#i ​wanted to tag everyone! you don't have to do it of course!

[kefiteria]

Moonlight Echoes

character: scaramouche x reader

tags: fluff, established relationship, stargazing

summary: stargazing with scara + heart to heart conversation🩵 + reassuring scara

Scaramouche let out an exaggerated sigh, his snark practically dripping from every word. “Don't move too much now, or you'll fall, and trust me, I won't catch you if you did fall.” he remarked, his tone laced with sarcasm as he balanced precariously on the branch with you.

Rolling your eyes at his typical attitude, you couldn't help but marvel at the view. The rainforest stretched out beneath you, a vast expanse of greenery illuminated by the moonlight. “It's so tall, and I can see the whole rainforest here! WOAH LOOK, THE MOON IS SO BIG TOO, reminds me of a rice cracker!” you exclaimed, excitement evident in your voice as you pointed out the celestial sights.

Scaramouche sighed again and wrapped his arms around your waist, out of affection. “What a hassle. Such noise would attract many hidden preying eyes.” he grumbled, his snark cutting through the night air like a sharpened dagger.

“Like monkeys?” you teased, earning an exasperated eye roll from Scaramouche.

“Yes, monkeys. Just like you.” he retorted, his snide remark punctuated by a heavy sigh.

But your enthusiasm was undeterred as you pointed out the constellation Orion. “Look at Orion, isn't it incredible? It's like a celestial warrior, standing proud at the night sky. Maybe the monkeys will not be here because of Orion protecting us both!” you exclaimed, hopeful despite Scars's cynicism.

“I hate to break it to you, but Orion doesn't exactly have a good reputation in Greek mythology. So, don't even bother looking up at that constellation.” Scaramouche interjected, his snark evident in every syllable.

Undeterred, you suggested creating your own constellation. “Perhaps we should just connect the stars and make our own constellations then?” you proposed, pointing to the sky with enthusiasm.

“And what would it be?” Scaramouche asked, raising an eyebrow in mild interest.

“Probably chicken mushroom skewers or Mondstadt Grilled Fish shaped?” you grinned mischievously, earning another eye roll from your partner.

“I should've expected that coming from that brain of yours.” Scaramouche muttered, his snark reaching new heights.

You turned the question back on him with a curious look. “What about you? If you could make a new constellation, what would it be?”

After a moment of contemplation, Scaramouche replied, “Probably the tiniest star. I'll pick it and make it as the sole constellation.”

Confused by his choice, you pressed for more explanation. “Huh? I don't get it. How can one single star be a constellation?”

Scaramouche sighed, realizing he couldn't escape your relentless curiosity. “Constellations are patterns of stars that are named and recognized as distinct groupings by people. They're often based on mythological figures, animals, or objects. So, if I want it to be a constellation, then it shall be.” he explained, reluctantly delving into the topic.

“Yeah, but you still haven't explained why you chose a single tiny star to be your choice of constellation.” you pointed out, looking at him expectantly.

Knowing he couldn't avoid the question any longer, Scaramouche begrudgingly elaborated, “Everyone wants the brightest star to be their guiding star. Everyone wants to create a memorable constellation for future generations to look up to. I want something that only belongs to myself, so I'll choose a tiny star and elaborate it in my own eyes.” His words dripped with his trademark snark, leaving you with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“And how would it be?” you asked as you tilted your head.

Scaramouche smirked, his snarky demeanor returning full force. “Oh, it would be magnificent, of course.” he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “A constellation so small and insignificant that only the most discerning eyes could even notice it. But to those who do, it would symbolize independence, resilience, and a refusal to conform to the expectations of others.”

You couldn't help but chuckle at his dramatic description. “So, basically, it would be the epitome of your personality?” you teased, earning a playful glare from Scaramouche.

“Exactly.” he said with a smirk, his snark momentarily replaced by a hint of pride. “After all, why settle for blending in when you can stand out in your own unique way?”

You nodded, impressed by his answer. “I guess everyone sees the stars differently, similar to how everyone sees you differently.” you remarked, reflecting on the conversation.

Scaramouche grinned, his snark softened by a rare moment of genuine warmth. “Well, aren't you full of surprises?” he quipped, before quickly adding, “but don't let it go to your head.”

As you glanced up at the night sky, Scaramouche's eyes followed yours, lingering on the stars above. For a brief moment, there was a flicker of something in his expression, as if hinting that maybe, just maybe, you could be a constellation in his own private sky. But before you could dwell on the thought, his trademark smirk returned, and he brushed off the moment with a casual remark, leaving you to wonder if you had imagined it all.

Slowly, his fingers intertwined with yours, his gaze remained fixed on the celestial canvas above, as if drawing strength from the vastness of the universe. “I wanted to be your tomorrow so I lived today, the past and future.” he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with a profound sincerity that touched your heart.

“I'm happy… truly.” you replied, returning his warm smile as you too turned your gaze upward, feeling a sense of connection to something greater than yourselves.

“Ever since the first day I saw you until now, in my heart, it’s only you. Every time I look up at the night sky, it reminds me of you. Anything around me makes me want to treasure you.” Scaramouche confessed, his words carrying a weight of affection that resonated deeply within you.

Scaramouche's tender touch sent a shiver down your spine, his fingers tracing delicate patterns across your skin as he leaned in closer, his breath warms against your cheek. In that intimate moment, his words hung in the air, heavy with emotion and vulnerability.

