve purses his lips to stifle his amusement at your antics. You fold your arms in front of your chest and keep your gaze fixed firmly on the marble countertop as you wait for him to continue.

"I, uh," he says, pushing himself away from the counter so that he can wander over to the other side of the kitchen, where you sit, "I feel things too, you know. With you."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Steve chuckles, scrubbing a hand across the back of his neck as he stops beside you, "'Oh'. Weird, right?"

You'd like to, but can't think of anything clever to say that would serve as a suitable response. You don't think Steve's looking for one, anyway, because he reaches out to tap his fingers lightly on the back of your hand, taking a seat on the stool next to yours.

"S'weird, 'cause I don't know if you meant what you said when you were drunk, or if it was just the alcohol talking, or what."

You shake your head quickly, and then wince because of the way the headache thuds behind your right eye.

"Robin says I'm an idiot and should stop being such a chicken," he continues, with a slight roll of his eyes. "And Eddie says if I don't 'shut up and tell you how I feel soon', he'll do it for me."

You nod, smiling despite your hangover. "Eddie's, uh, got a point, no?"

"Maybe," Steve allows, rubbing absently at the side of his neck.

He lets his hands slide down to the legs of your stool, fingers curling around the metal of each side. You don't quite understand what he's doing until he gives them a light tug, jerking you closer to him without warning.

You let out a little shriek of surprise as you reach up to clutch onto the first solid thing your hands find — his forearms. 

"Ah! What—Steve!"

He's got an amused smile on his face, but his eyes are bright and nervous all at once. Steve pushes your stool even closer to him, until your knees knock against his own and he's forced to lean down to keep his eyes on you.

You hold his gaze steadily as he edges closer. "What are you doing?" you murmur, watching his eyes flit downward to track the movement of your tongue as it peeks out to wet your dry lips.

"Not sure yet," Steve hesitates when your lips are a hairsbreadth apart. He watches, half-dazed, half-entranced by the way you stare back at him, unblinking. "But I've got a theory."

"A theory?"

He lowers his head toward yours. You press your hands flat against the hard plane of his chest to steady yourself, fingers splaying over the soft material of his t-shirt as you curl them around the fabric. Steve exhales, and you can feel his breath on your skin, a soft tickle that raises the goosebumps all over your skin.

"Wanna hear it?"

You nod slowly, aware of the way his eyes darken as they trace your face. He's so close that you can make out the fine dusting of freckles and moles that litter his skin, the long fan of his lashes as they flutter to a close. If you moved even slightly, your lips would brush against his.

"What's your…your theory?" you whisper.

You can feel his heartbeat thudding in his chest as he releases his hold on your stool, lifts both hands up to cradle your face instead. He slides the tips of his fingers along the side of your neck, lets his thumb trace your jaw.

"I think," Steve says, and you can tell he's struggling to string two coherent words together when you feel his thumb quiver against your cheekbone. "I think that, uh, you're—Christ, I—"

His nose brushes against yours and you tilt your chin up instinctively, chasing the brief contact. You smirk. "Christ, you...?"

"Shut up," Steve huffs out a breathless laugh. "I'm getting to it."

"Are you?" you tease, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, your turn to pull him towards you gently.

Steve goes easily, moving his hand from your face to brace the back of your neck. "I think," he starts, eyes crinkling at the corners, "that I might be in love with you."

It's such an unforeseen, unexpected confession that your heart almost gives out in your chest. 

You gape up at him, at his crooked grin, at his rosy cheeks. "You think?"

He blinks and then squints down at you like he can't decide whether he wants to be annoyed at your antics or kiss you. You hope for the latter, but he says, "What're you, a parrot?"

Shrugging, you're unable to keep your lips from quirking into a grin of your own. "Rude."

Steve's head falls forward and he rests his forehead against yours. You can feel his pulse thundering wildly against the hand you've pressed flat against his chest, and it makes you feel a little better about your own pounding heart.

"M'sorry."

You smooth a hand over his shirt and hook a finger under the neckline. "Forgiven," you tell him.

"Good," Steve says, nudging his nose against yours playfully.

You want to say something else, maybe tease him about his hair or something equally as inconsequential, but he doesn't let you. Instead, he leans down and closes the distance between you with a slow, tentative press of his lips to yours.

Now, Steve's mouth is soft and warm, and he kisses you like he's got all the time in the world. You shiver when he drags his fingers up the back of your neck, tangling them in your hair so that he can pull you closer yet.

You only pull back when the need to breathe becomes too urgent, giggling at the little noise of protest he lets out as you do. But Steve is nothing if not persistent, and he pulls you back in almost immediately, the movement so abrupt that you nearly topple backwards off the stool.

"Steve—I..." you manage to say, between your giggles and the heated press of his lips against yours. "I still...need to breathe, mister."

He huffs out a little laugh against the side of your neck, nips at the sensitive skin in retaliation. You squeal in delight and jab him playfully in the stomach, laughing as he recoils in mock agony.

"Stop laughing," Steve complains, the warmth of his own laughter tickling the underside of your chin when he nuzzles his nose into your neck once more, "come on, you're ruining the moment."

"Wait," you breathe, right before his lips meet yours again, "so...no pancakes, then?"

He drops his forehead against your shoulder and shakes with quiet laughter."You," Steve mumbles into the side of your neck, "are something else, you know that?"

You grin. "Apparently, you like that. Love that...no?"

You can feel him smile, the stretch of his lips curving against the skin of your shoulder.

"Apparently...yeah, I do. I do."

[tinyluvs]

Can I get a fic of Reader slapping Spencer's butt for the first time randomly while he is making coffee or walking by and he does know how to react and Reader thinks his confusion is the funniest thing ever. (Up to you if you want to extend it further iykyk)

the mental image this gave me is *chefs kiss* tyyyy so much

the smell of coffee starts to fill spencer's apartment, you give a small sniff to the air, trying to figure out what coffee pods he's using but to no avail, you can't work it out from the bed

with a yawn, you wander down the hallway, smiling to yourself when the sound of classical music pours out from a distant radio, "morning," you hum as you round the corner into the kitchen

spencer startles slightly but turns, back resting against the countertop as he looks at you, all gentle eyes and a soft smile, "morning honey, coffee?" he asks, tilting his head slightly

"please," you answer simply, pulling yourself up onto the corner of the counter. you start to sway to the music, not a personal choice but definitely not the worst thing you could be listening to early in the morning

you watch as spencer finds one of your mugs and one of the pods he had bought specifically for you, "do you want breakfast?" he asks, pushing the mug under the stream of hot water

"no thanks angel, just coffee for now," you mumble through another yawn. he hums, acknowledging your answer while his back is turned towards you.

the coffee machine splutters quietly and seconds later spencer's pushing your coffee mug along the counter with a gentle smile and a nod.

you mornings are always the same. you get your coffee, silently sipping it while your boyfriend moves around the kitchen, making his breakfast without saying a word, just the radio playing softly

by the time you're done with your coffee, spencer has already finished his cereal. you hop off of the counter when he starts to roll up his sleeves, kitchen sink filling with warm water

"thanks pretty boy," you giggle, finally feeling alive and not like you're sleep walking. you reach round one side of his body, dumping the mug into the sink before passing behind his back and without thinking, you slap his ass, not hard but just hard enough to make a sound

spencer makes a noise you've never heard before, a mix of a grunt, shriek and a shout, which makes you jump and whip around to face him again, "what was that? what is wrong with you?" he gasps, eyes wide as his hand flaps to turn the taps off

"have i never slapped your ass before?" you ask slowly before biting down on your bottom lip as you attempt not to laugh at the look of pure horror on his face

his eyes somehow widen even further, just for a second, his head shaking slightly, "what? no!" he huffs, brushing the butt of his trousers with both of his hands

the whole ordeal is too much and it forces you to break out laughing, your hand on the counter as you double over, "i'm sorry," you struggle out between a cackle and a cough

"no you're not," spencer grumbles, arms folding over his chest, "why on earth would you do that?" he asks, seriously, glaring at you fiercely.

it takes longer than you'd like to admit before you're recovering, standing up straight, hands wiping a stray tear off of your cheek, "it's just something people do when they're in relationships, spence," you explain

your boyfriend looks at you completely unconvinced, "why?" he asks again and you're sure you can almost see the cogs turning in his brain

you shrug, "because, people like it, i don't know," you take a step towards him and he takes a step back causing you to snicker, "why, didn't you like it?"

"no!," he shrieks too fast but then his eyes soften and he thinks, hard, "actually, i don't know, it surprised me too much," he says quietly, a red blush passing over his cheeks quickly

your laughing and giggling subsides, "want me to do it again?" you ask, softly, not wanting to make him feel embarrassed about anything

"not now,' spencer says slowly, starting to back away from you, "would probably be awkward now, right? right,” he asks through a nervous chuckle as you start to stalk after him

you hum, not a yes or a no as your eyes travel down to his hands, moving to cover his butt, "spence, i want a kiss, i'm not going to attack you," you do giggle this time

spencer makes a slight oh sound before crowding into your space for kisses, lots of little ones, tasting like coffee before he's kissing you a little longer and slightly deeper. he gets distracted, his hands sliding over your waist, just like you knew he would

"aha!" you cry, victorious, as both of your hands slap at his ass before he knows what's happening. you turn on your heel as he gasps, loudly, taking off back towards the bedroom

"i'll get you," he shouts, only a few steps behind you. it's your turn for your hands to shield your butt now, zigzagging your way down the hall until you're launching yourself into the air and landing on the bed, pressing your back down into the mattress with a giggle

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily !! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

+

i like to think that spencer does like it, eventually. blushes when you walk past n gently tap at his ass BUT going up stairs in front of you gives him the FEAR to the point you just tease him about it

[russellsppttemplates]

I'm always over the moon (Lando Norris)

A look into your and Lando's little life moments

Note: english is not my first language. It's fluffy, so you know I pratically melted (and am now feeling single in about seventeen different levels)✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions accident drop of a glass and possibility of injury

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

Today's training session was particularly hard, Jon having Lando run a considerable amount of kilometres more than the usual distance followed by a weights session. By the time he was finished his cryotherapy session, he was more than ready to go home and snuggle up to you in the sofa.

