#he’s overworked and exhausted and has too much weight on his shoulders

[vrystalius]

HI!! I’ve literally just been getting into Demon Slayer again, the phase never goes away 🥲

anyways, would it be alright to ask for a Genya x reader who’s Gyomei’s hardworking Tsuguko who has a hard time taking breaks? Take your sweet time and have a great day/night ❤️

Just for one minute…

You’ve been overworking yourself to the bone, training during the day and taking patrolling shifts during the night. Genya is starting to get worried about you not taking enough breaks…

Pairing: Genya x gn!reader

When’s the last time you’ve eaten? Drank some water? Heck, when did you even last sleep? Genya just finished his mandatory training for the day, watching you from the engawa of Gyomei’s estate. You’re really working hard to become stronger and more powerful and to become a hashira yourself one day, but this is a little too much on your body. Even Genya is starting to notice and that must mean something.

He had some sticky rice laid out on a cloth, positioned on his lap, making some onigiri with salmon filling. He carefully shaped them in his calloused hands, wanting them to look at least a little presentable. He’s not the best cook after all but wanted to make you a small meal to eat together, as some sort of reward for you working so hard. But also because Genya wants to personally see how you’re ingesting something edible other than hopes and prayers to not faint from exhaustion, dehydration or starvation.

To be quite honest, he may be using the food as an excuse to hang out with you a little. Gyomei continued to encourage him to speak and hang out with you to create a bond. It was obvious to Genya how his master tried to push you two closer. For example, assigning you to train and spar together, ordering you to patrol side by side during the nights or just frequently suggesting to hang out together during breaks. Doesn’t he know how much Genya sucks at talking to you? You make him extremely nervous with your pretty eyes and gorgeous smile, and especially with your kindness. You’re so attentive and nice to him, it makes him nauseous every time.

Genya figured it’s his turn to he nice and attentive for once, so he called you over to have lunch with him.

“I made too many onigiris to eat alone, want some? You’re probably hungry, haven’t seen ya eat at all today.”

You can’t resist saying no to that hopeful, little smile of his, but after sitting down together and letting your body rest, you fell into a minute long sleep while still slowly chewing onto the rice. Your body leaned over and against the railing and your mouth was slightly agape, the rice beginning to fall out onto the wood below. Genya worriedly shook you awake from your one-minute-nap.

“Hey… you should drop some night shift or at least let me do them. You really need to rest. I-I’m worried about you.”

He turned his head away after finishing his sentence, wanting to hide this stupid blush that is taking over his whole face. Is he seriously not able to control his face around you? Like, at all?! It’s extremely embarrassing and is probably coming off as childish!! But as Genya was beating himself up for being so flushed around you, he heard a soft sigh escape your lips.

“Just one more minute…”

Your voice made him turn his head towards you. You just hunched over and fell into a deep sleep, your mouth slightly agape. Again. Well, at least you chewed your rice until this time, but you failed to swallow it all since some still stuck to your cheek. You looked so awfully tired and yet peaceful in this sleeping state. Genya groaned quietly and slowly wrapped his arms around your shoulder, carefully shifting your position to lean your head against him, your full weight resting against his body.

Genya took the half-eaten onigiri out of your hands and put it onto the cloth he got it out from, wrapping it back up and placing it aside for the moment. He wiped the rice sway from with his sleeve.

You can eat the onigiris later, but for now, you really needed the sleep. He smiled slightly at your adorable expression while his hand soothingly started rubbing your shoulder. Genya’ll let you rest like that for as long as you like. You really deserve it.

💠

Hello, hello! Currently I’m uploading this from my mobile data so I am hoping and praying that I have enough to last for three days in this wlan-lacking-establishment. It’s nice though, me and my friend get to share a large room and we are right next to the forest and a creak! Also, so sorry for completing this request so late, hope you enjoyed it anyway!! I’m currently receiving a lot of asks to continue my Gyutaro fic and I am currently trying to figure something out!! Just know I am thinking about it a lot and am really trying to come up with something XD (Man, I really suck at doing part 2s. :,))

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough! It’s currently 1am and I need sleep desperately. XD

Take care of yourselves <3

[floatysparrowthing]

The Savior of the Damned

Relationships: Verin Thelyss/Original Demon Character, Verin Thelyss & Essek Thelyss, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast

Rating: Mature

Chapter 1/?

This is technically CR fanfic but is truly an off-shoot of my Netherdeep campaign. Please take a chance on this even though it’s got an OC!

Taskhand Verin Thelyss will do anything to close the planar rift allowing Abyssal demons access to Bazzoxan. He’s desperate to save his people from the threat, and, though he won’t admit it, desperate to get a much deserved break.

So if it comes down to fucking a demon, he will fuck that demon.

But when said demon divulges information about his long lost father, he enlists the help of his brother, Essek, to journey into the Abyss for answers and, hopefully, solutions. At the same time, this messy thing between him and his demon guide seems determined to develop into something more—if it doesn’t kill him first.

So, meet: Mairon, a demon mage with a sweet tongue and rocking bod who almost certainly has a hidden agenda. 😉

And of course, Verin: little brother of Essek Thelyss, the dutiful son, the Taskhand of Bazzoxan, and my precious lawful good cinnamon roll who seriously wants to get laid (but craves emotional intimacy even more).

Tags:

lawful good x neutral evil, mutually manipulative relationship, both the characters are bi sluts and I can’t keep their pants on, non-graphic sexual assault that’s not between the main pairing, Road-trip Fic! if a roadtrip is slashing your way through Betrayer’s Rise and journeying through the Abyss on foot with your captive/maybe boyfriend?? and your brother and his partner

[cupids-chamber]

— THE CONCUBINE GAME !! | chapter one . . . The first chapter, where you'll be able to catch a climpse of the inner dynamics between the emperor's y/n's secretary and their personal guard, a small entry and brief taste of what's to come, while learning a bit more about our beloved emperor and their staff . . .

— Themes ; Harem / historical au , Twisted wonderland , multiple characters x reader , royalty au , includes rsa + yuuka/yuuken. ♡

The wind was howling, the pitter patter sound of rain could be heard throughout the grand walls of the palace. The sound of heels clicking urgently on the wooden floors, echoing through the empty halls, as Yuuken rushed his way through to the emperor's chambers. It was late, yet he’d been overworked all week preparing the palace for the arrival of certain selected members of the Royal Harem, some were particularly demanding with the way they wanted things sorted out and Yuuken prided himself on never failing to impress. 

He banged on the door rather aggressively, “Your majesty, I have certain design plans I need you to finalize before Prince Leona’s arrival, and the first few concubines enter the palace, we don’t have much time!”, he yelled out trying to get the emperor’s attention, it was already late into the night and the palace staff were working overtime meeting every demand that they were given. 

Yuuken flinched feeling something touch his shoulder, and right before he could move back and attack, he heard an all too familiar voice—”Don’t bother trying to get their attention, Y/n’s at a meeting”—Yuuka spoke, a small grin on her face while she watched Yuuken try and collect himself, “This late?”, he asked confused, “also please try and address them by proper titles in public”; Yuuka shrugged in response, pausing for a moment before she spoke up once more, “I’d like to keep things the way it is, and you should probably take a break because they’re not coming out of the room at all, it’s something about politics . . . I wasn’t really paying attention”. 

Yuuken sighed, slumping his shoulders as he leaned onto the door of the Emperor's chamber, “I-i . .  just want everything to be perfect, everything’s been so . . hectic for their majes—y/n and I just really want to provide some stability, you know?”, he said softly, letting his exhaustion take over for a moment and Yuuka’s expression softened, “Hey—you’re doing great, there's a reason y/n gave you full creative liberty”, she ruffled his hair giving him a genuine smile, “don’t push yourself too hard alright? None of us are expecting you to be perfect, not even y/n . .” she finished, as Yuuken closed his eyes and whispered a small, “I know . . .”

Setting: Meeting room Location: The west wing. Time: 11:36pm 

You fiddle with your fingers, trying to shift the jewelry that you were covered in, in an attempt to feel more comfortable with the weight that the jewels provided, holding you down . . , as another argument ensues between the nobles, these past few days have felt like a choir, in fact most of the months since you ascended have felt terrible, nothings been exciting—from inheriting an empire doomed to fail, to trying to pick up the scraps of what was left of your fathers reckless decisions and fixing it into something at least palatable, the pressure of everything has left you in a bottomless pit, you needed freedom a refreshing start—something you lost—when you inherited the throne . . . 

“—Ah, your majesty?”, one of the nobles spoke up, and you bit your lip, how you hated that title, the moment you inherited this role, your friendships haven’t quite been the same, everyone who you’ve trusted in the past, have now become just another subject, trust is no longer something you earn, as loyalty and trust is to be expected when the crown is on your head.

Setting: Inner Cold Palace Garden Location: Rundown Gazebo Time: 12:46am 

"—and they never thanked me'', Yuuken hiccuped out, words slurring due to his alcohol intake, he waved the half finished bottle of some form of expensive imported wine in his hands, swinging it around dramatically; Yuuka chuckled, taking a sip from her glass as she looked around at the scenery of the garden—it used to be much prettier and well taken care of, way back before the previous emperor—y/n’s father—went haywire. . . 

"Hey Yuuken, remember when we used to play together here?" she asked without thinking, meeting his eyes for a brief moment all the while Yuuken took another big gulp from his wine bottle . . and then he spoke, "Yeah—you and y/n pushed me into the lake, I still hate the water", he slurred over his words slightly and Yuuka chuckled in response, if only things could've stayed as simple, but now Y/n didn't even have the time to maintain the garden where they're friendship once first blossomed, Yuuka sighed, leaning her head down on the table—which had seen better days— . .  the same could be said about their relationship with y/n themselves . . 

Masterlist | Introductions (being reworked) | Next chapter

♡. Synposis ; After many months of persuading, the emperor, Y/N L/N had finally agreed to take in a select few concubines and consorts—not an official partner.. but concubines. This caused an uproar in court; however the emperor promised to choose an official partner; amongst the crowd of concubines and consorts.. Who will the emperor choose?

— taglist ♡ (open) : . . tumblr is not letting me mention over 5 people per post, and the staff won't do anything about it, so I recommend just joining my server and picking out the new chapter ping role as it makes things easier for me.

© cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[toms-cherry-trees]

Peace || Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary:  The realm needs your husband and your husband needs you

Word Count: 1328

Warnings: None

Author’s Note:  SO! This is my very first time writing for Aemond or HOTD for that matter so please give me feedback and don't be so hard on me I am trying my best! Also I wanted to add more Valyrian but I just cannot deal with that language yet.

Darkness has long befallen the room, only illuminated now by the warm glow of the multiple candles scattered across the chamber. A calm stillness lingers in the air, the silence of the night cut only by the merry creaking of a fire in the hearth and the rustling of the pages of the book in your lap, fingers flicking back and forth the same page, for every time you turn you realise you have forgotten everything you just read: your hazy mind unable to retain the words. Your eyelids fight to fall close, an urge you battle most valiantly with the aid of cool water splashed on your face and firm taps of your fingers on your cheeks. You refuse to give in to sleep while your husband remains bound to his duties, manoeuvring through the schemes and subtleties of winning a war.