“But such words are commonly uttered, I want to say something new too… something that you've never heard…” he whispered, his voice soft yet filled with an intensity that left you breathless.

With a gentle smile, you reached up to cup his cheek, your fingers brushing against the stubble on his jawline. “That's alright though, I love and accept any affection you want to give me in any way, shape, and form.” you reassured him, your voice barely above a whisper as you gazed into his eyes, reflecting the depth of your feelings.

“Because they’re such common words, I was worried they wouldn’t sound sincere… please… reassure me,” he choked out, his grip tightening slightly.

Feeling Scaramouche's vulnerability in the trembling of his touch, you gently caressed his cheek, your thumb soothing the tension that lingered there.

“Scaramouche,” you whispered, your voice soft yet steady, “every word you speak carries the weight of your sincerity. And currently, as you bare your heart to me, I feel the depth of your emotions echoing in every syllable.”

Leaning in closer, you pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, a gesture of reassurance and understanding. “Your love is not measured by the novelty of your words, but by the authenticity of your intentions.” you murmured, your breath mingling with his in the space between you. “And in my heart, your affection will always ring true, no matter how familiar the words may be.”

Sensing the tension ease from his frame, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as if to shield him from the doubts that plagued his mind. “So, let go of your worries, my dear.” you whispered, your voice a soothing melody in the silence of the night. “For in my arms, you will always find the reassurance you seek, and in my love, you will always find solace.”

Scaramouche's lips brushed against your knuckles, a tender gesture of affection, his words resonated in the quiet of the night. “You taught me how to love in this world that failed me.” he confessed, his voice carrying a depth of gratitude that touched your soul.

“Thank you, my love.” he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth. With a soft smile, he gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle yet profound. Beneath the shimmering moonlight and the canopy of stars, his lips pressed against your forehead in a gentle kiss, a silent expression of gratitude and love.

[leclercsluvs]

CL16/DR3 | Already Over | smau

part 8

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

an: i'm thinking this is only going to be like 1 more part. i have no clue what else to make happen tbh, dates/timestamps aren't important, pleas ignore them pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader, daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 3.189.461 others charles_leclerc wish we could go back in time ❤️ tagged: yourusername

danielricciardo watch it.

maxverstappen1 you're doing everything huh?

charles_leclerc ofc i am. i love her. yourbff fuck off. you had your chance and you fucked up big time. yourfriend not you doing all this AFTER she's moved on. stop fucking with her head dude. pierregasly don't listen to them mate, show her how much you love her! yoursister pierre shut the fuck up, or i will make sure you are not able to drive next weekend <3

tayslover it rubs me the wrong way that he's posting like this while she's in a relationship. also i really need her to be on top of her game when she tours with THE queen.

y/nsfclklore not you putting one above the other 🤨 swiftesversion because taytay is above everyone 💁‍♀️ softy/n/n nahhh they're literally friends??? why put them against each other

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, landonorris and 3.156.442 others yourusername had a fantastic time the first night of the eras tour! thank you to everyone who cheered loudly for me, i appreciate all the support 🥹 tagged: taylorswift

danielricciardo looked gorgeous, sad i couldn't be there tonight

yourbff girlll you're shining!! we'll meet you at the next stop!! ❤️

yourusername no way!! who's "we"?? 🤨 yourfriend don't worry it doesn't involve your stupid ex yourbff it does involve someone else tho 👀 maxverstappen1 i wonder who

y/nswrld can't wait to see you soon!

taylorswift you were amazing! glad i decided to bring you with me

yourusername thank you so much for the opportunity! <3

danielricciardo

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 4.009.877 others danielricciardo stay hydrated folks! tagged: yourusername

yourusername you really had to include that first pic? 😭

danielricciardo ofc, i gotta get the message out there yourusername blocked.

landonorris you went and didn't invite me? kinda rude

danielricciardo sorry there wasn't space on the plane 🤷 yourbff do you have a private plane? landonorris yeah, why? yourfriend then we'll invite you the next time!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbff & 4.132.806 others yourusername this has been an amazing time! thank you so much for all the love!

danielricciardo you were amazing! loved seeing you do what you love

yourusername so happy you were able to be there! ❤️ yourbff 🤮 danielricciardo you were the one to bring me? 🤨 yourbff doesn't mean you have to be this cute yourusername aww you called us cute

charles_leclerc you looked gorgeous!

nvrris.ae did she cover 'hopelessly devoted to you' every night? or just the nights daniel was there?

scfty/n every night! but she did seem to sing it with more passion and with a bigger smile on her face whenever her friends or daniel was in the crowd nvrris.ae that's really cute honestly

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen1 & 4.283.800 others charles_leclerc i was told to wait with making this statement until the whole situation had died down a little, but going to see yourusername live in sydney, i realized i'm done waiting. i love this woman with all my heart. i will do anything to win back your trust. i would stand in the rain for hours watching you do what you love, i would quit racing, i would go through fire and ice, and of course my pr manager is fired. i am truly and incredibly sorry for what i put you through, and i understand if you are never going to fully forgive me. i miss you, and i love you. and i hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me at some point. i know you're currently in a relationship, and i'm not asking you to drop that. i just want a second chance. i want a fresh start if you think that would be possible. i hope from the bottom of my heart, that we can start over. i already told you exactly what happened over text, and i talked with everyone in the team, they are more than willing to also tell the story from their perspective. tagged: yourusername

leclrcs this is honestly the cutest little statement ever

scuderia.sf get heeer

danielricciardo watch out.