Setting his keys on the little bowl by the door, Lando left his shoes on the coat cabinet by the door before walking to the ensuite bathroom where he heard noise from.

"I'm home, baby", he said, crossing the corner and resting his body on the side of the door, watching you rub product on your face.

"Hey, Lan", you smiled at him through the mirror, putting the lid on the pot you were using and storing it away.

Approaching him, you laced your arms around his neck, fingers playing with the curls ay the nape of his neck, "how was your session?", you wondered before kissing his lips.

"It was a killer, Jon set out to push me to the limit today", he hummed, hands finding your waist and holding your body close to his, "and you?", he checked.

"I worked all day, finally finished the prototypes for the next Quadrant campaign, then I worked out and I was just finishing my shower when you arrived", you added.

"I should've come home earlier, I could have joined you in there", he smirked, lowering his head to your neck and kissing the skin softly, earning your giggles as you squirmed.

"You're tickling me", you smiled, curling yourself closer against him, "but it's alright, baby, we'll do it another time".

When you separated yourself from his slightly, Lando noticed what you were wearing, "ugh, baby, I don't know what would be better, getting home when you were in the shower or this", he complimented.

"What do you mean?", you scrunched your eyebrows, looking down at your outfit. Because you had moisturised your whole body, from head to toe, after your workout, you decided to put on your tiny pyjamas shorts and one of Lando's t-shirts, the bottom piece fitting your thighs loosely while his t-shirt fit snug on your hips and chest, the fabric leaving little to the imagination. Even though he knew everything it kept away, he loved the way your curvilinear body looked in his t-shirt.

"I love it when you wear my clothes, they look so good on you, too god even", he nibbled on your ear lobe, hands tapping your thighs so you knew to jump and wrap your legs around his waist.

"I thought you were too tired, baby", you brushed the curls away from his eyes, "I am, but that doesn't mean I won't spend the evening glued to you", he winked, carrying you to the sofa in the living room, laying you both down and wrapping you both in a blanket.

"Can't have you feeling cold, baby", he mumbled, fixing the blanket before his hand travelled under the t-shirt and settled on your tummy, making you hum in content, "I love you, baby", you cooed.

.

"Alright, let's get to work!", Lando clapped after setting the last box on the living room floor.

When you moved all of the things you wanted to Monaco, Lando insisted you should bring your favourite books, reasoning that the apartment should also have some of your things instead of just his helmets for decoration. So, three boxes were shipped with your favourite book collections and stand alones and, you and Lando took the afternoon to organise them.

"I get this can be boring for you, Lan, I can do it myself if you want to go stream or just game", you added, kissing his cheek lovingly.

"Absolutely not, baby, I want to help you! So, how do you want this?", he asked as he looked at what was in the boxes, "do you want to do this by colour? Genre? Date? The ones you've read and the ones you haven't read yet", he suggested.

"We can go a bit with the colour schemes you already have with the helmets", you tried, looking over at the colour palette the books made up.

Wiping the shelves one last time, you sat on the floor and handed the books over to your boyfriend, guiding him through the order and way you wanted to display them.

"Oh, I remember this one - I read it to you the first time I spent the night at your place! You didn't want to seem weird and admit you needed to read a little before going to bed and thought you could go without it for one night!", he smiled at the memory, "Little did you know that it was another one of the things that attracted me to you and I was more than happy to read to you", he winked, leaving you flustered as you handed him the next book, "very smooth, Mr. Norris", you blushed.

"I like to keep you on your toes", he chuckled, "next, there's room for that big collection there", he pointed to the eight books that shared the same design, "might be a tight squeeze, but I think it's fine", he muttered as you handed him the books.

By the time you finished, the living room looked like a good mixture of you and Lando. The books added a pop of colour and softer tone along with the new picture frames you scattered.

"It looks great", Lando said, pulling you closer to him as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, "our home is coming together nicely", he kissed the side of your head.

.

"They can spend the day, of course I don't mind", you smiled as you out the cutlery away in the drawer.

"It's your home too, baby, just wanted to make sure you're fine with it", Lando reasoned as he wiped the counter.

It was still weird to refer to the apartment as your home, but you wouldn't have it any other way. Closing the door and moving to the cups drying on the counter, you grabbed a tea towell and started drying them before setting them in the cupboard.

"I'll make sure to not make too much noise, or I can go and work at the café down the street, it's - shoot!", you cursed as the glass slipped from your hold, falling on the floor and shattering into little pieces.

"Careful, darling, you might hurt yourself more", Lando urged, stretching his arms and helping you stand where there were no glass shards.

"I'm sorry, I thought the towell wasn't that slippery", you said as Lando scanned your hands for any cuts or injuries, moving to your feet and ankles.

"It's okay, baby, I don't care about the glass, I care about you", he kissed your fingers, "there's a little graze here", he pointed to the small nick on your skin, "go wash it off while gather these", he kissed your cheek and looked for the broom.

Making sure he had sweeped all of it and then passing the vacuum cleaner just to make sure, Lando finished putting the glasses away as you stood by the door, "it's fine,Y/N, we'll go to IKEA and get a new one", he conforted, "now, are we ready for bed?", he wondered as he held your hand as you walked to the bedroom.

.

"My shoulders are killing me, I think I slept funny", you mumbled, trying to find a good position against the office chair, Lando's look questioning your movements.

"Are you in pain? You should've said something", he tutted, hands coming to rub the muscles along your shoulders and neck as Ria went over the latest filming plans.

"Y/N, are you okay, girl?", Ria asked, concerned at the faces you were pulling, "are you sure he's helping you rather than making it worse?", she teased.

"Hey!", Lando yelled, "I'm trying to be a great boyfriend, making sure she's feeling well and taken care of! I think that's jealousy", he smirked, poking his tongue out at her.

"It's feeling good, handsome, especially right there", you groaned, earning a whistle from Max.

"If you guys need a room, I'm sure they can find something relatively kept away!", he laughed, luckily missing the pillow your boyfriend threw at him, "no need to resort to violence, guys!".

"Bring that pillow over here, please, I actually need it", you asked him, taking it from his hands as he quickly walked away, "what, are you afraid I was going to make you trip?", you giggled.

"I don't know, the two of you are never up to any good!", Max raised his hands in defense as Lando kissed your forehead, "He's just jealous because we're a great team and P isn't here with him".

.

Weekends with no racing and no plans quickly became your favourite because you were able to spend as much time as you possibly could with Lando, the triple header ahead of you already promising to make spending time just with him on your own a bit difficult.

When Lando woke up like clockwork, he stretched his neck just enough to watch you sleep cuddled up to his side, your hand grabbing a handful of the sheets that were keeping you warm as you peacefully slept, and knowing how much Quadrant had kept you up late that past week, he thought it would be nice to let you sleep for a bit longer.

Carefully getting up to not wake you up, Lando kissed your cheek soflty and made his side of the bed, tucking the sheets around your body as he lightly kissed your head one last time before he went to the ensuite to change into his workout clothes.

Heading to the kitchen, Lando filled his water bottle and grabbed a pre-workout snack to take to the home gym. Looking at the equipment in the room and the cardio indications Jon had sent him, he decided that he was going on the bike, figuring that, even though the sound isolation was pretty good, it would be the least likely to make too much noise to the point of waking you up, following up with some weights and then stretching.

He was all sweaty when he walked back into the bedroom, ready to have a shower when he heard the sheets ruffling, "hey, baby, good morning", he smiled, "you can go back to sleep, I just need to take a shower, I'm sorry I woke you up", he pouted.

"Morning", you yawned, "I'm going to shower with you", you smiled sleepily, getting up and joining him in the ensuite.

Leaving your clothes in a pile on the floor, Lando got the shower started, making sure the water was warm as you both liked before stepping in with you, letting the water wash away before you grabbed your shower gel, lathering it on Lando's hands and then on yours as you both helped the other wash off, stealing kissing and caresses along the way.

When you got back to the bedroom and dressed in lounge wear clothes, you were ready to have breakfast, finding the overnight oats in the kitchen, "I don't mind if you want to eat something else", Lando offered.

"These are good, I don't mind it", you said, "but I am going to make my latte because my brain can't go without the caffeine", you scrunched up your nose, earning his giggles as you turned on the coffee machine.

"Can I have a little sip, please?", Lando asked once you frothed up the milk, "of course, here baby", you encouraged, bringing the mug up to his lips and having your hand form a shell under it just in case it spilled.

Lando was left with a little foam moustache, earning a giggle from you as you kissed him, "my little frothy man", you cupped his cheek before kissing him properly, "I love you, Y/N", he whispered, pulling you into his embrace.

.

"You pick the movie, I have to go pee", you said to your boyfriend, letting him walk inside the living room as you continued down the hall to the bathroom.

For tonight's plan, you and Lando decided to stay in and cook together, wanting to enjoy the small task without rushing or heating up something from his meal plan, still making something healthy and approved by his team.

When you got back to the living room,

Lando had his Spotify app on the TV, a slow song you recognised from his brother's wedding playlist ready to play, "would you do me the honour of joining me in this dance?", he asked, kissing your knuckles before looking up at you, eyes sparkly as you replied, "yes, I will", you smiled, allowing him to push you flush to his chest, slowdancing in the living room once he started the song, your head in his chest listening to his steady heartbeat.

