#just once I’d like to get ready for bed and go to sleep without having a panic attack first

[jaejoongs-nipple-piercing]

Me: decides it’s bedtime, because I’m tired

My body: haha nope. It’s panic attack time

[stargirlygirl]

you walk out on him

zayne x fem!reader

⭑.ᐟ part two

summary: it's been one week since you walked out on zayne. both of you have been silent. cue your surprise when you get a knock at the door late at night from your ex-boyfriend.

contains: hurt comfort, angst, suggestive in text messages, zayne apologises and professes his love for you, 2.1k words

pt.1

One week.

It’s been one week since Zayne laid those sharp, hazel eyes on you, and he’s going insane. At first, he was feeling pretty confident. You were upset and needed some space. Surely, you would message him sometime that day, asking to discuss things.

Wrong.

The second day, Zayne was still feeling confident, albeit less confident than yesterday. Leaving the apartment that morning, he notices you forgot your favourite necklace— the necklace he bought you for your one-year anniversary. Surely, you would be around to pick it up, and he would somehow catch you in the act.

Also wrong.

When he came home around 11pm that night, your necklace was still sitting on the dresser. To Zayne, the diamond looks slightly dull, or maybe that’s his teary foggy eyes. He resolves to have it cleaned tomorrow.

By day three, Zayne’s confidence in you returning is non-existent. Still no word from you, his mind races over all of the mistakes he’s made these past few months leading to this hiccup in your relationship. Looking back, it’s so fucking obvious. Not texting you daily, not taking days off, never telling you when he would be home, and not giving you his full attention even when he was at home. And it wasn’t solely because he was busy or tired. It was because he thought you could bear it.

Being a cardiac surgeon isn’t for the weak. Choosing this profession, he’s had to put much of his personal life on the back burner, especially when his work schedule got even busier than usual. But over the years, he’s learnt to grit his teeth and bear it. He enjoys it even. But why did he expect the same of you?

For the first time in Zayne’s life, he succumbs to temptation and tries his first energy drink. It tastes like medicine, grating and sour to the tongue. But nothing can compare to the flavour of your absence. Unable to sleep for the past several nights, he treks down to his local gas station and buys the canned arsenic.

Once the cardiologist gets home, he pops the tag and takes a sip. Recoiling with disgust, he finds the willpower to finish the 200 mL of poison. And now, he can’t sleep. The caffeine keeps him up well into the early hours of the morning, fuelling his attempts to type out an apology message.

I’m so sorry, darling. I want to make things right between us—

“No,” he groans, pressing ‘backspace’ with his pointer finger so hard he could crack the phone screen.

I’m so sorry, darling. I miss you terr—

My sincerest apolog—

I know that I’ve hurt you very deeply, my love. But if you’d be willing to give me another chance, I’d like to make things right between us.

Huffing, he deletes the message and throws his phone on his bed before heading to the bathroom to get ready for work.

As it hits Friday, one week after you left, Zayne is feeling confident. Confident that he can’t go on without you anymore. The energy drink catches up to him, and he almost falls asleep mid-consult. Finishing off with the patient, he has the rest of his appointments cancelled and dozes off in his office.

When he wakes, night has fallen. Gathering his bag and coat, he books it to his car and clicks ‘Start Route’ on his Audi’s GPS to Tara’s apartment complex. Once parked, he takes the elevator up to her apartment, mentally rehearsing everything he’s been meaning to say to you this past week.

…˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚…

You’re halfway through the new episode of your show when there’s a knock at the front door. It’s just you tonight, seeing as Tara’s out on a mission for the next couple of days. Throwing off your blanket, you stalk to the front door and stand on your tippy-toes to glance through the peephole.

“Go away, Zayne,” you grumble through the door.

He shifts closer, one hand on the wood as he declares, “No. I’m not going anywhere.” Groaning, you flip the lock and swing the door half open. He’s close, towering over you with dopey, wide eyes, which rake over your figure. You’re in his shirt, the sleeves rolled back and v-neck hanging off one shoulder. His gaze darts up to yours.

You sigh, “What is it?” Zayne steps back, putting some distance between you as he clears his throat.

“I’d like to talk,” he says clinically.

“Talk?” You bite back. “About what?”

“About us.”

You scoff, “I’m surprised you have the time. Don’t you have some emergency surgery to attend to?”

He shakes his head, saying firmly, “I took the night off.”

“Wow,” you say sarcastically. “Your first night off in months, and you choose to spend it with me. How thoughtful.” You roll your eyes, the pettiness bubbling up to the surface.

“Y/n.” Looking back at your boyfriend(? ex-boyfriend?), you take note of the knot in his brow. His scent wafts over to you, a mix of sweets, sweat, and… was that a Red Bull?