charles_leclerc i understand the two of you are in a relationship, and i'm not going to fight you, i simply just want forgiveness. i'm not interested in breaking the two of you up

yoursister are you being fr right now??? she's over you. you didn't have to make a public statement or anything at all???

charles_leclerc as i stated, i'm not expecting her to forgive me right now, right this second. i'm expecting it's going to take time, and i'm gonna giver her all the time she needs. yoursister you better sleep with one eye open.

danielricciardo

liked by yourusername, yourbff & 3.458.124 others danielricciardo cool date idea: ask your girlfriend what she wants for dinner and then buy her favorite snacks too tagged: yourusername

yourusername best date to ever exist

yourbff wow what about that time i made you a homecooked meal? yourusername you almost burned down my house??? yourbff um i thought we agreed to not bring that up yourusername no you agreed with yourself to never bring that up, i never agreed.

landonorris and i wasn't invited because???

danielricciardo i didn't know we dated? yourusername care to explain yourself? landonorris yeah care to explain yourself? danielricciardo woah hold on how many people am i dating???

mayasheart aww this is such a cute idea! hold on i'm writing it down

-

okay soooo we're nearing the end. which is good because i have absolutely no clue what else can happen. but the next part is going to happen a bit in the future, like 1 or 2 years later. i'll figure that out while writing the next and last part.

tag list: @exotic-iris13 @callsignwidow @destinyg237 @lanadelray1989

[imagineredwood]

Daddy Yandere Chibs with A? Number 3?

I have a HUNGER for Daddy!!!

Summary: Chibs has honored your foolish wishes for a separation for the last month, but you still haven't come to your senses yet, so it's time for Daddy to bring you back home; by any means necessary.

Warnings: ...it's a yandere drabble 🧍🏻‍♀️ So stalking, manipulation, what could be perceived as emotional abuse because of the manipulation. As always, these are just for fun, not to be taken as a healthy or safe relationship. No means no and turning up at someone's work when they don't want you to or anywhere they're at for that matter is creepy af in real life!! Also daddy kink. I wrote it with somewhat of a big age gap in mind but it doesn't have to be read like that 💕

Also just as a reminder, since dark content isn’t for everyone, I don’t use the regular tag lists for these, only specific taglist for those who want to read the darker content. I wouldn’t want to expose someone that didn’t want to read it. So if you DO want to be tagged, let me know

"You shouldn't be here. This is my workplace. I don't have time for this."

Chibs didn't flinch as you rejected him, his stance relaxed as he leaned against the wall of your breakroom. He'd been dying to see you. He'd given you the space you had asked for, knowing that of course that wasn't what you truly wanted. But he'd given it to you anyway. You would see soon enough that being apart from him wasn't actually what you wanted at all. Yet it was going on a month now, and he had decided that enough was enough.

So he'd ridden over to your job to get you back and now here you were, acting as if you were simply too busy to speak to the man who had loved and protected you these last few years.

"Oh course ya do, Lass. You're on break. You've got,"

He made a show of looking down at his watch and calculating.

"Got 24 minutes left of break, I reckon."

You swallowed dryly, realizing that he did have a point. You took your break at the same time every day. You'd used that break to talk to him on the phone most days. Of course, he would remember. So you tried a different tactic.

"How did you even get in here? It's employees only back here."

The Son nodded, eyes warm as they regarded you, a hint of playful ridicule there as well.

"I've lived in this town a long while, love. Longer than you. All I had to do was ask."

He pulled off the wall then, standing at his full height, taking each slow step one at a time.

"Everyone knows me here. Knows us. All that yellin' about me being so controlling, yet you didn't tell your work to keep me out?"

You gulped as he stalked toward you, eyes on you every second.

"Didn't put me on some kinda list? Didn't tell them that if they saw me to call the cops? None of that?"

You stared at him as your heart pounded in your chest. He wouldn't hurt you; never. But you wouldn't put it past him to somehow manipulate you and the situation into ending with you giving him another chance. All if would take is the feeling of his hands, warm and loving as they caressed you, and your resolve would fall apart. And he knew as much.

You took one more step back and bumped against the wall, the giant silver fridge blocking you on one side, and Chibs arm coming up to block the other. You whimpered, willing yourself to be strong as the scent of leather, cologne, and cigarette smoke flooded your senses. It all smelled just exactly as you remembered and you ached for him, the stone you'd fortified around your heart beginning to crumble.

"Even with all the arguments and disagreements, you know you've always been safest with me. Safe, and at home. You've proven your point. It's time for you to come home with Daddy now, yeah?"

You hesitated for a moment before your head was nodding slowly of its own volition. The Son clicked his teeth and offered you a smile then, eyes trailing down your front. He brought a ringed finger up and traced down the valley of your breasts, eyes raking over you how a lion would a gazelle. His voice was low when he spoke again.

"Twenty minutes left."

"Huh?"

The sentence threw you off, your break no longer on your mind as you looked at him.

"You've got twenty minutes left before they start looking for you, so I've got time. You look delicious. I won't stop until I've dated every bite."

Dark fiction taglist 

@whitetxilwxlf @kikijackson-blog @ben-c-group-therapy @ravennaortiz @mama-mischief

[ca-suffit]

there is a discourse about Louis ''attacking'' Daniel in episode 2 and he is villainized for that.