"Everyday I thank my lucky starts that we met, that I was bold enough to ask you out and that you've stayed with me all of these years", he broke the silence as he unattached his lips from your temple, "and I never want to loose this, little touches, giggles, wins and losses, all of it", he smiled.

"You're the best thing that has happened to me, Lando", you cupped his face in your hands, thumbs brushing his cheeks as he smiled, "I can only hope you feel as happy as I do when I'm with you".

"Darling, with you, I'm always over the moon", he giggled, kissing your lips softly as he stumbled you two into the sofa, roaming hands and tongues battling eachother as a night of love and passion unfolded.

[moonchildstyles]

Ooooh I would love to see Prosecco h taking care of his pretty girl when she is sick :( and maybe she doesn’t tell him she’s sick but he finds out and is like 🥺

sooooo! I changed this just a little but I hope you still like it! thank you sm for requesting!!!!

wordcount: 7.5k

—————

(Y/N) smiled, listening back to the voicemail Harry left for her this morning. 

Those small gifts had become her favorite thing to wake up to, eager to hear his voice and know that he was thinking of her even when he had been in a rush to get to the office. More often than not, she was greeted with a stream of consciousness message about all of the things he was doing or needed to get done before he could head out, along with tender declarations that he would talk to her soon, and that she was on his mind. It was never anything particularly grand or cloyingly romantic, but (Y/N) saved every single one of them. Hearing his voice was a part of her morning routine now, she couldn't go without. 

Though she was just as in love with this recording as the others, there was a slight sticky quality to his voice this morning. It was extra thick, seemingly heavy on his tongue as if he had a stuffy nose. But, he didn't mention anything about feeling under the weather. 

She would have to check up on him later, she decided. Send him a text or call him on his lunch to make sure it wasn't anything more than allergies or those cold symptoms that seemed to pop up in the morning before a cup of coffee could flush out his sinuses. 

Once the voicemail ended, Harry finishing with a small "I love you", (Y/N) pulled the phone from her ear, scanning through the rest of the notifications she ignored in favor of hearing his voice. There was nothing more to read than a couple of flags reminding her the schedule she had input on her phone and some social media messages from the girls she was growing closer to from her classes. 

Bypassing those minute messages, she pulled up Harry's contact thread. Typing out a message, she reveled in the soft cushioning of her bed with her boyfriend on her mind. 

     i just listened to ur voicemail🤍 i hope ur day gets less busy but I love u too soooo much 

     also it sounded like u were a little sick over the phone are u okay?:( 

Starting her day slowly, (Y/N) took her time getting ready, checking her phone here and there in hopes of receiving a response from Harry. It wasn't until she had a cardigan draped over her shoulders and bag on her shoulder, walking out the door, that her phone vibrated. 

Though she knew that Harry would scold her if he saw how distracted she was crossing the parking lot to her car, phone in hand, she didn't really care. Especially when it was his notification that she was enamored with. 

H🤍       My day's already getting better since hearing from you, love. Would it be alright if I call you on my lunch? I miss you. 

      No, I'm not sick, just allergies. Thank you for checking on me🩷

Her heart bubbled in her chest as she climbed into her car, a bashful grin splitting her cheeks. She could hear his messages in his voice, lingering over the soft sentiment that he missed her. Before pulling out of the parking lot she made sure to let him know that she was more than okay with him giving her a call later, attaching multiple hearts and kisses to the text. 

She hoped she made him smile like he did for her. 

—————

Blindly reaching for her phone to cancel her alarm, (Y/N) barely cracked her eyes open when she brought the device to her face. The time blinked up top, an early class alarm having pulled her from her dreams. Thursdays were always the worst day of the week in her eyes; she had to wake up extra early, wait around on campus after her morning classes ended because the hour-long gap between her afternoon courses was too short to head home, and most of her deadlines were set for 11:59pm that night. She dreaded starting her day when it came to Thursdays. 

Allowing herself a moment of reprieve, taking an extra long blink of her eyes, (Y/N) finally sat up with the motivating thought of seeing what Harry had left her in his voicemail. 

Blinking the sleep from her gaze, she swiped through her phone with sleep-shaky fingers. She absently pulled up her call log, expecting to see a missed call from Harry, attached with a voicemail to start her day with. 

When there was no red bubble denoting a notification or a text message informing her of a missed voicemail, (Y/N) blinked extra hard in hopes of clearing her vision. When she recovered, coming to her senses more and more, there was still nothing to be seen. 

Harry hadn't called her. 

A pout formed on her lips. He never missed calling her in the morning. Since this had become a regular thing, there was never a morning Harry missed greeting her, starting both of their days off with a sweet message. She hoped he was alright. 

Pulling up his text thread, she typed out a quick message.

       good morning honey ! are you doing okay? i didn't get a voicemail from u so I wanted to make sure !! miss and love u so much call me when you can:))))) 

When the receipts didn't quickly change to read, she took in a sigh. While it wasn't like him, there was a possibility that he woke up too late in the morning to give her a call like usual and didn't have time. There was always the chance that he had taken a late night hours before, working hard and allowing him to lie in this morning. 

(Y/N) was willing to convince herself of either scenario, pushing her imagination along with the terrible ideas sprouting. She just hoped he was okay.

—————

Sitting in the quad, breathing in the first airs of autumn with her headphones covering her ears, (Y/N) didn't rush away from her textbook when she felt her phone vibrate. Finishing off her notes, she waited a moment longer, rereading what she had transcribed before plucking up her phone. The name on her notification had her heart skipping a beat

H🤍

     Sorry, sweetheart. I woke up late this morning, and have been rushing around the offie all day. I didn't mean to ignore you, I'm so so sorry. Maybe I can call you tonight, on my way home? Love you so much.

Her lashes fluttered as she blinked, reading over his message. Honestly, a chunk of worry she hadn't realized she had been holding onto evaporated. The reassurance that he was okay, and none of the haywire scenarios that she had forced to the back of her mind had even been a little true, was freeing. He was just having a Thursday, just like she was. 

      don't be sorry im just happy youre okay!!! im sorry youre having a rough day:( is there anything i can do to help?????

      yes yes please call me later:( I miss you:(

      love you moooooooore :)  

The time between the moment she had sent off her last message to the receipts flipping from delivered to read was almost instantaneous. The three grey dots popped up on the side of her screen just after. 

H🤍

        You don't need to do anything for me, sweetheart, you're already helping. My afternoon is going to be busy, but I should be out of here around the normal time so I'll call you around then. I miss you too.

       It didn't feel right not to call you this morning, but I didn't have time. I think it threw me off. 

       Love you most:)

Laying back on the grass, music still fluttering through her speakers, (Y/N) smiled up at her phone as she held it over her face. It was always especially cute when he would add little emoticons or emojis to his messages. 

     i missed hearing u this morning too but its okay !!!! don't stress urself out too much this afternoon though just call me when you can  🩷🩷🩷🩷

     i have to get to class now but ill talk to you later :)))) 

Harry's response came in the form of a string of hearts being sent her way, the messages making her smile before she pocketed her phone. Now that the anxious urgency she had before was now melted away, she took her time gathering her things and heading towards her next class. 

Everything was turning up, she decided. Thursday was almost over, Harry was okay, and she now could look forward to a phone call from him this evening. 

All she had to do was get through this final class.

—————

"Hi, honey," (Y/N) smiled, pressing her phone to her ear as soon as she saw the call blinking across the screen.

On the other line, there was a slight rustle. "Hi, love," Harry finally murmured, his breath coming out heavy, "What are you doing?" 

"Nothing," she sang, closing her laptop lid in favor of focusing on Harry, "Just waiting for you. Did you just get home?" 

"Yeah," he sighed once more, "Been a long day. Sorry to keep you waiting." 

(Y/N) shook her head even though she was well aware of the fact he couldn't see her. "Don't be sorry, H, stop. I'm sorry you had a bad day, what happened?" 

Before he could answer, a rattling cough was heard over the receiver. Harry seemingly pulled the phone away from himself, the sound growing more distant before he returned a beat later. "Sorry, I jus—" 

"Are you getting sick?" She didn't quite believe his explanation of allergies anymore. 

"No, love," Harry muttered, his voice suddenly sounding thicker than (Y/N) remembered, a sniffle of his nose sounding a moment later. "I've jus' had a long day is all. 'M a little run down." 

That didn't ease her any. (Y/N)'s lips thinned, a pinch appearing in between her brows. "It's okay if you're getting sick, H. I'm worried you're not taking care of yourself." 

"'S not like that, sweetheart, I promise. After I get through tomorrow, everything will calm down and I'll be fine. Don't worry over me, okay?" 

Every word that fell from his lips sounded less and less convincing. He definitely sounded sick with the way he gummed around his words through a thick throat, his breathing coming a bit heavier as if he couldn't breathe through his nose, and his reassurances sounded exactly like someone who was getting sick but didn't want to admit it would say. 

Harry took her silence for exactly what it was: her disbelief. "(Y/N), love, I really am jus' tired. Thank you for worrying about me, but y'don't have to. 'M alright." 

She swallowed. She supposed he really could be experiencing those cold symptoms for no other reason than the fact that he's tired, and has been going through a couple of long nights. With the weekend coming up, she too could argue that she wasn't feeling well enough to finish out her week, for no other reason than she would prefer to sleep in and do nothing instead of attending class. 

"Okay," she relented, "Sorry to interrogate you, I've just never heard you sound like this before." 

"I know, 's okay. But I promise I'm alright. I still need to take you to the aquarium this weekend, remember?" 

(Y/N) immediately brightened up at the reminder of their weekend plans. "Yeah, so you better not be sick then. I have to see the sharks." 

"Trust me, I know. You've said that almost every day since we booked the tickets." His voice took on a faux-exasperated tone, as if he couldn't wait to be done with their plans for no other reason than she would stop bringing them up.