He sighs, “You have every right to still be angry with me after how I neglected you. But please, will you give me the chance to fix things between us?” You stare at him, thinking over his words. You’re about to respond when you notice the resident gym rat trying to sneak past. Reaching out, you grab Zayne’s forearm and tug him closer to you.

“Sorry,” you call past him.

Your neighbour mutters, “It’s fine,” as they dash off to their apartment. Hearing the click of their door, you release Zayne’s arm.

Gazing up, you huff, “Come in.” You push the door open wider with your back, standing against it and trying to make yourself smaller as the surgeon slips past you. It’s cosy inside: soft halogens, a warm vanilla candle going, and the low hum of your tv show.

“Take a seat,” you instruct, pointing to the couch. Leaving his shoes by the door, Zayne does as he’s told. His sleepy eyes are glued to you as you sit across from him, the too-big shirt sliding further down your shoulder. You must have recently showered, he thinks. Your skin is positively radiant and looks so smooth. The urge to touch you is unbearable, but he bears it. As long as he gets to speak to you, he’ll do anything.

“My eyes are up here,” you snap.

“Right,” he says quietly, heat rising to the tips of his ears. His heart rate accelerates as you two sit in almost silence for a minute.

Finally, Zayne apologises, “I’m sorry for ignoring you, darling.” Ooo, strike one. Your brow raises, and your eyes dart up and down his frame from the pet name. Fuck, no more pet names, he reprimands himself.

“You mean everything to me, and I was— I am— an awful partner for not reminding you of that every day,” he continues. Strike two. Bold of him to assume you’re still together. Not that you aren’t. You didn’t consider the sticky situation you would create for future you by walking out on him. But you appreciate his sentiment.

“I wish that I had taken the initiative to contact you earlier, and reassure you of your importance to me despite my busy schedule.” You nod, starting to like what you’re hearing. But by no means is he off the hook.

He sighs, “I took you for granted. Not because you’re not important. But I thought we could handle it. I thought you could handle my absence.” Strike three.

“What’re you saying?” You ask, your forehead creased and mouth twisted into a pout.

Zayne mumbles beneath his breath, “Fuck.” Pushing up his glasses, he clarifies, “What I mean to say is that I was ignorant of your needs, and my duties as your partner to fulfil those needs. I was unaware that you needed me to be more present in our relationship. And I was unaware of the toll my neglect took on you.” Better.

You prompt, “And so what’re you going to do about it? When it gets really busy, how are you going to make time for us?”

“Well,” he starts. “I’m going to communicate to you around what time I’ll be getting home, and make sure that if that changes, then I let you know. I’ll take a day off once a week, and we can spend it together. When you visit me at the hospital, I’ll be attentive to you. And if I can’t be, then I’ll tell you.” You hum, approving of his answer.

Zayne sighs, “But, I need you to communicate to me when you’re feeling dissatisfied in our relationship. If I’m very busy, then I want you to do whatever it takes to make me listen to you.” You chuckle. It’s short and soft, but it reinvigorates him the way an energy drink can’t.

“Whatever it takes?” You muse, your arms crossed underneath your chest, loosening.

He nods, “Yes. Grab me by the collar and give me an earful if you have to. Whatever you have to say to me, I want to hear it.” You gaze at him for a long moment, weighing up his apology and your pain. Your heart thumps in your chest, and your hands are becoming sweaty.

You pose the final question: “Why didn’t you come after me sooner? It’s been a whole week.”

Zayne avoids your eyes as he murmurs, “I… needed time to collect my thoughts as I’m sure you did.” He pauses before meeting your gaze.

“I love you, Y/n. I will always love you,” he states like it’s a fact and not a feeling. Like the only thing he’s sure of in this lifetime is his love for you.

Sighing, you slowly rise from the sofa opposite him. Stepping around the coffee table, you stand in front of him. He stares up at you, analysing all of the emotions in your eyes. They’re much gentler now.

He breathes out shakily, “Did I pass?” You smirk and run your hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp lightly and eliciting a soft sigh from him.

Zayne raises his hands slowly and reaches out for you tentatively. You give a small nod, urging him to touch you. When his cold fingers caress the back of your thigh, you shiver. They tremble as he palms your warm flesh and presses you into the space between his legs.

You giggle, “You scraped it by only one point.” His eyes almost pop out of his skull, and his jaw slackens— utterly mortified.

“O-one point?” He stutters.

You chuckle, unable to contain yourself, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. By two points at least.” His head dips as he nuzzles your tummy.

He murmurs into his your shirt, “That’s my worst grade yet. Don’t you think you mark too harshly?”