I don't know if you watched the episode so I don't want to spoil it, but something happens and suddenly everyone talks about how horrible Louis is.

Like the same people talking about how it's a gothic show when it was Lestat doing his shits, are saying Louis is gone too far with Daniel??? Now I totally get what you were saying about white fandom,since I'm new to the i wanted to give them the benefit of doubt because a big part of the cast are POC but they are showing their nasty faces.

If it wasn't for Armand Claudia and Louis I would have already abandoned the show.

ya of course Louis is an instant villain in this fandom lol.

u are supposed to think what Louis did was too far, ur supposed to see these characters all cracking and getting worse as time goes or else what plot is left? u know they're breaking down to an explosive end somehow. crazy how Daniel's racism has ramped tf up this season too but that's still somehow "a slay." the telenovela moment is a p big one everyone's just letting go.

anyways, ya, welcome to "when white characters do anything it's serving cunt and when black and brown characters do the same it's being a cunt." it's stupid. ppl who can talk about this in more nuanced ways don't rly exist in the tags because these annoying fuckers bully everyone out.

a lot of ppl are here just waiting for when they think Lestat and his whiteness (and "it was all a lie, he never hurt anyone!") will be the main focus forever btw. they're "tolerating" everything else until then.

[alice-after-dark]

Late Night with the Radio Demon - Sing Me a Song

Alastor is bored and visits his favorite human.

Alastor's POV for once! Normally I want this au to lean a little more on the dark and horrory side of things, but this popped into my brain space so here, have some short fluff of silly boys being silly.

And, as usual, gotta tag @hiemaldesirae!

When Alastor appeared in the young man's apartment, he was greeted by two very pleasant things.

The smell of something cooking.

And a lovely melody drifting out of the kitchen.

Half a love, never appealed to me

If your heart, never could yield to me

Then I'd rather have nothing at all

All or nothing at all

The first voice crooning that delightful sound Alastor immediately recognized as the glorious Frank Sinatra. A true pity that Alastor had passed only a year before the man stepped onto the music scene. He would have been delighted to play the man's music on his show. The second voice singing along however...truly, his human never failed to entertain. He made his way towards the kitchen.

If it's love, there ain't no in between

Why begin then cry for something that might have been?

No, I'd rather, rather have nothing at all

"My, my! So full of surprises, Vincent!"

The human yelped, jumping and nearly dropping the knife he was holding as he scrambled to turn off the radio. He whirled around, leveling the demon with a glare as Alastor made himself comfortable at the table.

"Do you have to do that?"

"Oh my, no! But it's far more fun!" The Radio Demon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and tucking his hands under his chin. "I wasn't aware you could sing."

His human looked rather adorable, flushed in the face like a shy schoolgirl. He looked away from Alastor's gaze. "I don't usually...it's just a casual hobby...my dad used to sing a lot and I guess I just picked it up from him."

Alastor tried not to let his mood sour at the mention of a father figure. Well, at least not everyone had to put up with a piece of shit contributing the second half of their chromosomes. Thankfully, his human provided a quick distraction.

"So why are you here? Did you come for your favor?"

Oh dear, he'd nearly forgotten! "Of course! Can't let it go to waste, now can I?"

His human sighed. "Okay, so what do you want?"

Alastor tapped his chin. He didn't really have anything he truly needed at the moment, but it wouldn't be right to let the TV host get away without upholding his end of their bargain for the day. An idea formed.

"Well, you were so quick to turn off that radio upon my arrival that I didn't get to hear the end of that lovely song. Why don't you finish it for me?"

His human blushed again. Ah, he did so enjoy the sight of him flustered. "You...you want me to sing for you?"

"Indeed! In fact, why don't we take it from the top?" Without waiting for further commentary, Alastor tapped his microphone and music began to fill the small kitchen. His human turned back to his cooking, shoulders tense and awkward, but nevertheless began to sing. Alastor leaned on his hands and watched him. As the song continued, the TV host began to relax, losing himself in the music as he returned to cooking. Alastor wondered if he even remembered the demon was there.

Please don't bring your lips so close to my cheek

Don't you smile or I'll be lost beyond recall

The kiss in your eyes, the touch of your hand makes me weak

And my heart, it may grow dizzy and fall

And if I fell under the spell of your call

I would be, I'd be caught in the undertow

So you see, I have got to say no, no

All or nothing at all

He really should get his human to sing for him more often.

All or nothing at all

Nothing at all

There ain't nothing at all

Nothing at all

---

All or Nothing at All by Frank Sinatra

[starrysharks]

evilution

[mishkakagehishka]

Idc anymore i think i'm a good enough writer that i can say that when i noticed the pattern in what exactly makes a book "good" on booktok (and, bc of that, what makes it popular and top bestseller lists), it feels almost demeaning and denigrating to the entire craft. Idk if i should blame the way tiktok-esque social media has utterly rotted everyone's ability to concentrate and read more than three sentences, but literally none of those books are objectively good.

(Yes, yes, art is subjective. HOWEVER. Art is subjective when you look at style, at themes, at motifs, at plots and characters. Art is still a craft, it still requires skill. I've seen beyond the tiktok quotes of these books. Not even their editors are good given the amount of typos/spelling mistakes. That is not something that you should find in a traditionally published book.)

You look at these books, and you know the only reason for their existence is to make money. I cannot and will not accept that as art.