A peal of laughter left her lips as she curled up on her couch, getting more comfortable now that she was talking with him. "You're so mean," she bubbled, "This is what I get for worrying about you? Maybe you should be sick and I'll just go alone." 

"As if you'd drive yourself there." 

Yeah, he was definitely feeling fine.

—————

While she was disappointed, (Y/N) wasn't surprised to see the lack of voicemail left for her when she rolled over on Friday morning. On the phone the night before, Harry had told her that he had another early morning coming, and it wasn't a secret just how rundown he was feeling. She had hoped, in the back of her mind, that he could be feeling well enough to send her a message in the morning anyway, but she couldn't blame him for opting to sleep a little bit longer before heading out the door. 

Nonetheless, she still sent him his own good morning text, hoping it would brighten his day and remind him that it was finally Friday. He'd made it through the week and could now look forward to their plans. 

      morning honey!! i hope you have a better day but its friday!!!! we get to see each other tomorrow!!!!! text me when you can love uuuuuuu

Setting her phone on her nightstand, she proceeded to start her own day. Maybe, on the way to campus, she'd stop and get herself a matcha latte. It really had been a long week.

—————

     just went to study in the quad and it started raining AS SOON as I sat down:( I had to run and take all my stuff back to my car:( and I think I forgot my favorite pen on accident :( 

Pressing send, (Y/N) added her new lunchtime message to the string of blue messages she'd already sent that had gone unanswered. Even the read receipts hadn't flipped to anything other than delivered since her morning text hours ago. Of course there had been times where he hadn't gotten back to her by the time she had sent another text, as well as the other way around, this was just slightly out of the range of normal. 

Being with him for almost a year allowed her to learn some of his schedule. She knew what his day to day must look like, just from the fact that he usually texted her, called her, or made plans around certain times of the day. It wasn't hard to pick up on the fact that around eleven-thirty he took a small break from his morning paperwork because that was when he would send her a message if he could. His lunch was always placed around twelve to one, something she learned because that was when he would ask if she wanted to come visit him, or he'd place a call to her while he ate. He left the office at the same time everyday, sometimes a little earlier and sometimes a little later. 

With the time blinking past one-thirty with no phone call, text, or even the reading of her messages, (Y/N) didn't want to be worried but she was. 

There were so many things that could have gone wrong, she figured. Her list of scenarios started with his phone breaking beyond repair, and ended with her sitting in a hospital waiting room. More than half of her worries were irrational, but that was unfortunately how her brain operated at times.

Without second guessing, (Y/N) pulled up Harry's contact before pressing the call button. As it rang and rang, she knew what the outcome was going to bet but she still hung on to the final trilling noise until it finally ended. The generic voicemail greeting played in her ear before she tapped the red end button. 

Rationalizing herself, (Y/N) had to remember the way he had talked about how busy today was going to be for him. This week was all about prepping for a large conference meeting that would be taking place on Monday, including hours of paperwork, presentation reviews, and running in and out of meetings with other executives. While she thought she knew his day-to-day schedule rather well, that didn't mean that day like this wouldn't force him to deter. It was more than just a possibility that he really was that busy that he wouldn't be able to get back to her before he left the office. 

He would call her when he could. 

—————

      goodnight! i hope youre okay honey just text me when you can

      I love u 

(Y/N) wasn't even sure how long she looked at her phone screen, waiting for the receipts to change when she sent her final message for the day. The thread consisted of blue messages she had sent through the day, no response in between. Her call log had three unanswered calls on the list, all outgoing to Harry. 

It wasn't until six p.m. rolled around without a single response from him that she was unable to fight back the worst case scenarios she had rolling around her head. This just wasn't like him. He never stayed that late at the office. There was no way that through over twelve hours, that he didn't have a single second to even react to one of her texts, even just a short one telling her that he was okay but would be staying late. 

Dropping the phone to fall in her sheets, her hands limp at her side, (Y/N) stared up at the ceiling. Something was wrong. Even if all it came down to was that he was so overworked that he fell asleep as soon as he made it home, that thought didn't exactly soothe her. It was scary thinking that something could have been so intense—work, meetings, preparations for the following week—that he didn't even have the mind to text her during his lunch. She just hoped he was alright. 

She'd give it until the morning, she decided. Sunday was their aquarium date, and if she didn't hear from him by lunchtime tomorrow, then she was going to go to his apartment and see what was going on. 

(In a very small part of her mind, a place she had shoved to the very back after everything with Andrew and Iris had been flushed away, she had the insecure thought that he could possibly, maybe, perhaps be ghosting her. While she could never imagine Harry, the king of communication, to go the route of ignoring her as a breakup option, that logic didn't necessarily win out against irrational insecurity). 

Hopefully, giving him the night to rest and recuperate would be exactly what he needed, allowing him to get back on his feet tomorrow and reach out to her with everything she missed the day before. 

Now, she just needed to figure out how she was going to get to sleep. 

—————

There was no way she was going to get to sleep tonight. 

Her brain was too preoccupied to settle, that much was apparent. She pretended as if she wasn't waiting for a notification to vibrate her phone with the way she picked up the book she was borrowing from Harry, barely reading any of the pages. She scrolled through her socials, distracting herself with videos and posts or whatever was fed to her to keep her from pulling down the top bar and checking for any messages she could have blinked through. More than once during her attempts at staying away from her phone, rolling away from her night stand and nestling into the sheets, she reached for it anyway. 

This cyclical routine led her to stare up at the ceiling at one in the morning, phone at her side lest she get a message and not hear the buzz for whatever reason. 

The later the hours got, the more her brain went wild. What if something happened and no one knew to contact her? What if he was really trying to break up with her through ghosting? What if no one even knew he was hurt in the first place and Harry was alone, scared? What if, what if, what if.

Throwing her comforter off her body, (Y/N) sat up in haste. She fit her phone into the pocket of her sweatpants before she was trekking through her apartment, heading to her kitchen. Flicking on the light, she stalked towards her cabinets as if she wasn't itching to grab her phone. Pulling out a glass, she filled it with water and took a long sip. Hoping the cold temperature would soothe her brain and settle the unease in her stomach, she stayed in her kitchen, leaning up against her oven, as she drained the glass. 

When there was nothing left in the glass aside from a few drops and her anxiety was still flitting through her veins, (Y/N) felt restless. 

What else was there to do? There was no way to fix this problem, but she couldn't see herself getting over it enough to actually get any rest. Her body had convinced herself something was wrong even if she tried to reason with herself otherwise. There was no way she was going to be able to beat out the quivering her stomach and rattling of her brain with logic. 

Pulling her phone from her pocket, she checked once more for a notification that wasn't there. Swiping through to the text thread itself, she saw it was still the same string of unanswered blue texts sitting in the black void. 

Rolling her lips between her teeth, she shifted her weight where she stood. 

Would she be crazy to even consider going to his house right now? 

She, unfortunately, couldn't stray her mind very far from the awful possibility that something could have happened, that Harry could be needing someone, and that was why he hadn't been able to contact her. It was a completely irrational, worst-case-scenario mindset, but one that couldn't be tamped down for very long.

(Y/N) just wanted to make sure he was alright.

That was all she could think of when she pushed off of the counter, heading towards her bedroom with a purpose. She tugged on a heavy hoodie, the oversized shape blending with her sweatpants, before she slid on a pair of slippers. She pulled her hair out of her face into a messy twist, chunky clip on the back of her head. Grabbing her keys and bag, she didn't give herself enough time to second-guess anything before she was beelining towards the front door. 

By the time she made it to her car, key in the engine and dash lights illuminating the space, (Y/N) was convinced she'd lost it. 

Nonetheless, she backed out of her space and started towards Harry's home.

—————

Using the key Harry had given her months back, (Y/N) let herself into his house. The lights were off throughout the space. His shoes were in a neat line along the wall, his jacket carefully hung up, and his work bag set up by the door like usual. Everything was immaculately perfect, as if he took his time and didn't rush a single step. (Y/N) rolled her lips between her teeth. 

She set her bag down by his, kicked her slippers off the same, before peering around the living room. His kitchen was clean as far as she could tell, no crumbs or even takeout containers on the counters. 

Her stomach sunk as she scaled his stairs. She was officially acting insane, wasn't she? Harry was obviously fine, and she just couldn't let him have a day to himself, could she? This is what happens when she obsesses over things, she ends up looking like a fool, and it—

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks as she stepped into Harry's room, the door having been cracked before. 

In his bed, Harry was curled up in a bundle of wrinkled sheets. Large comforters were draped over his form with more sitting on the end of the bed. A sliver of his face could be seen, his brows furrowed in distress with his forehead shimmering with sweat. The lump of bedding shook as he shivered underneath the mountain of down. Did he know his teeth were chattering? Did he know he was making these slight whimper tones? 

With her concern skyrocketing, (Y/N) crossed the space to his bed in quick strides. Up close, she could see the flush on his cheeks, the dry skin of his lips, the way he had his arms bundled over his chest as if he was still freezing under all the blankets and the hoodie he had on. 

And he said he wasn't feeling sick. 

"Harry?" she murmured, crawling onto his bed as she reached to place a hand on his forehead. She cringed at the feel of the damp skin, too hot to be healthy. He didn't even stir at her disturbance. "Harry?" 

In a fluttering blink, Harry suddenly woke up, a hurried gasp filling his lungs. It took a moment for him to catch his bearings, his eyes darting around the space before they settled on her. His gaze was bleary, unfocussed as he attempted to take her in.

"(Y/N)?" he croaked, voice crackling and dry. 

No wonder he couldn't call her, he barely had a voice. (Y/N)'s heart cracked just a bit as she looked at him, settling on his bed with her legs folding up underneath her. 

"Hi," she smiled at him, hoping to soothe him just a little, "I thought you said you weren't getting sick remember?" 