You are once more losing the battle against exhaustion when the chamber door opens with a soft click, heavy footsteps echoing through the room. The fact Aemond moves past you is the first obvious sign of his exhaustion; no matter the time or what you are doing, a kiss is the first item of his list as soon as he retreats for the night. But more often than not lately, his mind is too overworked for him to function, his body moving through muscle memory just enough to take him to bed, hoping to steal a few hours of untranquil sleep before the whims of duty pull him from your side at the crack of dawn. 

Aemond sits near the window in your favourite armchair, the one perpetually surrounded by your basket with unfinished knitting, bits of thread and linen from endless embroiders, and stacks of books that never make it back to the shelf, being moved around endlessly on the false promise of finally finishing one read. He kicks off his boots, and that action alone drains whatever energy he has left. He leans back, elbow propped on the armrest and forehead pressed to his fingers; if left to his own, Aemond can easily fall asleep like that, ready to spring into action at any moment. 

Your bare feet barely make a sound as you approach him, your half read book soon joining the pile of unfinished lectures. Soft fingertips stroke his cheek, his head instinctively coming to lean into your warm palm. You notice in the nervous twitching of his fingers against his thigh that his mind is still harried, weighed down by piling troubles and drawbacks as he oversees the troops moving back and forth across the land to secure his brother’s throne. A throne he once coveted and now he carries in all but name; but being King or Regent is a lot more than just sitting atop a pile of molten swords, and the weight can crush you down no matter how strong your shoulders are.

You hook your hand on the crook of his elbow, pulling Aemond to his feet. He complies without much protest, allowing you to guide him to sit before your vanity. Standing behind him, you slide your fingers down his tunic, undoing the hooks until it falls open, leaving him only in his shirt. Aemond scans your expression in the mirror, trying to figure out if you want to take this further, but you only gift him a tender smile and a kiss to the crown of his head; your desire for him may be ravenous, but you wouldn’t push him into anything while he barely has strength to hold himself upright.

You remove the eyepatch and leave it in the vanity, the soft candlelight casting a warm glow upon the sapphire which lies underneath. When tensions pile high, Aemond gets throbbing headaches behind the scar; you massage his temples in slow circles, earning a small sigh of approval as his head falls back to rest against your body. His eye flutters close, some of the tension of his jaw has loosened and his fingers now lay carefully laced above his abdomen, legs stretched before him propped on your footrest. 

“Hard day I see” You do not ask, you only confirm the obvious. Every day is hard, but some days seem to truly make an effort to be unbearable. Aemond only hums in agreement, but you take no offence in his lack of reply; he spends every waking hour with others demanding things and placing their needs and expectations on him; within those four walls of your shared chamber is the only place where he can exist; not excel.

You know small chatter is not something he likes to engage in, but is a mechanism for him to decompress; let go of his frustrations by dwelling in the most mundane topics life has to offer. You grab a hair comb and some scented oils, your quiet voice filling his mind with the ups and downs of your day while you work the brush through his silvery tresses; you tell him of how you went to visit Helaena that day and read to her from one of her favourite books, hoping to coax a smile out of her. You speak of your son, Aerion, and how pleased the little child is every time you take him to see his hatchling, Suvion. You try to narrate to him the story you had been reading, but the plot had long abandoned your mind, so you improvise a more or less decent story on the spot.

“You are lying” His voice startles you, for you had been caught up in your narration and the gentle motion of brushing his hair “I know that book. Your tale has been quite entertaining, my dearest wife, but it is filled with lies and deception”

Even if you had not been looking, you would have been able to hear the smirk in his voice; the barely lighter than normal enunciation and the way the words roll off his lips are details reserved only for the amusement he expresses over your everyday antics. At moments like this he is not Aemond One Eye, nor Aemond the Kinslayer, nor the Prince Regent. He is only your husband. 

“I happened to be very tired when I read the book” You defended yourself “The hour is quite late”

“You should have slept. If your body urges you to rest, you must heed the call” Nimble fingers capture the hand with the brush by the wrist, bringing your fingers close to kiss your knuckles lovingly. 

“I will not lay to rest while you toil away with the Small Council and your family and every single thing going wrong at the moment. I will share your burdens however I can; I do not believe myself die over a few hours of missed sleep”

A ghost of a smile tugs on the corners of his sharp lips, his lilac eye fixated upon your face hovering above his, his head nestled comfortably in the warmth of your flesh. His index traces the line of your jaw, fingertip tickling under your chin like one does with a cat. Suddenly the fingers lay behind your neck, putting pressure down and urging you to meet him halfway for a kiss. There is a feverish desperation coming from him; not urges fueled by desire, but rather by the unspoken seeking of comfort, of tenderness. Of a caring touch to clench the deeply rooted apprehension that he is disappointing everyone around him. To remind himself that there is one soul who will not walk out on him even if the realm falls apart in his hands. 

When the kiss breaks, your hands cup his cheeks, your forehead resting lightly upon his while you two dwell on the sparks still flying between you two. It does not matter how many moons have passed since the wedding, your belly flutters with every kiss as it did with the first.

“Ready for bed, my dear husband?”

“Ready, jorrāeliarza ābrazȳrys”

[kitkatscabinet]

WAYS TO SAY I LOVE YOU

Pairings: Peter B. Parker x reader, Miguel O’Hara x reader

Summary: the different ways the boys show their love for you

Peter

Brags about you to anyone and everyone. Talks about your achievements and shows off pictures when you aren’t there in person

You never need to ask for a hug. Peter always knows when your upset and is happy to be your own personal weighted blanket. Wrapping his bulk around you and whispering stupid jokes in your ear

Makes you dance with him. Pulls you up to slow dance through the apartment. He’s not very good and there isn’t always music, in which case he’ll serenade you himself. Something he’s even worse at, but it’s worth it to see the way your eye crinkle in joy

Has your back 100% of the time, is always down to shit talk coworkers and strangers that piss you off

Peppers your face in kisses, pulling you to him if you try and escape and tumbling over together in a pile of limbs and laughter

Will do all your favourite activities/watch your favourite shows without much question

Is willing to share the bed with millions of squishmallows/pillows/blankets. Even if it leaves little room for him.

Is your personal hype man. You could kill someone and Peter would think they deserved it, because you’re always right. You have never felt more loved than with Peter as he takes every opportunity to praise you.

Miguel

Brings you trinkets/gifts that remind him of you from every universe he visits

Reading together, cuddled up with different books or with your head on his lap as he reads aloud

Miguel is a very busy man and to an outsider it may look like you put more effort into the relationship but you can tell he loves you by the things he lets you get away with

He’ll endure ridiculous pet names like Pookie Bear if it makes you happy, even if he’ll grumble about it in public.

Will also play along when you put your whole weight on him to try and stop him leaving in the morning

Takes more breaks, actually starts to develop a nearly healthy work/life balance when he realises how upset you get at him for overworking

Non sexual showers where he’ll wash your hair even if he’s exhausted, letting you gently rinse his bruises and scrapes in return. Will also dry/brush your hair afterwards if possible

Regularly texts/calls/FaceTimes throughout the day to check up on you. Will always let you know without fail if something comes up and he can’t be there. Gets Lyla to check up on you a lot too

If you don’t speak Spanish already then he helps you learn (no he didn’t almost cry when you surprised him with it the first time)

He listens. Miguel could listen to you explain the process of paint drying and still find it interesting. He lets you rant for hours about your day or latest hyperfixation. It might not always seem like he’s engaged but he always remembers everything.

Shoulder/neck kisses !!!!

[cowgirlcasanova]

LIQUOR & LONLINESS

pairing | arthur morgan x fem! oc

summary | arthur sees caroline alone by the fire and gives her some company. caroline can’t stand seeing him so exhausted and tries to take some weight off his shoulders

tags | fluff, flirting but everyone denies it, two idiots pretending not to be in love, fireside chat, massage, cute nervous arthur

word count | 2.5k

a/n | hi bffs! this is my first time ever publishing a fic! i’ve been trying to get back into creative writing again so here we are. please be nice to me ok? :)

i plan on publishing more arthur fics with this oc, building up their world/relationship & revealing her backstory. i just always think it’s so fun to read about ocs so i thought i’d give it a try! so this is a little introduction. hope you like it <3

A small sliver of the moon peeked through the clouds reflecting off the bay surrounding Clemens Point.

The glow of the moon and the dying firelight contrasted beautifully on Carolines face, something Arthur couldn’t help but take notice of as he gazed at her from under the awning of his wagon.

He couldn’t force himself to revert his gaze, completely enthralled by the way the shadows danced across her at the smallest of movements. He was already picturing the angle in which he’d have to move his pencil to even attempt at sketching the sight of the warm and cool light dueling on her face. Arthur cursed himself under his breath at the mere thought of filling another page in his journal with her face, something he’d found himself doing far too often these days.

“Arthur you miserable fool.” He muttered to himself, grimacing as he stretched out his overworked body and rose off his cot.

Caroline sat alone, unsure if the heat she was feeling was radiating from the ebbing fire or from the burn of the dark liquor making its way through her system. She stuck to taking small sips of her glass of bourbon, feeling a strange guilt for drinking it in the first place.

As the only member of the Van Der Linde gang to have advanced medical knowledge it all fell on her to heal their various ailments. She often had just enough supplies to keep everyone afloat, but having the law after you constantly made it a challenge to get your hands on much needed medicine. So, she’d save what she could and turn to liquor as her medicine of choice, trying to save all the expensive tonics and remedies for the traumas that really needed it. Bill complaining of a back injury? Whiskey. The days that Hosea's cough seemed to worsen? Whiskey. Even using whiskey as a last ditch effort to warm John after his wolf attack. She always tried her best to stay out of her own medicinal stash of liquor, But, some nights she wanted the peace that came with the burn of whiskey. Tonight was one of those nights.

“Hey there, Miss Caroline.” Arthurs gruff voice breaks through the unusually silent night. The smell of the burning fire filled his nose as he got closer. He approaches her with a courteous nod, running a hand across his growing stubble.

“Mind if I join ya?” He removed his banged up hat, holding it close over his chest, a small sign of respect toward the lady that did go unnoticed by her. Rarely anything he did went unnoticed by her.

She smiled up at him with the warm smile she always wore, but something about it made him feel like that sweet smile was just for him everytime. Though he’d never let himself believe something as foolish as that. When she turned to look at him the shadows on her face stopped battling and the warm light of the fire covered her completely. From Arthurs vantage point it almost looked as if she was glowing.

“Please do.”

He moves as gently as he can for his size, taking his seat next to her on the old log the gang has fashioned into a bench. His usual confidence was tempered by something softer while next to her. His leg brushes against her knee, as he sits down, a reminder of how close you two are. The weight of his knee was pushing the scratchy material of her skirt against her leg and yet, she can’t bring herself to move her leg away from the tiny space they share. In the harsh life she's suddenly found herself thrown into, although by her own actions. She finds herself craving affection and touch more and more everyday. A gentle touch. Not a casual pat on the shoulder from Dutch or a clap on the back from Sean. Something with meaning behind it, with care and tenderness.

When Arthurs leg stays planted firmly, their knees barely brushing, her heart aches at the thought that the ever so tough man beside her may be feeling the same.

"you doin’ alright this evenin’, caroline?” He asks, his voice softer than usual. His eyes moved across her face, taking in the closeness and her warmth that he was now admiring up close.

