#but it feels like such an overwhelming thing to do so i will continue not doing it <3

[pucksandpower]

Seeing Color

Lando Norris x soulmate!Reader

Summary: the average person goes their whole life without seeing so much as a drop of color, so safe to say you’re quite surprised when the sky suddenly turns blue while you’re covering Formula 1 for the first time

The sky’s a muted gray, just like every other day of your life, as you stand in the bustling paddock of Silverstone, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach.

This isn’t what you signed up for. Football’s your thing — sweaty players, goals, and post-match interviews in rain-soaked stadiums. But motorsport? Formula 1? It’s a different beast altogether.

“Just one race,” your supervisor had assured you. “It’ll be fine, Y/N. You’re a pro.”

Easy for them to say. The paddock is a maze of garages, team colors (which are a uniform grayscale for you, of course), and a cacophony of sounds that’s more overwhelming than a packed Premier League stadium.

You’ve been briefed on the basics — Max Verstappen’s the reigning champ, Lewis Hamilton’s the legend, and Lando Norris, the homegrown young talent, just secured P2.

P2. The words feel alien, even though you repeat them to yourself over and over, willing them to become familiar. Podium finish, second place. You’ve got this.

But the truth is, you don’t. Not really. And it’s showing as you fumble with your notes, trying to prepare for the post-race interviews. Your heart’s racing faster than any of the cars on the track.

“Hey, you alright there?”

The voice comes from behind you, startling you out of your thoughts. You turn around and see a young man — not too tall, with curly hair, and a faint smirk playing on his lips. You recognize him immediately, even in black and white.

Lando Norris.

“Yeah, just-” You scramble for professionalism, straightening your back and offering what you hope is a confident smile. “Just getting ready for the interviews.”

Lando’s eyes flicker down to the notes in your hand. “First time covering F1?”

Your smile falters. “Is it that obvious?”

He chuckles softly, and for a moment, it’s as if the world around you narrows down to just the two of you standing there in the paddock, the sounds and chaos fading into the background.

“A little,” he admits, leaning casually against the wall, as if he’s got all the time in the world. “But don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound surprising even yourself. There’s something about his easygoing manner that puts you at ease, just for a moment. “I appreciate that.”

“Y/N Y/L/N, right?” He asks, and you’re caught off guard that he knows your name.

“That’s me,” you reply, slipping into the role of interviewer as best as you can. “Congratulations on P2, by the way. How was the race for you?”

He glances at you, and for a brief second, his expression changes. It’s subtle — almost imperceptible — but it’s there. Something shifts in his eyes, something that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Thanks,” he says, but the word comes out softer than you expect. There’s a pause, a moment of hesitation, before he continues. “The race was … it was intense. But honestly? Standing here right now … it feels like something else is happening.”

You frown slightly, not understanding. “What do you mean?”

Lando looks at you again, more intently this time, and you’re acutely aware of the way your pulse is thumping in your ears. “Look around,” he murmurs, his voice low, as if he’s sharing a secret. “Do you see anything different?”

You blink, confused. You glance around, expecting to see the same monotone world you’ve always known, the same dull shades of gray. But instead … you see it. A soft glow in the distance, a faint tinge of color in the sky.

It’s … blue.

A gasp escapes your lips before you can stop it. “What …”

Lando steps closer, his expression as bewildered as yours. “You see it too, don’t you?”

“I-I don’t understand,” you stammer, your heart racing even faster now. “This can’t be real. I’ve never seen color before.”

“Neither have I,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “But … I’m seeing it now. Because of you.”

The air around you feels electric, charged with something you can’t quite name. Your eyes lock onto his, and suddenly, the world isn’t gray anymore. It’s alive with hues and shades that you’ve only ever imagined. His eyes, a stunning shade of fluid green, meet yours with the same wonder.

“This can’t be real,” you repeat, more to yourself than to him. You’re trying to make sense of the impossible, of the vivid blues and greens and reds that are slowly seeping into your vision, like the world is waking up from a long sleep.

Lando reaches out, his hand hovering near yours, not quite touching. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze that’s startling — like he’s just as unsure of what’s happening as you are. “I think …” he starts, then stops, swallowing hard before trying again. “I think it’s because we’re soulmates.”

“Soulmates?” You echo, the word feeling foreign on your tongue. You’ve heard the stories, the myths — how the world is black and white until you meet the person you’re meant to be with.

But it’s just that, isn’t it? A myth? A fairytale? With over 8 billion people on Earth, the chances of actually meeting your fated match are slim-to-none. Most of the population has grown to accept that they will never see anything other than black and white.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “That’s what they say, right? You don’t see color until you meet your soulmate. But I never thought it’d actually happen. Not like this.”

You’re silent for a moment, trying to process it all. The colors, the implications, the fact that this person — this stranger — is suddenly supposed to mean everything to you. It’s overwhelming.

“I don’t even know you,” you whisper, voicing your fears. “How can we be soulmates if we don’t even know each other?”

Lando’s smile is small, almost shy. “I guess we’ll have to change that, won’t we?”

The words are simple, but they carry a weight that you’re not sure you’re ready to bear. But when he looks at you like that, with such sincerity, you find yourself nodding.

“Yeah,” you agree softly. “I guess we will.”

He takes a step closer, and this time, his hand does brush against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You feel it in every nerve, every inch of your being. It’s like the world has shifted on its axis, and you’re standing at the center of something much bigger than yourself.

“Can I ask you something?” Lando’s voice is quiet, almost tentative.

“Of course,” you reply, your voice just as soft.

“What’s your favorite color?”

The question catches you off guard. It’s such a simple thing, and yet, in this moment, it feels like the most important question in the world. You look around, taking in the colors that are now flooding your vision — the vibrant greens of the trees in the distance, the deep blues of the sky, the bright reds and yellows of the cars and team logos.

“I don’t know,” you admit, and the honesty of it feels right. “I’ve never had a favorite color before.”

Lando smiles, a real smile this time, and it’s like the sun breaking through the clouds. “Pretty sure I’m legally obligated to say mine’s papaya,” he laughs, and you notice it for the first time — the vibrant hue of his team’s colors, standing out against the grayscale world you’ve known until now. “I think you’ll like it.”

You smile back at him, feeling the connection between you deepening with every passing second. It’s terrifying, and exhilarating, and everything in between.

“I think I might,” you say, and the words are full of a promise that you’re not sure you fully understand yet, but that feels right nonetheless.

For a moment, the world falls away, and it’s just the two of you, standing there in a kaleidoscope of color that’s bursting into life all around you. The roar of the engines, the clamor of the crowd — it all fades into the background as you look at each other, truly seeing each other for the first time.

“So … what happens now?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando’s hand tightens around yours, and there’s a steadiness in his gaze that grounds you. “We take it one step at a time,” he says. “We get to know each other. And we see where this goes.”

The simplicity of his words is comforting. There’s no grand declaration, no rush to figure everything out. Just a promise to take things as they come, to let whatever this is between you grow naturally, in its own time.

“I’d like that,” you say, and you mean it.

He grins, that boyish charm back in full force, and you can’t help but smile in return. “Good,” he says. “Because I think we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other.”

There’s a warmth in his tone that makes your heart skip a beat, and for the first time since this whole whirlwind began, you find yourself excited about the future — about the possibility of what’s to come.

“Yeah,” you reply, your smile widening. “I think we are.”

And as you stand there, hand-in-hand with Lando Norris, surrounded by the vibrant colors of a world that’s finally come to life, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is where you were always meant to be.

[fandoms-x-reader]

Period Cramps

Requested By: @olivia-willo-w

Summary: The brothers find out (thanks to Satan) what a period is and try to help you through yours. The Seven Demon Brothers x Reader Word Count: 2,257

Periods are something that has become so normalized in the human world. 

It's a natural thing that happens to women and it shouldn’t be something to be embarrassed about.

But, in the Devildom, the only other human you had was a male. 

There was no one down there who would understand the process your body goes through once a month.

And that made it hard to talk about it.

You figured it would just be easier to keep them in the dark rather than try and explain it.

But, sometimes when you're on your period, it had a mind of its own.

You were having a bad cramp while at dinner with the brothers and you did your best to hide your pain.

But, Satan could tell you were in pain and he was worried about you. Not to mention, he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to show his brothers how smart he was.

See, Satan was your resident human expert.

When he found out that a human was coming to live with him and his brothers, he read every book he could find about humans and when he was done with those, he grabbed all of the specific books about females.

He wanted to know everything he could before you got down there.

So, when you were having your period in the Devildom, Satan immediately knew what was happening and was well-versed in the subject.

You had all of the tell-tale signs - mood swings, food cravings, headaches, bloating.

Whatever symptom you had, it pointed to it being your time of the month.

There was a conversation already going on amongst his brothers, but Satan ignored it in favor of asking you, “Are you on your period?”

Everyone froze in place at Satan’s question and your face burned a bright red as all of the attention was on you. Who just asks a personal question like that?!

Satan didn’t mean any disrespect. The way it was presented to him in the books was as a natural, common thing that all women go through. So he didn’t you would have any reason to be embarrassed about it.

And maybe if he had approached you about it on his own, things would have been different. But he just blurted the question out…in front of everyone…in the middle of dinner.

Before you could even respond, Mammon asked, “What’s a period?” And your cheeks felt even hotter as you began to slowly sink down in your chair, wishing you could disappear from this conversation.

“You don’t know?” Asmo asked with a glint in his eyes. Of course, the Avatar of Lust would know what a period is. Considering the amount of human women he had probably met you were sure he was as knowledgeable as Satan was about it.

But there was no way the fourth-born would allow his little brother to take his thunder. “Allow me to explain,” Satan stated.

And for the next few torturous minutes, you had to uncomfortably sit there as Satan explained what a period was in vivid detail.

You watched the brothers’ faces go through a whirlwind of reactions until they were all left sitting there speechless and somewhat bothered.

“Well?” Lucifer’s question broke the silence and you turned to face the eldest. He was making eye contact with you and he continued to ask, “Are you?”

“Is that why you look like you’re in pain?” Belphie asked. “Wait, do periods hurt?” Beel questioned in response.

“Do all female normies go through that?” Levi questioned, his cheeks threatening to burn as bright as yours at the question.

Your cramps weren’t backing down and you were feeling more than overwhelmed at the sudden bombardment and soon everything felt like it was too much.

“I think I’ll skip dinner tonight,” you stated plainly before abruptly getting up from the table and making your way to the bedroom.

The brothers watched you leave, confused and worried about you. Was it something they said? Or was it because you weren’t feeling well?

Lucifer was in a state of surprise when you left the dining room table.

He knew about periods, and he knew it was something female humans experienced.

But, it wasn’t something he had prepared for.

In all of the things that he had done and gathered to ensure you would have everything you need for your stay in the Devildom, that had somehow slipped his mind.

It took him a moment to gather his bearings before going to check on you.

He showed up to your room with a glass of water and medicine to help with your cramps.

He gave you a small smile when you gratefully took the medicine and allowed him in your room.

He looked a little lost, unsure of how exactly to help you. But, if you tell him what you need, he will move heaven and earth to make sure you get it.

You were his responsibility after all. He couldn’t disappoint Diavolo by allowing you to be in pain. And he couldn’t trust his brothers to do a good enough job.

Or maybe - just maybe - he wanted to be the one who took care of you.

Either way, he won’t leave your side for the rest of the night, and if you show any sign of discomfort, he’ll find a way to soothe you.

Mammon was still freaking out about all of the information he had obtained that night.

Periods sounded awful and he couldn’t believe that it was something that happened to female humans - every month.

Mammon was trying to process everything when you left the table and that’s when his mind went from his own train of thought to you.

From all of the facts he was told, one stood out more than the others - you were in pain.

And Mammon was supposed to protect you, so he couldn’t have that.

He excused himself from the dinner table as well before quickly doing a search on his D.D.D. to find out ways to help you.

About a half an hour later, Mammon showed up at your bedroom door, his arms full of miscellaneous objects.

He had everything he could think of - a heating pad, pain medicine, chocolate, and your favorite snacks.

He wasn’t sure what out of those items would help, but he hoped at least one of them would.

He also offered to stay in your room that night and watch a movie with you, which inevitably ended in you falling asleep in his arms, while he held you close.

Mammon is just happy that you felt safe enough with him to let him help you when you’re in this vulnerable stage.

It is a known fact that Levi panics in intense situations.

And you abruptly leaving the dinner table was something he would classify as an intense situation.

He didn't necessarily understand all of the intricacies of your period, but he did know that he wanted to help.

Levi didn't have any idea where to start, so he went to his default of bringing videogames and DVDs to your room.