"Yeah," he answered in a breath, his eyelids going heavy once more as he sunk into the bedding, "I don't want to be sick." 

"I know," she murmured, "But it's going to be okay, we'll get you better again." 

A slight curl landed on his lips as she spoke. "Are you staying?" 

"Of course, I am," she promised, running a hand through his hair, pushing the strands off of his forehead. Harry happily pressed into her hand, seeking out her warmth as another shiver wracked through his system. As sweet as she thought it was, she was less than impressed with just how intense his fever was. "When was the last time you took medicine?" 

"I don't know," he mumbled, voice thick as his eyes shuttered closed, "I don't know if I have any." 

"Harry, you're joking." He had to be, really. There was no way that her responsible Harry didn't have any kind of cold medicine at his disposal. 

A smile once more tugged at the corners of his lips. "Maybe," he shrugged, "I can't remember." 

(Y/N) sighed, knowing she was going to have to ransack his house and try to find any kind of medicine she could get him to take when he was a little more lucid. Until then, she was going to start small. 

"Have you been drinking water?" 

"Don't know." 

Harry shivered as she looked towards his bedside table, finding not even a half finished glass of water waiting. She had reason to assume that he hadn't been lucid enough to even remember to hydrate during this whole thing. 

"(Y/N)?" Harry crooned, voice too thick to be comfortable. 

"Hm?" she hummed, carding her fingers through his hair once more. 

Keening into her touch, he spoke with his eyes closed. "I'm tired." 

"I know," she murmured, brows pinching when another shiver wracks his body, "You can sleep, honey. I'll find some medicine for you, and everything when you wake up, okay?" 

"Okay," he sighed, completely compliant to whatever she had to say. Shifting under her palm, he turned his head until her palm was grazing the planes of his face. He puckered his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her palm. "I missed you." 

"I missed you, too, honey." 

She watched as a sleepy smile bloomed on his features before he sunk into his pillow, heavy blankets set on his form. He was out, just like that. 

Watching over him, (Y/N) felt a guilty sense of relief as she saw a shiver roll down his spine. She didn't like seeing him so down, obviously out of it with fever chills going through his body, but this was a decidedly nicer outcome than the panic scenarios she had swirling through her head. 

Giving him one more pass of her fingers through his hair, she backed off his bed. She doubted he would be sleeping very soundly, so she didn't have much time to go through and find all of the things he would need to get him through the night. 

His bedroom door was left cracked open as she padded through his home. There was no way he didn't have any medicine laying around, she was sure of it. She just needed to find it. 

"Shoot," (Y/N) murmured under her breath, fumbling through the cabinet in his first floor bathroom.

She was going to have to call the aquarium in the morning and reschedule their reserve tickets. 

—————

"Harry? You've got to wake up for me, honey."

Harry wanted to open his eyes, he really did, but no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't. He was too tired, too cold, too enveloped in his vivid dreams. 

"Just for a second then you can go back to sleep, okay?" 

Taking in a heavy breath through his sore throat, Harry attempted once more to crack his eyes open. This time around he was successful to a small degree, his eyes opening into slits. Everything was a bit blurry, too hazy to make out exact details of what was around him. He was so cold—freezing even. The blankets weren't enough. 

Above him, he saw who he was ninety-eight percent sure was (Y/N). There were vague memories of seeing her earlier in the night. He remembered the shape of her smile, the sound of her voice, her gentle touch through his hair. He thought he had been dreaming, 

"You're here?" he croaked, deep crackles in his voice. 

"I am, yeah," she crooned to him, shuffling closer to him, "And I have medicine for you to take." 

"You do?" A sudden chill swept over his form. He burrowed deeper under his covers. 

"Yeah, but you need to sit up for me so you can take it and drink some water." 

His brow creased her words. "No," he whined, unwilling to abandon his cocoon for something so trivial like water. 

"Yes," (Y/N) argued, "You're sick, H. You need to take some medicine so you can feel better." 

He shook his head. "I'll get better later." 

A soft peal of laughter filled his bedroom. "I think we should get better now, honey. I know you don't like being sick, so this will help it go away faster." 

Her logic checked out, really, though it didn't really make him happy to admit. "Fine," he answered begrudgingly. 

(Y/N) helped him sit up, his layers of blankets falling to his lap. His palms were sweaty as he clutched the hem of the comforters, his eyes going just a bit less bleary the more he blinked away his sleep. 

At his side, (Y/N) was huddled amongst the folds of his bedding. She looked at him with a softened smile, eyes glancing over his features and whatever state he must be in. 

"How are you feeling?" she asked, reaching behind herself to grab both the medicine and the water she had waiting for him.

Harry shrugged, his head feeling too heavy. "Tired," he grumbled, "I have a fever, don't I?" 

Her smile downturned some, frowning at the edges. "Yeah. I don't know how high, but I think it's a pretty good one," she told him, "So we need to make sure you keep drinking and start taking medicine again." 

 "That sounds like a lot of work." 

A huff of laughter fell from (Y/N)'s lips again. "I'm sure it will be, but I don't think it'll be much work for you." Before he could compute some kind of retort, (Y/N) was handing him a duo of pills and a glass of water. "Only sip the water, okay? Too much could make you sick." 

Her voice was like static in the background as he moved with lethargic limbs, tossing the pills to lay on his tongue before taking down a large gulp of water. He could vaguely hear her scolding him for taking down too much right after she warned him to slow down. 

"Sorry, sorry," he told her, throat not feeling quite as rough now that he drank something. "'M thirsty." 

"I'm sure you are, but you need to be careful," she told him, her voice a soft soothe as she took the glass from his hand and back to the side table, "Just take it slow. Are you hungry?" 

Trying to remember the last meal he had, Harry struggled to cast his mind that far back. While he didn't necessarily identify any hunger pains in his body at the moment, too much else going on, he figured they were buried somewhere amongst the crowded chaos. 

"Yeah," he answered, voice thick through his burning throat, "A little." 

"Let me go make you some soup, okay? After you eat, you can go back to sleep if you want." 

(Y/N) made a move to shuffle off of his bed, but she didn't get very far when he reached out with heavy limbs to pull her back. "'M not that hungry," he murmured, "Stay." 

"Harry," she started, her tone turning into a coaxing plea, "I'll be fast, and you need to eat, okay?" 

Disregarding her attempt at reasoning, he proceeded to tug her back to his chest. Though he didn't feel particularly strong at the moment, (Y/N) helped by moving pliantly wherever he wanted, even helping him when he shifted them to lay beneath the covers together. 

"'M too tired," he said, nosing at the curve of her neck, "I'll eat later." 

"Harry," she sighed once again, "I was going to make that soup you like, though." 

He only shook his head, pressing the tip of his cold nose into the column of her throat. He buried himself close against her, feeding into her warmth and the comfort the soft curves of her body provided. 

"Later," he insisted, her voice slurring and weakening. He puckered his dry lips and gave a small kiss to the shelf of her collarbone. "Stay."

It was when he felt her hands return to his hair, carding through the swirling curls and scratching her nails against his scalp, that he knew he won. 

"Alright," she relented, planting her own kiss on the crown of his head, "I'll wait until you wake up, honey." 

All it took was shuttering his eyes, lashes glancing over her skin with a slow breath in, that he fell asleep again.

—————

Harry's muscles ached by the time he finished the small serving of soup (Y/N) had made for him, only small remnants of carrots and celery remaining at the bottom. While he was much more lucid, his fever finally having gone down almost a full twelve hours since (Y/N) started feeding him medicine, his body was now exhausted from the fight against his cold. 

"This was really good, sweetheart. Thank you," he smiled at her when she came to claim his dishes and return them to the kitchen. In his now empty palms, she replaced the dishes with another duo of pills for him to take. 

"Those should get you through the night," (Y/N) explained, "But just wake me up if you need to. I'm hoping the soup will help your throat so you won't wake up coughing again." 

That had been the story of his day, at this point. In between the fever, the cold sweat, and the muscle aches, he had barely been able to sleep before he was forced awake by the burn in his throat that demanded he cough until he swore his esophagus was raw. 

"Okay," he responded, voice feeling gummy in his throat, "Are we going to bed now?" 

Dishes still in hand, (Y/N) pursed her lips as she looked at him. "Actually," she started, shifting her weight, "I was thinking—if you're feeling okay enough—that we could take a shower? I think it would help you feel better to get all the fever off of you and into some clean clothes."

To be fair, he fell asleep in these sweats Thursday night, and it was now Saturday night with the same hoodie pulled over his torso and heavy sweats that kept him warm through his perceived chill. But the idea of standing up for that long, in a space that hot and warm, already made him tired enough he figured he could fall asleep in an instant. 

She must have been able to tell what he was thinking by the soured expression on his face. "We'll be really fast, I promise," she assured him, "I was going to wash your hair and everything, so you wouldn't even have to do anything but stand there." 

While he was sure she was bribing him with the promise of washing his hair for him, taking the task off of his hands while simultaneously giving him the gift of feeling her nails scratch at his scalp and card through his hair under the warm spray of water, he knew he wasn't going to win when that offer was on the table. She knew exactly how to get him.

"We'll be fast?" 

"Promise." 

With a sigh, Harry caved in. "Okay, but if I fall asleep, y'jus' have to let me." 

"I'll make sure you don't fall then," she pledged with a proud smile on her face, "I'll be right back and then we'll go upstairs."

—————

"Too cold," Harry grumbled, his bare skin erupting into goosebumps under the spray of water.

Reaching around his back to adjust the temperature knob, (Y/N) turned it up just a bit more. By her preference, the water was plenty hot, especially apparent with the amount of steam filtering through the room already, but she figured he was still fighting off a few chills. 

"Is that better?" she asked, quickly pulling her hand out of the stream. 