“Im doin’ just fine. How ‘bout yourself?” Her sickeningly sweet southern accent hits his ears, making him unable to stop a smile from tugging at his lips.

“I’ve been worse.”

“Long day I take it?” She asks, sipping from her glass, not diverting her gaze from him. Her face takes on a concerned expression. He has to glance away from the look she gives him, deflecting his eyes to the fire. Something about the way she looked at him always seemed so soft and genuine. It turned him into a fool everytime.

“Ain’t they all.” He drawls, letting out a self deprecating chuckle.

Arthur stretches out his sore, muscled arms in front of him in an effort to work out the constant deep ache that his overworked body feels. His biceps flex through the thin material of his button up shirt, the material looking like it could give way any moment, unintentionally drawing Caroline's eye. Her heart speeds up as she takes another sip from her glass, doing her best to quiet her thoughts of him with liquor. A quiet, painful groan slips from his mouth at the movement. He closes his eyes and rolls his neck to try and soothe discomfort.

“Did’ya hurt yourself?” She asks swiftly, her voice filling with immediate concern. Arthur scolded himself, trying to push down the warmth he felt over her worrying for him. It was her job.

His eyes warmed at her concern, making her wonder if it was the pain or her that caused the change. She hoped it was the latter. “my shoulder just been actin’ up on me. nothin’ for you to fuss about.”

“Well, if ya keep throwin’ your weight around it ain’t never gon’ heal.” She laughed softly, shaking her head as if she was scolding the tough and hardened man beside her.

He made a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a groan, hating to be reminded of how often he seemed to be caught in some violent altercation nowadays. He hated it more coming from Caroline, the sweetest woman he knows. He couldn't help but feel like she should loathe him and this life. That she should turn heel and run while she still had a chance at a good life. Maybe even being able to settle down with a rich man somewhere, raise a family. The things a woman like her should be able to do. Not running with a gang of criminals.

“It ain’t the “throwing my weight around,” He says chuckling, repeating her choice of wording. “I’m just gettin’ old”

“Oh, you are not gettin’ old you silly man!” She whacked his arm playfully, the sound making a weak thump because of her carefulness, taking extra precaution to hit his forearm and not his sore shoulder.

All he musters out is a small lighthearted scoff at her strike, which felt more like a love tap.

“It ain’t age! It's all that punchin’ you're doing.” A weak attempt at chastising him, but she's not able to keep the smile off her lips long enough. “And yes, I did hear about that fight at the saloon.”

He looked over at her and the way she clicked her tongue in disapproval. She was still wearing that same smile. He couldn’t help but chuckle when she raised her eyebrows at him, the expression playfully reprimanding him and silently telling him that she was owed an answer.

“Yeah, I guessed you would’ve heard about it. But, they were was askin’ for it.” He felt an odd sense of understanding when she didn’t disagree with him but instead laughed and shook her head affectionately. “I'm sure they was.” Maybe she didn’t see him and his life as horribly as he thought.

“I guess maybe I can be a hotheaded fool sometimes.” He spoke, berating himself under the appearance of a good humored joke.

“That you certainly can be.” She chuckled, with a warm grin. He heard no malice in her words.

The way Arthur sits with his shoulders hunched forward, It's obvious he’s tired, sore, and overworked. It breaks her heart, the way he does so much for others here just to end up sitting here aching internally and externally.

“C’mere,” She gestures to the dirt ground under her feet. “Let me see what I can do for ya.” the pleading in her voice sounds like this is just as much for her as it is for him.

He doesn't want to. Making her work for him? No, it should be the other way. For a girl like her, he should be spending every waking minute running around making sure she has everything she could possibly want.

Before he can turn down her offer, she snaps her fingers, pointing at the same spot. She won't allow him to put himself last this time.

“Yes ma’am” He chuckles at her unusual assertiveness.

She carefully lays her hand on his shoulder, as if she was checking to make sure he wouldn’t flee like a wild horse the moment he felt her touch. Once certain, she rolls the pad of her thumb over his sore muscle, taking great care to be gentle. Like there was something she cherished under hands. The fabric of his shirt moves along with the movement of her thumb, stopping her hands from being able to touch his skin.

His broad shoulders relax under her touch, goosebumps rising over his skin when she touches him so delicately. He’s grateful for the shirt covering him so she can’t feel the way his skin reacts so easily to her touch. His head hangs forward as he lets out a quiet groan of contentment, relishing in the feeling. Whether it's the feeling of the sore muscle being worked loose or the feeling of being cared for so sweetly he’s not so sure. She peers down at his face and sees his eyes flutter closed as she continues her soothing movement. Her eyes were stuck on his face as he relaxed for the first time.

The smile lines around his mouth made it obvious he wore a warm expression often no matter how tough he looked at a moment's glance. His aging eyes were developing small wrinkles on the outer corners from years of squinting in the sun and all the times his bountiful laugh trailed up to his eyes. He always smelled of tobacco and ash, even his scent exuded warmth if you're able to get close enough to notice.

Arthur Morgan, The man who could make statues talk. He didn’t look intimidating to her, he rarely ever did but, especially not in the vulnerable position she’s seeing him in now. In their closeness, she could see the way the longer pieces of his growing stubble had a small curl to them, The way he had a few tiny freckles across the bridge of his nose, presumably from being in the sun his whole life. She realized he didn’t look so sad for once, he looked peaceful. And she was the one making him feel that way.

“That helpin’ at all?” She asks quietly, close enough to him that he feels her breath against his ear.

He nods sleepily, angling his neck to the left to stretch the muscle she’s working on. With the more exposed area, she runs her thumb along his neck, landing just under his jaw bone. He lets out a low, content murmur to answer her. “Mhmm” With her hands on him, she can feel the vibration of his rumble throughout her.

“Alrigh’, jus’ relax.” She whispers, her calm voice mixing with the sound of the crackling fire and the waves of the bay lapping quietly.

He lets out quiet, low groans here and there. The rumble in his voice suggests the sound is emanating from somewhere deep in his chest. His head hangs in his calm state, being enveloped in warm light.

Although this was meant to help him, she could feel it soothing her as well. She craved tenderness so deeply that this moment felt like a relief from all the toughness around her. She wasn’t just offering gentleness, she was receiving it. Arthur trusted her touch and surrendered to it. In this intimate moment, he let her be gentle and soft. For now that’s what she needed.

Even though his hands weren't on her at all, she felt as though they may as well could've been.

“That should help it at least.” She feathers her massage off, now just gently running a soothing hand over the muscle. “I don’t wanna end up aggravatin’ it more.”

He rolls his neck as he stands back up, positioning himself on the log once more. “Felt real nice. Thank ya” She feels his hand pat against her knee, gently squeezing it. Her leg felt cold after the loss of contact, even through a layer of fabric. A chill goes through her entire body. She's grateful for the long skirt covering her legs so he can’t feel the goosebumps across them.

“Don't mention it.” She says dismissively, although her heart is hammering in her chest. She takes a sip from her glass hoping he’ll believe the alcohol is the reason for the redness washing over the apples of her cheeks. “Just glad it did ya some good.”

“You’re a damn fine nurse, Caroline” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, looking almost jovial in nature. He doesn’t look so tense anymore. His shoulders fall in a more relaxed manner and the fire casts long bronze shadows over him, creating contours on his face that give his usually piercing eyes a new kind of gentleness.

“Well thank you Mr. Morgan” She beams at him, happy that her work is noticed. Especially by him. She’s constantly half exhausted with all she does in camp, fixing every small ailment that anyone complains of. And yet, shes not bringing in money or doing “domestic chores” so, Grimshaw sees no worth in her. “I do my best to keep you boys alive.” She laughs.

He scoffs with a lighthearted chuckle at her calling him “Mr. Morgan” He turns his gaze to the fire, watching it dance for a few moments before his eyes flicker down to his hands, looking at them with distant thought. “We’d probably be in a lot worse shape without ya…”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She laughs bashfully. She’s never been one to accept a compliment easily. But, something about the sincerity his voice holds always manages to make her consider that it could be the truth. She laughs again, shaking her head as if she was physically shaking the thought out. “Now, any other ways you’ve gone and gotten yourself hurt that I should know about?” Her eyebrows raise playfully.

The same scoff leaves his mouth, along with a low chuckle. “No, nothin’ else. Not now at least.”

“Well stop goin’ and gettin’ yourself hurt and maybe it’ll stay that way.” A warm smile bloomed across her face. He couldn’t help but notice the way a small crinkle formed across the bridge of her nose when she laughed. The sight captivated him too much, she seemed almost holy to him.

“I’ll try. No promises” He said with a chuckle that sounded from deep within his chest. “But, I'll try for you.”

[poraphia]

Halloooo ^^ ..

I read a lot of ur stories and now Im in love with fictions :3 (might need therapy cuz of it but nvm that)

U an amazing writer <3

(Im pretty new to Tumblr so extremely sorry if this ends up where it shouldnt be or smth like that lol)

But anywaaay , Can I pls request a Wilbur Soot angst fic :D ?

Im going thru THAT phase rn so anything would be awsome really ..

Maybe a fight (unintentionally) breaks out between Wilby and reader and Wilby accidentally raises his voice and reader gets scared ? I know its a cheesy story and people might'a written before but I barely find Wilbur angst fics anymore :(((

Anyway , Thank u so much .. U dont have to write any of this if ur uncomfortable .. Hope ur doing okay :> .. Take care n' bye :D

"You’re Being Too Loud."

➵ PAIRING! cc!stressed!wilbur x stressed!reader

➵ CREATING! 10.12.23 | 1444 words

➵ CONTAINING! angst to comfort, wilbur is ignoring reader, reader lowkey has attachment issues, reader sensitive to loud noises, wilbs is overworked

➵ SAYING! hiii @toastyliltoasts41 welcome to tumblr! sorry for the late late response but i hope you enjoy :) personally going thru this myself especially w so much work ive been doing recently and also im noise sensitive (literally walk around with noise canceling headphones all the time). thank u for all the nice words!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

I slipped off my shoes and placed them near the doorstep. My socks glided against the furnished planks as I slid to our shared office. I dragged my backpack behind me, feeling the weight of my laptop, notebooks, and textbooks. Once I made it to the room, I placed my bag on the chair and unpacked all my belongings onto my desk.

Today was too exhausting, and the one thing I dreaded doing right now was to open my laptop and be faced with more work. Instead of taking my laptop with me, I grabbed my phone and dragged myself out of the office and into the bedroom.

After changing into my loungewear, I snuggled myself into silk sheets, shivering a little from the cold fabric wrapping around my body. Ignoring the chill, I held up my phone with both of my hands and swiped open the messaging app to text my boyfriend. I glanced at the past messages, realizing that Wil hasn’t responded to any of my messages from this afternoon. The last time he texted was this morning when was telling me what time he would come home. Sighing, I typed in another message in hopes that this time he would respond.

“Hey, I’m home now. Too tired to cook food today. Let’s order something when you get home? <3”

I clicked send before clicking off my phone and placing it on the nightstand. My eyes fluttered close, and slowly, I drifted off to sleep.

I woke to the sound of footsteps clicking against the ground. With my hands I pushed my body up to examine the noise. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a familiar tall figure headed toward the office. A small smile formed on my face as I carefully got out of bed.