You bit back a chuckle as you opened the door and saw Levi struggling to hold everything he brought.

You let him inside, grateful of the fact that he was trying and Levi quickly got to work setting up yours and his favorite game.

The fun that you were having with Levi was enough to distract you from the pain of your period cramps.

But that didn't stop him from checking in - quite often - and asking if you were alright.

Levi offered to get you food, something to drink, medicine - anything you would need.

And if you did ask him for something, he moved faster than you'd ever seen to get it back to you promptly.

He may not be an expert in what was going on with you, but he would do just as good of a job as any of the others when it came to comforting you.

As stated, Satan was an expert on everything to do with your period before you even got it.

He didn't need to search anything up or refer to his books.

He figured this would happen sooner rather than later and he was prepared for it.

Like Mammon, Satan gets everything you need. But, unlike Mammon, it’s all already prepared in an emergency kit that he’s kept in his room.

Satan grabbed the bag and went to your room in a matter of moments.

When you opened the door, Satan offered you a brief apology about the events that occurred at dinner. He felt guilty about putting you on the spot like that.

But, he offered to make it up to you by helping relieve your pain.

When you allowed him in, Satan was as strict as a doctor, almost in an overbearing way.

He gave you the medicine to take and instructed you to lay in a way that allowed for the ideal positioning of the heating pad.

And even if it wasn’t the way you wanted to lay, when the heating pad started working, you were thankful for Satan’s expertise.

He stayed with you for the rest of the night, sitting next to you and gently running his fingers through your hair as he read one of your favorite books to you.

It ends up being much more comforting than you would have expected from the Avatar of Wrath.

Asmo may not be like Satan or Lucifer in knowing all about a human period.

But he has had his fair share of experience with it.

And he’s a pro at rest and relaxation.

Asmo let you calm down in your room for a little bit while he set things up in own room. 

He was sure you were upset at all of them for bombarding you at dinner like that.

But, he was hoping that you would let him help you anyway.

When he was ready, he asked you to join him in his room, and after promising he wouldn’t try anything risque, you agreed to go.

When you got to his room, you were met with an overwhelming aroma of essential oils and the sound of soft music playing.

The lights were dimmed so that the room was bright enough to see, but dark enough to relax.

Under normal circumstances, you would have assumed that Asmo was trying to come on to you, but he had promised he just wanted to help.

He led you to his bed and asked for permission to give you a massage.

Being the Avatar of Lust, Asmo’s knows the human body very well, and he knew every technique and every spot that needed to relax, and you felt all of your tension release and your cramps subside.

Asmo had a small smile on his face as you slowly drifted off after feeling relaxed enough.

He would always be there to help pamper you whenever you needed it.

Beel was a bit confused when you left the table.

He didn’t really understand the gravity of the situation. 

And so, playing to his kind and innocent nature, Beel thought something was wrong with the dinner.

He quietly finished the food on his plate before disappearing from the House of Lamentation. 

When he came back, he went directly to your room with bags full of all of your favorite food. No one should skip dinner.

You had to keep yourself from laughing as Beel explained why he brought all of your favorite food and you invited him in to share the food with you.

Beel noticed the pained expression you flashed every so often and when you told him about your period cramps and how that was the reason you left dinner early, Beel wanted to do everything he could to help.

He immediately engulfed you into his arms, holding you tightly into him as his hands rubbed soothing circles onto your back.

You felt your pain slowly going away as Beel’s body warmth underneath you acted as a heating pad and his hands relieved any tension you were holding.

He might not know exactly how to help you, but he’s just as effective in soothing your cramps nonetheless.

Belphie's help almost always came with a witty remark or some teasing no matter who you were or what the situation was.

But, for this particular situation, Belphie tried to be on his best behavior.

From what he heard, this was a hard time for you and he was certain the wrong remark would set you off.

So, he played especially nice.

He came to your room and asked you if there was anything he could do to help.

When you let him in, he asked a few questions about your period and got you a few things.

But, if that doesn't help, Belphie will escalate things.

When most people think of the Avatar of Sloth, they only think about him sleeping a lot.

They don't often recognize the power he had over other people's sleep.

And if you continue to be in pain throughout the night, Belphie will reach a point where he believes sleep is the only way to help you.

And it will be the best sleep of your life, full of amazing dreams to keep any pain of your cramps far away from you.

Naturally, Belphie will spend the night in your room, cuddling you.

But it's just to make sure you get a restful sleep the whole night!

[intimidating-fettuccine]

hi, like your writing alot, can i request ej with an so who likes to kiss his scars/him in general in an attempt to make him feel better?

Helloooo I hope you enjoy, I'm feeling a lil wonky myself today, so I tried to make this fluffy for you

Jack tries to insist oftentimes that he's perfectly fine and dandy, although that's not quite true. Most days he is alright, but there are a lot of times when his past and his trauma overwhelm him, where he gets incredibly depressed and despondent, but he does his best to hide it behind his stoic personality. To you, however, who knows him so well and notices all his signs and tells that could slip past others, it's quite obvious when he's in a depressive rut, as he is right now. It's upsetting to watch him try and work through these things alone, so of course you want to be there for him to help him, and the best way to do that is usually through physical affection. You've made it a routine to try and soothe him with touch, as you've found over time that he benefits greatly from it, as touch-starved as he is, and today is no different.

Being nocturnal, he usually doesn't wake up until late in the afternoon, and when you find him today it's obvious his lethargy is hitting him. He's normally up and getting dressed, but today he's lying in bed buried under the covers, showing no signs of moving anytime soon. As you move to crawl into his bed beside him, he turns immediately, sighing as he shoves his face into your chest and pulls you firmly against him, trying to snuggle all of his worries away. You're the only person he truly lets his guard down around, and as you move back to look at his face, the depression and worry lines are clearly sinking into him, and you're quick to cover his face in kisses, causing surprised noises to rise from him, but they're quickly replaced by purrs, his feline ears relaxing and his tail swishing back and forth. Your eyes trace over the various scars across his skin, scars Jack tries (and often succeeds to, due to his lack of vision) to forget about, your fingers moving to trace them gently. His body tenses a bit at the feeling of you caressing them, but the purrs continue to leave him as he headbutts into you gently, but you continue to do what you always do and move your lips across his scars.

It always flusters him when you do so, giving him a deep feeling in his chest he's not sure how to process, a feeling that makes him a little uncomfortable as he's not used to feeling it, but at the same time he doesn't want you to stop. He can't see the scars across his skin, some of them from work, some of them from the night he became a demon, some of them inflicted by his own hands during his darker nights, but he hates them. He can't see how they make him look, but the more insecure parts of his mind tell him they must make him look even more monstrous, and it's a sore spot for him, so for you to treat them so delicately, for you to lovingly kiss them in an attempt to make him feel better, it just deeply flusters him in a way he never thought he'd feel. Your repetitive attempts to do this to him over time have soothed his worries a lot, but it doesn't make him any less embarrassed every time you do it. It makes him happy that you love him so much, that you accept him and cherish him despite what he perceives to be flaws. He feels himself relaxing and his negative thoughts leaving him as your lips gently work their way across his face now, and his nose scrunches up when you intentionally try and tickle him with butterfly kisses, causing you to laugh at his adorable expression. It's a repetitive process you like to do, one that brings both of you joy, and while Jack never thought that it would do so, he feels so at peace knowing he's finally found someone who loves him enough to do things like this. While he was originally so shy about you doing things like this, there are lots of days where he finds himself missing this, finds himself wanting to find you, and ask you to do this to him, but you always seem to know just when he needs it. He loves you more than he ever thought he'd be able to love anything, and the fact that you clearly care about him so much increases that love tenfold. He feels himself drifting back off to sleep as you continue to kiss all over him, a smile on his face as peace runs through his mind, all thanks to you.

[brainwashed-babe]

Overlap

The buzzing between her legs was bad enough all on its own. Even if it was just that, Tonya probably wouldn't have been able to hold out very long.

The restraints made it worse. She had enough freedom to squirm and writhe, but never in a way that mattered. Every little shift or twist she managed to make her body do only led to a new angle of stimulation.

But the real killers were the lights and the sounds. The strange pulsing pink that made her dizzy. It felt like it was searing in behind her eyes with every pulse, making something deep in her shudder with pleasure and vertigo simultaneously. Like leaning over a cliff and knowing how good it'd feel to fall.

And the sounds - her own moans and whimpers made it hard to make it out, but she got bits and pieces. Faint overlapping voices, saying things she couldn't make out. Good slave and surrender and serve and pleasure. The words felt insidious, like they lurked in the shadows of the room and crept up closer with each passing moment.

Tonya had cum so many times she'd lost count. The pleasure was overwhelming. Her body was exhausted. She only wanted to make it stop, but she couldn't help but surrender to the sensations. Surrender and obey. The pleasure was so strong, and it melts my will. She bore down, mentally, trying to hold out. She could feel herself slipping, her will fraying. She was going to cum again, and good slaves cum for Master. These weren't her thoughts. She was a good slave, and... no. No, that's not right. My body is his property. Tonya moaned through the gag, knowing that I live to serve. Pleasure melts my will. Another orgasm - or was it the same one, just continuing? - rippled through her sweaty, spent body. My body is his property. I love to surrender and obey. I am a good slave. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to resist. I live to serve. It was no use. She Good slaves cum for Master. My body is his property. She was I am a good slave. I live to serve. Pleasure melts my will. She couldn't I only want to serve. Good slaves cum for Master. My body is his property. I love to surrender and obey.

I am a good slave. I live to serve. Pleasure melts my will. I only want to serve. Good slaves cum for Master. My body is his property. I love to surrender and obey. I am a good slave. I live to serve. Pleasure melts my will. I only want to serve. Good slaves cum for Master. My body is his property. I love to surrender and obey...

[brotherwtf]

John realizing mid-fuck fest that Gale has a huge praise kink and then making direct eye contact with him and telling him how good he is 😭 maybe Gayle cries a lil because he’s so overwhelmed and never knew that sex could make you feel this seen and loved. maybe a little overstimulation somewhere in there. just thoughts i have

fuck-fest sounds like it could be a fun writing event lmao thinking thoughts

PRAISE KINK GALE YOU WILL ALWAYS BE MY BELOVED

----

John started to realize that when Gale started to cover his eyes during sex, it meant he felt good, really good.

Of course this always gave John a boost of ego, made him preen because he loves to please Gale, loves to make him feel good, but it also meant he couldn't see Gale's beautiful fucked out expression.

So he takes Gale's hands and pins them down on either side of his head, which makes Gale whine and turn his head into the sheets, trying to cover the way his brow furrows and his mouth opens in a desperate moan.

"Come on, doll, don't be shy, you look so pretty like this. Taking me so well," John groans, thrusting harder with each word.

A beautiful flush creeps on Gale's cheeks as he whines something high in his throat, fighting against John's wrist to try and cover his face again.

"Hey, shh, shh, none of that. Come on Gale you look so beautiful. Aren't you? Just the prettiest fucking thing I've ever seen," John mutters and Gales face screws up again.

Gale throws his head back, baring his neck as John keeps moving inside of him, and John grabs Gale gently by his chin, urging him to look into his eyes.

"Come on baby, look at me. There you go, that's it. Taking it so well huh? God, you're so fucking good," John says, staring deep into Gale's glassy eyes.

Gale makes a sound, a hiccup almost, and a lone tear streaks down his cheek as he bites his lip, trying to keep his sounds at bay. John tilts his face to slot their lips together, moving gently and groaning when Gale clenches down on him.

Gale's making sobbing sounds so John pulls away, looks down at him and notices more tears streaming down his face.

"Hey, hey Gale what's wrong? Everything alright? Come talk to me doll," John says and Gale just whines again.

"Don't stop," Gale says, choked behind another breathy sob.

John raises his eyebrows at him, but through teary eyes Gale just nods, encouraging him to move again. John picks up the brutal pace, groaning into Gale's lips and doing his best to stroke Gale's wrist with his hand, a silent praise telling him how well he's done.

Gale comes on a sob, spilling onto his stomach, hips kicking up desperately as John continues to bully into him. His sobs get louder, keens getting higher in his throat as John fucks into him.

"Fuck, fuck yeah there you go. I'm so close, Gale, God you're doing so fucking good, oh my God," John groans, bottoming out and spilling inside of Gale.

He pants against Gale's cheek, pressing himself against Gale's body and almost laughing with how amazing that was. John props himself back up and peers down at Gale who's panting and squeezing his eyes shut.

"You there, Gale?" John asks, pretending to knock on Gale's skull to pull him out of his thoughts.

Gale chuckles under his breath, opens his glassy eyes and looks into John's.