Ruffling his hair, you quip, “No.” Your hands slide down to his shoulders and wrap around the back of his neck. His toned arms encircle your legs as he sighs into your warmth. All of the tension accumulating this past week dissolves beneath your fingertips, and Zayne finds himself rather tired. Yawning, he tenderly kisses your navel through the cotton fabric.

“Where’s Tara?” He asks lazily.

You chirp, “She’s on a mission. Won’t be back until tomorrow night.”

“Mhmm,” he hums. You two remain like that for a few minutes, content to enjoy these tender touches and each other’s presence.

Eventually, Zayne yanks you down onto his lap and cuddles with you. He murmurs sweet apologies in your ear as he strokes your thigh, twirling the hem of your shirt between his fingers. You rest your head against his shoulder and close your eyes, your hand on his heart. It beats steadily beneath your palm, a constant reminder that everything will be okay.

At some point, you doze off because when you open your eyes, you’re in Tara’s guest room. Morning sunlight streams through the curtains, and birds chirp in the distance. You stretch and turn your head to the side, eyes searching for a swathe of black hair and pale skin.

There’s no sign of Zayne. Not as you get out of bed and clean yourself up. Not even as you head to the kitchen and boil the kettle. Not until your phone pings.

You grab it, hoping that it’s him. And you grin as you pour boiling water into a mug with a tea bag in it, clicking on his message.

masterlist

a/n: here's part two as requested! hope all of you liked it. i was gonna make him like beg, but i feel like zayne doesn't grovel. i think if it was raf or caleb, they would be on their knees pleading for a second chance, but not zayne.

(almost) every one who asked for a pt.2 - @notsurewhattocallthisblog8888, @schnittled, @ciaradream8, @mystqyy, @syluslittlecrows, @mcdepressed290, @regalillegal, @crimsonsylus, @slimearchon

[jinwoosungs]

09/01/24; 04:40pm

{ 18+ headcanons / drabbles }

[ when they’re too busy with work, but you’re needy for them ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

it was the middle of the night when you woke up with a start, eyes going blurry as you blindly reached out to the opposite side of the bed-

only to realize that the sheets were cold to touch.

your sleepiness dissolves in an instant, with a soft yawn coming from your parted lips as you carefully get out of bed. a shiver courses through you upon feeling the cold marble against your feet, but you ignore such icy sensations.

opening the door out of the master bedroom, you wrap your arms around your chest, trying to keep in as much warmth that you could manage while making your way towards sylus’s office. there was a bit of a drag in your steps, your slow movements serving as sole evidence of your exhaustion-

but you would not sleep without sylus by your side.

finally reaching his office, you give the rich, oak door a series of knock, alerting your lover of your presence before inviting yourself inside. yet the moment you saw sylus settled on the expensive leather couch, you could feel your mouth turn dry.

he was dressed in a suit colored in ebony and crimson, the colors matching his aesthetic as his rufescent eyes meet with your gaze. an achingly soft smile graces his features, and you felt a pang of heat running down your spine at the mere sight of him.

gripping at the sheer material of your nightgown, your breathing comes out in uneven breaths. your eyes darken, mirroring your desires for him before asking, “sylus, won’t you join me in bed? it’s getting late.”

sylus’s eyes flash, giving you a momentary glimpse of lust while letting out a string of curses. “sweetheart, as much as i’d like to join you and keep you warm while in bed, i can’t. i’ve got to get these orders ready for my client.”

you bite down on your bottom lip, already feeling the moisture collecting from between your legs. not daring to look away from him, you slowly lock the door to his office, earning a raised brow from the onychinus leader.

you remain silent, stepping out of your ruined panties as you allow the flimsy material to fall to the ground. hunger was seen in sylus’s gaze the moment you shed your body free of your nightgown, allowing it to flutter to the floor before sauntering towards your lover.

sylus wastes no time pulling you closer to him, allowing your soaked cunt to pulsate against his thighs as you gently rode him, allowing your sticky sweet arousal to coat his suit.

“thats it, babygirl. keep on riding me, just like that. let me work for a little while longer, then i’ll take care of you.”

your gasps end up filling at the room, with sylus steadily losing interest in cleaning the weapons the moment you began bouncing up and down his thigh. his eyes had long since lost its crimson shade, becoming so dilated and filled with desire for you that he could feel his sanity snap.

needless to say, when sylus tosses the gun back on the table before unbuckling his pants, freeing his erection as he harshly grips at your thighs before impaling your slick heat against his cock, you lost all of your senses. being so filled with him after riding his thighs created such a hedonistic friction that you quickly became addicted to, never once stopping as you rode him with a desperation.

meanwhile, as luke and kieran were ready to deliver the next round of weapons, they froze upon seeing the office door locked as sounds of your breathy moans and sylus’s grunts were heard coming from behind the door. both twins end up looking at each other, their flustered expression hidden beneath their masks as they slowly backed away from the door.