My bare freet pressed against the cream colored carpet. I wandered around the hallway before finding the office door slightly ajar. Through the crack I saw Wil hunched over his computer. His sweater’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his fingers hastily clicked against his keyboard. Quietly, I approached him from behind, throwing my arms around his shoulders and hugging him close.

Wil quietly hummed in response. I titled my head, pecking his cheek, but he didn’t react and instead his eyes stayed glue to his screen. My eyebrows slightly furrowed, but nonetheless, I continued hugging him.

“Hey, sweetheart.” I mumbled in a croaky voice.

“Hey,” he replied blankly.

“Did you see my texts earlier today?”

“Uh huh,” He said absently. “I saw the message after I ate though. Sorry.”

I felt my chest tighten a little, hurting at his absence. All I wanted in the moment was a hug and a conversation about each other’s day, but instead, he was absorbed in his work and couldn’t even make the effort to look at me.

“Wil, can we talk?” I asked.

He slightly shook his head. “No, not right now, honey. This video has to be out by tomorrow and one of our editors hasn’t been feeling well so I took up the work.” He explained briefly.

“But you’re already busy working at the studio…” I mumbled.

“I know, but I can finish this up by tonight. Just give me some time, please.” He requested. My heart skipped a little, feeling like a dog that had been put aside for a brand new puppy.

“Wil, you haven’t talked to me all day. Could we at least just have dinner together?” I nearly pleaded.

“I already said I just ate, (y/n).” Wil said rather sternly. “Please can I just finish my work?”

“But I want to spend time with you.” I said, speaking up a little bit. I unwrapped my hands away from him and stepped back a little. He turned his chair a little to face me with one of his hands still on the keyboard. He looked up at me, a stressed but furrowed expression on his face. I wrapped my arms around myself, hugging my own chest.

“I want to spend time with you but you’re basically prioritizing this work over me.” I said again. “I understand that sometimes you have too much work. I understand that. But we haven’t been spending time with each other for the past few days and it’s driving me crazy. I just want to relax with you, Wil.” I bit the insides of my cheek. Wil, in turn, sighed and rubbed his nosebridge.

“I’m not prioritizing work over you, (y/n), I’ve just been busy lately and this argument is just stressing me out even more.” His words were spat out like venom.

“Which is why I’m asking that we just spend time together! This isn’t just for me, but it’s for you too.” I threw my hands up, frustrated. “Wilbur, we can relax together! You’re acting like this isn’t stressing me out either!”

Wil got up from his seat now. His tall figure nearly towered over me, making me slightly cower. “I DON’T WANT TO FUCKING RELAX RIGHT NOW, (Y/N)! I HAVE SHIT TO DO!”

I stepped back, nearly stumbling. Without realizing, tears were running down my burning hot cheeks. The air went cold and I felt this hallowing emptiness surrounding me. A ringing was bouncing in my eardrums and goosebumps ran through my arms and legs. He looked down at me, eyes wide as if he just realized what words escaped his lips. Before he could say a word, I walked out of the office and back into bed, slamming the door behind me.

I jumped into the mattress and buried my face deep under the sheets. I quietly sobbed into the fabric, not caring for the tears darkening the silk. It didn’t take but a couple minutes later to hear the creaking of the door and soft footsteps approaching the bed. I lied still under the covers as I felt the mattress dip from a newfound weight.

Wil sat there for a while. His knee shook a little, making a tiny thumping noise against the floor. I was turned away from him with his lower back lightly pressing against the heel of my foot.

“(y/n)..?” He softly called out for me. “Are you awake..?”

I shifted a little, moving my foot away from him to let him know I was listening. He sighed with his leg coming to a stop.

“(y/n), I’m sorry. I—I’ve just been really stressed, but that gives me no right to start yelling at you. And me being really busy has been taking away the time with you.” He paused a little bit, presumably licking his lips. I still didn’t have the courage to move. Instead I laid still, not daring to move. “I’m really sorry, (y/n).” He apologized again.

A deep sigh huffed from my nostrils before I sat up, letting the sheets cascade off my body. He turned his head to look at me, his feet still planted on the ground. I looked into his eyes, seeing the pained looked deep in those irises.

“Y-You know I don’t like loud noises.” I croaked out, my voice cracking with my words. He slowly nodded, bringing his legs up on the bed to fully face me. “And I really don’t like it when you yell. Please, I really just wanted to spend time together.”

“And we will spend time together.” He grabbed my hands and cradled them in his. “I’ll message Elodie right now if she could finish the work. But right now, it’s going to be me and you together, okay? We can maybe catch up on our show and I’ll order some food for you, okay?” He reassured, rubbing his thumb against the back of my hand. “Maybe I’ll steal some fries from you every once in a while.”

I giggled a little. “Noooo! Get your own food!” I whined, lightly pushing his shoulder. He chuckled in response before wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close to his chest. I wrapped my arms around his torso in response, breathing in his scent.

“I just missed you, Wil, you know that…” I softly whispered. He nodded, running his fingers through my hair.

“I missed you too. I promise I do.” He whispered back. His voice was low and deep but he made sure to maintain his volume. It was soothing, something I could fall asleep to,

and most importantly,

it wasn’t loud.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

a / n ~ hope you enjoyeddd notes of all kind are super duper appreciated! if you wanna be in a taglist or an anon my inbox is always freee :D ALSO SURPRISE!! TWO ONESHOTS IN ONE DAY I AM ON A ROLLLL

[isnt-it-pretty]

Vaguely chronically ill Cyno, whose body struggles to carry the weight of Hermanubis inside of him. Usually, he's fine! The symptoms are minor, although they were worse when he was a kid. Cyrus nursed him through fevers and days of painful haze as he was crushed beneath the power of a millennia-old spirit.

But sometimes, it still hits him. It's one such time, in the weeks following their freeing of Lord Kusanali, that Alhaitham finds Cyno passed out at his desk with a fever boiling beneath his skin. He overworked himself to the point of illness. Even when Cyno wakes, he's dazed and obviously exhausted (less obviously, but still noticeable to Alhaitham, he's in pain, his movements slow as he grimaces.)

Alhaitham doesn't trust leaving him alone. There's a reason Tighnari and Kaveh each have a key to Cyno's apartment. Cyno has a horrible track record for taking care of himself, even worse than Kaveh during his flares, and has needed help more than once while hiding away to lick his wounds. The only logical course of action is to take him to Alhaitham's home, a thought which is further cemented as Cyno wavers on his feet, not opposing the arm Alhaitham keeps around his shoulders lest he collapses. 

When they arrive, Kaveh is prepared to complain and argue, but he freezes at the sight of Cyno half asleep on his feet, and softens in a way Alhaitham rarely sees. They get Cyno into Kaveh's room, and Kaveh sends Alhaitham to find something oversized and comfortable for Cyno to wear. When they're alone, Kaveh tucks Cyno's hair behind his ear and tries to gauge his awareness. It isn't good. Cyno recognizes Kaveh and knows his own name, but he doesn't seem to know where he is or how he got there. He isn't fighting, though. Kaveh is there, and that means he's safe. 

They change him into comfortable clothes and try to coax some water into him. Cyno curls up beneath Kaveh's blankets, closer to unconsciousness than sleep. Kaveh sits on the edge of the bed, finger combing through Cyno's hair while Alhaitham leans unhappily against the wall nearby. 

None of the medicine they have in the house will work for Cyno-- his metabolism is too fast. Instead, Kaveh leaves Alhaitham with specific instructions on getting Cyno to drink if he wakes, and goes to Cyno's apartment to find the medicine that will work.  

It's a bit of a mess, a clear sign that Cyno hasn't been well for days. Dishes are piled in the sink (although not as much as there should be. Cyno never liked eating when he felt sick), and even his tcg cards are slowly gathering dust. 

Kaveh finds the medicine in his bathroom, the bottle empty, and he curses. Cyno must have run out during his last flare and decided not to mention it. Tighnari or Cyrus would have made sure he had more on hand if he did. 

So he writes a letter to Tighnari explaining the situation and sends it off with the assurance it will be delivered that evening. Then he heads to Cyrus' house to see if he has extra medication. He doesn't. Cyno gets it from Tighnari now since he doesn't want his father to worry about the frequency or duration of his flares. 

Tighnari makes it there by late evening, a medical bag slung over his shoulder. Cyno's sleep has been restless, although it calmed a little when Kaveh crawled into bed with him; Cyno's head is now pillowed in Kaveh's lap as Kaveh braids and unbraids his hair. The damp cloth resting on his forehead that Alhaitham periodically replaces has done nothing to lessen the fever. 

They manage to wake him enough to swallow down medication-- something for the fever and another for the agony he'll never admit to being in. Tighnari takes up residence on the bed next to Kaveh, humming old lullabies. 

And so it goes. For most of the next few days, time passes the same way. They take turns sleeping or being away long enough to catch their breath, but somebody is always there for Cyno (usually two people). Cyrus comes and goes, wanting to be there for his son but not wanting to infringe on his privacy. So he brings groceries and meals for them all to share, makes tea, and sits with Cyno when two of the others need a break. 

When Cyno recovers enough to be awake (at which point he'd usually return to work), he's in for one hell of a lecture on not taking care of himself, not just from Tighnari but Kaveh and Alhaitham too—also, mandatory sick leave by order of Cting Grand Sage Alhaitham and Lord Kusanali.

[runninriot]

Inspired by the prompt ‘Love is helping them unwind after a rough day‘ by @lihhelsing for @steddielovemonth day 19

I’ll take care of you

wc: 1,946 | rated: M | tags: Steve is stressed, Eddie takes care of Steve, Established Relationship, Domesticity, Smut (under the cut)

Eddie looks up from where he’s busy peeling potatoes for dinner when he hears Steve entering the apartment.

   “I’m in the kitchen!” Eddie calls into the hallway, excited to finally have his boyfriend back home after another day of him working late.

He continues to prepare the remaining vegetables, smiles when he feels a heavy weight slump against his back and two arms wrap around his middle.

   “Hey baby. How was your day?”

Steve sighs deeply.

   “I hate my boss.” He sounds exhausted.

Eddie chuckles, doesn’t comment on the double meaning (Steve’s boss is his dad. But that’ll change as soon as they’ve saved up enough money to make their way out of this town).

   “That bad, huh?”

He tries to move to put the casserole in the oven but Steve’s arms are still clinging to him, only loosening their grip enough for Eddie to turn around in his embrace.

Steve has been working overtime every single day this past week. They’ve barely spent any time together besides sleeping next to each other, with Steve being too exhausted to do anything after work.

He’s working on a big project right now, something ‘crucial for the future of the firm’. Eddie doesn’t know the details, just knows it’s draining Steve of every last bit of energy. He hates it. Hates that he can’t do much to help take away some of the pressure weighing on his boyfriend’s shoulders. Knows how hard Steve always is on himself, always has the tendency to overwork himself, always giving 110 percent and more.

Thank god it’s Friday, Eddie thinks, looking forward to a weekend with not much to do, already making plans in his head how to spoil Steve in all the ways he deserves.

He pulls Steve’s face up with a hand on his chin to properly greet him with a long and tender kiss.

   “How about you go take a nice hot bath while I clean the kitchen. I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready.”

Steve leans his forehead against Eddie’s chest and tightens his arms around his waist like he doesn’t want to let go.

   “Hmm nah, just gonna have a shower. I don’t want to risk falling asleep in the bathtub.”