"I love you," He says and John's heart blooms.

"Love you too, darling," John says and presses a kiss to Gale's lips.

[insolemi]

New Beginnings

cate dunlap (gen v) x (hopefully)gn!reader

summary: cate's life takes a series of turns when she gets to God U, and you're at the center of all of them

genre: fluff, potential angst

inclusions: language, awkward situations, touchstarved and socially awkward!cate, overly-excited and outgoing!reader, ooc cate fs, this is more a few different scattered scenes that it is a full, single plot fic so be aware, my first attempt at a fic so please lower expectations

wc: 4.4k

hiiii… y’all i am so sorry this took me seventy years to get posted, i had the strangest series of events happen, but here it is and i hope you enjoy it !!

Godolkin is an entirely new environment.

It's not like Cate hadn't known that going into it, hadn’t known that her life would be completely different from the moment Indira Shetty had shown up in her room and offered her a way out of her childhood bedroom turned prison. She doesn’t think she’d ever be able to repay her for that. For getting her out of that house, out from under the echoing emptiness of the four walls of her bedroom and the occasional sound of her online homework videos.

For being the reason she met you. Her pretty, sweet little roommate.

Move-in day hadn’t been particularly good or bad, the large crowds of people and their chattering were overwhelming but calming at the same time, knowing the voices weren’t in her head but out loud, around her this time.

She made her way down the hall, brushing through smaller crowds of students and their parents as she counted the different numbers above the doors. 415, 417, 419. She reads the number, coming to a slow stop outside of the dorm room with the number written on the piece of paper in her hand, her name labeled right next to your name. The thought alone of it makes her nauseous, having to share a bedroom with an entirely new person she’d never met before and hope that they get along. 

Whatever. It’s fine. She can do this. All she has to do is walk into the room, introduce herself to you, and try her best to not embarrass herself. That’s easy enough, no? It’s not like its rocket science or a hostage situation (although the way her heart is beating loudly in her ears might say differently), all she has to do is walk in and say ‘Hi, I’m Cate’. 

She stands in the doorway, just staring at your back for a moment, her eyes wide, the leather of her gloves creaking around the strap of the bag she’s holding in her hands (one of the only things she’d even brought with her) as she works up the courage to just open her mouth and talk as the only thing running through her mind is that everything is fine, she's got this, all she has to do is say–

Fuck.

The second her mouth opens, you turn to face her from the desk you’d been arranging things on and any words she’d been carefully planning in her head die on the tip of her tongue immediately at the sight of you. 

She hardly has any time to let the thought cross her mind and register it before you’re in her space, introducing yourself with an excited note to your sweet voice and wrapping your arms around her in a brief hug, your chin pressed against the side of her shoulder, the palm of your hands braced on the back of her shoulders, the other hand around her neck. You pull back from her and rest your hands above the back of her elbows, your face still in her direct orbit as you smile at her, your mouth opening to continue speaking. “You’re Cate, right? My roommate?” There’s a pretty little sparkle to your eye that she has to tear her own away from.

She can’t think about anything but the sound of your voice ringing in her ears and the feeling of the heat of your hands over her sleeves, but she somehow manages to get the words out of her mouth to finally introduce herself. “Uh, yeah, hi,” she forces out, her head spinning so fast that she can’t think properly and she stumbles back a step, pulling out of your grasp, unable to handle the warmth of your touch. She awkwardly tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I'm, um… Cate.” It’s been so long since anyone touched her so enthusiastically, without any ounce of hesitation, and now here you are, all smiles and casual touches, and she can barely keep it together.

But she does. She doesn’t want to come across as weird, a freak, so she smiles and nods along with your excited chattering, your energy far off the charts of anything near the realm of what she’s used to. “Thank god,” you laugh, clapping your hands together as you look her over for probably the first real time since she entered the room. “I was so worried I was gonna get a total bitch, but you seem sweet, so, again, thank god.” Another bell-ringing laugh.

“You have a nice laugh.” Fuck. Again. Her and her big mouth. “Sorry! I didn’t–”

“It's fine! Thank you," you keep the pretty smile on your face as you continue to look over Cate, a tint to your cheeks appearing briefly before you’re back to talking, something she’s starting to get the sense you do a lot (not that she minds, not if it means she gets to keep hearing your voice). "Oh, your hair is so gorgeous," you lift a hand from where it’s clasped in front of your chest to briefly lift a strand of Cate's blonde hair, admiring the clips she has in place.

Cate feels her pulse quicken. “Uh... thanks. It’s just, you know... hair,” she laughs nervously, unsure what else to say. Your touch, though brief, leaves behind a warmth that spreads through her chest, and it’s making her head spin

You smile brightly, seemingly unaware of how much you're affecting her. “Y’know, you and me? We’re going to be best friends. I can already tell.” 

Cate’s face flushes instantly. "Oh, um... yeah! That’d be cool." Her voice cracks slightly as she tries to match your enthusiasm, and she winces inwardly. You sound so sure of yourself, have so much conviction in your voice that Cate can hardly do anything other than believe your words. It’s overwhelming, in the best way, but she feels like she’s drowning in it. She’s not used to this kind of attention directed at her. You’re all smiles, your energy is infectious, and it’s making her feel out of place for not being able to respond how she wants to. She knows what she wants to say, but that’s almost never what leaves her mouth.

Still in the back of her head, there’s a wiggling part that kinda smarts at what you say. Best friends. That’s exactly what she needs, she thinks, a genuine best friend, though that thought directed at you makes her chest tighten in a way she doesn’t know how to handle, for reasons she doesn’t want to think about.

“You seem... really sweet, too,” Cate admits, biting her lip the moment the words leave her mouth. She hates how transparent she’s being but with you... it’s hard to hide how much she’s already attached.

Your smile grows even warmer. “Good! ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, Cate.”

Cate lets out a nervous laugh, trying to mask the overwhelming flood of emotions that sentence sparks. "Yeah... I’m okay with that." More than okay, she thinks, but she can’t say that out loud.

—

It’s late, and the two of you are sitting on the loveseat couch in your dorm room that you’d somehow managed to acquire (somehow being you sweet-talking a frat boy out of one, not that anyone else needed to know that), mid-way through watching some animated movie Cate can’t remember the name of but you’d forced her to watch (‘forced’ meaning you asked her once to watch it and she caved) once you realized she’d never seen it. You’ve been leaning against Cate’s side for most of it, your head resting on her shoulder, legs thrown over the arm of the couch, and she’s been tense the whole time, back ramrod straight, trying her best not to move too much, not to let her nerves show. She’s terrified that if she moves, you’ll realize how fast her heart is racing.

It’s silent in the room until you let out a soft sigh, shifting slightly where you’re laying basically your entire body against her side. Cate can’t help but somehow stiffen up more. This doesn’t escape your notice, just like anything else that has to do with her, and you lift your head, turning it to look at her.

“You okay?” The concern in your voice makes her heart squeeze and she makes a conscious effort to relax a little. 

“Yeah,” she slips you a tight smile, her eyes darting back and forth between the screen and your face. More than okay if she’s being honest.

You nod, a soft hum of contentment leaving your lips as you lay your head back down on her shoulder, pulling your legs closer to you on the couch and loosely wrapping an arm around hers. Cate’s breath hitches despite her best efforts to focus on anything other than your bare palm on her arm. “Yeah,” you echo, the sound full of a kind of relaxation Cate desperately wishes she could hit.

It falls silent in the room again, the neon colors on the screen glowing brightly around the room, casting long shadows where the light can’t quite reach. There’s almost something either poetic or ironic in that, Cate thinks. Maybe she could figure it out if she could think about something other than the heat of your skin or your breath fanning out over her arm, your eyes still focused solely on the screen.

She feels like she should say something more, but the words get stuck in her throat, but all she can think about is how warm you feel against her, how much she wants this moment to last forever.

You glance up at her again, noticing the distant look on her face, and nudge her with a playful grin. "You’re still watching, right?" you tease, your voice light but laced with affection. “This is my favorite part.”

Cate blinks, momentarily startled, then forces a sheepish smile. “Uh, yeah. Totally.” But in reality, she hasn’t processed a single frame of the movie. How could she, when you’re so close? When your every movement sends ripples of warmth through her?

The movie continues to play, but all Cate can focus on is how natural it feels, how right it feels, sitting next to you like this.

—

It’s been a few weeks since you two moved in together, and Cate is slowly starting to feel more comfortable around you. She’s still a little awkward, old habits die hard (especially ones like hers), but she’s not as jumpy as she used to be. Especially not now when, where there used to be hard spots of tension in every silence between you two, are now small, quiet moments that are more comforting than they are terrifying.

So today, when you suggested grabbing coffee at the campus café, Cate agreed. Even if the thought of spending time alone with you, even if it is in a public space, still makes her heart race, she just couldn’t find it in herself to say no this time. She’s sitting across from you, absently stirring her drink as you talk about anything and everything, your hands doing most of the speaking for you when you bring it up. 

“So…” She can already tell you think you’re taking a risk bringing it up, which makes her stomach twist a little. “There’s this little hangout thing – not a party!” You reassure immediately, hand coming up to stop any protests she might have, already well aware that parties aren’t her thing; too many people, too much noise, too much of a risk of something bad happening. “It’s not a party, it’s just, like, five or six people, I swear.”

“You should come with me!” you say, your eyes lighting up. “It’ll be fun, I promise.” It’s a long shot, asking her to go to a party (or anything, really), and you both know it, but you never skip asking her anyway, despite her numerous rejections. It makes her feel… warm? That you never give up on her. That alone makes her reconsider her usual knee-jerk reaction of saying ‘no’.

Her fingers toy with the rim of her cup, buying her a moment to think. “I don’t know...” she begins, her voice hesitant. “Parties aren’t really my thing.” She glances up at you, biting her lip. “But... maybe.”

You nearly spill your coffee as you sit up straighter, eyes wide and a hopeful smile on your face. “Wait—really? You’d come?”

Cate feels her heart skip a beat at your genuine surprise and excitement. A small, tentative smile pulls at her lips, and for once, she lets herself enjoy the idea. “Yeah,” she shrugs, trying to sound casual even though her heart is racing. “Why not, right?”

You grin from ear to ear, letting out a little squeal of excitement, making her feel a little braver for saying yes. “This is awesome, Cate! You won’t regret it, I swear.”

She hopes you’re right.

—

Later that night, Cate stands in front of the mirror, adjusting her shirt nervously for what feels like the hundredth time. She’s never been comfortable with events like this, even if it is nothing big, just a small gathering with some people from your class like you’d said. Despite the anxiety gnawing at her, she’s determined to at least try, especially since it means spending more time with you outside of classes. She tugs at the sleeves of her shirt, her eyes lingering on her gloves.

Your soft knock on the open closet door pulls her from her thoughts. You poke your head around it, a playful grin on your face. “You ready?”

Nope. She is absolutely in no way prepared for this. At all. Cate takes a deep breath, her lips quirking into a small, hesitant smile. “Yup,” she chirps, though there’s still audible uncertainty in her voice.

You walk over to her, gently reaching out to fix a stray strand of hair that’s fallen out of place. Your fingers barely graze her skin, but it’s enough to send her pulse racing. “You look great, Cate.”

Cate’s breath catches at the compliment, and she gives a soft, nervous laugh. “Thanks,” she murmurs, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “You too. I mean, you also look great.” She's not entirely sure that covers it.

You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. “Don’t worry,” you say reassuringly, “I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

For some reason, that promise makes all the difference. Cate takes another steadying breath and follows you to the door, feeling just a little braver with you by her side.

Maybe tonight, she’ll finally stop holding herself back.

—

A few weeks later and the two of you are lying on your beds, the lights dimmed, just talking about anything and everything. These late-night conversations have become a nightly routine since moving in together, and Cate is starting to feel like she can really open up to you in ways she hasn’t with anyone else. There's something about the quiet of the room, the gentle rhythm of your voice, and the way you listen without judgment that makes her feel... safe, she thinks. 

You stretch out, letting your arm dangle off the edge of the bed, glancing over at her. “Hey, Cate,” you ask softly, “what’s your family like?”

Cate hesitates, staring up at the ceiling. She’s never been good at talking about them—the weight of her past always feels too heavy, too personal. But with you, it doesn’t feel quite as suffocating. There's something about the way you ask, like you’re genuinely interested, but not pushing her to share more than she’s comfortable with. She still isn’t sure how much she wants to reveal, but the silence that follows your question is patient, giving her room to breathe.

She finally speaks, her voice low. “My family’s... complicated.” She shifts slightly on her bed, pulling at the sleeve of her shirt. “I don’t really talk to them much anymore.”