it was best not to disturb their boss and his queen while in the middle of their trysts, a lesson that they were all too familiar with.

it was early in the morning at akso hospital, and as the staff were prepared to switch out with their coworkers for the upcoming shift, they would remain blissfully unaware of how a certain cardiac surgeon was still tied up and locked in his office.

zayne tries to hide back his groans, having to force himself to bite down on his fist the moment you came into his office. he had simply been going over some patient profiles when you came into his office with an almost dazed expression on your face.

he was filled with concern for you, already taking off his glasses while shoving his patient files to the side. one moment, he was filled with guilt for neglecting you for a few days due to how he wasn’t coming home as much-

and the next, zayne found himself settling back against his chair, with you remaining hidden beneath his desk as his cock was in your mouth. he was already half-erect the moment you began kissing his inner thighs, so it came as no surprise when he became even harder when you unzipped his pants and freed his cock from the confines of his boxers.

“i’m not mad at you.” you continue speaking to him, already stroking his cock in a loving manner before licking away the beads of precum that leaked from his mushroom tip. “i know you’re working so hard to save so many lives, but i wish to spoil you, too.”

zayne’s eyes were screwed shut the moment you place your hot mouth against his cock, feeling your tongue tracing at his veins while letting out a gasp of your name. his large hands automatically go into your hair, gently moving your head back and forth over his cock.

you hummed in pleasure, feeling the familiar twitch within your mouth. you had every intention to take him in as far as you could, yet zayne doesn’t even give you a chance to taste his cum when he harshly pulls your mouth away from his cock.

with a strength you didn’t think zayne was even capable of, you feel your lover shove aside the items on his desk before placing you on it. not even looking down at you, he slides off your soaked panties before shoving it into the pockets of his pants. gripping at your thighs, he spreads your legs apart before sheathing himself inside of you in one swift thrust.

“i need to make up for lost time… for neglecting you…” with heavy pants of your name, zayne grips at your leg before tossing it over his shoulder, making your eyes roll to the back of your head the moment he reaches oh so deeper inside of you all while kissing at your ankles.

and when your moans were heard echoing across the department, no one dared to question it.

“you’re such a brat.”

xavier was heard hissing at you, trying to keep his voice even as he was on the phone with one of the higher ups at the hunters association. here he was, trying to gather information for his mission next week while you were trying to free his cock from the confines of his pants.

“i can’t help it. you’re telling me you’re going to be gone for two weeks, and you expect me to behave?” you scoff, finally shoving down his pants to reveal his half-hardened cock. a cheshire cat grin paints your pretty features as you made quick work of stroking him to full hardness.

xavier lets out a hiss of your name, but has to swallow his moans when a stern voice was heard coming from his phone. “xavier, are you ready to receive details for this mission?”

“yes sir…!” a low gasp escapes from xavier’s lips the moment you place your lips on his tip, giving it a light suck. it takes xavier a herculean effort not to moan into the phone, feeling your hands and hot mouth fully sending him into an almost painful erection.

he catches bits and pieces of information, but was solely focused on the way your mouth and tongue traces at every inch of his cock. his breathing becomes heavier, feeling his impending climax approaching when you suddenly removed your lips away from him. the young hunter was all too eager to shove your face back against his cock when you slowly began to undress in front of him-

and dammit to hell, you just had to wear that lacy set beneath your clothes!

your soft giggle echoes throughout the room, and as you straddle him, he saw the way you moved the material of your lace panties to the side, ready to mount yourself on his cock.

“you’ve got it sir, i’ll be there next week.” luckily, xavier had already ended the call the moment you sheath his cock inside of your wet pussy, the squelching sounds of you riding his cock echoing throughout the living room. with a growl of your name, xavier grabs a hold of your waist before proceeding to bounce you up and down his cock at an almost inhuman speed.

“is this what you want? for me to ruin you completely that you won’t be able to walk until i return?”

your mewls and eager nods were all that he needed to continue pounding mercilessly into you, eyes already going dilated as he had every intention of claiming you.