They kiss again, once, twice, before Steve relents and peels himself off.

Steve returns to the kitchen 20 minutes later, looks refreshed, still tired but at least a little more alive than before.

   “Can I help with anything?” Steve asks, looking over Eddie’s shoulder where he pours each of them a glass of water.

   “All done. You just sit down and let me take care of you.”

   “Ugh, you’ve been taking care of everything this week. I didn’t even remember to start the damn washing machine this morning like you asked me to. I only now remembered when I saw the piles of clothes on top of the dryer. I’m sorry.”

He sounds genuinely upset but Eddie will have none of it.

   “Babe, stop it. You’ve been working your ass off all week. Cooking dinner and doing some household chores is the least I can do.”

Eddie snags another kiss from Steve’s lips before he prompts him to sit down at the table.

   “I don’t deserve you.”

   “Aww, I know. But what can I do? I’m but a fool in love.” Eddie sing-songs and feels like he’s completed an important mission when Steve laughs wholeheartedly at his words.

   “You’re such a dork. God I love you.”

   “Love you, too. Now shut up and eat. I didn’t burn my hand for this to go cold again.” This earns him another laugh and an appreciative kiss on the back of his hand before they dig in.

An hour later they’re lying in bed. Eddie is reading a book while Steve is going over some papers – despite Eddie’s protest not to bring work into their holy chambers – rubbing his forehead and eyes every now and then while groaning frustrated.

   “Okay, enough.” Eddie says too loud for the overall silence in the room, snaps his book shut and lays it down on the bedside table.

He then turns his attention to Steve who looks at him startled and confused.

   “I said... enough,” Eddie repeats, voice stern and determined.

He takes hold of the papers in Steve’s hand, pulls them out of his grasp, quickly but careful not to accidentally cut him, and lets them drop to the floor next to the bed.

   “Eddie! Those are imp-“

Steve doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Eddie is on top of him in one swift motion, dragging him closer with a fist in his shirt, silencing him with a kiss.

   “What was that for?” Steve says breathlessly when Eddie releases his lips again.

   “I told you I’m gonna take care of you. And right now, what you need is to stop thinking about work.”

   “Ooh, okay,” Steve smiles up at him, all flirty and smug, “and you think you can help with that?”

   “Hmm, I don’t know,” Eddie plays along, “Guess we’ll just have to find out, won’t we.”

He grips the hem of Steve’s shirt and pulls it over his head, dropping it purposely down on top of the offending papers on the floor – like covering up their existence will make it easier for Steve to forget about them.

Eddie pushes Steve back down into the pillows, hands gliding over his boyfriend’s chest as he makes himself comfortable in Steve’s lap. Steve’s hands find their way to his hips, fingers digging into the sides, goading him to move. And Eddie does, slowly rolls his hips over Steve’s middle, delighted at the soft little Ahs flitting over Steve’s lips.

There are three layers of fabric between them – two pairs of boxers and a cover – but Eddie can already feel the effect of his grinding motion as he drags his cock over the hard line of Steve’s.

   “Close your eyes, baby. Relax. Let me take care of you,” Eddie coos, voice soft and low.

He leans down to kiss Steve’s neck, starts right beneath his ear, goes along the side and over the column of his throat. He makes his way from Steve’s collarbone to his chest, stops at his right nipple to suck at it. Twirling his tongue around the sensitive bud, encouraged by Steve’s breathy moans. With his teeth busy nibbling at one side, his hand blindly finds the other and starts rolling it gently between his thumb and finger, pinching just hard enough to get Steve talking.

   “Ah! Yes, baby. Feels so good, Eddie. More, please.”

Eddie releases both nipples, kisses his way further down over coarse hair, licks over his boyfriend's defined muscles and bites the soft parts of his tummy.

He sucks purple splotches into Steve's skin and beneath him Steve shivers, digs his fingers into Eddie’s hair as if to tell him to move on.

Eddie listens to his silent pleas, climbs off his lap only to pull the cover away and get rid of the remaining barrier. He peels his own shorts off before gripping the waistband of Steve’s, doesn’t need to tell him to lift his hips to drag them down.

Finally free, in all their naked glory, Eddie takes his place between Steve’s legs and doesn’t waste anymore time before dragging his tongue over the length of his cock. He starts at the base, licks a long stripe to the tip.

   “Oh, baby.”

Steve’s voice reaches him from above his head but he doesn't look up, his attention is somewhere else. He parts his lips, wraps them around the swollen head and begins to suck. Teases Steve with a wet tongue curling around the crown, lets saliva pool all over the tip before sucking it back into his mouth.

The noises Steve makes are an obscene soundtrack to Eddie’s performance. Lower and lower he sinks down on Steve’s length, taking him deeper inch by inch until he can feel him on the back of his throat.

   “F-fuck, Eddie! You feel fucking amazing!”

He’ll never get tired of hearing Steve call his name as he slowly loses his mind. Desperate and whiney and oh so sweet it sends a tingling sensation right to Eddie’s dick.

Eddie comes back up, pops off with a wet sound, much to Steve’s disdain, who protest loudly at the loss of Eddie’s mouth.

   “I’m not done, baby. Don’t worry.”

He reaches for the drawer on Steve’s side of the bed and takes out a bottle of lube, klicks the lid open and pours a generous amount on his fingers. Steve startles when the cool gel connects with the skin between his cheeks, two fingers spreading the lube in circles around the rim.

   “God, fuck, yeah!”

Steve’s enthusiasm spurs Eddie on to slide the tip of one finger against the tight muscle, slowly pushing inside until he’s two knuckles deep.

   “So pretty, baby. Fuck, Steve. I love how greedy your hole is.”

Without looking up, Eddie knows that Steve is flushed red from the tip of his nose down to his chest. Always a little ashamed of how much he secretly enjoys the dirty talk.

   “Gonna stretch that pretty hole so good, make you ready for my cock. Do you want that, baby?”

Steve moans loudly as Eddie thrusts his finger in and out and it’s all the answer he needs.

He keeps up his loving torture for as long as he needs to make Steve loose, until he’s literally begging him to stop the teasing and fuck him.

When Eddie sinks into his boyfriend, he nearly loses his mind at how good it feels. They haven’t had sex all week and Eddie just now realises how much he missed it. The burning heat of Steve’s body, the slick noises they make when Eddie fucks into him with rough but loving force. The way Steve trembles underneath him, breathlessly chasing Eddie’s lips for a kiss. How fucking perfect it is to watch Steve come undone, pounding him into the mattress while stroking his leaking cock. How the stinging pain of Steve’s nails digging possessively into Eddie’s flesh alone nearly sends him over the edge.

The room is filled with the scent of sex and the sound of their moans and it’s heaven.

   “Come on, Steve. Come for me.”

With a last, desperate cry on their lips they both crash and fall, succumbing the crushing wave of their orgasm.

And then the world goes quiet around them.

The only sound is their heavy breathing, both trying to catch their breaths as they slowly come down from their heights.

   “That was-“ Steve starts but gets distracted by the sudden movement when Eddie pulls out and drops down beside him.

   “Phenomenal.” Eddie ends Steve’s sentence for him while pulling him close to his chest.

They are both sticky and sweaty and should probably clean up before they’re too tired but Eddie can take care of it later, doesn’t want to break the moment.

   “Love you so much, Eddie.”

Steve’s breath tickles on his skin and it’s too hot to be holding each other so close but he’d rather drown in his own sweat than not hold Steve in his arms.

   “Did it help?” Eddie asks jokingly, a wide, knowing grin on his face Steve can’t see.

   “Mhm,” Steve hums, exhausted and blissed out.

Eddie draws Steve closer, feels the way his body relaxes in his arms, melts into his embrace like he's made of warm candle wax.

   “Love you, baby.”

And if they fall asleep like that – sweat drenched, and cum stained, and on top of dirty sheets – that's okay.

They can take care of that tomorrow.

[lorenid]

Sleeping Habits

Genre: fluff, established relationship, domestic, idol chan

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning: anxiety/insomnia topic, light suggestive lines

Summary: Two 20 something year olds that can fall in love, but can’t fall asleep

A/N: Happy 5-STAR Comeback Day! It’s my first official comeback and I’m celebrating by streaming while finishing this short one-shot that I’ve been putting off since April. I didn’t proof read this at all, please let me know about any errors. Anyways… I’m back on my self indulgence, bc the world inside my head is better than my real world anyways, might as well make it a good one. Fun fact (that only I care about, but I like to over share): My bias for Chan started as soon as I read that he was born 1 year minus a day apart from me. Enough about my delusions, this is also my first time writing about SKZ so here goes nothing.

You arrive home exhausted after a 12 hour shift at the hospital you work at, tossing your heels at the entrance of the cozy apartment you share with Chan. 

“Honey, I’m home.” You say with a singing tone making your way to leave your belongings on the living room sofa so you don’t forget them the next morning. Checking the kitchen to put away some washed plates and glasses. 

“Hey, baby. Did you have a good day?” You hear him shuffling around before you see him, wearing his usual black shirt, black basketball shorts and socks. He kisses the crown of your head, engulfing you into a back hug, hands gripping your hips. Quickly turning you around giving you a sweet gentle kiss before you can even open your mouth to say a word. 

“Tiring but good, a lot of patients showed great progress today and that keeps me going. How about you, did you finish the track you were working on before I left?” You bend your arms to rub his back until your fingers squeeze his shoulders to release the tension moving along to the nape of his neck. 

After almost a year of living together you’re used to his habit of waking up, saying good morning with his groggy voice, sealing his greeting with a kiss and heading straight to the studio. Because he can’t do anything else before revising the work he did the night before listening with a fresh mind to get his genius creativity flowing. You do your morning routine and put down the breakfast beside his work desk, worried that he’ll forget to eat for a while if he’s consumed by the music. Sometimes he’s so excited about a song that he rambles trying to explain all the details of the arrangement, accidentally making you sprint to leave for work to avoid being late. Everyday you’re tempted to stay for a little bit longer just to appreciate his sparkling eyes talking about his new endeavors. 

“I did! I’ll share it with the kids tomorrow to get their feedback.” The kids aren’t really kids… well kinda. Since your relationship with Chan started they have teased him that if they could kick him out of they group they would just to have you as their leader. Specially Seungmin claiming that Chan is getting too old, even though you are closer in age to your boyfriend than him. But you wouldn’t dare to try to keep them apart, because they are his family and they have become yours too. 

“That’s amazing, I know they’ll love it! I have noticed that you’ve been working really hard these past few weeks. So hopefully you can get some rest.” Now you’re clinging to him putting most of your weight on him and he has no choice but drag you around. 

“Yeah I’m glad that is done. Honestly we both tend to overwork so much that when we have time for us we miss working, but when we are back to the routine we are exhausted.” The ultimate contradiction of you both being extreme perfectionists. He leans besides the fridge and you look up to him, his cute droopy eyes make you feel like you’re wrapped in a warm hug. 

“I really want us to do better about relaxing for our own sanity. It’s a work in progress.” You lift your hands to caress his dimples and cheeks with your thumb.  

“Speaking about that, should I make some tea and call it an early night?” He kindly offers, opening cabinets in search of mugs and the chamomile honey lemon tea packets.  