You turn your head to look at her, your voice soft and full of understanding. “I’m sorry, Cate.”

Cate swallows, feeling a familiar tightness in her chest. She doesn’t want to go too deep, doesn’t want to drag the mood down, so she shrugs, trying to make it seem like it’s not that big of a deal. “It’s okay. I’m... kinda used to it by now.” Her voice wavers slightly, betraying her attempt at nonchalance.

The room falls into a thoughtful silence. It’s not uncomfortable, just heavy with the unspoken weight of everything Cate has never said aloud. You don’t push for more, just let her words hang in the air, like you’re giving her the space to share if she wants to. After a long pause, you break the silence with a soft chuckle.

“You know, I think we’re kind of like family now,” you say, the warmth in your tone unmistakable. You roll over on your side, facing her, your face half-lit by the soft glow from the window. “I mean, we live together, we spend a lot of time together, grocery shopping... pretty much checks all the boxes, right?”

Cate turns her head slightly, surprised by your words. The idea catches her off-guard, but not in a bad way. It’s just... new. “Yeah?” she murmurs, her voice uncertain. “You think so?”

“Definitely,” you say with a grin. “And you don’t have to think about any of that shit with your family right now. You've got me.” You scoot a little closer on your bed, giving her an earnest look. “So... if you ever wanna, like, talk about it, I’m here. But if not, that’s cool too. It won’t hurt my feelings or anything.”

Cate’s heart skips a beat. It’s not the words themselves that get to her—it’s the sincerity behind them. The way you say it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, makes her feel like maybe she’s not as alone as she thought.

A small, genuine smile tugs at her lips. “Yeah,” she murmurs, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “I guess.”

You flash her another warm smile, your voice light. “See? I’m not so bad to have around, right?”

Cate chuckles softly, the sound easing some of the tension in her shoulders. “Eh, you’re alright,” she teases gently, heaving an exasperated sounding sigh. “Guess I could do worse.”

You laugh, a playful glint in your eye. “Wow, thanks, I think? High praise coming from you.”

Cate rolls her eyes, but there’s no denying the smile that’s still on her face. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” you reply, your grin widening as you settle back into your pillow. The easy banter between you both feels like a balm, soothing the heaviness of the earlier conversation.

—

You and Cate are sitting on the bed, talking like usual, but there’s something different about today—something a little heavier in the air. Cate’s been quieter than normal, her gloved hands resting tensely in her lap, fingers curling and uncurling against the fabric. You can tell something’s bothering her, the way her gaze keeps flicking down to her hands, then back up at you, as if she’s debating something in her head.

You wait for her to speak, sensing that there’s something she wants to say but is struggling to get out. Finally, you reach over and place your hand on top of hers, your thumb tracing gentle circles over the soft leather. “Cate... what’s going on?” Your voice is full of care, inviting her to share what’s going through her head, even when you both know you already know.

It’s silent in the room for a moment before you speak again. “It’s about your gloves, right?” A gross underestimation and you both know it. “You don’t have to wear those if you don’t want to. Not around me.”

Cate’s breath hitches, her eyes widening as she pulls her hands away instinctively. “I– I do,” she whispers, almost like she’s trying to convince herself as much as you. “You don’t understand. If I touch someone, tell them to do something... they have to. I can’t just take it back. What if I say something I don’t mean? What if I hurt you without even realizing it?”

Your expression softens as you scoot closer, your knees brushing against hers. “I trust you, Cate,” you say firmly, but with a gentleness that makes her heart ache. “C’mon, I know you’d never hurt me. Not like that.”

Cate bites her lip, her gaze dropping again to the gloves. She’s heard those words from you before, but it’s hard to believe them, especially when the memories of what happened to her brother still haunt her. “It’s not that simple,” she mutters, her voice tight. “I could slip up. All it takes is– is a touch and a word, and I could—” She stutters through her words before they break off, biting her lip. The thought of losing control terrifies her.

You lean forward, holding her hands tighter, not letting go this time. “I do know,” you say softly, your eyes searching hers. “I know, Cate, what you can do, what happened to your brother, but I also know you. And I’m not scared of you because I know it wasn’t your fault. Not even a little.”

Cate’s breath catches, her heart pounding as she stares at you with wide, searching eyes. No one’s ever said that to her—not like this. Not with so much confidence in her. She wants to believe you, wants to trust that she won’t make a mistake... but the fear of losing control, of saying something she can’t take back, always lingers at the edge of her thoughts.

She looks away, her voice trembling. “But what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’ Cate,” you interrupt gently, moving her hand up to your cheek, even with the glove still on. “You can take them off. I want you to. Please?”

Cate’s heart pounds, her fingers trembling beneath the leather. She hesitates for a long moment, her mind racing with a hundred different reasons why she shouldn’t. But something about the way you’re holding her hand—like it’s nothing, like you don’t see the danger—makes her want to try.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, she reaches for the edge of one glove, pulling it off with trembling fingers. Her hand feels exposed, vulnerable, but you don’t flinch. You just hold her gaze, calm and patient, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

She pulls off the second glove, her bare hands now resting in yours. She waits—waits for something to go wrong, for the fear to take over. But nothing happens. You don’t pull away. You don’t flinch. Instead, you gently lift her hand back to your cheek, letting her feel the warmth of your skin.

“See?” you whisper, your voice gentle. “You’re in control, Cate. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Cate’s breath hitches, her chest tight with emotion. She can hardly believe what’s happening—she’s touching you, skin to skin, and it’s okay. It’s more than okay. It feels... right.

“I never thought I’d be able to do this,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I was so scared I’d mess up... that I’d say something and lose you.”

You smile softly, still holding her hand against your cheek. “You don’t have to be afraid, not with me. I trust you, Cate. I always have.”

Cate’s heart swells, the weight of her fear slowly lifting. For the first time in what feels like forever, she feels safe. Not just because of your touch, but because of the way you believe in her—like she’s more than just her power, more than her fear.

“I... I trust you too,” she finally whispers, a small smile tugging at her lips. She holds onto your touch, the warmth of your hand grounding her in a way she’s never felt before. “Thank you. For believing in me.”

And in that moment, with your hand in hers, the fear that’s haunted her for so long feels just a little bit lighter. Light enough to get everything else off of her chest.

Cate swallows hard, feeling like her heart’s going to burst right out of her chest. She tries to steady herself, but the weight of everything she’s been bottling up is too much. She glances down at her hands, then back at you, and before she can stop herself, the words start to spill out—awkward, messy, but real. “I... I’m scared because... because I care about you. Like, a lot. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone, and... and the thought of hurting you... it just—it freaks me out.”

She looks away as soon as she says it, like she’s half-expecting you to laugh or push her away. But you don’t. Her heart skips a beat when she hears your voice, soft and closer than she expected.

Your heart skips a beat at her confession, but you don’t pull away. “Cate, you’re not gonna hurt me.” You lean in, your voice a little quieter, a little more vulnerable. “I care about you too... more than you know.”

Her head snaps up, eyes wide as she stares at you like she can’t believe what she just heard. “Wait... you—you do?”

“Yeah.” You nod, looking just as nervous but still smiling a little. “I’ve felt like this for a while. I just... didn’t know how to say it.”

Cate opens her mouth, but all that comes out is this weird little half-laugh, half-gasp sound, like she’s trying to process it all. “You’re serious? You like... you’ve liked me?”

“Yeah. For a while now.”

There’s this awkward pause where you’re both kind of just staring at each other, unsure of what to say next. Cate lets out a shaky breath, her fingers twitching in your grasp, and she looks down again, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

Your smile softens, and you reach out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to think about that. I’m not going anywhere.”

Cate’s throat tightens, and she feels her eyes starting to sting. She blinks quickly, trying to hold back the tears, but it’s no use. They’re not just tears of fear anymore. It’s everything—relief, hope, something she hasn’t let herself feel in a long time. She leans in without really thinking, her forehead resting against yours, her voice barely audible, trembling just a little.

“Promise?” she whispers, her breath warm against your skin.

You nod, your eyes closing as you hold her just a little tighter. “Promise.”

In that moment, Cate finally lets herself believe it might be okay.

[gyubakeries]

your work is so so sooo good. you write angst and fluff so well wow. could i please request a similar drabble with seungkwan? any plot is great, just the same loving doting boyfriend as in your seungcheol drabble

𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗱-𝗮𝗶𝗱 | b.sk

a/n: hi anon! im so glad you liked the seungcheol drabble <3 thanks for requesting this!! kwan is so bf material... this wasnt really hard to write lmaoo. hope you like this!

word count: 2.2k contents: seungkwan x afab!reader , idol!seungkwan , waitress!reader , domestic fluff , mentions of injury (just a small cut) , a little angst , but we get comfort so thank you kwan , set right after nana tour , seungkwan being a pro-nagger

"y/n, just go home," your co-worker, hyeri, sighs. "i'll cover for you."

"i'm fine, hyeri," you shake your head, continuing to wipe down the empty tables.

"you look dead from the lack of sleep," hyeri counters, taking the cleaning rag away from you. "i could see those dark circles under your eyes from miles away."

"are you telling me i look like a panda?" you gasp, and hyeri shoots you an unimpressed look.

"go home, or i'm calling seungkwan up," hyeri threatens, and your eyes widen at the mention of your boyfriend's name.

"are you crazy? don't say that out loud! you never know when someone is listening!" you whisper-yell. dating an idol from a famous kpop group was a tough job, especially when their fans could be lurking anywhere.

"there's literally no one here," hyeri points out. "because it's closing time. now go home before i kick your ass."

"but-"

"non negotiable," hyeri cuts you off. "you've closed every night for the last two weeks, so let me do it now. go home and get some rest, y/n. i'm worried about you."

your shoulders slump. you hated that hyeri had to do your job, but a tiny part of you felt relieved to be going home and finally getting some shut-eye.

"thank you so much, i'll treat you to lunch soon," you say. "at the expensive hot-pot place you like."

hyeri squeals with excitement, and you can only smile at her antics before heading out to the back of the restaurant, grabbing your things, and leaving for the day.

it's almost midnight by the time you're stepping into your apartment. you immediately head into your bedroom to put your phone on charge, it having died sometime during the day while you were working. you quickly go into the bathroom to take a shower, eager to get clean and finally hit the bed, unaware of the text messages lighting up your screen while you shower.

once you're dressed in comfortable clothes, you tuck yourself into bed. you wait for sleep to claim you as soon as your head hits the pillow, but..... it doesn't.

you lie awake, staring at the ceiling blankly. you feel so tired, but your eyes refuse to shut. the frustration overwhelms you, threatening to make unshed tears spill from your eyes. just when you thought things couldn't get worse, your stomach starts rumbling loudly.

groaning because of this unfair situation the universe decided to put you in when all you wanted was to sleep, you get out of bed and walk into the kitchen, hoping to make some ramen for yourself.

you open the cupboard to fetch some instant ramen after putting a pot of water on the stove to boil. while waiting for the water, you take out an egg and some green onion from your fridge.

the ramen noodles go into the water and you take out a knife to chop up some green onions, just to be fancy. just then, a wave of tiredness washes over you, making your eyelids droop.

you yawn, carelessly cutting the green onion. a combination of your exhaustion and your vision blurring with tears as you yawn again makes you miscalculate where your knife lands, and in the blink of an eye, there's a gash on your index finger, bright red blood oozing out of it.

"shit!" you exclaim, rushing to the kitchen sink to run some cold water over your finger. in your panic, you barely register the door to your apartment opening and your boyfriend walking in.

"y/n! i'm ho- shit, what happened?" seungkwan gasps, seeing you hunched over the kitchen sink. he rushes to you, dropping his bag to the floor. he nearly screams too when he sees the cut on your finger and the blood spilling from it.

"wait here, i'll get the first-aid kit," he snaps into action, but you stop him.

"switch the stove off, or the next mess we'll have to clean is the ramen," you instruct, pointing at the ramen bubbling dangerously on the stove.

seungkwan does as you say, and then rushes into the bedroom to find the first-aid kit. he's back in the kitchen in no time, holding a box of band-aids, some cotton, and.... a sharpie?

the cotton turns out to be drenched in warm water, which he uses to clean the wound gently. he then takes a band-aid out of the box and carefully wraps it around your finger, making sure to cover the cut entirely. and then comes the role of the sharpie.

seungkwan pulls the injured finger closer to him and takes off the cap of the marker. his eyebrows furrow with concentration as he brings the pen to the band-aid, drawing something onto it.

when he releases your finger, you see that he's drawn the face of a puppy onto the band-aid. your heart melts.

"kwan, that's so cute!" you squeal, momentarily forgetting about whatever had just happened. and also the fact that your boyfriend was an expert at nagging.