(I'm on Tumblr, of course I have to explain every point. Artists who make money off their art =/= people who only create art meant to be profitable. There is a difference between an artist who hopes to monetise doing what they love, who creates what they wish to see more of and who happens to then create something that other people wish to see more of, and a person who looks at what's trending and decides that making an unholy frankenstein's monster of a book that mashes all those trending tropes and motifs together would get them rich quick. The fact that a lot of these booktok books become popular because of nepotism is just the cherry on top. It's soulless.)

And to finally say what I wanted to say, it's because none of these books have any deeper message or even artistic value to them. You will find a few out of context quotes or paragraphs, ones written specifically so they'd look deep and beautiful when taken out of context, so that people would post them, so that people would buy the books. Entire books written just so those few lines could become viral and make cash. It cannot even be compared to a hook line writers would post to get people interested in their works, because in booktok's case, those are the only lines of quality and in the context itself, they are often out of place and forced.

I just hate booktok, i hate what modern social media has done to art. It's all created to be quickly consumed, for the few ☆aesthetic☆ glances, and then discarded. Just to make more money for those who are already nepo babies. As if artists needed more obstacles to jump over.

[neon-glowing-rainbow-stims]

Posts here will likely be on hiatus for a couple weeks as I finish up the semester <3 I'll be back soon enough!

[coquelicoq]

okay, i give up. i'm calling it, time of death 11:02pm. i hereby officially unsubscribe from the l0tr newsletter. it's funny because whenever anyone asks me if i'm the type of person who always finishes a book even when i hate it, i'm like, "yes, except this one time i gave up on the fellowship otr after the first 50 pages when i was like 10." here we are decades later and i'm doing it again. and the best part is, i did actually successfully read this book and the other two in the series at some point in those intervening decades. i tried to read this book three times and only succeeded once. 33% hit rate, compared to my rate of 100% for every other book i have ever seriously tried to read. i really want to get it but i just don't. i'm giving myself permission to move on with my life. i'm not ashamed! i will say it since everyone else is too chicken apparently: some people find this seemingly universally beloved book series very boring and i am among their number!

[arklay]

seeing stars.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

It was almost as if she cared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A tired sigh left him then.

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

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

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

“You have long legs.”

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

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

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

He needed to place more distance between them.

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me help you.”

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

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

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

Oh, how he wished that were true.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps he needed some help.

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

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

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

What had he been thinking?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They don’t work,” Wesker grumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

That made her freeze on the spot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That wasn’t even the worst of his problems.

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

Weak. Pitiful. Unacceptable. Over and over again.

How could he let someone see him like this?

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

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

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

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

“Alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wasn’t going anywhere.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[todayisafridaynight]

me when i ship zhaohan 😔 there's next to no content unless i'm just not looking in the right spots

be the change you want to see in the world my man.... if i can trick people into thinking masadai is real then i know you can rally the troupes with them lovable goobers......

[inkfromalily]

Tag nine people who you want to get to know better! tagged by @werebutch

Favorite Color: Purple, and more natural neutrals

Currently Reading: Daisy Darker, Gender Trouble, and the Prince (Daisy Darker for fun, I love mysteries and thrillers, the other two for political book clubs)

Last Song: Karma (ft. Ice Spice) not my usual genre, but it's super catchy

Last Series: From, which I'm v curious about

Last Movie: Barbie 💕 (did barbenheimer)

Currently Working On: The Jake Maze pattern from Shopstitchedwitch on Etsy, for my sister's Christmas present this year

Tagging: @ankilynxa @unironicallyenthusiasticknitter @myceliumentwined @selkiez @birthdaylobotomy @apologizesforliterallyeverything @hermits-love-blog @duhass

[couldbebetterforsure]

Why the fuck you lyin'?

Why you always lyin'?

Hmmmmm Oh my god

Stop fucking lying!

[gloriousmonsters]

it looks slightly more natural on Technically Big Boy (still 11 on the inside and panicking) Link rather than teeny baby Link, but I still think Din's Fire looks like it was made to be a Ganondorf move

[jankwritten]

I just saw my local universtiy put on The Lightning Thief musical and GUYS. IT WAS FUCKING INCREDIBLE. LITERALLY ALL OF IT WAS SO FUCKING GOOD. Like the casting was good, the jokes landed, everybody stayed in character, all of the singing was fucking great (CHARON/MISTER D/HADES HAD LITERALLY SUCH A FUCKING PERFECT VOICE FOR THEIR ROLES I WAS LITERALLY IN AWE ANY TIME THEY WERE SINGING IT WAS THAT GOOD), all of the visual gags paid off, it was genuinely so fucking good!!!!

All my "theater" knowledge up until this point has been High School theater, and not great high school theater, so I was going into it expecting to have a pleasant but not overall mindblowing experience, you know, kinda trying to be chill about it. BUT THEN???? LIterally as soon as it fucking started I was like "Oh, oh this is like REALLY real."