“Yes please! I’ll get out of these clothes and get ready for bed asap.” You’re endeared by his thoughtfulness as he makes a warm tea for him, but sets aside yours adding extra honey and putting it in the fridge because if it isn’t sweet and cold you make faces of disgust just by tasting a drop. 

“Do you need any help with that?” He checks you up and down with a cheeky smile, the clinking of the spoon swirling around the tea stopping for a brief second.  

“Um that would jeopardize our mission, sir.” You say it with a lower voice, rolling your eyes playfully and watch as he blushes and his ears turn a little bit red.  

“Oh… right.” He shakes his head as if he’s brushing away his suggestive thoughts. 

After taking a long hot shower, you change into a sweatshirt and comfy shorts sitting in front of the vanity desk and mirror. The hue of the night lights around the room setting the mood of relaxation, Chan spent an entire day setting them up and cutely annoying you changing the colors every second. You hear the door slightly open while you’re brushing your hair to prevent the frizz, it will probably get tangled anyways, but just doing this little things give you comfort. 

“What you doing?” He says softly peeking his head through the door, you turn and smile at him extending your arms signaling with your hands to come in. 

“Just brushing this crazy hair, did you wash up already?” You sigh exasperated grabbing the tea he prepared. 

“Yeah, I did before you came home.” He settles his mug besides yours as he quickly moves to the corner of the bed near you. Motioning to scoot closer to him and hand him the brush. 

“You’re the best.” He treats you with the type of care that makes you fall in love over and over again. 

“I’m not hurting you, right?” He asks, worry on his tone. Stopping to hear your answer before continuing, drinking the rest of his tea. 

“Not at all, you’re really good at this actually.” You reassure him because he loves doing this for you is turning into part of his night time routine. He finishes, running his fingers through your hair and kissing the crown of your head as you sip the last drops. 

A few minutes later after going to the bathroom to brush your teeth, you both slip under the blankets. Chan plays Pokemon while listening to his favorite playlist while you attempt to read a chapter of a book, but your mind always wonder to random things instead. 

“You know what we need?” Your out of the blue excitement makes him jump a little, holding on to your wrists because you hit his arm playfully asking for attention. 

“A rocking chair! Think about it, if its big enough we can both fit and take turns.” You start searching for them on the phone to show him different options.  

“Am I completely missing the point or does this sound a bit… naughty?” He stares deep into your eyes cocking his head to the side. 

“Get your head out of the guter! Its another technique to fall asleep we could try. When I was little my grandma used to hold me and I was out like a light after swaying for a bit.” You gently slap the side of his head as if that would solve anything and he laughs.  

“Well, we can definitely try.” He stands up to turnoff the lights, getting back to the bed you pat the space in front of you to cuddle him. You wrap him in a hug crossing your arms on his back moving your hands to rock him a little as if you were on the rocking chair. He lets out a deep breath aligning his head with yours, welcoming the comfortable silence.   

“A la nanita nana, nanita nana, nanita ella, mi niño tiene sueño, bendito sea, bendito sea.” He raises his eyebrows surprised by your singing, but he doesn’t say anything worried that you’ll stop. It’s a famous Hispanic lullaby that at first was intended as a Christmas song about Jesus, but it passed down from generation to generation to help children fall asleep.

“A la nanita nana, nanita nana, nanita ella, mi Channie tiene sueño, bendito sea, bendito sea.” You gently stroke between his eyes and down his nose with your pinky finger. He gives you a soft smile with his eyes closing like crescent moons when he hears his nickname. 

“I’m not fair that I’m drifting away while you sing like an angel. I wish I could rush to the studio and record your voice so I can listen to it on loop when I’m away on tour and imagine that you’re there beside me.” He has confessed before that he struggles to find comfort in strange places like hotel rooms and sometimes the time difference doesn’t help with you whispering throught the phone to at least calm his racing heart. 

“It’s a deal if you also record yours.” You have heard him before jokingly singing it to his members before they hang up and you can’t help but be a little bit jealous. 

“Oh, do you actually mean right now? You love to put me in the spot, don’t you?” He says in surprise when you reach your phone finding the app and placing the phone in between your pillows next to his head. He’s too busy to notice that you already pressed the red button because he’s shuffling to press his hands to your sides under your sweatshirt. 

“Of course I do, I won’t deny it and you lowkey love it.” You brush away the strands of hair that are sticking up and the ones that tickle you when he brushes his nose against yours before positioning your head below his craning his neck to be as close as he can to your phone.  

“Close your eyes, go to sleep.” He carefully places a hand covering your eyes, giggling under his breath when he feels your eyelashes fluttering. 

“Know my love is all around.” His hands travel around your waist to hold you closer to his chest, you hear his heartbeat and try to breathe profoundly to slow down yours.  

“Dream in peace, when you wake.” He sneaks a hand up to pet your hair, spreading his fingers to cover the back of your head, a deep breath escapes your lips. 

“You will know I'm still with you.” He notices that your breathing is evening and slowly remove one from under your clothes to stop the audio recorder without startling you as he also feels himself drift.  

[veintrry]

pre-show !

idol!scaramouche x gn!reader, reader has female genitalia, teasing, biting, sucking.

exact same fic different sexual genitals: f | m

ac: ??? (comment if you know!)

It was a somewhat difficult and draining thing to be dating someone in the performing industry. You had to witness your partner in tiring states, and you both has to give up a lot to make things work, but you two still continue to try and you could proudly say you are content where you are.

There's something that boosts your ego knowing that despite the thousands of people that are watching him, only you get all of him. Though, you hadn't missed how much more clingier he had grown to be, and that was made all the more evident with his rash behaviour this evening.

Here you stood in his room at the backstage area, awaiting his arrival before he had to get on stage. This had become somewhat of a ritual for you two, to see each other before a performance; You were there for each one, from when he was but an underground name till he had gained enough traction to be known merely by the title of 'The man who speaks with his eyes'.

Still, this fame did nothing to change your relationship, not in a personal way. It did affect your time schedules and you found yourself more concerned about him due to not wanting him to overwork himself knowing how difficult this industry may be, but other than that you two had stayed relatively the same and you both were happy with that, knowing that there was nothing wrong. Although, you'd be lying if you'd say you didn't feel a tad bit jealous when you hear others shamelessly complimenting him.

The sound of the door opening with a click brushes past your ears and before you could turn around to greet whoever it was you are pulled into a tight embrace and the door had already been closed, the lock snapping into place harshly.

A whine enters your ears as his head rests on the back of your shoulder, "I need you."

It isn't a question but a statement that he is aware you both must share, and it isn't uncommon to feel this way when it comes to one another, especially with how difficult things can be for him within the industry.

He lifts his head, placing his chin onto your shoulder as he tilts it to gaze up at you. "That damn manager held me up. I was getting my makeup and hair done and then they just decided to dump more information about our coming schedules too. Who do they think they are? And to tell me so abruptly too. They're wasting my time," He complains, and you notice the way his eyes narrow, glaring at the recollection as though the entire team had practically imprisoned him and kept him from what he desired.

You think he is overreacting a bit, but you'd be lying to say you didn't feel the same, and you'd be a bigger liar to say you don't like it.

"I could be staying with you instead." He finishes, relishing in your body warmth, inhaling your scent as though he had been addicted to it, to you, and what it did to him. He wanted you, badly.

You like the sound of that, and he might've - no, he definitely picked up on that - He wasn't dense, far from it. He knew his schedule must be exhausting for you. I mean, how could you ever survive this long without him? He should be more attentive to you.

A smirk found its way onto his lips and his hands began to trail from your stomach to your waist, rubbing on your sides as he hummed into your clothing. "We haven't gotten much time to ourselves recently, have we now?" His voice had the essence of honey, attempting to fool you with its sweetness despite your knowing of the venomous intent behind it. "You know you don't have time to be doing that, especially right now Scara." You say, cutting to the chase, and he almost sends you a disapproving whine.

"You know I don't like you calling me that." He lifts his weight off your shoulder, nearing the side of your ear, mouth too close to the outer shell as he whispers in that familiar deceiving tone, "Say my name." A thumb laps circles onto your stomach, patiently awaiting your reaction, timing you.

"You have to get on soon- '' You're spun around, an arm lacing around your back, fingers wrapping around your waist firmly pulling you closer to him, too close. "Say my name."

And you see the way he stares at you, demanding you, commanding you. Hell, if you didn't say it you were sure he was going to have it come out of you with his own methods. And despite how much you didn't want to admit it, you didn't mind that, either. You didn't want him to be late, but there was a good feeling about being the reason why he's late. Plus, you were curious, just how would he make you succumb to him this time? "Make me."

That was all he needed. Those two words were like the seal to break his restraints and give his all to you, as he always should've been. It was impressive the little time it took till his lips were crashing against yours, pleading for you, you didn't even blink.

Divine is how he always felt. The softness of his lips was always so passionate and demanding, yet always with that desperation tinged in and this dawn it was stronger than usual; He yearned for you. He wished to devour all of you.

You match his pace as best as you can but he doesn't wait for you, he doesn't want to, he wants you to feel the mess that this is, he wants to make this imperfect; It's almost like he wants you to make him a mess. It would be a sight to see for someone like him to go out looking like that, the public and news outlets would have a field day. But hey, more eyes on him right? And yet he only found himself wanting yours.

A hand crawls up your spine, his fingers feeling as though they are touching your bare skin through your clothing, leaving a cold trail that makes you arch your back with a yelp. They find home in your hair, entangling into it and pulling you deeper into him, wanting you to breathe him, take him, take all of him.

But you push away for a moment, hands on his torso. You need air, and you were aware he did too. Still, he did not care. He wouldn't waste this, waste this chance to rile you up, to show you who he wants to entertain is you. Who else would tolerate all of him the way you do? "Off," His voice was hoarse, deep breaths being taken and the desperation appeared to only grow. You glance up to meet the gaze that was already long planted onto you, savouring your reactions, the puffiness of your lips and the wrong you felt for doing this but the thrill you gained from it. "Take them off." He gestures to your pants with his eyes. "Scara-" You whined as you attempted to speak, though cutting yourself off realising your mistake.

You could see the state he was in and you having called him that probably didn't help. His hands departed from your waist, his chest pressed up against you as he reached for the zipper and the way he looked at you tells you that he didn't care about the aftermath or the possibility of being caught, you might even say he enjoyed it, your response to it. And his grimacing smirk widens at the thought. "I know you want it. I bet you'd love for me to have you bent over and fucked here." Your body appeared to squirm at his words, reminded that he knew you and your body more than you did. It was only natural he'd understand your cravings. "There's no need to deny it. I know."

He leaned his face in closer to you, your noses touching and you see those pretty lashes of him cover his eyes like a veil but you feel it, you feel his hunger and you witness its coming when he licks his top lip, the zipper of your pants slowly being inched down anticipatingly. You hated how he took his time, how he knew you were still focused on the time, how unconsciously your eyes would glance over to the clock hung up above the vanity desk, and you knew that he knew how despite all of this you still wanted him to not show up– to be late, unrefined, fucked up– all because of you. He liked you like that, when you were selfish.

You latch onto the hand on your jeans and push the zipper down completely, losing your patience. "And I thought you were eager to get started?" Now you reciprocate his cocky confidence as your half-lidded eyes encounter his, daring him to see how much he could do with the time he has. And you knew him, he would do anything to prove you wrong. "Who said we haven't already?" He retorted.