"yah, y/n, don't you think you should be more careful?" seungkwan scolds lightly. "what if the cut was deeper? or your finger got chopped off? what if i hadn't come home at that time? you didn't even know i was going to come! do you know how worried i was when you didn't read my texts?"

your smile is quickly replaced by a frown, and you suddenly feel tired again. seungkwan notices the abrupt change in your mood, and immediately feels bad for scolding you.

"babe, i'm sorry," he apologizes, coming closer to you to take your hands in his. "i was just really worried, you know?"

you only nod in response. you weren't upset because of seungkwan, but because of how pathetic and monotonous your life had become over the last few weeks.

"y/n, talk to me," seungkwan tries, not liking the distant look in your eyes. he could also tell that you were tired from your pale and sullen face. "is everything okay?"

his concerned tone feels like a hug to all the turmoil in your head, and that prompts the first few tears to escape your eyes. you look up at seungkwan, and his distressed expression only upsets you more, making you sob louder.

seungkwan doesn't hesitate for a second, pulling you against his chest in a warm embrace. you inhale deeply, taking in the scent of his cologne that never fails to soothe you.

"how about we lay down?" seungkwan suggests after a while. you nod again, so he carefully guides the both of you towards your bedroom, gently pulling you down next to him on the bed, his arms never leaving your waist.

"do you want to talk about what's been bothering you? was it what i said?" seungkwan asks once your sobs had reduced to sniffles.

"i'm tired." you state. it's the truth, but it's far more complex than just tiredness.

"of course you are. not sleeping for a week does that to people," seungkwan replies in a matter-of-factly tone.

"how did you know that?" you ask, genuinely surprised.

"hyeri texted me earlier. i would have gone to pick you up after your shift, but my dance practice was still on," he answers. "so, what's been up with you? missed me so much you couldn't sleep?"

he said it as a joke, but the words strike a sensitive spot.

"i did," you answer truthfully. "i missed you a lot. it felt like hell without you. and i'm used to months of not seeing you, but this time we couldn't even text because you were busy filming, and it's ridiculous of me to complain about it because it's literally your job, but i missed you a lot. i tried sleeping but i couldn't. not without you texting me a stupid meme vernon sent you before nagging at me to go to sleep. not without you there to hold me. it was torture, kwan."

seungkwan's eyes widen slightly at your rant. he knew long distance was tough, and you two had been through a lot together, but he knew something else was bothering you. you weren't the type to break down this easily.

"i missed you too, babe," seungkwan sighs, pulling you closer to him. "i hated not being able to see your face, especially after i promised to meet you after i came back from japan."

"it's okay, kwannie, i understand," you knew that seungkwan himself wasn't aware of the surprise trip to italy, so you can't really blame him. he also needed that week-long break, especially after having worked so hard.

"thank you, love," seungkwan mutters into your hair, his fingers gently massaging your scalp to alleviate some tension. "but there's something else that's troubling you. i noticed that you were always worrying about something for a few months. you seemed aloof, and i tried to bring it up, but there was never time. what's up?"

"i feel like i'm stuck," you explain. "my life isn't moving forward. it's the same routine of go to work, clean tables, serve food, come home and do chores, and then repeat. i've wanted to do so much more, but i'm just stuck here."

seungkwan's heart breaks at the exhaustion in your voice. you had told him about how you've always wanted to have your own restaurant, which was the only reason you were working in a restaurant yourself.

"babe, it's okay to feel tired sometimes," he comforts you. "there are times when even i feel like i'm stuck in a rut. go to the studio to record, practice room to practice choreo, attend interviews, and repeat it all again. at the start, even i had doubted getting myself into this career, but i realized how deep my passion for music was, which is why i stayed. and the members too, of course."

"i know you love food and cooking, so just stick to your passion. don't give up on it. your big break will come one day. plus, you know mingyu and i will gladly fund your restaurant. you just have to ask, baby."

seungkwan's words have this ability to heal all your wounds. they're like a soothing balm to your sore body, and you're so thankful to have such a caring and loving person in your life.

"if i start my restaurant, i want to do it myself," you crack a small smile. "you're always free to help with the interior design, though."

"thank god, your interior choices are.... questionable," seungkwan teases.

"hey! you can't say that to me!" you pout, but seungkwan doesn't relent.

"seriously? do i have to remind you of that hideous statue of a chihuahua you bought? because you thought it was cute?" he challenges, raising an eyebrow at you.

"it was cute, okay?" you say defensively. "plus, i gave it away because you refused to enter my apartment if it stayed!"

"there was nothing cute about that abomination," seungkwan shudders. "it was a chihuahua wearing red pants and an orange bow-tie. anyways, my point is still valid. i'd be glad to help you design your restaurant."

"thank you, kwan," you smile, leaning up to kiss him. "you always know what to say to make me feel better. how do you do it?"

"i'm magical, baby," seungkwan shoots an over-exaggerated wink at you, making you burst into laughter. "can i say something even better? i'll get all the members to come to your restaurant and we'll post it on our instagram. that kind of publicity would boost your restaurant to the big leagues instantly."

"sure, baby, you can bring all the guys," you nod, endeared by how enthusiastic seungkwan was. you've had a lot of people doubting your plans for your future career as it had bleak prospects, but having seungkwan by your side had reassured you to follow your dreams. he had never lost faith in you, even on days when you yourself gave up on your goals, and it had motivated you to a great extent.

"you've been by my side through everything, y/n," seungkwan whispers softly, looking into your eyes with nothing but adoration and love. "i can't wait to see you grow and become the brightest star too. i'll be there by your side, just like you've been there for me."

"seungkwan- i-" you're at a loss for words. his words are so genuine, and you really don't know what you'd done in your past life to have someone love you so entirely. "i don't even know what to say."

"maybe start with, 'oh my god, seungkwan, you're the best boyfriend ever!' or maybe even 'you're so cute it makes me want to cook my special ramen for you.' any one of those works really," seungkwan says cheekily, and you playfully slap his chest, followed by a loud yawn from the both of you.

"let's have ramen for breakfast tomorrow," you mumble sleepily.

"i gave you another option...." seungkwan sulks jokingly, making you laugh.

"oh my god, seungkwan, you're the best boyfriend ever!" you giggle, speaking in a shrill voice to sound like one of the many fans who fawn over seungkwan. humming with satisfaction, seungkwan presses a loud smooch to your forehead, squeezing you tightly, and then releasing you. your bodies never stray too far away though, always closely intertwined with each other.

and when you wake up the next morning, well-rested and to the sound of seungkwan singing along to girl group songs in the living room while cleaning, you forget about everything that had been weighing you down.

the band-aid on your finger covered the wound on your finger that healed slowly, and seungkwan's love was the band-aid on your heart, healing something he never broke.

- fin.

[zhvakinnn]

Hello! I apologize if your busy doing something else but could I request a Tyler Hernandez (or other characters if you would like) x reader? Wherein reader has heterochromia but hides by wearing contacts but one day they forget to wear them and Tyler Hernandez (and the other characters you chose) found out.

How would they react? Thank your time and have a great day/noon/night!

Im so sorryyy I've been busy with exam these few weeks(⁠っ⁠˘̩⁠╭⁠╮⁠˘̩⁠)⁠っ

Btw how was your weeks, good luck with some y'all's exams

Warnings:none?

Characters:Tyler x any gender reader ft. Aiden,Ben, Taylor, Ashlyn,logan

🌺as always i don't know much English so if something is wrong correct me🌺

The gc was texting to meet up in the park to hangout and you were late they said they will be there at 6:30 but it's already 6:50

You were to busy watching a movie that you didn't notice your phone rang

You were scrambling around the house getting your things and fixing your looks that you forgot the contacts and ran off the house

You got there and saw them just sitting and messing up each others, you sigh of relief and walk towards them

Taylor was the first to notice you and ran up and hug you tightly, you let out a wheezing laugh and looked over to see Tyler looking at your direction staring at you

You laugh and ran up to him and hugged him this time Tyler puts a hand both of your cheeks to make you look straight to him

The other 4 was to busy to realize the situation, "what?, what are you looking at?" You giggled "what happened to your eyes, they're.. different?" Your eyes widen as you quickly hid it

You search your bag and remember you put it on the kitchen counter "shit.." tears started to prickle, you started to feel overwhelmed and noticed everyones attention was on you

"hey you okay?" Ben typed approaching you, you didn't notice Tyler was rubbing your back "im sorry if I said that, I was just curious"Tyler felt guilty and thought he went to far with his words

You 7 sat down and calm down for a moment, "sooo... What's happening?" Aiden smiled looking at your direction while you cover your other eye, you stayed quiet for moment, "I have this thing where my other eye is different color to my other one, I've been wearing contacts so it's the same color"

Tyler squeeze your free hand and smiled at you and said "there's no need to hide that, you know we won't judge you, like Ben we didn't judge that he can't talk" Ben nodded "and like Aiden we didn't judge him even though his kind of autistic" "im not-" "we won't judge you for who are were here for you" Taylor continued

"hey? Im still not-" "were always here for you (name) if somebody mess with your eyes Ashlyns gonna kick someone's ass" Logan said, everyone looked at him and laughed "im still not autistic!"

You laugh with them knowing that your safe with your friends

After a while you didn't cover your eye anymore just chilling in the swing with Tyler while everyone was chicken fighting

"im glad you guys became my friends" your smiled at him as he nodded "im glad you became my friend too.... Hey I wanna ask you something" you hum in question looking at him

"I know we've been friends for like a month but.."

"would you like to go out with me?"

Waaa it's short but hope you guys loved this

[howlsofbloodhounds]

It's the anon of the erm bsp "found family" mistreating Killer again

Killer, stage 2, he's fine with this life. He has a purpose, do these things his boss tell him to do. The things always have something new in store. So, he gets what he wants, no reason to care about being sorrounded by lovebirds.

But then the truce happens. Now the only 'missions' would be shopping sprees, but Killers not trusted with that either. So Killer gets nothing new. To make up for that, he tries getting something new out of his co-workers instead. There's probably plenty of things that could give Killer what he wants, but the others doesn't help him figure things out. They don't help him with his problems and needs as they do each other. He already messes with them a bit, but now with nothing else to sustain, he makes it everyone else's problem. And they HATE him for it.

Killers constantly bothering everyone else, maybe playing with their feelings or messing with their stuff. It makes him all the more insufferable. No one is happy with this, not killer either.

Also thinking about another thing... Killer having times when everything gets too much and he gets really anti social. Or more like, he shuts up for once and doesn't keep his constant grin. It's so obvious that he's not okay but that fact is so easily ignored because the others just don't care. Killer shows that an insult actually hurt him and they'd just brush it off or think he's being dramatic "because that's the kind of person Killer is

Hello bsp ‘found family’ anon (for lack of a better nickname 😔) 👋. Glad to see you again, and I love that idea.

Especially given how i think boredom would probably be the worst sensation/feeling for Stage 2. It’s overwhelming and probably extremely aggravating. Denying him access to something new, novelty, is probably akin as to locking him in a dark room for years on end or like, extreme sensory deprivation.

To him, it’s literal torture. To them, it’s just killer being annoying and acting out for attention. Even as he gradually escalates into increasingly more and more self destructive and violent behavior, unable to communicate his needs because he’s so dissociated and disconnected from them.

There may even be a period where he lashes out at all of them by continually killing himself and Resetting, if he’s able to in Nightmare’s castle, forcing them to relive the same day over and over until they give him..something, he wouldn’t have the words to explain it in a way they’d understand.

[1-800-crscnt]

-a few hobby hcs i have for some corries, more under the cut-

Fox: may not have time for it, but likes to collect guns and sometimes customize them to increase their power/strangness. He gives some of them silly names, and doesn’t let anybody touch them unless it’s an emergency. Keeping this hobby is a bit anxiety-inducing, because a lot of the guns he collects are actually illegal to own and use, and with the customizations added on, non-illegal ones tend to become illegal. He also likes solving those giant puzzles that you’re supposed to do with a group of people but alone; unfortunately, he never has the time to actually complete any of them.

Thorn: likes to collect knives that he finds, but does let others use them and borrow them, and in rare cases, keep them. He also loves to study vehicles and learn everything about them, and will talk your ear off about his favorite models of the month. He doesn’t have the credits to, but he would love to start collecting miniature models of speeders and fighters. Imagine every Car Guy shoved into one body, and that’s basically him. Also, likes skating because it’s faster than walking, and makes him feel a little cooler and intimidating, but doesn’t realize he actually appears more approachable.