"Almost," he murmured, eyes fluttering closed. 

His skin was quickly turning red under the temperature, but he seemed to revel in it. He threw his head back under the water, wetting his curls. His arms were barred over his chest, but she could still see the way he pulled in a deep breath, the sauna-like atmosphere cleaning his sinuses. She allowed him to luxuriate in the feel, hoping his muscles were relaxing as much as she knew he needed.

"Which shampoo do you want tonight?" she asked, looking towards the built in caddy he had in his shower, the cubby full of both his and her products. 

"Yours," he answered automatically, his voice sounding much less clogged after reveling in the water. 

With a soft smile, she retrieved the bottle, aware of the way Harry turned to offer her the back of his head to run the cleanser through. 

"Fast, right?" he murmured just above the sound of the pounding water. 

"Fast," she promised, sudsing up her hands before she was going through the soft curls with her shampoo. 

Though normally Harry would have leant down for her to get better leverage and not have to reach too far above to wash his hair, she couldn't blame him as he kept the full of his height. His back hurt enough some days without having a cold running through his system, it didn't help when his muscles were pinched with fever chills. Nonetheless, she stood to the tips of her toes and did as best she could to get him back to feeling more like himself. 

It didn't take long for the cherry-scented bubbles to start scenting the steam, wrapping around them in sweet ribbons. She smiled at the way he practically melted at the feel, rolling his neck and allowing her more and more coverage of the shampoo. It was a silly thought, but for a minute she felt as if she were playing as his hairdresser. Was she supposed to do small talk with him?

The thought had a huff of laughter puffing through her nose. 

"What's funny?" Harry asked, his voice sluggishly warm. 

"Nothing, just something silly," she told him, pulling her fingers from the silky suds of his hair, "Rinse your hair and we'll wash one more time before conditioning, okay?" 

"Okay," he answered absently, turning to place his hair under the rinsing spray, the bubbles running down his skin.

(Y/N) couldn't help herself, following the string of bubbles that ran down his chest, flushed skin slick from the steaming water. If this shower were under different circumstances, she would have taken it upon herself to trace that line of bubbles with her own hands, but that would have to wait, she decided. The lines of his muscles were attention grabbing, but there was something in it that made her feel sad for him. It wasn't fun to see him, knowing just how strong he was, to be reduced down to shivers and half-lucid conversations all from a small cold. 

With his hair rinsed free of all the bubbles, he looked to her, curls draping down around his face. "Again?" 

"Again," she affirmed, "Then we'll finish up and go to bed." 

A soft smile touched the corner of his lips. "Okay." 

Repeating the motion of washing through his hair once more, reviving the pattern after days of enduring his cold sweats. When she gave him the go ahead to rinse down once more, she could see just how slow he was moving again; lethargic limbs heavy. 

"Which body wash are you thinking?" Though she had an inkling that he would choose to utilize her products again, she still thought to ask. 

Instead of getting an answer, she was surprised with heavy, tattooed arms wrapping around her middle from behind. In her ear, he whispered, "Not yet?" 

"Not yet?" she asked, turning in his arms to look up at him, "I thought you wanted to go fast?"

Gazing down at her with hooded eyes, he looked at her with flushed cheeks and dilated pupils. "I don't want to leave right now." 

"No?" she asked with a beaming smile, a small huff of laughter falling from her lips. She looped her arms around his middle, setting her palms on the slick skin of his back. The water sprayed down on her hands, the temperature no longer bothering her. 

"No," he said, murmuring over the thrum of the water. A silence settled between the two of them as he gave her a slow blink, his gaze drifting down to the curve of her lips. "Kiss?"

(Y/N) looked up at him with a pout, her hand on his back running a soothing circuit over the planes. "I don't want to get sick, H." 

"You won't get sick," he tried to tell her, bringing his hand up to cradle her cheek, "I promise." 

"How can you promise that, hm?" she prodded, teasing him some with her pout turning into a tender smile. 

She seemed to have stumped him some, watching as he rolled her words around. "I don't know," he settled on, "But, I'll take care of you if you do." 

With that, he dipped his head down and brushed the tip of his nose against the side of her own. The lilypads of his tired eyes were close enough for her to pick out the varying shades of clear green, the wet clumps of his lashes a dark frame around them. It was hard to say no to him, especially like this. 

Tipping her chin up, she pressed her lips against his. It was a soft, innocent kiss that lingered for only a moment. It broke off when she could feel the curl of Harry's smile. 

"Is that enough?" she asked, nuzzling his nose in a puppy's kiss. 

"Almost," he murmured, "But I'll wait until bedtime." 

(Y/N) let out a soft laugh, pulling away to rest her cheek against his chest. His skin was blazingly warm, aided by the steaming water still scenting around them. He hugged her close, his arms a loose loop around her with his nose grazing the top of her head. His heartbeat drummed a soothing rhythm under her ear, a comforting reminder that he was right here, right with her. After the hours she went worrying and building anxiety over his state when she hadn't heard from him the day before, feeling the solid build of his body and the steady heartbeat under her ear, this was more relieving than she was sure he even knew.

"(Y/N)?" he asked after a moment. 

"Hm?" she hummed, snuggling that much closer. 

"Are we still going to the aquarium tomorrow?" 

Blinking her eyes open in an instant. She forgot to call. 

—————

thank u sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if theres any ideas anyone wants to see pls send them in:)))

[undercoverpena]

2. lemon twist

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter two of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.4k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over IG. frankie being a single!dad to a son. frankie gives reader/you a nickname (paint related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: thank you so much for all the love on chapter one, and the bonus graphic. I'm so happy to bring you chapter two! also, WE'RE POSTING WEEKLY BABIESSS

prev chapter | frankie's ig

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

A soft, melodic tune pulls you into the land of the living, aware of the tug of it, and the immediate reluctance you have to leave the comfort of your dreams.

Your hand hesitates, reluctant to emerge from under the snug warmth of your sheets before your fingers are tapping and searching, all sluggish with sleep, groping blindly as it crawls against the wooden top of your bedside table. It's only when your fingertips connect with the screen does the world fall into silence.

Nothingness. Stillness. Peace.

The perfect environment for your mind to come to itself as you slowly open your lashes, raising a balled-up fist to rub slumber away, as your gaze meets streams of light rolling in through the breeze-blown curtains.

Then it hits you.

Comes to you in a trickle. Then a flood.

One after the other, memories of last night rush over you. Messages sent and received coming to you, recalling the way you'd tucked a pillow under your chest as your thumbs replied quickly to each incoming DM. Then, you recall the giddiness, how it fluttered through you—how it still remains. Still ever-present and very much thrumming inside of you as you begin to smile.

It remains on your face as you roll out of bed. A brief memory of something he said making you laugh as you wash your face, and another when you brush your teeth.

That feeling stays with you as the sun glistens through your kitchen window. One which adds a glow to the place, making the little smoke stains on the walls and the chips on the kitchen counter seem better, less noticeable—and less irritating.

You smirk as you wrap your hand around your mug—because is it too soon to wish him a good morning? Should you wait for him?

Sighing, rolling your eyes, you land on the dresser you were sprucing up in the place a dining table should be. Your eyes linger on it—teeth picking at the skin on your lip—just as it does so each time you come in this room.

A reminder once again that this place should be a home you’ve been building for years, and not just the last few months. There should be photos on the walls of a relationship playing out alongside family and friends, but those ones placed in between are still just empty.

Like so much of your home.

Taking a sip of your coffee, you drop your stare to the newspaper under the feet of the dresser. The stories were told in black and white splotches over in many shades, dotted around as you tested and checked to see what would make the old, worn thing look like something new. The same thing you’d somehow managed to get delivered through a smile and a sweet, please.

You had been, for so long, undecided on the shade.

Yet, as you gaze upon it now, your imagination begins to weave a vivid portrait. It conjures the image of what it might resemble should you succumb to the shade that's gradually painting itself in imaginary strokes.

Sliding your phone from your pocket, you open up your DMs.

Does butterscotch orange come in a paint type suitable for wood? It does. You at work today? Desperate to see me? Just looking to help someone shift paint they can’t sell. What you looking to paint, Rainy?

Taking another sip of your drink, the warmth kisses your palm similar to the temperature blooming in your cheeks from conversing with him again.

Choosing, instead of words, to snap a photo, knowing it'll be easier, simpler.

Watching it send, the little speech bubble appearing as your mind drifts to the hair above his lip, the facial hair along his jaw—the little patch you’d wanted to graze your thumb over.

You think of the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles; when he’d looked pleased to see you in the paint aisle—something akin to a modern-day meet cute you see on the TV.

You coming in today? If I can… gives me something to do this afternoon.

You bite your lip, considering it—whether it’s too forward to make a flirtatious comment. The two of you skirted around it last night, practically river dancing—not quite stepping over, but not quite retreating either.

I’ll get you it ready at the main desk. My hero, Frank.DIY Don’t push it.

It’s the third visit you’ve made, and while you gloss over the paint chippings on the door, you do notice the circular stains on the floor.

They’re brown, smudged slightly at the edges as though someone has, at one time, attempted to clean (whatever it was) quickly after it had appeared. It’s clear they had failed.

Your eyes scan over it, for a moment forgetting anything and everything.

Just existing in today's scent, which happens to be singed wood—chippings of it practically in the air—as the sound of an electrical saw starts up and begins screeching in some distant corner until you hear your name being called.

And it silences everything.

That voice could pull you from anything, you think.

A crisis, your thoughts, a spiral.

You’d heard his voice plenty all last night as you watched videos of him hanging shelves, answering questions likely sent to him on how best to prime a wooden handrail, and still, you weren't sure you were sick of his voice.

That, and DIY had honestly never sounded so hot.