The hand on your waist is slowly moved to your stomach, then dragged down to your unzipped pants that you began to hastily remove, his nails lightly touching your skin, leaving a feathery sensation and as he closed in on your most intimate spot he eyed you in silence, but he spoke to you with those emotions that whirled inside them. Bastard. His fingers make way to the bottom of your undergarment touching your wet self, rubbing his fingers around just to feel how soaked you'd gotten all by yourself.

He begins to touch you through your underwear, and the hand that was once in your hair slithered under your top, undoing your bra with ease and disposing of it with little to no care as he goes back to cupping your breast. You both are breathing heavily against one another and you're the one to latch your lips onto his again, and once you do you don't regret it, you kiss into him deeply, and you feel the moistness of his tongue press up against your bottom lip, swiping it in an ask of permission, and you wholeheartedly welcome it, opening your mouth for him as your hips jut into his touch.

His tongue was warm and naturally moist, the strong feeling of its shape and the way he roughly handled it in your mouth making it feel more prominent. He swirled his tongue around yours, pulling it deeper into his and as went on his fingers began to rub on your clit, touching you with your garments still on. He adored the insolent whines that would leave your mouth, the desperation you reciprocated in those stuttering hip movements as you attempted to get as much friction as you can, but if you wanted it so bad all you had to do was ask.

The warmth you had discovered within your mouth soon disappeared as he departed from your lips, however his pillowy lips never left your body, they merely trailed down your jaw, leaving soft kisses as he climbed down your neck. You feel his teeth grazing your skin before sinking his teeth into it like he was blood hungry. His breath hitches at the quick breath of relief you release and how you wince at the pain in pleasure. Then he kisses it, lapping the bruise with his tongue to apologise, but he only does it again and again till you were sure your neck and shoulders were covered with marks. You didn't want to think about the struggle you'd have of hiding them, but he could offer you a better solution of simply not doing so.

He continues onto his path, riding up your shirt up to your chest as he resumes in journeying down to your stomach, leaving feather-like kisses in their wake, before feeling the wet heat that's up against you again. You look down to see him licking up your navel with a smug smile, snapping you out of your thoughts. You were stupid to believe that he would simply tend to you kindly. Was this to be loving? Certainly. But kind? No, anything but that. He'd love you with everything he has, and you'll take it.

Crouching down to be at your groyne as he resumes planting sloppy kisses downwards, he finally allows his finger to latch onto your undergarments waistband, slightly teasing you as he rubs on it, making you more aware of your need for him. You let out a grumbling whine, and he sees how you furrow your brows at him but it does nothing to deliver frustration when you wore such a cute pout. Still, he was a very generous man, so he wouldn't torture you for too long. He begins to lower them till you are laid bare for him, and the only time he ever looks away from you is when he finally has a moment to relish in the divine sight of your soaked self. A pleased hum leaves him, and his eyes meet yours again and you see the satisfaction that lay within them, how he scrutinises you, teases you, with nothing but his observing violet orbs and that gleam that reflects only more to come.

You were far from the kind to feel humiliated when being seen bare by him. This wasn't the first time you two had felt each other this way, spoken to one another in such a way or let out these sounds of yours. But, the difference here was that, you certainly never had done it like this, during a time you knew you shouldn't, when you had such little time, when there was a risk of getting caught, and it made you squirm into yourself all the more, your thighs pressing against one another and thus his thumb that had rested on your inner thigh.

"Ah ah, ah." He tutted, scolding you with his tone as though you had made a measly mistake. "That's no good," The heat of his breaths meet your skin with each word he speaks, granting goosebumps amongst your skin and you are certain this was intentional. "Don't tell me you're getting all shy now, are you?" And he cocks his head to the side as he gazes to you, awaiting your answer, and you can't make eye contact, not with this view of him knelt down, so eager for you. Surely he knows.

"I see. Don't worry, I'll make sure you're completely relaxed. You don't have to worry about a thing." His words are painfully slow and the longer he speaks the softer his voice gets, the more dewy and venomously sweet it is that you wish to intake it once more.He knew how to get you going and he didn't back away from using his dirty tricks, planting a kiss atop your abdomen.

Such a pretty face he had, but he bore the personality of a snake. I suppose it would be somewhat twisted for you to admit that you found yourself to enjoy that about him, allowing yourself to be a willing prey…

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

HANDS ON YOU — 032

IN WHICH; ILAND 2 happened and you debuted first place as the leader of LUMIÉRE. Having been told that your group is involved in a lore crossover with ENHYPEN, you navigate work, friendship, and love while trying to make it in an industry filled with animosity and condemnation. When life throws you lemons, you gotta make lemonades chuck it right back!

smau + written (0.6k words)

❥･• chapter 32 — 080923

“Y/N," Yoon's voice rings through the air, breaking the silence as you and your group gather around the monitor, eyes fixed on the most recent recording. "You have to close the gap during the chorus, or the formation will end up looking sloppy-"

“We’ve been through this, Y/N” Your group’s performance director interjects from the back, her voice laced with a hint of frustration, and rightfully so since you’ve been practising for three months.

“You okay?” Minjung, ever the comforting presence, wraps her arm around your shoulder, offering solace in her touch. Collapsing into her embrace, you look up at her and give a small nod though she senses your turmoil, but wisely decides not to pry.

The word 'okay' would be a gross exaggeration of your current state of mind because frankly speaking, you are far from anything resembling 'okay.' Each day brings a new breakdown, and everything seems to be spiralling out of control. Yet, despite the challenges that plague you, there you stand, a smile plastered on your face, fulfilling the demands of your profession.

"One more take, and then we're done for the day!" the director's voice booms across the set, igniting a surge of energy within your fellow members. They dash to their positions on the stage, while your devoted fans, who have been with you since the very beginning, erupt into cheers. Taking in a trembling breath, you drag your weary body to the centre stage, awaiting the start of the music.

As the pulsating rhythm fills the air, you summon every ounce of strength within you, ready to deliver a captivating performance. The music starts, and you begin to move, your body flowing with practised precision. However, the strain of relentless rehearsals and the weight of unspoken emotions prove too much to bear.

Midway through the routine, your legs wobble, and your vision blurs. The world around you spins, colours blending into a chaotic whirlwind. Your muscles, fatigued and overworked, can no longer support your faltering form as a searing ache starts to spread throughout your body, causing your steps to become unsteady.

In that fleeting moment, time seems to slow down as the fans’ cheers meld into an indistinct hum, fading into the background. You catch sight of your fellow members, caught in their own performance as you’re reminded of the past three months and weren't about to let that go to waste.

With a final, desperate effort, you stumble forward, trying to regain your footing. But your body rebels, refusing to obey your commands any longer. The weight of exhaustion becomes too great to bear, and as if in slow motion, you crumble to the ground.

Gasps of shock ripple through the audience, mingling with concerned murmurs. Panic surges within the hearts of your teammates, their steps faltering as they witness your fall. Minjung, your ever-loyal pillar of support, rushes to your side, her face etched with worry.

The director's voice echoes through the chaos, a mixture of alarm and urgency. "Stop the music! Help her up!" he commands, his authoritative tone cutting through the clamour.

As you lie there, your body aching and your spirit drained, a sense of disappointment engulfs you. Tears threaten to spill from your weary eyes, but you fight to hold them back. The determination that has carried you this far refuses to be extinguished.

With gentle assistance, you are lifted from the ground, cradled in the arms of those who care for you. In this moment of vulnerability and as the realisation settles in that you cannot carry the weight of the world alone, your mind wanders off to one person.

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♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

authors note: fr feels like i’m writing a kdrama somebody stop me rn 😭

taglist! open. @softiehee @annoyingbitch83 @hoon0logy @aernx @lhees01 @flower0930 @harperwasstaken1 @haechansbbg @renjunoya @heeheesang @spilled-coffee-cup @jwnghyuns @ocyeanicc @neozon3nha @pshchives @casualzo @captivq @suvgs @curlysock017 @iea-tsand @yohanabanana @wonyoungsvirus @shinsou-rii @fluerz @lovelypitasworld @enhaz1 @bbangiez @gothhyucks @l0tisflower @sxftiell @yunwonie @ddazed-lhs @samvagejkflxhrt @alexisalwayshigh @stopeatread @hajimelvr

[offbranddrpepsi]

Don't ever think (Sova edition)

Heavy Angst, you've been warned

Don't ever think about just how lonely Sova had to have been for a chunk of his life. Living remotely in a small area raised exclusively by his grandmother. Moving on to become a special operative that did certainly have to get used to his teammates dying and working alone more often than not. Hours if not days spent in total isolation in the freezing cold he knows too well hunting a target he isn't even sure exists. Earning his honors and respect from his peers but also carrying around a deep feeling of loneliness even when he's surrounded by people. Still remaining warm and chipper to help ease the tension of fresh blood, a thin mask on top of an ever growing strain on his relationship with others. Moving from station to station, business and personal life blurring together to the point its not clear where one ends and the other begins. He joins Valorant and is expecting the same he has always known, but yet it isn't. The once blurred line starts to become more clear though its random. One moment he is relaxing and filling the every consuming void that is his loneliness and then the next its back to the soldier that seemingly never left that tundra. Behind closed doors, only ever slipping up when reporting to Brimstone, he's scolding himself for not being as battle ready as he used to be. Sova starts wandering when he got rusty, when he skills stopped being as sharp as they once were. He starts thinking he has let himself get to comfortable and is getting out of shape mentally as well as physically. He overworks himself to the point of exhaustion and beyond it, the other senior agents are getting onto him as much as others for putting to much weight onto his shoulders.

He doesn't get it, it never really clicks as he is forced to take a much protested vacation. As time passes it becomes easier to be social, to act as a friend to those who call him one and to even let himself be a bit less of a soldier. But that loneliness still festers every so often, threatening him in his most darkest hours, ready to take hold the moment he loses everything.

[skaruresonic]

Yes, because when he told Blaze not to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders in Rush, he was speaking from firsthand experience of guarding the Chaos Emeralds under the threat of apocalypse. He didn't step out of his own shoes for two seconds and think to himself, "But it seems like she's had a rough past" …wait

IDW!Sonic would be more like

"He's just like me fr fr" strikes again. Once more we have Games!Sonic heavily implied to be unrealistic, as if A.) he has no emotions, and B.) the only way he can empathize with others is by making things really about himself.

"Nobody can be endlessly positive" - okay, but Games!Sonic... isn't.

He has doubts. He gets tired. He makes mistakes. He feels sadness and guilt. He has a temper, gets frustrated, gets irritated (sometimes with his friends, even!). He's not some perfect smiling Pollyanna who's never suffered a single doubt in his life just because he prefers not to dwell on the negative. It's just that his will is so strong that he knows setbacks are temporary and he keeps pushing on regardless.

However, he's also not the type to wear his every emotion on his sleeve a la Amy and Eggman, and expecting him to is putting an unfair onus on him to be something he's not. Somehow his positivity, which is supposed to be inspirational and not strictly relatable, translates into "he has no Realistic Emotions(tm)." And it irks me to no end because once again, you are denying merit and dimension to Games!Sonic's character.

Not to mention, where would he have gotten this experience? The metal virus? Sonic pretty much had to run himself ragged just for a chance of survival. He didn't have a choice. It's not like he forfeited sleep because he wanted to.