“i’m going to make sure that my cock is forever imprinted against your sweet little heat… so be prepared for it, little brat…” he finishes his statement with a particularly hard thrust, making you see stars as you had every intention to ride him for as long as you could manage.

rafayel had long forgotten about his commissioned painting the moment you began to eagerly bounce up and down his cock. the moment he felt your slickness wrapping so tightly around him was when he lost all train of thought.

you had come home from work late in the evening and wished to greet rafayel. however, when you saw the portrait he was working on, you began to feel envious of the gorgeous girl seen painted on the canvas. he tried to explain to you that a governor had commissioned him to paint a portrait of his daughter for her 23rd birthday, but you didn’t wish to hear it.

and now, he found that he could care less about finishing such a portrait with you bouncing up and down so eagerly against his cock. filled with his own desperation for you, rafayel tries to meet your downward thrusts with his own upward ones, panting as he begins to lose his breath.

being so captivated and drunk off of you, the young artist could feel a whimper being ripped from the confines of his throat when you began kissing him, swallowing his grunts and moans of your name. as you continued to bounce up and down his cock, he could feel the curve of your breasts and your hardened nipples against his own chest.

“am i prettier than her?” you ask in a breathless whisper, purposefully squeezing your cunt over his pulsating dick. it was no competition in rafayel’s eyes. “o-of course you are- fuck! you’re the prettiest girl in the entire universe. you’re my fucking princess.”

a pleased hum was heard coming from you when you lay back against his lap, moving your hips up and down his cock at this brand new angle that had the artist seeing stars. “f-fuck… princess… you’re squeezing me so tight! l-like you want to milk me dry.”

“hehe, that’s the plan…” feeling your legs and cunt tightening so sweetly around him makes rafayel gasp, stilling his hips before shooting ropes of his seed deep inside of you. with you remaining laid back, your back against his thighs, you allowed your release to wash over you, earning a grunt from rafayel.

as your honeyed arousal further wets his softening cock, your lover leans over to press a searing kiss against your lips all while returning your body closer to him. his tongue fights with yours for dominance, and he lets out a pleased hum the moment you yield for him.

when the need for air proved to be too much, rafayel was the first to pull away from you, giving you a gentle smile before asking, “did our copulation manage to ease you of your envy?”

you give him a thoughtful expression, placing your pointer finger against your lips before smirking at him. his eyes end up going wide when you began to bounce up and down his limp cock, stroking it back to full hardness with a determination seen deep within your eyes.

“not quite yet, rafe… i’m going to need this to go on the whole night to make me convinced that i am the only woman for you.”

and with one final groan of your name, rafayel knew better than to deny you of your needs.

end notes: i am still soooo thirsty for my lads men, so have this post 🫠

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[whateveriwant]

Can you please do Task force 141 finding out they’re having quintuplets! I’d imagine that they wouldn’t plan to have that many….at least not all at once 🧍‍♀️

Ghost

When the technician points out the five distinct dots on the ultrasound, he immediately goes dead silent

I mean, he's always pretty quiet anyway, but this is like quiet quiet

He doesn't utter a single word for the rest of the appointment, nor on the ride back home for that matter

This has you more concerned than you care to admit because you know that, not that long ago, he didn't think he'd ever have (much less want) kids of his own some day

So now that he's learned he's about to have five? You can't imagine what's going through his mind right now

It isn't until you're walking through the front door that you're being stopped with a gentle hand tugging on your wrist

You turn to look at him and, without a word, he drops to his knees before you, rolling up the bottom of your shirt to expose your belly

He'll press the softest of kisses just beside your navel, before looking up at you with expressive eyes that convey the foremost thought in his head: Thank you

Soap

Nearly shits a brick the moment the words leave the technician's mouth

All the color swiftly drains from his face and he has to sit down before he keels over right in the middle of the office

It's not so much fear that has him going paper white but pure shock at hearing the unexpected (yet not unhappy) news

While you'd already discussed having a big family together one day, you didn't think you'd get it done in one fell swoop

However, maybe you should've seen it coming since you both come from families that have had multiples

The possibility of this happening was decently high, so in a way, you're not all that surprised by the revelation

Once he's composed himself and is a little less ghostly pale in the face, he's eagerly requesting the technician to print out an excessive number of copies of the ultrasound

Why? Well, he's gotta send them to everyone, of course! His family, your family, all the lads at work. Hell, maybe your neighbor Charlie would like one too. Better print several just in case

Gaz

"C– Come again?" He thinks he misheard the technician at first

However, even hearing it a second time, he has to stand up, round the bed, and get about an inch away from the monitor to confirm for himself

It's almost comical the way his eyes widen at the screen, darting around the black and white image like he can't comprehend what he's seeing

It'll take some coaxing to get him back in his seat, and as he does, you hear him mumbling to himself – something about nappies, never sleeping again, and *shudders* University

At some point, out of the corner of your eye, you see him messing with his hands

He's putting his palm in front of his own stomach then drawing it about a foot or two away, as if trying to visualize the size your belly is destined to grow

Even when you get back home, it's like reality hasn't fully hit him yet

It's not until you find him at 2am looking up double decker prams that you realize it's finally starting to sink in, and he's more than ready for the challenge ahead

Price

Seems awfully calm when the technician breaks the news to you two

Based on his reaction – a light smile and mere "Oh, that's wonderful" – you'd think he'd just been informed of the weather or something

To be honest, his reaction (or lack thereof) is a little disarming, but you don't comment on it until you're buckling up in the car, mentioning his seeming total lack of nerves about the future

He chuckles and jokes that he already has to look after three big kids at work. What's five little ones at home to compare?