And it was blackbox theater, which idk if that's a regular term of if it's just what my mom was calling it (she used to perform in this same theater that we were in, she's an alumni of this place) so it was super small, no real "stage", just a slightly raised platform and then chairs on risers along the perimeter. I kept making eye contact with the actor playing Ares/Gabe SOB that was really funny tbh. But I really loved it in that format because it felt way more intimate and like, real, if that makes sense? like it felt very On Brand for the musical to be taking place that close to the audience, and it genuinely sucked me in soooo much, sometimes I would register that there were other people across the room and I'd jolt like oh, right, this is a musical in this room we're all in aosiduaoisdu

I think Grover and Chiron were my favorite parts, though literally all of it was so fucking good I don't even know if I can say that. But Grover was jsut SOOO well done, like he was exactly how I envisioned him and also his faces and the physical gestures and everything were so Grover!!!! and Chiron of course was like, the perfect mixture of "I know everything and am your leader" and "i am a slightly bumbling idiot". His "tail" was a bunch of yarn stuck to the back of his pants and his "hooves" were the chorus making clopping noises every time he stepped (AND HE TOOK HIGH KNEE STEPS EVERY TIME IT WAS SO FUNNY. there was a gag where dionysus led him out of the scene by dangling a carrot and IDK if that's in the original musical or not but it KILLED ME)

I was so impressed by Percy and ANnabeth too!!!! percy's actor was for sure struggling near the end because, duh, it's a fucking hard musical, but the way they worked in water breaks for him and also the way that he handled it all was phenomenal! And Annabeth too, she had SUCH a hard role to play and she played it really fucking well, and confidently, and I believed that she and Percy's character genuinely were friends and liked one another. AND SALLY TOO!!! LIke she was soooo well played I really felt like she was Percy's mother, like she was there for him and loved him. And all of the scenes where there were like, interruptions, IE a character breaking into another character's lines like interrupting what they were saying, it worked out perfectly and was so natural which like, even in PRODUCED TV SHOWS AND MOVIES sometimes shit like that feels unnatural and that was genuinely part of what drew me in so much, it just all felt so NATURAL. Like I cannot even IMAGINE all the practice and hard work that these guys must've put into this production for it to be THAT good and well rehearsed. (again, all of my history of productions is high school productions so SOB BUT STILL!!!!!)

The fucking minotaruw as just two dudes running around in an enormous bathrobe on top of one another and THAT WAS ALSO SO WELL DONE LIKE LITERALLY

I could go on and on. I probably will go on and on (my friends and parents have already borne the brunt of my rambling because I want to REMEMBER THIS GODDAMMIT) in reblogs but wow. wowowowow. I HIGHLY encourage anybody who feels comfortable to go out and try and see a production of the musical if it's near you. Support your local productions and colleges and stuff. that was a damn good time.

oh damn and the fucking medusa scene? PErcy's actor literally running around waving his sword like a maniac WITH HIS EYES CLOSED and yet he didn't hit any of the people in the front row, who were on the same level as him. That was SO impressive, I was slightly in awe.

oh and YES, they did do the toilet paper visual. which ruled. obviously.

[belovedmusings]

Am I Playing All Right Now?

Kento Nanami x You

Explicit Smut 18+ (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Kento Nanami has been your respectful, loving boyfriend for two months now. All you’ve done so far is kiss, and you want more with him. He refuses for your sake, warning of his roughness. So, you take matters into your own hands and convince him to put in ‘just the tip’. 

Relevant tags: just the tip challenge, dom! Kento Nanami, clothed sex, couch sex, clit slapping, brief use of leather belt, hard and rough sex, doggy-style, hair pulling, manhandling, big dick-Nanami <3, dirty talk, degrading, unprotected sex, creampie, I don't use "y/n" for immersion

Music recommended while reading: Dollhouse (The Weekend, Lily Rose Depp, …baby one more time (The Marias), Like U (Rosenfeld)

A/N: this is filthy and I love it, my first Nanami piece <3 enjoy!! (Read on Ao3 if you prefer!)

Read below cut:

The night had gone great. You two had a fantastic dinner at a fine restaurant, and now you’re at his house, getting hot and heavy on the couch. You’re sat in his lap, straddling his waist, the hem of your dress riding up your thighs as the fabric gives to accommodate him between your legs. Your hands are running over the muscles of his chest, only the thin layer of his dress shirt between your touch and his skin. His palms are on your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you so firmly against him that you can feel the blunt heat of his hard cock beneath the confines of his slacks. 

You can feel adrenaline pumping through your veins–tonight is the night. Every time you two get close to having sex, he pulls away, saying he isn’t ready, but right now it feels so different, so electric–

He hums, punctuating the kiss and pulling back, giving you room to breathe. Your stomach sinks, no, this isn’t what you want, you want–

“We should stop here for the night,” He murmurs, and you look into his eyes, a frown tugging your lips down at their corners. 

“But you’re hard,” You protest, “Kento, please…we’ve waited long enough, and you clearly want this…”

His jaw tightens as he takes a breath. “I do…but we can’t.”

Now you’re just confused. “...can’t?”

He sighs heavily, giving you no explanation, but nodding. “Now, let’s m–”

“No, hold on,” You interrupt him, “Kento, tell me why? I-is it me? Do you…not want…?”

“It’s definitely not you,” He dispels quickly, “It’s me, okay?”

“What about you?” You press, searching his eyes. “Is it…are you…worried about your performance?”

That gets him to widen his eyes a fraction in surprise. “N-no, it’s not that. It’s…alright, look, it’s…it’s that I don’t want to hurt you.”

It isn’t enough of an answer for you. “And…what do you mean by that?”

“You…you know me to be this nice, gentlemanly man, don’t you?” He asks, a sort of resigned weight to his eyes. “Which, I am. But not when it comes to sex.”