All those times he should have taken responsibility… He didn't. Sonic can't assume too much responsibility if he shirks the ones he already has.

Also, listen. As someone who is currently experiencing vertigo and burnout at a degree that makes it difficult to be functional (can't really do much if the only state you can tolerate is lying down): if Sonic gave me this advice, in those words, I would be discouraged. He's emphasizing how ~useless~ the burned-out person would be to others instead of emphasizing that health is in and of itself important.

Jewel is already hard on herself---why add to her guilt by saying "relax or else you won't be able to serve others?" I mean, I already feel guilty that my brain and body basically shortcircuited from stress. thanks, Sonic

Furthermore, how come he didn't whip out this pep talk for Amy when she was overworking herself?

Oh, yeah, right. In issue 12, the Chaotix swung by demanding pay and he pretty much left her high and dry with a snarky look on his face.

I'm not just being A Hater(tm) like usual, either; the book makes frequent mention of how exhausted, busy, and stressed Amy is. The following examples all come from different arcs.

[seekslight]

@compasswithin

" Lux? " It was a gentle call, a careful probe onto waters that had barely stilled. The explorer stood uncharacteristically hesitant by the familiar door, gloved hand resting on the handle it usually thoughtlessly pressed down. For the first time, Ezreal noted how hollow the tower's hallways were in the absence of welcome, in the debris of a damaged friendship. " It's... Ezreal. I thought, if it would make you happy, I'd... leave. " Ezreal. It sounded odd, spoken in this place, in this chapter of his life. It was a harbinger, a stupid little curse he wished he'd spoken earlier, when it still made sense. Now, it was the ugly name of a costly mistake. In his experience, it was better to flee the places where he crumbled pillars. Even the thoughts of those places, he fled. He was a coward, begging for a spark of courage to stay and fix what he'd broken. He awaited her reply there, frozen stiff, holding his breath, unblinking. The usual creaking of his leather jacket and backpack rung loud in his ears, loud in this place he'd never willingly part with. 一 in canon verse!!

                    𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠   𝐢𝐬   𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐲.   𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭   𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬   𝐚𝐫𝐞,   𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞   𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬   ;   midwinter   making   sure   the   sunrays   are   stifled   as   much   as   possible   &   it   works   on   the   light   of   demacia,   too,   her   usual   cheery   disposition   dimmed.   it   seems   like   it's   another   bleak   day,   week,   maybe   month   —   heart   once   crushed   into   pieces   now   buried   ten   feet   underneath   a   deathly   weight   of   snow.

                    it   creaks   under   her   feet   as   she   makes   her   way   back   home.   such   a   weird   word,   but   it's   the   one   that   suddenly   pops   to   her   mind,   even   if   it   shouldn't   (   her   place,   she   has   always   called   it   her   place   )   —   it's   not   the   same   without   family   loving   you,   even   conditionally   ;   without   those   whom   you   held   dear,   friends   and   lovers.   what   happened,   what   changed?   luxanna   doesn't   understand   herself,   until   she   sees   it.

                    or   rather,   him.

                    jarro.   ezreal.

                    a   mix   of   confusion   creeps   onto   her   countenance.   he   usually   visits   at   random,   that's   true   ;   but   even   from   afar,   he   seems   troubled   —   then,   worry   pushes   away   the   puzzled   expression   —   just   the   leather   jacket?   isn't   he   cold?

                    or   maybe,   just   maybe,   she's   hallucinating.   wouldn't   be   surprising   when   you   overwork   yourself   to   keep   your   mind   busy,   to   keep   yourself   busy,   to   be   so   exhausted   you're   finally   able   to   sleep   at   night.   but   no.   she   hears   him   (   not   loud   nor   clear,   the   wind   determined   to   make   sure   she   cannot   make   out   anything   ezreal   says   ).   and   if   she   hears   him,   sees   him,   he   must   be   real?

                    then   it   hits   her   :   he   came   to   visit.   despite   their   rather...   unfortunate   departure   last   time   they   saw   each   other,   &   begore   she   realizes,   she's   already   running,   sprinting,   snow   melting   underneath   her   feet,   the   light   controlled   no   longer.

                    ❝   ezreal!   ❞   luxanna   shouts,   the   boy's   confessions   spoken   to   an   empty   building,   &   even   if   he   were   to   repeat   them,   there   would   be   no   need.   it   wouldn't   make   sense   when   she   throws   herself   at   him,   arms   trapping   him   in   a   tight   embrace   ;   light   seeping   through   every   exposed   part   of   her   body,   warm   and   welcoming,   and   her   head   is   already   resting   on   his   shoulder,   face   buried   in   the   cold   leather   (   thawing   at   the   radiating   heat   ).

                    ❝   i   missed   you   so   much.   ❞

                    tone   filled   with   emotions   :   happiness   and   relief,   &   lux   can   tell   ezreal   is   real,   and   before   he   gets   to   protest,   she   already   takes   ahold   of   his   hand,   pulling   him   inside.   ❝   where   have   you   been?   what   have   you   been   up   to?   ❞

                    cheeks   flushed   from   cold,   tip   of   her   nose,   too   ;   she   doesn't   even   shake   off   the   snow   off   her   boots,   doesn't   care   —   solitude   gnawing   at   her   bones,   just   like   the   chill   of   the   season,   and   now   she's   no   longer   alone.

                    home.   now   it   clicks   why.

                    and   now,   he's   no   longer   alone   either.

[scorchedhearth]

@minotaurtheory asked: for the meaningful gestures prompts: 17 + kylealex or 24 + jaykyle (from the first list on the post rather than the dialogue prompts!!) <3 

thank u! answering the second part of that prompt <3

meaningful gestures

Kyle comes to with a soft huff, followed by a grunt and a second, harsher huff. Jason swiftly lifts his hand off of his neck, where he had his fingertips buried in his hair and rubbing circles against his scalp, and rests it on his chest, out of the way. A third huff, and this time Kyle stirs on his lap.

“Why d’you stop?” he slurs against the fabric of his jeans, Jason feels how his breath warms the fabric over his thigh. He doesn’t answer, prefers to focus on turning the page of the book he’s currently reading, even if he hasn’t read half of the sentences on the previous one.

“Stop what,” he mutters, and then makes a show of slapping the book close and putting it down by his hips, freeing his field of vision to look down at Kyle, ashen skin and dark bags under his eyes, a large bruise blooming by his left temple. “You passed out on my bed,” he explains when he sees another question forming on his lips. “About an hour ago.” He doesn’t need to check, he stopped his reading every twenty minutes to make sure Kyle’s breathing pattern and pulse were regular, had to after seeing him nearly collapse over his threshold. That’s why his hand was on him still, he had checked for the last time just as he started on a new chapter, couldn’t help but leech into the heat Kyle constantly radiates, even knocked out and bruised to hell and back.

Kyle tries to lift his head and winces, slamming his eyelids shut as the light certainly starts dancing in his eyes at the valiant effort. Jason lets him do as he please, watches as Kyle tests his body, blinking a few times and tensing muscles in his limbs to see what’s wrong. Not much, by Jason’s guess, he most likely overworked himself and felt the weight of a severe lack of rest once he entered Earth's atmosphere. Now, why he chose Jason’s flat as the first spot to visit, that’s an answer he refuses to think about. Kyle bites down his lips when he crunches his abs in an attempt to sit up, sore enough to force him to fall back on the bed with a sigh, head pillowed on his legs once again.

“Passed out on you too?” He asks, managing to sneak some of that infamous tongue-in-cheek insolence in his wavering voice.

“You move when you sleep. And in case you missed it, that’s my bed.” Still, Jason doesn’t move him away, and Kyle notices.

“I feel like I've been run over by a truck.”

“Feeling dizzy? Nauseous?” He asks as he presses the back of his hand on his forehead, detailing the bruises and cuts he can see peeking out of his clothes and littering his arms and face, examining his pupils from his vantage point.

“Nope. Just tired. Thirsty and hungry as well, if that matters. And I'm sore, too.” But he’s grinning, or attempting to with a barely scabbed over cut on his lip and about a month of sleep to catch up on.

“Well, I diagnose you with severe exhaustion-itis.” Jason nods as he briskly takes his hand away.

“Is it serious, doc?” Kyle asks with fake worry.

“Nothing common sense can’t cure.” He gives a pointed stare that has Kyle rolling his eyes, a decision followed by yet another wince and poorly disguised regret.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t give me your lecture, asshole.” Jason nods, knowing his point has been made, gracious enough to not rub it in this time. He’ll wait for a time when Kyle can actually think of a proper comeback, it’s too easy otherwise.

“So, uh…” Kyle trails off, clears his throat. “What time is it?”

“About four in the afternoon.”

“You know what I mean.” He bites back, that particular subject always touchy for him.

“November the fourteenth.” Kyle freezes for a second before forcing his shoulders to relax. He mutters a quiet ‘thanks’ and leaves it at that, obviously thinking over the answer. Jason picks up the book, opening it to the right page but not reading, unable to anymore, not with the weight of Kyle on his legs more present now that he’s awake and thrumming with energy and no longer a dead weight.

He’s not gonna ask, Jason realizes after two painful minutes of stiff silence between them. So he bites the bullet and speaks first. “I’ve got nothing tonight, I’m staying in,” he says, which is enough. Kyle’s shoulders drop two inches as he sinks into the mattress and lets his eyes flutter close again.

“You like my hair,” he says as an answer, but Jason understands what he means. What he’s asking for. They’re good at not asking and not talking.

“I don’t.” He keeps his voice flat.

“I also know you’re not reading. Not really.” That makes him look away from the page and down on Kyle, too curious to hide it behind nonchalance. “When you read, your eyes move more slowly. They also do that kind of back-and-forth thing if you really like a line. And you don't fidget with the covers either,” Jason stops the finger that had been mindlessly picking at an unruly corner. “You get really still. It’s kinda weird actually, pretty creepy when you sit for hours without moving, save for your hands.” He’s rambling, making it sound thoughtless when it’s anything but. Jason feels bile rise at the back of his throat, teeth clenching down hard on his cheeks. “And you don’t like that I know that, either.” He’s quiet now, an inquisitive, curious gaze laid on Jason.

“But you think you know that I like your hair.” Jason barely realizes who convoluted that sentence is, he’s too busy digging his nails into the threads holding him together, keeping them from ripping and flaying him open.

“I know you like my hair. And I like it too.”

“Pretty vain of you, don’t you think,” Jason slips through his teeth, and Kyle doesn’t bite the bait. He only raises an eyebrow, and Jason goes back to his book without another word. Kyle settles back on his leg, one hand lays on his knee, holding him like he’d hold a pillow, the other wrapped around his stomach, his palm over the shirt Jason stripped him to.

He waits for a minute, counting the seconds in his head, before picking up his hand and slowly setting it at the back of Kyle’s neck, fingers curling around the warm skin and fingertips burying in the thick hair again. Kyle doesn’t say anything, only squeezes his knee once before letting out a deep sigh, already walking back toward sleep with such ease that something catches in Jason’s chest, something ugly, something that hooks deep beneath his ribs and digs into the bones.

He picks up the small back and forth with the pad of his thumb, rubbing tight circles at the edge of his hairline, finally able to go back to his book now that Kyle’s attention has been diverted off himself