Though you think you can see what he's getting at, his cool-headedness about it all still has you in a bit of a tizzy

Is he not even a little surprised by the news? After all, it's not every day that people fall pregnant with quintuplets

At your question, he smiles and leans to press a bristly kiss to the back of your hand. When he pulls back, he's smirking, giving you the smuggest look you've ever seen from a man

"Told you I've got strong swimmers, love"

[morganski-19]

part 1

The next day, there’s someone new to visit Steve. Making Wayne stop in his tracks on his third coffee run. The rumors were true, the Chief isn’t as dead as he was a year ago. Just lost what looks to be half his body weight and all of his hair. Looking gaunt and malnourished. 

But he’s alive. That has to count for something.

Wayne wishes the Chief was there to see him. Give him the key to unlock the chain around Eddie’s wrist. So he’d be able to wake up to a clean slate. That his record will be clear and he won’t get carted off to jail as soon as he’s stable. So Wayne will be able to bring him home. 

Once he has a home to go to. Not just a shitty hotel room that costs more than it should for a night. But it’s right next to the hospital, so Wayne can be here in five minutes if something happens. When his boy wakes up. He has to wake up. 

It’s been five days since Eddie was brought in. Twelve since Wayne saw him last. All he wants is to hear his obnoxiously loud music blaring down the hall while he’s trying to sleep. Or the laughter that could make him smile even when he didn’t want to. Wayne wants his Eddie back, the boy he watched grow all of these years. He’s not ready for the day Eddie wakes up and the light is gone from his eyes. 

Because it will be. Wayne’s seen enough people come back from combat a completely different person. With the scars that are sewn into Eddie’s torso, up his neck, one on his cheek. There’s no doubt that he’s been through something unimaginable. Life changing. 

As much as Wayne wants Eddie to wake up. He’s not ready for him to wake up changed. 

There’s a knock on the hospital door before it opens. Wayne’s expecting a nurse to check Eddie’s vitals, tell him the same shit they have for days. That all is good and he’s progressing. It should be any day now that he wakes up. If the damage to his body wasn’t too much for him. Those words of hope lack their meaning now. 

But instead of a nurse walking through the door, it’s the Chief. 

“Can I sit?” He motions to the chair next to Wayne.

“I suppose.”

The Chief sits next to Wayne, not looking at him. “I hear he’s been in a coma for a few days now.”

Wayne nods, not much in the mood for talking. Civilly at least. Push the right button and the volcano is about to burst. 

“I’ve known a few people who’ve been in medically induced ones like this. They all wake up in the end.”

“I’d like for the cuffs to be off his wrist when he does,” Wayne snaps. Knowing that the Chief has the key to unlock them. “That way he can recover as an innocent man. Like he should.”

The Chief takes a deep breath. “I’m not fully reinstated yet. I don’t have the authority to do anything about that. Even if-”

“Even if what?” Wayne looks at the Chief. Anger filled his voice. “Even if he’s innocent. I know he’s innocent. My boy, my boy could barely hurt a fly, let alone a living, breathing person. He was kinder than people gave him credit for. This town gave him so much shit that he didn’t deserve. Still is. When I’m afraid he might never wake up the same again. So I’d like the cuffs off, so he knows that some part of this town sees him as something other than a villain.”

Finally looking Wayne in the eyes, the Chief takes a second to think. Nodding his head in thought. “You smoke?”

Wayne scoffs. “That really what you're thinking of right now?”

“Answer the question.” Something about the Chief makes Wayne believe there’s more to his words. 

“I do.”

“Great,” he stands, waiting for Wayne at the door. “Come on, let’s go.”

Wayne gets up, mainly because he doesn’t really have a choice but also because he wants to see where this is going. They pass Harrington in the hall, talking to someone on the phone. 

“Yeah, I’m free tomorrow. Can’t wait to sleep in my own bed. No don’t do that. Cause I don’t think it’s time to throw a party yet, not while.” He makes brief eye contact with Wayne as they walk by. Before turning away. “Just won’t feel right without all of us.”

Wayne has no clue who he’s talking about, but it’s probably not Eddie. Hopes it isn’t. He still doesn’t know how he feels about this kid, even if he knows Eddie’s innocent. Doesn’t forgive him from his past, if rumors are true. And knowing who his dad is, Wayne wouldn’t be surprised if they all were true. 