The wheels turn in your head. “So…you’re…?”

“I’m rough,” He finally states, “And it’s…it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I’m afraid to hurt you or scare you away. Of course I wouldn’t do anything you don’t want, but…you just seem so sweet and–”

“Woah,” You stop him in the middle of his sentence. “Do you think you’re the only one with duality? You don’t think I can be different in bed? Do you think I’m some porcelain doll you’ll break if you’re not careful?”

He considers this for a moment before sighing. “You don’t understand.”

“So then make me understand,” You challenge him, running your hands up his chest. “Please, Kento. I can take it.”

“No,” He denies, “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Seeing his hesitance, you decide to switch tactics. You reach for his hands on your waist, taking his wrists and raising his palms up to the front of your dress. You guide them to rest over your breasts, allowing him to touch them through the thin cloth. You’d decided not to wear a bra for the night since the article had thin straps, and he immediately can feel that, a flash of desire flitting within his eyes.

Riding the wave of his interest, you tell him, “I want you bad, Kento.”

He inhales forcefully, allowing himself to knead the soft flesh beneath his hands. His thumbs graze over your hardening nipples, your teeth dragging over your bottom lip instinctively. To drive your point home, you grind down on him, the only thing on beneath your dress being the panties you’d hoped he’d see when you had put them on earlier in the day.

“You’re playing dangerous,” He warns, voice thin and strained. 

“Maybe I want dangerous.”

He finally lets out a groan, surging forward and capturing your lips in another kiss. It’s more forceful this time, and all you can do is give complete control to him. 

He flips your positions so smoothly, you hardly feel it; you just suddenly feel your back hit the cushion of his couch, a gasp pushed from your mouth. His hands make quick work sliding up your dress, fingers hooking underneath your waistband.

Kento speaks against your mouth lowly. “Lace?”

You swallow hard, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Expensive?”

The question catches you off guard. “Uh, no, not r–”

A swift, harsh tug and the sound of fabric ripping later, he holds the scrap lace in his hand, now mangled and unusable. He just tore them clean off.

“Holy shit,” You breathe, now suddenly aware of how bare you are beneath your dress. He must become aware of that fact too, because without a moment to spare, he’s pushing the article up to your waist, exposing you to his eyes. A rosy flush spreads over the bridge of your nose as he looks at your naked lower half unabashedly, a type of hunger you have never seen before nor known he was capable of in his eyes.

He tosses your ruined panties to the floor and fiddles with his belt, undoing the buckle. Your gaze follows his movements, watching his hands expertly tug the leather strap from its loops in his pants.

Then, he surprises you by holding the edge without the buckle and running it along your inner thigh. You shiver, observing him and wondering what his next move will be. He runs it all the way up, reaching the apex of your leg and placing it right over your mound. The cool leather feels unfamiliar there.

“Can I?”

Your attention is pulled to his voice, and for a moment you aren’t sure what he means. Then it dawns on you.

Oh.

No one’s ever done that to you. But…you aren’t opposed. You’re curious.

You nod.

“Words.”

Oh, damn.

“Yes, you can.”

“Good girl.”

You don’t have time to pay attention to the rush of hormones that praise gives you, because a harsh sting of pleasure suddenly hits your senses as he brings the end of the belt down, slapping your clit with it.

“Ah!” You jump slightly, shock, arousal, and fascination flooding you all at once.

“How was that?” He asks, watching you carefully. You take stock of yourself…and are intrigued to find that you liked it. As soon as you realize that, you understand that Kento is about to show you an entire new world previously unexplored to you.

Your eyes lock with his. “It was good.”

A mixture of relief and desire swarm his gaze. “You liked that?”

“Yeah.”

Without warning, he does it again, a little harder, and you cry out this time, unused to the strangely welcome sensation.

“Still good?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

Your next breath is shaky. “More.”

He wastes no time in delivering exactly what you want. Over and over again, until your pearl is red and swollen and the folds beneath are glistening with need, belt shiny with a bit of it. He stops once you reach this state, making sure you see as he licks it off the belt. Your lips part, entranced, and he drops the accessory, instead moving to undo the front of his slacks. Your heart begins racing–but then he pauses, seeming to deflate slightly.

“I’m not gonna go all the way,” He states, “I don’t have condoms.”

“What?” Your voice is more than a little indignant. “But…how?”

“I wasn’t planning to do this tonight.”

He pulls his cock from its restriction in his briefs, pushing his waistbands down to the tops of his thighs, and the sight of the thick, red shaft as your mouth watering and your core pulsing around nothing. 

You think he’s changed his mind as he lines it up, but then he just glides it against your folds, coating it in your essence and using it to rub against you, the feeling intense due to the sensitivity of your previously abused clit, but not what you crave.

“Kento,” You whimper, watching him rub himself off as he plays with you using his cock. “Please…”

“We’re not risking a pregnancy,” He maintains, “It’s not wise.”

You are beyond frustrated at this point, entrance weeping for attention, and you swear the desire is so bad you can feel your entire core sore and empty, vying to be filled and stretched.

What can you say that will get him to do it, even just a little bit?

Wait. Just a little bit.

“What about just the tip?”

His eyes narrow. “What?”

“Just the tip,” it comes out needier than you had intended, but god damn it you’re horny and all out of shame twice over.

Kento takes a good look at you, at himself and the position you’re in, sucking in a controlled breath for the umpth time that night.