Stone: loves drawing/painting whenever he can, and keeps a little sketchbook that he gets very shy about showing to others. He tries to draw mainly people, but sometimes likes to draw random animals and plants he sees while off-planet. He also loves reading murder mystery and romance novels. Specifically, he’s listening to novels he’s downloaded while on duty. He’s not shy about the reading, but doesn’t really like talking about the books with just anybody. He likes reading aloud to brothers and asking them questions like a teacher would, though.

Thire: more of a thrill-seeker than usual by clone standards, so he has more risky hobbies, like crashing parties when he’s got free-time, street/sky racing with random people, stealing “probably won’t notice it’s missing for a while” things from people before returning it days later, and skating just like Thorn, but usually without any protection and in dangerous spots. Has gotten in trouble with this multiple times, and even after his promotion, still does it. If he was able, he would love to go surfing.

Hound: likes to run and people-watch a lot. Running feels very natural and it’s easy for him to slip into that trance-like state and just empty his mind of any overwhelming thoughts, which happens a lot since I also hc him to be force sensitive to the smallest degree. People-watching is another source of learning what is and isn’t appropriate/expected of him in a more general sense, and he’s also just a nosy people person, so he genuinely enjoys watching people interact with the world around them (and hopefully, with him).

Jek: won’t admit that it’s something he enjoys, but considers himself a professional gardener in training. Whenever he’s able, he likes to pick flowers and bring them back to Coruscant for his brothers to see, but struggles with keeping them alive for longer than a few days. Stone helps with sending him books about plant-care, but Jek has trouble remembering it all. He is aiming to grow a small patch of berry and rose bushes somewhere close to the Guard HQ, and frequently gets other clones to help him build, find manuals, soil, make a schedule for it, etc. After he’s reassigned, he no longer continues with this hobby, but regrets every plant he doesn’t try to sneak back onto ships.

Rys: is still trying to find hobbies that he likes and sticks to, but tends to find himself fixing things for his brothers and himself after his Rugosa mission. “Things” is very general here, and can range from small scratches on armor, to broken datapads, to broken bones. The commanders are secretly considering him for medic training just in case they ever need him to be an official one, but it’s not likely. He also fixes less physical problems too, like soothing anxieties & conveniently remembering things others forgot, but this isn’t usually on purpose. He once fixed a marriage on accident by convincing the arguing spouses to jump someone who lied and robbed them, something other clones find hilarious. His “fixes” are not always the best solutions.

-Fox also skates, but does it out of wanting to connect more with his brothers and train others to do it. It gets expensive since isn’t essential and covered by the Republic or Kaminoans, so only a handful of clones under Thorn’s command actually get skates. They share them between each other, but of course, they won’t always want to-

[4dkellysworld]

How To Stay Trapped

This is not from my own conversations with ChatGPT but someone else's that I saw on IG and thought it was so good that I had to share it here. Except it being Satan, it's you thinking you're ego.. The comments were saying 'that's society' and 'that's life' but no, it's you buying into the mind's beliefs, own it! Take responsibility so you can actually do something about it. I wanted to highlight most of the text. It can also be used as a progress check of sorts, to check in with yourself and see where you can let go of more ego concepts and identification (healing is essentially this too).

Question: If you were Satan and you wanted to stop a young woman from meeting her potential and fulfilling her life's purpose, how would you do it?

Answer: If I were Satan and wanted to stop a young woman from meeting her potential and fulfilling her life's purpose, I would target her mind, emotions, and surroundings to create a sense of self-doubt, confusion and discouragement. My goal would be to keep her stuck, distracted, and disconnected from her true path. Here's how I'd do it:

Undermine Her Self-Worth: I'd plant seeds of insecurity, making her constantly question her value. She'd focus on her perceived flaws and weaknesses rather than her strengths and potential. By keeping her self-esteem low, she would struggle to believe she deserves success or happiness.

Create Toxic Relationships: I'd encourage her to surround herself with negative, toxic, or manipulative people who drain her energy, undermine her dreams, and discourage her from growing. Whether through unhealthy friendships, romantic relationships, or even family dynamics, these people would keep her from focusing on her goals

Fuel the Fear of Failure: I'd amplify her fear of failure, making her terrified of taking risks or trying new things. She'd stay in her comfort zone, avoiding the challenges that would lead to growth. The fear of embarrassment or rejection would keep her from pursuing her purpose.

Distract Her with Superficial Goals: I'd shift her focus away from her true calling by making her prioritize materialism, popularity, or external validation. She would chase after short-term rewards-money, status, appearance - while neglecting her inner development and long-term purpose.

Instill a Victim Mentality: I'd encourage her to feel like life is happening to her rather than for her. By convincing her that she's powerless in the face of her circumstances, I'd keep her from taking control of her destiny. She'd blame external factors instead of seeing the power she has within herself to change her life.

Create Constant Comparisons: I'd ensure that she constantly compares herself to others, feeling inferior or jealous of their achievements. Social media would become a tool for self-criticism, where she believes everyone else is doing better than her. This would sap her motivation and make her feel like she's never enough

Promote Perfectionism: I'd make her believe that anything less than perfect isn't worth doing. She'd become paralyzed by the idea that she has to be flawless in every aspect of her life-whether it's her career, relationships, or appearance-leading to procrastination and stagnation

Discourage Emotional Healing: I'd make her avoid addressing her emotional wounds or past trauma convincing her that healing is unnecessary or too painful. By keeping her unhealed, I'd ensure that old wounds and unresolved pain continue to hold her back and sabotage her future relationships and decisions.

Foster Burnout and Overwhelm: I'd encourage her to take on too many responsibilities, causing her to spread herself thin and eventually burn out. By overwhelming her with stress, I'd keep her from focusing on her true purpose or making meaningful progress in any one area

Normalize Settling for Less: I'd convince her that it's easier and safer to settle for mediocrity, whether in her career, relationships, or personal growth. She'd believe that pursuing her dreams is too risky or unrealistic, so she'd settle for a life of comfort and conformity rather than pushing toward her potential.

Fuel lmposter Syndrome: I'd make her feel like a fraud whenever she achieves success, convincing her that she doesn't really deserve it. No matter how much progress she makes, she'd always feel like she's faking it and fear being "found out," which would hold her back from fully stepping into her power.

Block Her Connection to Intuition or Faith: I'd weaken her connection to her inner wisdom, intuition, or any spiritual guidance she might rely on. By creating doubt in her own instincts or in a higher purpose, I'd keep her disconnected from the inner clarity she needs to make aligned decisions

Through these tactics, I'd aim to keep her in a cycle of self-sabotage, fear, and confusion, making it incredibly difficult for her to rise to her potential and fulfill her life's purpose.

[pekoeboo]

man. I've been reworking a lot of content involving Act II of Home Is Where You Are and like. ugh. it'd work so freaking well in novel form but I just Do Not have the dedication or the drive to start from scratch and rewrite everything that happens.

idk how else to share the updated version of that part of the story with y'all tho, considering that Khalan's journal is insanely outdated now and isn't entirely canon anymore, so I'll probably just have to accept that I likely won't ever be able to update the story for y'all in the way I wish I could. >n<;;

[piplupod]

i need to lie down and curl into a ball and tuck myself into a box and be gently lowered into the earth i think. and just stay there for a few days... years... however long it needs to be until i can exist without feeling like i am a prey animal being hunted for sport every day !!!!!!!

[nessvn]

i just need to make it to shabbat i just need to make it to shabbat i just need

[lesbiangiratina]

I got strive to run okay in windowed mode i missed strive testament theyre so fucking

[arklay]

seeing stars.

pairing: diana x albert wesker words: 7.0k warnings: migraine, nausea and vertigo, brief mentions of food and alcohol, internalised ableism [read on ao3] — [part one]

A long exhale sounded from the en suite bathroom. It wasn’t one of relief. No, it was strained, wavering as it left parted lips – the evidence of a day riddled with nothing but stress.

Wesker slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the mirror from how he had hung his head, his hands resting on either side of the basin. The figure behind his reflection caught his eye instantly – dark hair a stark contrast to the white doorframe its lovely owner was leaning against. She was simply watching him with this faint, barely-there frown strewn about her features.

Despite being rather annoyed at Diana for sneaking up on him, or more so at himself for not noticing she had done so, he was glad she had kicked off her heels under the dining table. The last thing he needed right now was the shrill clicking of those awful things on the tile floor.

His head already felt like it had been put in a vise and someone was turning the handle; he didn’t need more noise to aggravate it.

“Where are your glasses?” Diana asked, and Wesker could only wonder if he’d imagined the worry clinging to the edge of her voice.

Could she tell he was in pain? That his sunglasses weren’t just some fashion statement people liked to tease him for? Had she put two and two together so easily when most were too dense to?

Wesker’s eyes darted up to lock on to hers in the mirror, though for only a split second, before he looked down again with a small huff. “I don’t know.”

He’d truly had a shocking day. It had been one thing after another, and at some point he had taken his glasses off to rub his eyes then forgot to put them back on. It wasn’t like him to misplace his belongings, and certainly not his shades, of all things, but the stressors piling up ensured the whereabouts of where he’d set them down slipped his mind faster than he thought possible.

It had all started with that pig, Brian Irons. The initial cause of his foul mood. That poor excuse of a man had proven himself to be a thorn in Wesker’s side time and time again; the police chief thought he could undermine those ensuring his unsavoury past was kept under wraps, but Wesker wasn’t going to stand for such insolent behaviour. He made sure to discuss the issue with William during his visit to the NEST around lunchtime, calling for a shorter leash.

However, the day only seemed to continue to go downhill once he’d returned to the station.

The problem wasn’t simply the piles of reports taking up space on his desk; the image of Diana wouldn’t leave his mind. He shouldn’t have stopped by her lab with coffee and spoken to her at all. He needed his focus to be solely on his work. The way she could capture his attention was quite bothersome, really. And that prompted a rather foolish decision on his part – a phone call with plans for dinner.

It didn’t end there. The newest S.T.A.R.S. recruits were a headache in and of themselves, yet getting a call from Sherry’s school the moment he left work had been the icing on the cake. She hadn’t been picked up hours beforehand, and being the next emergency contact, Wesker was informed of such incompetence.

William’s obsession with the G-Virus was getting out of hand. He’d always been more preoccupied with his work than the people around him, but forgetting to pick Sherry up from school was something else. Something Wesker didn’t quite like.

Not to mention it completely ruined his plans for the night.

With a suppressed clearing of her throat, Diana pulled him back to the present. She pushed herself off of the doorframe and made her way closer towards him. “Would you like me to look for them?”

Wesker shook his head and immediately regretted it; the sudden movement made him wince as a short wave of splitting pain made itself known right behind his left eye, causing him to grip the edge of the counter until his knuckles went white. The pain wasn’t unbearable yet, and he was glad his typical nausea seemed to be at bay, but he had no clue how long that would last. Not long, if he had to guess, given his luck with the rest of the day’s events.

Taking a deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth, he steadied himself. With each count, he found it easier to tolerate the ache, though it didn’t subside in the slightest. It would have to do though; he needed to get through his nighttime routine.

He reached over and slowly pulled his toothbrush out of its holder, making sure to not move more than what was necessary.

“No.”

Wesker glanced up at the mirror again with one of his brows quirked in genuine confusion, and he watched as Diana’s reflection inched closer. Then her hands were covering his. Why he found himself frozen at her touch was beyond him, but her soft fingers pressing against his skin was a welcome sensation.

She only pried the toothbrush and paste out of his grasp, far more gently than she needed to, then she placed them back to where they belonged.

“You are obviously unwell. You don’t need to brush your teeth when you feel like this,” she said, voice soft and oddly soothing, as opposed to the hammering against his skull.

Diana took Wesker’s hands in her own again, and her thumbs brushed along the raised veins on the backs of them in slow circles. It wasn’t just comforting to him, it was familiar, intimate, and the point at which he’d begun to embrace her touch rather than shun his craving for it was lost on him.

Her eyes finally landed on his own and she directed a small nod towards the door, making him aware of what she was about to do next. Then she took a step back. Then another. And she carefully pulled him along with her, guiding him towards his bedroom without so much as a word from him. Wesker couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. He didn’t know what to say, what to do, and with how tired he was, he could only let her take the lead. She seemed to have her mind set on making sure he would rest, and that made his chest feel much too tight.

It was almost as if she cared.

The trip to the foot of his bed felt much longer than usual. Diana’s cautious approach made sure of that. He was not intoxicated; she didn’t need to hold his hands and ensure he put one foot in front of the other. And yet she did. He felt like an absolute fool, but he still let her pull him along, regardless.

Once there, Diana sat him down on the edge before she quickly knelt down in front of him, tucking her legs beneath herself as she did so. Her attention went straight towards his boots and deft hands worked to untie their laces.