The Chief leads him to the side of the hospital, where there’s no foot traffic. No one around to hear. Wayne suddenly understands what this might all be about. Something not for wandering ears. 

“What I say does not leave this conversation,” he starts, handing Wayne a cigarette. Lighting his own before passing the lighter to Wayne. “Got it?”

Wayne nods. 

“I know Eddie’s innocent. But there’s some weird shit that was happening around then that I cannot tell you about it. All you need to know is that the Feds are involved, and they’re looking for a fall guy. And I’m trying my hardest to make sure that the fall guy isn’t your nephew. So while it might not seem like it, some progress is being made. Your nephew will be a free man when he wakes up. I give you my word on that.”

“I don’t even know how to start processing what you just said.” Wayne takes a long drag from the cigarette, letting the smoke blow out into the alleyway. 

The Chief laughs. “That was all of us the first time this happened. I’d say it gets easier but it really doesn’t.”

“The first time?”

“There’s a lot more to this town than meets the eye.”

“How do I know your word is any good?”

The Chief considers this for a moment. “You don’t really. But who else do you know who can fix this?”

With that, the Chief nods goodbye and heads to the parking lot. Leaving Wayne with more questions than answers, and a little flame of hope he’s wishing won’t get put out.

part 3

I don't know how many parts this will be but I do know they will be posted sporadically whenever I have time to write them. So, no promises of consistency.

also, tag list. I tagged anyone who asked/seemed interested in a part two. please let me know if you would like to be added or removed: @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar, @tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda, @fandomsanddeath, @marismorar

[charliemwrites]

Part 2 of Woof Woof Konig

Content: Animal Injury (Non-Descriptive)

The walk back to your home is slow. Johnny stays glued to the new pup’s side - as much as he can given how the other towers over him. Ghost pulls ahead to patrol the path, always circling back to press his nose to your hand.

The new dog is so big that his head nearly reaches yours. He keeps his chin down, though, almost ducked, eyes flicking shyly to you. His eyes are big, one sky blue and the other deep brown.

When you reach the house, you nearly have to push his big butt in the door as he hesitates on the porch. Ghost stands watch behind you while Johnny tip-taps on the other side, and you pat at flanks breathing like bellows.

Finally, he inches far enough inside that Ghost can squeeze in and you can close (and lock) the door. You take a deep breath once you do, feeling the last hour crashing over you.

“Jeez, bud,” you sigh, offering your hand to your newest charge. “What a day, huh?”

A quiet, almost shy “snarf”. You grin and scritch gently at his chin, then flick your eyes to the bloody cut over his eyebrow. You click your tongue sadly.

“Alright, baby. We gotta take care of that. Then you can be done for the day, okay?”

You should probably take him to the vet - big fuckoff sized dog with an injury. But you can’t imagine trying to bundle him into your reasonably sized car. Even getting Ghost in there is a struggle the two times you’ve had to do it.

So you leave the pup awkwardly standing, trembling, by the door and collect the dog first aid. You also grab the jar of dog-safe peanut butter. Even Ghost loves that shit.

When you come back, the dog seems to droop when he sees the kit in your hands.

“I know baby, it’ll be okay. I got something that’ll make it better.”

You approach slowly, carefully, watching for any signs of fear aggression. Issue is, there’s every chance he could snap without warning, but you’re praying he’s not one of those. Your boys would go ballistic.

Thankfully, he lets himself be bribed with globs of peanut butter while you clean up the cuts around his head. There’s a chip taken out of his ear that nearly brings you to tears. And the poor boy only whines every once in a while, pressing his face into your chest while you work as quickly and gently as you can. No aggression, no lashing out.

In the end, you press your face to his neck and scratch gently at his shoulders.

“No one is ever going to hurt you again, honey. Not here, not with me.” You press a gentle kiss to his muzzle. “I take care of everyone.”

You get him settled with some blankets and a fresh bowl of food while you check on your boys. Ghost leans into your side while you cry a bit, whispering that you love him and he’s been so good.

Johnny whines and licks the tears away (smelling a bit like peanut butter of course) when you turn to him, pressing his face up under your chin.

“Such good boys,” you sniffle. “Dunno what I’d do without you.”

They practically baby you for the rest of the evening. One with you, one with the new pup, who’s resting and warming up by the heater, bowl empty. They don’t even bark too much when you decide to order food and the delivery comes - perhaps sensing that you’re too drained for their overprotective antics.

When it’s time for bed, you cross over to your new boy and scratch at his hind leg.

“You wanna come to bed, sweetie? You don’t have to, but I don’t want you to be alone out here.”