After the shortest walk to the counter, a brief hello, a grin you wish you could try and smother a touch, you’re leaning on the counter. His eyes focused on you, watching every move you make as though looking anywhere else would be a crime.

“You got a Sharpie there?”

Frowning, you feel you can breathe easier when his eyes drop to the counter—rustling around the till area as you rest your elbow.

“Because I forgot mine and I think I should ask for a signature this time.”

Pausing, he slowly lifts his chin, then eyes. “Funny.”

Shrugging, you grin, watching him ring up the tin—occasionally smirking to himself, before shaking his head as you pay, your phone vibrating on the counter that you continue to ignore.

“You gonna be alright with that?”

Scrunching your nose, you pocket your phone and tilt the can on the counter. “Painting a dresser or carrying this to my car?”

Something sparkles in his eyes, a little shimmer. His mouth opening, likely ready to spill nothing but charm and flirtation again, when another voice cuts through—one gruffer, more tinged in age.

“Francisco, what you d—oh, I see.”

Your smile remains, even as you stare up at the older man—the one with wiry whites and spotted greys you’d seen sitting behind the counter on the day you left to get coffee with Francisco.

It’s notable, how smaller, and thinner the older man is—how he moves like he’s pained by each step until he slumps into a chair and puts on the brightest and biggest of smiles before offering his hand.

“The name’s Harry.”

You look at it, only briefly, flicking your eyes to Frankie who looks like he’s wishing the earth would open up at his feet and swallow him whole. A somewhat twisted, forced blank expression and the mildest of eye rolls follow when your hand slips inside Harry’s, offering your name.

“Thought it was Harold,” Frankie says, rather bitterly.

“You have to call me Harold, but she can call me Harry.”

Smirking, you bite your tongue, rolling your lips as you smooth down your blouse—trying not to make any more eye contact with the man you’d really come to see.

Sliding the paint closer to you, you offer a softer smile, one that is nothing short of kind. “It was lovely to meet you Harry, and I’ll see—“

“—Rainy.”

His voice cut through as the can slid from the counter, the sudden acknowledgement of the weight showing—likely scorched across your face as your arm drags down, shoulder going with it, just about saving it from the ground.

It’s only as you look up, do you find Frankie half over the counter, spotting the key rings and cart tokens rolling around the floor—the stand on its axis from his sudden movement.

So, is Rainy my name now?

You caught that?

I did 😏

I wasn’t thinking.

I have to ask.

Here we go.

Do you always wear the hat or is it a Frank.DIY thing? And is it Frank or Frankie or the newly learnt Francisco?

Whats wrong with my hat? And Frankie and Morales were taken.

Morales your surname? I feel I’ve hit a sore spot.

Yes. And you have but you can make it better.

How?

Meeting me for a very boring lunch this week.

You’re really twisting my arm. Which is mean. You saw the stress my shoulder had to endure today.

I tried to warn you. I’ll let you bring your Pinterest board and your saved Reels.

I fear you just want me for my organisational inspiration.

Can’t help you decide if I’m the man for your project if I don’t know what you’re after.

Fair, I guess I can meet you for a business lunch.

Would you be more into meeting me for lunch if it wasn’t a business lunch?

It depends on what kind of lunch we’re talking about.

I’m very badly trying to ask you out on a date.

Oh, that’s what you’re trying to do.

Unless I’ve read this wrong.

Nope, read it perfectly. I guess I have to confess to you that I really would love to go on a brunch date with you, Francisco.

Lunch date. Let’s not get too romantic. Don’t want you to fall head over heels and visit where I work twice in two days.

Has Harold told you how hilarious you are?

It’s nice—the place he’s chosen.

All washed in bright white, yellow splashes and pastel accents. Plants adorn as much of the walls and ceilings as humanly possible, with guitar-infused music softly playing as the door clicks into place behind you.

It's so nice, in fact, you almost want to live here. To spend an infinite amount of time brushing your thumb over the leaves to see which ones are real and which ones are very good fakes. So pretty that it’s the kind of place that if you weren’t looking for him at a table, you’d snap a photo of it all and send it to a friend.

But, as soon as your eyes land on him, he's the only photo you want to take.

White t-shirt, with a dark shirt thrown over the top, still very much all broad-shouldered and wide chest as he smooths his hand down as he stands.

The hat, one that you'd assumed would be a staple, is all but gone, curls at odd angles as though his fingers have been teasing them—tugging and pulling as the ends slightly frizz—as he moves around the table when you approach.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he grins, hesitancy thrumming before he must question himself, snaps himself back into place from dragging his eyes up and down you.

Then, he’s moving, gently—enough time to register he’s moving to hug you, and plenty of time to politely decline.

But you don’t.

Allowing his hand to slide over your waist, delicate, very much cautious and all but respectful, at the same time as his breath flutters over your cheek. You almost turn your chin, wishing to all of a sudden curl into it before his lips graze your skin, lashes fluttering before you feel him moving back.

And, fuck, the scent of his aftershave is still washing over you in thick waves. It does its best to slide up your nose and make a home there as heat rushes to your cheeks.

You almost turn, almost catch the last bit of his lips, eyes focused on his, holding, burning them in as you find yourself unable to tear away from it. Two people, swirling, completely lost in only the other—the rest of the world fading to a muted shade, nothing compared to the hue he exhumes in the centre of brightness and pops of colour.

A thing you turn over, unable to stop yourself from stealing stares as he pulls out your chair, before joining you by sitting opposite.

“Thought this was a safe bet, wasn’t sure what kind of lunch person you were.”

“More of a brunch person, honestly.”

He smirks, flicking his eyes up, even if his head is tilted down at the menu.

“It’s very nice—not been here before.”

A brow arched, he smiles—shyer, the beginning of the dimple appearing before he casts his eyes back down.

“What do you recommend, Francisco?”

You don’t miss his snort, the way he sticks his tongue in his cheek as he gives you that look—one that makes you want to keep flirting and testing him all at once. One that makes you clamp your jean-covered thighs together, but secretly hope he notices you doing so.

If he does, he doesn’t show it. Instead, using his index finger to point at various parts of the menu, recommendations falling, rolling—a shimmer in his eyes at certain parts, that makes it easy when someone comes over to ask for your order.

You suspect it’s a favourite, the one you’ve chosen. Something is written into the way he holds your gaze before he stumbles over his words, practically trips, to say his.

It’s only when you’re alone, do you rest your elbow on the table—the coldness of it rising up your skin, rooting you—as you lean your chin on your palm. “So, do I get my Pinterest boards out now or…?”

“Funny.”

You bite your tongue as you smile, staring, admiring. “So, outside of terrorising a man in his own shop, running an Instagram, what does Francisco DIY do?”

Shaking his head, he takes a sip of his water—a bead collecting, remaining on his lower lip for a ridiculously long time, before the tip of his tongue casts it away, and sweeps it from your view.

“My… my friend fights—like MMA. He stopped for a bit, but now he…”

You wait, let it form—let him decide what it is he wants to tell you and when, and how. Sliding your feet out under the table, stretching as you relax into the chair, finding his eyes fixed, concentrated.

“I go to some of his training.”

“Good at DIY and MMA training? Starting to wonder why you’re single, Butterscotch.”

He laughs, soft, rich. “Just… haven’t been looking to date.”

Nodding, you let out a heavy exhale. “I wasn’t either.”

His lips purse, twitch to the side, a smirk half forming somewhere in his cheeks as he leans over, elbow resting on the table, foot catching yours under the table.

Mirroring you entirely as the two of you just stare. And, normally, it would be weird. Odd. But, it doesn’t feel it. If anything, it makes you want to commit each crease from his smiles, each wisp of hair along his jawline that crawls up his cheeks—the patch that could be traced with your thumb, an almost heart shape left, ready to be stamped with a pair of lips.

Your eyes only pull from it when your drinks arrive—when the moment is broken by the real world—as you lean back, let your eyes move to your server, thanking them as you take your drink. And then, the two of you are alone.

“Might change my Instagram name.”

Brows lifting, he pauses his glass close to his lips. “Oh yeah, what to?”

“Rainier Grey—makes me sound elusive.”

Snorting, he shakes his head, sipping on his water before placing the glass down close to your hand. Fingers brushing against it, a thing which makes your eyes flick over your screen.

“I dare you.”

“You dare me?” you say. “How old are you?”

“A man too old for dares.”

You brush your index finger over the back of his fingers, lingering on it, noticing the way they flex as you do as if battling to take your hand in his.

Even if you’re determined to go halves, Frankie’s insistence beats you.

All ‘Don’t argue with me on this, alright?’ said in a tone deeper, more serious than you'd heard to date. And, it's hard not to let heat lick up your spine at the sound.

Even if he’s giving you kind brown eyes as you hold your hands up in defeat.

Smirking, you watch him pay, spotting the picture in his wallet of a boy with a missing-tooth smile almost as big as the man in front of you.

“Alright Morales, but next time it’s my treat.”

“Next time?”

Smirking, you bite your lower lip as you stand, grabbing your things. “Think you’ve earned it.”

Each step to the door feels heavy, a fluttering in your stomach—a grin that can’t be wiped, barely doused when you say goodbye to the people behind the counter.

It grows wider when he gets the door for you, the cooler, outside air creating a vortex of his aftershave all over again (that you hope finds a way to bury itself into your skin) when he opens it.

It’s odd, almost insane—the giddy way you feel as the two of you walk to your car. His fingers are so close to brushing yours, the distance to your little vehicle becoming shorter and shorter as you desperately wish for another few blocks.

Disappointment flares, trying to scratch out the happiness inside your stomach as you pause at the car, trying to smile, but finding it difficult.

Rubbing the back of his head, you watch him roll his lips. “I had a great time.”

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you nod, “Me too.”

“Won't have to wait long, you've promised me brunch.”