Wesker couldn’t quite wrap his head around her behaviour. He wasn't sure what to think. On any other day, he would’ve thought her kneeling between his legs quite amusing, especially with how she kept roughly pushing her stubborn tresses that kept falling in front of her face back behind her ears. But his head hurt far too much, and there was just this horrible warmth searing through his chest and up his neck, settling across his cheeks and threatening to join the burning at his temple.

The question in her eyes whenever she’d glance up at him certainly wasn’t helping either. It was almost wary, as though looking for permission to continue. Or perhaps assurance.

Her fingers wrapped around his ankle, carefully grasping it as she pulled off his boot. That made him feel far too odd, but she only repeated the action with its counterpart. He was thankful for the way she placed them next to one another by his bed though, all nice and neat, instead of simply tossing them to the side like anyone else would.

Diana pushed herself up off of the floor using her palms and moved to stand between his legs. Soft hands reached forward to cradle his face, the cool pads of her thumbs brushing along the high points of his cheeks. But she was only looking into his eyes, searching for… something.

He wasn’t quite sure what she was doing, to be completely honest. However, the repetitive movement along his cheekbones was calming, almost strangely so, and he hated that his eyes threatened to flutter shut and his hands itched to reach out and hold onto her sides – perhaps even pull her closer, if he dared.

How could she draw such a reaction from him? Especially given the circumstances.

The last thing Wesker needed was for her to look at him like he was some injured animal; he didn’t want her pity. It was enough that he let her drag him out of the bathroom when he was in the middle of carrying out his routines, as though he was caught in some sort of trance. But to look at him in such a way, to help him undress… It was ridiculous. He didn’t need to be fussed over.

Wesker reached up and closed his hands around her wrists. His grip was tight, though not enough to hurt her – merely cautionary, much like the glare he sent her way. Astute as she was, he had no doubt she would get the message.

Diana’s fingers fell away from his cheeks, curling in on themselves, but she didn’t move to break the distance between them. She only continued to hold his gaze, eyes still scanning his own in search of some answers, even as he loosened his hold on her wrists.

It had been wishful thinking, anyhow; he should’ve known she’d remain defiant.

Wesker pulled her hands further away from his face while he slowly rose to his feet. Then he let go, making them drop to her sides in a rather lifeless fashion. He didn’t miss the question in her eyes, or the way a crease formed between her brows, but he simply focused on manoeuvring around her towards his dresser – unsuccessfully at that, as his side brushed against hers with how he staggered.

Movement made the pain behind his eye considerably worse. The familiar sensation of tiny knives stabbing, leaving puncture wounds in their wake to obscure his vision, made it incredibly hard to keep his eyes open any longer. Wesker took a deep breath to try and steady himself, keeping as still as could be so as to not cause himself more pain. If only for a moment of relief.

One of his hands settled on the surface of the dresser while the other moved to open a drawer. He hoped Diana didn’t see how he fumbled with the pull handle. He wasn’t even sure why that bothered him. But he moved to correct his error far too quickly, causing him to lose balance slightly.

The sight of plain black, white and grey t-shirts folded up and sorted by tone brought some level of structure back to the chaos that had been Wesker’s day, and it pleased him more than it probably should have. The shirts were simply for when he was too cold to sleep shirtless – he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them casually, otherwise – and he removed one from its designated place for himself, and one for Diana.

The next drawer he opened contained his pyjama pants, all monochromatic and devoid of patterns, akin to his shirts. Just the way he liked. There were a couple of blue pairs though. Not like that mattered; he chose black, as usual.

A tired sigh left him then.

“Diana.” The sound of her footsteps crossing the distance between them seemed to reach him later than when they’d occurred, because she was already standing at his side. Wesker simply handed her the t-shirt he’d chosen for her, then he spoke again without looking her way, “Would you like pants?”

Diana chuckled at that, and the corner of his lips twitched. He treasured that sound. Well and truly treasured it.

“I doubt anything will fit me,” she whispered, the smile in her voice telling him she was trying to subdue her laugh.

“You have long legs.”

She let out a low, sweet hum at his dry response and positioned herself behind him, lifting her chin to rest it on his shoulder as she watched his hands comb through the pairs of pants in the drawer below. It was clear to Diana that he wouldn’t find anything that would fit her, considering she was barely two thirds the width of him, but she let him figure that out for himself. Instead, her hands ran down his sides and towards his hips. She stood on tiptoe to press a lingering kiss to his cheek while one of her hands travelled between them.

“Doesn’t change that you have more hips than I do,” Diana said between another kiss, tone playful, while her hand squeezed a handful of his firm backside.

Wesker reached behind himself and swatted her hand away, but he couldn’t stop the slight chuckle that bubbled up in his throat before it escaped him – one that mirrored her own. Her arms changing position, wrapping around his waist with her chin settling against his shoulder once more, was not what he expected in response, however. The feeling that brought up inside of him was not something he wished to confront tonight.

He needed to place more distance between them.

“Drawstrings.” Wesker held up a pair of pants that could be tightened at the waist, negating her claims that there couldn’t possibly be anything of his that may stay up for her.

Diana held back another sigh as she loosened her arms and plucked the pants from his grasp. Their short moment of joking around certainly didn’t last long, but she wasn’t sure why she even expected it to. It wasn’t the time or place, but she simply didn’t know how to deal with the situation at hand; it was always difficult for her to navigate when someone wasn’t feeling well.

On the other hand, Wesker was none the wiser to Diana’s inner turmoil. He only withdrew from her slack embrace and returned to where he’d been sitting at the end of the bed earlier, entirely focused on ridding himself of the rest of his work clothes. Without her interference.

Nothing seemed to be in his favour today though, because the moment his hips met the bed the entire room began to spin. It wasn’t like he had sat down too fast – or maybe he had finally lost his bearings – but the way the room was warping around him with stars dancing across his vision caused him to squeeze his eyes shut. His teeth ground together of their own accord and he cursed himself for it as that only amplified the pain at his temple.

All Wesker could do was turn his attention towards the buttons of his shirt, trying to ground himself as best he could by focusing on the feeling of one beneath his fingertips. The way the edges pressed against his skin as he pushed the button through its assigned opening felt so much sharper than usual. And it didn’t help that he fumbled on the first go.

“Let me help you.”

The almost desperate plea from the voice across the room couldn’t have come from Diana. Surely. Not even the distinct accent and low, gravelly quality of it could convince him; she had never done such a thing, never sounded like that, even when he’d reduced her to ruins in bed.

The Diana he knew wasn’t so willing to offer assistance.

Wesker scoffed, perhaps a bit too harsh judging by the frown he received, and only roughly unfastened the next button on his shirt. “I do not need your help.”

Oh, how he wished that were true.

The bile burning the back of his throat begged to differ. And it was getting increasingly difficult to just keep his eyes open, like his lids were being weighed down by some invisible force.

The soft sound of a zipper made Wesker glance over to where Diana stood, only to watch as her skirt pooled around her feet. His hands paused what they were doing as his eyes lazily wandered over her, mesmerised by the way she was carefully rolling her tights down her long legs. It wasn’t until she moved on to her shirt and made quick work of the overpriced garment that he shook himself free of her spell. To say she was stunning was frustratingly accurate.

She stripped down to nothing but her panties before pulling his massive t-shirt over her tiny frame, adjusting her hair the minute it was over her head. That shouldn’t have made him smile to himself. The thought that she was cute shouldn’t have even crossed his mind in the first place.

It wasn’t that long ago when he’d considered her vain for constantly worrying about her appearance, and the first time she had worn one of his shirts he had thought she looked absolutely ridiculous – comical, even. It was only endearing now. He chose not to look too close into that change, convincing himself that the pain he was in was simply making him delirious.

Fuck, he just wanted to go to sleep. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to close this day and reset in the morning.

Despite struggling with each one, Wesker managed to finish undoing the buttons of his shirt and he weakly shrugged it off of his shoulders. It went no further than that, however, even with another attempt. The motion only made his stomach lurch, like waves roiling at sea.

A defeated sigh left him at that, but he was too tired to fight it. He must have made for a pathetic sight, one he wished there was no one present to witness.

That would’ve been grand, if he was so fortunate. Diana was standing in front of him again after dropping the pants in her grasp and crossing the distance in only a few quick strides. Before he could protest once more, she reached forward and laid her hands flat against his shoulders; cold fingers dipped beneath material, causing a shiver to run through his entire body, before she gently pushed the sleeves down his arms. It was unnecessary, but Diana held his forearm as she pulled the sleeve off by grasping the cuff, making sure to not turn his shirt inside-out.

He’d kiss her for that if his head didn’t feel like it was going to explode at any minute.

As soon as she freed him of his undershirt with the same meticulous care, Diana returned to what she had started earlier, before Wesker had stopped her. This time around he wasn’t nearly as tense when she took his face in her hands. In fact, it was the most at ease he had felt all day.

The chill of her palms provided some relief to the burning beneath his skin and the stabbing behind his eye. Even if it was only for a moment – until his cheeks warmed her hands and ripped that pleasant sensation away from him.

The only difference from when they’d found themselves in this position earlier was that Diana now leaned down to place a brief kiss on his lips. Wesker expected some level of warmth in her gaze once she pulled away, but he was only met with the look someone would have when scolding a child who had just hurt themselves on the playground.

If she was insinuating that he was being childish, they’d have a whole other problem on their hands.

Diana readjusted her hold to cradle his face in a more secure manner, fingers pressing firm against his skin. “I know you don’t want my help, but I will not see you make yourself sick because you are too stubborn to let someone look after you.”

Wesker glared up at her. Well, he hoped it was a glare, because whatever left him was all that he could muster in his state. From the way one of Diana’s brows raised, he sure did something, even if he had no idea if it was what he had intended.

They simply looked into one another’s eyes, holding the steady gaze for far too long – a familiar occurrence that usually took place when she challenged him. He supposed it was the other way around this time. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her help, it was that he didn’t want anyone’s. He thought himself above that, and he had managed being in this position countless times before. Even if on some of those days he had gone to sleep without being able to change his clothes.

Perhaps he needed some help.

“Fine.” Wesker relented with a long blink, and allowed himself to settle against her touch and relax some more.

That earned him a faint smile from Diana before she leaned in again. His eyes fluttered shut out of habit, but her lips didn’t connect with his own. Instead, they landed on his forehead, and his moment of ease faded away instantly, his hands balling into fists at his sides the longer she lingered there.

The pit in his stomach seemed to lessen when she withdrew and dropped to her knees again. But his head felt absurdly heavy without her hands holding it up. There was too much running through his mind, it was getting overwhelming. And it wasn’t just the hammering at the side of his skull. He wanted her but he tensed up at her touch, he needed her but he hated her assistance, he… He shouldn’t have invited her over tonight.

What had he been thinking?

Slender fingers curling into the waistband of his pants pulled Wesker from his thoughts, and he looked down at Diana, who had glanced up at the same time with that question in her eyes once more, asking if it was alright to continue. He simply nodded and she focused her attention back to what she was doing; he even lifted his hips to allow her to pull his pants off. Whenever she had dealt with the button and zipper eluded him.

He despised that – the feeling that he was no longer in control, losing his vigilance as the pain distracted him too much. It wasn’t just that though, the woman before him also played a part in causing his dazed state.

It was strange. Wesker couldn’t recall ever having a lover treat him like this. She wasn’t telling him that he was going to be okay, that she was there for him, or any of that superficial nonsense. She was just assisting him, doing whatever needed to be done so that he would be comfortable enough to hopefully get some sleep. It brought about another dreadful sensation to the mix already pestering him.

He lifted a hand and placed it over Diana’s when she reached for the t-shirt he had haphazardly dropped on the bed when the vertigo had hit him. She only looked down at his large hand enveloping hers for a moment, seeming to be the one stunned now. Then her eyes finally darted up to his face, and the steely determination in them from before melted away into that look that unsettled him far more.

“I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?” she asked, a slight trace of a chuckle clinging to the edge of it, as though she was almost embarrassed by her behaviour.

Wesker let out what was probably supposed to be a laugh in response, but little more than an exhale came out. “No.”

He paused as his next words died on his tongue. Or more accurately, they didn’t seem to want to leave his throat and even get that far. Diana was none the wiser and just rose to her feet, hand slipping free of his own and taking the t-shirt with it. Wesker chewed on the inside of his cheek for but a fraction of a second before he swallowed his pride.

A sharp inhale, then he lifted his head to look up at her. “Thank you.”