Then, he lines up again, cockhead pressing against your entrance. “You’re going to regret asking for it.”

Is he challenging you? Whatever. What. Ever. You’ve reached a point where if you don’t get his cock soon your heart may actually give out. 

“Let me decide that.”

His jaw sets tightly before finally, finally, he cants his hips forward, pushing the tip of his shaft inside of you. 

As soon as it’s in, your head falls back on the couch, hips starting to roll without your permission. Your body wants him all on its own, and you’re no longer in command of it. He groans, pulling out and then pushing it back in, only the tip again, and you whimper in half bliss and half frustration.

You want more. 

You understand the true meaning of temptation now. You’ve had the first bite of the proverbial apple, and it’s shocking how eager you are to devour the rest to its core.

Everytime he pushes in, never going past the smooth head of his cock, you moan, wordlessly begging for more. There’s a worry in his brow and a tenseness to his jaw that indicates just how much self-control he’s exercising, and as you look up at him, you realize he’s still pretty much fully clothed—his tie is pristine around his neck, shirt fully buttoned up, only his dick out and vulnerable to your eyes. 

It’s unfair, and you seek to change that.

Your hand loops into his tie and yanks him down by it, taking him by surprise. He has to catch himself on his hands to avoid falling on you, a grunt escaping his lips as it causes him to slide further into you.

In a lowered hiss, he asks you, “what do you think you’re doing?”

The tone is so vindictive it has any words dying on your tongue. All it takes is a moment before he’s forcefully breathing out and lifting himself off of you, cock withdrawing from between your legs.

You open your mouth to protest, and that’s when your world spins. 

You were face up, but now you’re on your hands and knees on the couch, having to brace yourself as he manhandles you silently. There’s not even a moment for you to acclimate to your new position before you feel his fingers loop through your hair as you’d done to his belt, and in one motion, he grabs your hip with his free hand and slams all the way into you, pulling your hair back hard to make you arch for him.

A loud cry splits through the air and it’s only when he starts repeatedly fucking hard and fast into you with the entirety of his monstrous size that you realize the sound was from you.

“See what happens when you push me?” His voice is hoarse and gritty, more like a growl than a whisper, a dull ache inside of you where he’s currently remolding the shape of your walls.

All you can do is make incoherent noises, and you aren’t sure whether they’re from pain, pleasure, or a mixture of both. His grip on your hair isn’t letting up and it hurts, but you’ve also never felt so completely out of control of yourself and somehow it just feels freeing to you. 

“Huh?” He asks, and it’s then you realize you never replies to him verbally. You muster up the strength to speak.

“Y-yeah…” it sounds breathy and whiney, completely foreign in the contours of your voice.

“You happy now? Happy you got me to fuck you like the greedy whore you are?”

The harsh word ripples through you hotly and you moan, nodding as good as you can. “Yes…”

“Yes?” He asks, breathless, and he lets go of your hair in favor of wrapping his hand around your neck from behind. “You like being screwed like a whore?”

Apparently, you do. This is new information to you as well. You nod, gasping as he grabs your hand and presses it over your abdomen, where you can feel the flesh rising and falling in tandem with his thrusts. 

“Feel that?” He asks, “that’s me inside of you.”

“Oh god,” You rasp, the knowledge of him so deep inside your body going right to your head. You can feel your mound weeping all over yours and his thighs, the wet slap tell-tale of just how much you’re enjoying this. Just the realization has you fluttering around him, a sensation that isn’t lost on him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “You really do like this, huh?”

You nod. “Yes, yes, Kento…”

He groans, leaning forward and kissing the juncture of your neck and shoulder, brushing your hair out of the way. 

“Such a good girl for me…my good little slut.”

You shudder, eyes squeezing shut as he speeds his movements up, the hand that was pressing yours to your stomach moving down to the slippery mess that is your swollen clit.

The big palm of his on your neck slides the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders and dips into the neckline of it, grasping your breast as if to claim ownership of it. 

“Oh my god,” You breathe again, hips twitching at all of the stimulation, face hot, entrance thoroughly fucked open and sloppy, debauched by Kento like a destructive form of artwork.

His middle finger massages circles into your sensitive pearl as he continues the grueling pace of his hips, lips pressed to the back of your neck, and all at once it becomes too much.

It crashes into you like the unforgiving wave of the raging ocean, sweeping you into the depths of pleasure.

You cum so hard on his cock he physically has to stop moving, your hold on him so tight he’s locked inside of you. That’s the moment that he follows, spilling his pent up, heavy load into you with a hiss of pleasure. 

Your arms and knees feel like jelly. Your walls are sore and throbbing, completely exhausted from his ravaging. But all you feel is feather-light. Finally, finally you did it. And it was better than your wildest imagination.

Lips place a tender kiss on your shoulder, his labored breaths slowing back to regulation. You feel his cheek rest upon the skin of your upper back. Both of his hands massaging along the sides of your hips.

“I’m sorry we waited so long. I just figured it would be too intense for you.”

You shake your head, turning it to look back at him as he straightens up and carefully pulls out. 

“Don’t do that again.”

The corner of his lips turns up slightly. “Oh no, I won’t make that mistake twice. In fact…there’s something else I want to do now.”

“And what’s that?”

“I want to test your limits.”

__

A/N: here's my Nanami masterlist :) this is the first piece but lmk what else you want me to write for him! Hope you enjoyed.