“Think I said I’d pay. But, if you want brunch, I’m down to blow your mind.”

You realise too late, mouth hanging open, the words hitting—landing in his ear as you watch him process them.

It’s sluggish, almost lagging, the way his face lights up, the way his eyes widen and his smile grows into something close to what you had across the small table—not tinged in any way by the upcoming goodbye.

“Well, if that’s—”

“Shut up,” you say, cutting him off, hand ready to push his arm, but you slide it around his waist.

Face close to his, bodies almost flush.

You watch him swallow, how his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he flicks his gaze from eye to eye.

Licking his lips, he smiles. “Can I kiss you?”

The moment you nod, he’s leaning—lips brushing over yours, fingers tightening on his waist as you move with him, all delicate, smooth, downright velvety as your other hand finds his neck. Feels his pulse against your palm, the warmth of him against your skin, before your lips part, deepening it, letting him have more, as much as he wants—

Then, he moves you. His palm meets your car, guiding you back until your spine meets the side of your vehicle, and he leaves another mark of him—thumb and four fingers—in the grunge the city throws at your car.

The other is the one he leaves pressed against your lips, all invisible, sweet and aching. Leaning in, your fingers find purpose on his neck, skating around, teasing a low curl as you lick into his mouth delicately.

All teasing, caressing, the arm around your waist tightening as the two of you remain almost flush against the car.

And it’s dizzying, all unexpected—but then, so is he.

More so, when you part—nose against nose, eyes opening to find his doing the same.

“I should…”

Your fingers slide, wiping his bottom lip before resting it on his chin, nail stroking against the hair there. “Okay.”

“I’d like to,” he begins, slowly stepping back, allowing cooler air to flow between where your bodies were pressed together, “Not wait to see you again—and, help you. With your project.”

Rolling your lips, you smile. “I’d like that too—both of them.”

“Alright.”

“Okay,” you smile. “Let me know.”

Nodding, he steps back up on the curb, hand wiping across his mouth.

You actually changed your handle.

Told you, I don’t back down from a dare

Guess I owe you one.

Can I cash it in at any moment?

As long as it’s appropriate, yes.

There goes my idea of daring you to strip in the shop and make out with a paint tin.

Have to just dream about that one.

Oh, I will Francisco.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[cutielando]

i'll take care of you ~ jj maybank

my masterlist

You woke up to the sound of your phone ringing. You reached our for it and when you saw who the caller was, you immediately sat up and answered it.

"Babe? What's wrong?"

JJ's heavy breath was the only thing you could hear.

"JJ? Is everything okay? What's going on?" you pressed, panic settling in your chest.

"Can I come over? I'll explain everything" his voice was so small, you could barely hear him.

"Of course you can, baby"

"I'll see you in 10 minutes" he said and hung up, not giving you a chance to say anything else.

It wasn't weird to get phone calls from JJ in the middle of the night, but he was never this distressed. Your mind started coming up with all kinds of scenarios, one worse than the other.

The 10 minute wait seemed like forever before you heard the all too familiar knock on your window.

You immediately jumped and opened it, being met with the bloody and bruised smiling face of your boyfriend.

"What happened to your face?" you asked while helping him enter your room without making too much noise to wake up your parents.

"Nothing serious, it's fine. Doesn't hurt as bad as it looks" he shrugged his shoulders and laid back on your bed.

You stood rooted in your spot, staring at him. You knew where the bruises came from all too well, but it didn't help that JJ was still trying to hide them from you.

"J, please just tell me the truth" your voice was small, knowing that JJ couldn't deal with screams and anger.

"I am, it's nothint that hasn't happened before. I'm used to it, it's fine" he was now sitting up, patting the spot next to him.

You bit your lip but complied and sat down, putting your right hand on his knee.

"I'm sorry you have to go through this, baby" tears started streaming down your cheeks by now, sobs fighting their way out of your body.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, it's just how he is. He's not always like this, you know, he has his good moments" the fact that he still tried to defend his dad, beaten to a pulp by him, brought even more tears and sadness in you.

"You don't deserve this, baby. Nobody should ever lay a finger on you, let alone a hand. You deserve so much better" you rested your head against his shoulder, squeezing his knee in comfort.

He brought a hand down to his knee and took hold of yours. You interlocked your fingers and squeezed, knowing how much JJ needed to feel you there with him.

"I have you, and that's all I need. Don't be so hard on yourself, it's not your fault" he whispered, kissing your forehead.

"Please let me take care of you. I'll talk to my parents and see if you can stay here for a while. They can even become your legal guardians until you turn 18. I know they'll do it, and you'll finally have a safe place that you could call home" the idea seemed so simple and easy for you, but it seemed like such a stretch to JJ.

"I can't ask you or your parents to do that, babe. Being a burden to your family is the last thing I want to do" he tried to reason with you, but you weren't having it.

"No, you listen to me. I am not letting you go back home, JJ. My parents love you and I know they are going to want to help you. Please don't push me away, let me help you" you were basically begging him at this point, but you didn't care.

Nobody deserved the life that he had, and you'll be damned if his father touched him one more time. You were going to do everything in your power to make sure he'd never received another punch or insult from his dad ever again.

"Okay" he finally whispered after a while, chewing on his bottom lip.

You let out a big sigh of relief you didn't know you were holding and wrapped him in your arms, silent tears falling down your face.

He buried his head in your neck, taking in your familiar scent and warm hold.

He finally felt like things could finally take a turn for the better. Like he would get a new chance at life.

All because of you.

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[ynbabe]

bffs with the rookies- incorrect quotes 1!

Just a lil sum sum to show more abt the relationships in the AU

Y/N: A stake to the heart won't kill a vampire if their tits are big enough. Oscar: Yeah, you just catch it. Logan: Nah nah nah, deflects it. Stake? Just bounces right off. Done. Back to doing hot girl shit. Arthur: Then I just use a spear instead. Y/N: You are trying so hard to kill a vampire with big bazongas, and for what? Why would you do that to the ecosystem?

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Oscar: It’s Christmas! Are you all in a Christmas mood?! Logan: Merry crisis. Arthur: Jingle bells, jingle bells, single all the way. Y/N: Hoe hoe hoe. Oscar: Guys, please.

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Oscar: Who would you kill out of the four of us, Logan? Logan: Arthur, easily. Arthur, laughing: What the fuck, man. Logan: Well, Y/N would be too easy. She’d probably be into it. Y/N, now standing in the doorway: What the fuck, man!?

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Logan: How do I ask someone out? Y/N: Roses are red, violets are blue, guess what, my bed has room for two. Logan: No! Arthur: Twinkle twinkle little star, we can do it in a car. Logan: Stop! Oscar: Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily I can make you scream. Logan: I feel like the last one is verging dangerously into serial killer territory.

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Y/N: Fight me! Arthur: Ha, look at your size! What are you gonna do, kick my ankle? *Later* Logan: Why is Arthur crying? Oscar: Y/N kicked him really hard on the ankle.

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Y/N, to Oscar: When was the last time you let someone hug you? Oscar: *thinking* Oscar: 2012. Arthur: 2012…? Oscar: Yeah. I almost died and it really freaked Logan out so I let him hug me.

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Lando: You know what? Lando: When I joined this friend group I thought you guys would be dealing with my bullshit. *Y/N, Arthur and Oscar continue screaming about mold water* Lando:Not the other way around. Logan: I dunno, sounds like you need to drink the mold water.

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Lando: Mice are having sex in my walls. Arthur: Tattletale! Logan: You're just being ungrateful. Y/N: It's their home too, you know. Oscar: So what? Don't slutshame them. Lando: The mice are fucking AND now I'm getting heckled.

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Oscar: Team A will consist of myself, Arthur, Lando, and Logan. Oscar: Team B will consist of Y/N, cause she scares me.

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How Lando and Y/n became friends:

Logan: Why aren't there friend pick up lines? Pick up lines to make friends like- Logan, to Arthur: Hey, that's a cute outfit. You know where it would look better? On nobody else, because you're a beautiful individual. Y/N, to Lando: Be my friend or I'll set your entire family on fire. Oscar: There are two types of people.

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Charles: I’m not mad, I just need to know why you two had a fake ID. Arthur: *Incoherent mumbling* Charles: Huh? Y/n: …You need to be 18 to hold the puppies at PetCo.

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Charles (brainstorming ideas for pranking Max): How much could a serial killer mask possibly cost? Y/n: Well it’s hard to find a high-quality one made out of leather or silicone, but if you did find a good one like that it’d be a couple thousands of dollars. I can try to hook you up with one but I don’t know if I’d be very successful. Charles: Huh, that’s pretty interesting actually- Wait, how the hell do you know that? Y/n: …I am very passionate about Halloween, Charles.

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Y/n: I'm gonna eat the chicken breasts! Arthur, snickering: Yeah, eat what you lack. Y/n, deadpanning at Arthur Then maybe I should order brains on delivery for you.

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Arthur, reading a recipe: Beat three eggs? Charles: It means like in hand-to-hand combat. Arthur: Ohhhh- Y/n: Both of you get out of this kitchen.

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Logan: Have I ever told you that I love you with my whole heart? Y/n For the love of all that is holy, I am not taking you to McDonalds. It’s 2am! Logan: Mean.

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Y/n: Dumbest scar stories, go! Oscar: I burned my tongue once drinking tea. Charles: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it. Logan: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade. Arthur: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and I got a really bad burn. Max: Max: I have emotional scars.

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When Max and Charles got spam called by Y/n and the group after their party:

Max: I CAN'T DO IT! Charles, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER! Max: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE Lando: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US. Max: Max: I appreciate it, Max: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH- Charles: Max- Max: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE! Lando: Max we gotta- Max: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT. Max: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?' Max, motioning to Y/n, Oscar, Arthur and Logan: NOT FUCKING THIS