The genuine smile that crossed Diana’s face made him feel far too warm, like the sun was bearing down on his skin and reaching the deepest parts of him; it wasn’t quite a grin, teeth staying hidden, but the corners of her eyes crinkled and the indents on her cheeks deepened somewhat. She didn’t give him much of a chance to admire it though, too preoccupied with making sure she didn’t move him around too much as she carefully pulled the shirt over his head and helped each of his arms into the sleeves.

“I take it you have photophobia,” she said matter-of-factly. It was almost too clinical-sounding for Wesker’s liking, odd as that may seem. The term alone just left a bad taste in his mouth.

It was sort of his own fault, which he didn’t like owning up to. He’d always had trouble with his sensitivity to bright lights, but he was only meant to wear the tinted glasses Umbrella prescribed him when in the lab or outside. It had been the relief he felt without a migraine clawing at his senses that made him forget he was wearing them at all, and in turn, that developed into a habit of leaving them on for nearly all waking hours. His eyes adjusted to the conditions and it only worsened his sensitivity when he was without his sunglasses.

What he wouldn’t give to have his youthful eyes back.

When Wesker didn’t respond to her, Diana gently cupped his cheek. He tried to meet her gaze, but her eyes were focused just below, where her thumb was brushing across the dark circle marring his skin. Another thing he wished he could reverse time to prevent.

As useful as her help was, Wesker couldn’t understand why she was doing this, why she was being so… kind. So tender. She wasn’t a nurturer, or the type to worry about others. Maybe she did actually care for him, more than she let on. That didn’t feel right though – it just left him profoundly uncomfortable. His mind had to be playing tricks on him with how exhausted he was. That was the only reasonable explanation.

Diana’s thumb paused its repetitive motion and she simply held her hand in place. It was just for another second or two, but her touch lingered well after she departed, leaving a pleasant tingle across his skin.

The last obstacle in the way of Wesker being able to just collapse into bed and hope that his migraine was gone by the morning was the pair of pyjama pants Diana was bunching up so she could help him change into them easily. His tired limbs seemed to move on their own, slipping into each pant leg with little input from him, but the moment he lifted his hips as she tugged the fabric over them, another surge of intense pain hit him, causing him to keel over.

It felt as though his head was being split in two, torn apart from the inside out. He could have sworn the eye taking the brunt of the pressure was going to pop out of its socket at any minute. The only thing he could do was rest his head in his hands and endure it, pressing his thumbs down on the innermost part of his brows in hopes to alleviate some of the pain.

Diana shuffled closer and reached forward to place her hands on his thighs. They only ran up and down the sides of them in a gentle, reassuring motion while her mind scrambled to recall the locations of where she’d seen every thing that could possibly aid him in his house.

Her brain was being just as helpful as his was, because she drew a blank, too taken aback by the sight in front of her. The intimidating Albert Wesker slumped over in pain – that was something she thought she’d never see. He always seemed so… invincible. Nothing could tear down his powerful image and break through his composed demeanour this easily, and she couldn’t quite believe her eyes.

“Albert?” Diana’s voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear it, but his name always sounded so much nicer spilling from her lips compared to anyone else’s. “Do you need a bucket? Or…” She paused for a second then let out a frustrated huff. “Where do you keep your painkillers?”

“They don’t work,” Wesker grumbled.

Of course they don’t, she thought. That would’ve been too easy.

Or he was being overdramatic. So, she pressed on. “Not even a little bit?”

The crease between his brows only deepened, and he squeezed his eyes shut. So, that was a definitive no.

Diana pursed her lips as she tried to think of what else she could do for him. She wasn’t familiar with actually dealing with a migraine, even if she knew all of the treatments on paper; she was fortunate enough to never get them, and she couldn’t remember the last time someone around her had. She could list off every over-the-counter painkiller and triptan that was used to specifically target a migraine, but that would do her no good. She didn’t know what worked for him.

There had to be something though. Diana moved to stand and go take a look at what was in the medicine cabinet in his bathroom, but Wesker fumbled to take her hand in his own.

That made her freeze on the spot.

She had no doubt he was cursing himself for doing such a thing, for how it almost seemed to be a reflex more than a conscious decision. Or perhaps he just needed something solid to hold on to. Whichever it was, Diana didn’t care, so long as it helped. Even if the way he was gripping her hand hurt like hell; she’d been through far worse, so the possibility of a broken bone was something she would simply bear.

“Here,” she whispered while carefully pulling Wesker up to stand a moment after she did so herself. He stumbled on his feet when upright, but Diana was there – the pillar to hold him up and save him from toppling over.

The arm not reaching for his – right hand clasping his own – was wrapped around his back. It served to keep him stable as she slowly guided him over to what she had long since been acquainted with as his preferred side of the bed. This whole ordeal would’ve been much easier if he wasn’t leaning his entire body weight against her, but at least the trip wasn’t too lengthy.

Their hands only parted when Diana let go to lean forward and pull back the covers for him. Wesker really hoped she didn’t see how his fingers extended on instinct, as if to chase her touch. It was utterly pathetic. The urge to hold her was getting increasingly annoying, and he wished his body would just try to not embarrass him for once.

He couldn’t exactly exert much control over his innate reactions in his condition, but if Diana noticed, she didn’t say anything. That was one positive, he supposed.

And the fact that he managed to sit on the bed on his own without dragging her down with him. That probably would’ve earned him a bony shoulder digging into his chest, and that would just make matters worse.

Diana didn’t have to, but she went so far as to help him lie down as well. In a way that wouldn’t make his head feel as though someone had taken a hammer to it, that is. All slow movements and firm but gentle touches, manipulating his limbs for him as they felt too heavy for him to move on his own. And when she was done, one of her hands reached up to smooth back his hair.

That brought about that dreadful flutter in the pit of Wesker’s stomach. Or maybe that was the nausea. He couldn’t tell at this point.

Weary eyes tried their hardest to stay trained on the figure lingering in front of them. But they were unsuccessful. Wesker couldn’t keep them open any longer, not when everything was spinning around like this. He couldn’t even make out what the expression strewn about Diana’s features was.

It didn’t even matter, because her comforting touch left him before the sound of her feet padding across the floor reached his ears – quickly, like she was in some rush. Unnecessary, Wesker thought. He wasn’t exactly going anywhere, lying there in agony.

He didn’t think it would get this bad. It had been so long since he’d had a migraine like this. The nausea, visual disturbances, and all of that nonsense was typical for him, but the vertigo would come and go. Every time it showed itself he was caught off guard; there was no getting used to the feeling of his body swaying back and forth when he was lying perfectly still.

That wasn’t even the worst of his problems.

His mind decided it wanted to be louder than the rhythmic pulse behind his eye, yelling at him to the point where his thoughts felt like they were what was causing his pain by bouncing around and colliding with his skull.

Weak. Pitiful. Unacceptable. Over and over again.

How could he let someone see him like this?

Not just someone, but her, of all people. The woman who would roll her eyes when one of the researchers called off work, the one who boasted about never getting sick, the one who carried herself like nothing could strike her down. Just like he did. And yet here he was, reduced to rubble by a bit of pain.

That’s what was confusing Wesker. Why was Diana being so considerate of his plight? He had no doubt she’d rather be at the lab, or really anywhere else, doing something worthwhile instead of this. She should just leave, honestly. There was no reason for her to stick around; it wasn’t like she felt anything more for him beyond fellowship. Sherry was wrong in her assumption; Diana wasn’t his partner.

She may have been his, but he certainly wasn’t hers. No, she just enjoyed toying with him.

Now was not the time to fall into thinking about that rubbish again. He should’ve never asked her if she wished to stay the night. Or invited her over for dinner in the first place, for that matter.

“Alright.”

That pulled Wesker out of his head. It may have only been low, simply a hurried mumble under one’s breath, but that entrancing voice was unmistakable to him. His little pity party hadn’t lasted long – privacy breached once more as Diana returned from whatever she had been doing. He really did despise that she was witnessing him in this state; this wasn’t how he wished for her to find out he suffered from migraines.

With her hands full, Diana crossed his room with the stride of someone on a mission – full of purpose. First, she placed a glass of water down on his nightstand, then she used her now free hand to pull the bucket she’d found in the laundry out from under her other arm, where it was sitting awkwardly and digging into her side. 

Once she set it down beside the bed, she crouched in front of Wesker and placed the ice pack she’d wrapped in a tea towel in one of his hands, which he lifted to his forehead immediately. Diana had no idea if that would help him or not, actually. She preferred heat for pain relief; being sensitive to the cold always made her recovery with injuries from ballet growing up a horrid experience. Maybe she should have looked to see if he had a heat pack instead. That would help alleviate the tension in his neck and shoulders.

No. She had what she needed, she wasn’t going to run around and make an even bigger fuss. It would probably make him feel worse, anyhow.

The only thing left to do was close the curtains and block out any light that threatened to seep into his room, whether that be from the street lamps illuminating the suburb or the bright moon itself. The significance of his blackout curtains now made much more sense to her.

When she stood to round the bed, Diana had no idea why she took the hand by his hip in her own and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her thumb even brushed across the back of it for a second. There was just this odd need to show him that she was there, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

Even as she pulled the curtains shut, the thought didn’t leave her mind.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

Taking care to not make the mattress dip too much, Diana climbed into bed next to Wesker. The last thing she wished was for her getting comfortable to cause him any undue pain because it jostled him about. It was only then, when the covers brushed across her bare legs, that she realised she was only wearing his shirt – the pyjama pants he’d chosen for her long forgotten somewhere to the darkness.

Wesker decided to be rather ungrateful for her cautious approach, as he moved on his own. Diana couldn’t help how her eyes wandered over him, taking in every detail she could as he began to slowly roll over; his brows were knit together, deepening the lines between them, his lips were pulled down in a frown, and his eyes were screwed shut. It was rather obvious to her that he was trying to not bring up all of his dinner, and that sent her heart plummeting down into her stomach. What he was going through really sunk in then.

She wished she could just take the pain away, make it all disappear and guarantee it would never return.

It was an awful feeling, watching the man who had only ever given her these tiny glimpses of vulnerability do what looked to be such a practised motion, as though he had a tried-and-true method for dealing with his nausea for so long.

She felt helpless. But why did she even care? Countless lovers had come and gone, not ever leaving an imprint on her heart, but he seemed to tug at every string.

A loud thump, immediately followed by a rather feeble sound, pulled Diana from her thoughts. It wasn’t quite a groan, but not nearly a whimper either, and she never thought she’d hear such a sound come from Wesker.

While turning, the ice pack had fallen free of his weak grasp and landed on the floor, causing the disturbance. Diana opened her mouth to speak, to ask him if he wanted her to pick it up for him, but she didn’t get a chance; he curled up against her side all of a sudden, resting his head on her chest. That was something she wasn’t prepared for. He had never done that before, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he heard the way her heart sped up at the act.

Diana kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling, not daring to look down at him while her arm hesitated to wrap around his back. What was she even supposed to do? This was all new territory for her, for them, and… it was overwhelming. She didn’t know what to think; there was just this massive weight that had been dropped onto her chest. And it wasn’t Wesker, or the way he slung his arm over her waist.

It was that somehow, despite everything, he had managed to worm his way past all of her defences and make her actually care for him.

But friends do care for one another, yes? That is a fact. And it’s not like their dates meant anything; she had gone on many with casual partners in the past, and they were merely a formality. The longing she felt for him was nothing beyond physical.

The arm around her tightened its hold on her side, pulling her closer, and Diana looked down just in time to see a grimace twist Wesker’s features before he turned his head to rest his brow against her breastbone. Whatever he grumbled as he did so, Diana couldn’t quite make out what it was.

She chewed on her lip while bringing a hand up to the back of his head, gently cradling it and holding him close. She found herself hesitating again, unsure of the implications of her touch – how it could be perceived. But the urge grew too strong soon enough. Whatever was going on between them was just that, and she wasn’t going to complicate matters by overanalysing it.

Her fingers ran through his hair, pressing firm against his scalp in somewhat of a massage. Diana absolutely hated the feeling of pomade residue on her fingers, but seeing the way his shoulders relaxed eased her disgust, if only slightly. She’d just have to deal with the waxy feeling on her skin, she supposed. It was a selfish thought but she wished he’d at least managed to rinse out his hair. She knew he hated it as well, though; his routines were always so important to him.

Wesker let out a long exhale and Diana paused the motion, unsure if what she was doing was actually making matters worse. He didn’t say anything, but the way he held her closer while his legs tangled with her own made her stomach flip, as though she was the one who was going to be sick.

The arm around his back held him firm as she leaned in to press a kiss to the top of his head. She never wanted him to go through this again, and she would find a way to ensure that.

For now though, she made a note to have a look for his glasses first thing tomorrow, before he woke.