He stares at you, mismatched eyes way too big. You make one last kissy noise at him and then head to your room, Ghost and Johnny following as usual. Just as you’re about to turn off the light, a big form lumbers into your doorway.

“Hi bud!” you call softly, patting the mattress. “You wanna try coming up?”

He seems to consider it, eyeing the bed and the space available between you and the other two dogs, before politely walking to the dog bed. It’s technically Ghost’s bed, though he only uses it when you’re getting ready to go out.

“You can sleep there, sweetie. I’m sure Ghostie boy doesn’t mind.”

You glance at him as if to confirm, but Ghost is predictably pretending that you’re not talking. Grumpy boy hardly ever responds once he’s tucked into bed.

You smile as the new dog carefully climbs onto the cushion.

“Alright, good night boys. I love you.” You pause, make eye contact with your new pup. “Even you, bud.”

Late in the night, you could swear you hear voices. The low rumble of men talking. Even dream of someone kissing your forehead.

Main Story | Konig pt. 1 | Happy Birthday!

Masterlist

[affableramen]

i’m the anon who sent the ask for first time in bed. by that i mean it’s the first time they go to sleep together and how they react to this. it can be fluffy or suggestive!

Hi you didn’t specify which genshin men you would like, so I made by my choice. I apologise if you don’t see your favourite here, I unfortunately can’t read minds

FIRST TIME GETTING TO SHARE THE BED WITH GENSHIN MEN

|| Ayato, Wriothesley & Lone edition ||

Ayato

It was your first time sleeping in the same bed with Ayato. By common choice, it was your apartment that you used for the sleep in, at least this time. Your bedroom was not as big as in Ayato’s suite but once he stepped in you noticed how quickly his gaze softened, – that was a moment you realised that he was subconsciously satisfied with your room and liked the vibe on the whole.

“Are you a cuddly type?”

“Not really. I prefer to avoid unnecessary touch when possible.”

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, ready to indulge into sleep time along with your boyfriend, however Ayato was still wearing his suit, as if he was hesitant to proceed to lie down. To be frank you were not completely sure if he’d like that idea, as he was a very experienced man and he probably expected to proceed deeper than simply sleeping together. A part of you believed that he was decent enough to not let such thoughts occupy his mind too much.

“It’s our first time sleeping in the same bed. Do you have any requests from me? Like you could be a light sleeper etc.”, you asked him, looking forward for him to join you while he was undoing his expensive-looking cufflinks.

“I am a light sleeper, yes”, he responded, unnoticeably caught up perplexed at your correct remark. “I also prefer to be in complete darkness while asleep. I cannot stand a single hint of light, it irritates me”, his face expressed disgust and arrogance for a mere moment before he quickly adjusted himself and asked in a less hostile manner: “Should you have any requests?”

“Not at all. I guess we’re good to go. Why don’t you change into pyjamas?”

“One second”, Ayato excused himself to the bathroom to change his formal clothes into complete night wear. It didn't take him a lot, and he emerged in the bedroom as soon as possible. When you saw him first it was an unbelievable display. The man who’d do everything in a sleek suit was a complete opposite sight right now. It was as ridiculous as it was refreshing.

You looked at him clothed in a silver silk pyjamas set and smiled, you almost laughed outloud.

“For a person who’s only seen you in corporate suits, that’s a refreshing change. I’d only imagine you wear something cozy, and now I can see it with my own eyes.”

“Cozy”, he scoffed and got closer to the bed, his hands so restless as if he tried to cover his body. As if the sight of him without his sleek fashion was something indecent. “Do you like cozy?”

“I think it looks good on you”, you pushed the blanket to the side, inviting him carefully. “Come here.”

The commissioner looked you in the eyes as if searching for a double consent before he finally got under the duvet with you. He took the position to your left, but didn't move an inch before you allowed it. You extended your hand and gently turned off the lights. There appeared an inconvenient silence.

“Are you comfortable? We’ve never shared intimacy, yet you agreed to sleeping in. In my apartment. It could be dangerous for the both of us.”

“Usually when I’m in bed with a woman it is for an entirely different purpose. However, you’re an entirely different person, too”, he looked down at your hand before grasping it carefully, not causing you even slight pain. “My intentions are pure. Allow me to hold you while we rest.” You nodded, and slowly and carefully he pulled you closer so that his chest would hit your back. It made you smile to yourself subconsciously, and your expression went cocky. His presence was not just tolerable, it was pleasant in fact. He was a tall man with slim body type and you could almost feel his bones when you held his hand. But despite his bony physique once he wrapped the blanket around the both of you, he provided you unexpected warmth. Yes, even such an icy old businessman had been able to melt himself for you.

“He said he’s not a cuddly type. Who could think that the Yashiro Commissioner was such a softie underneath.”

He gave your arm a light squeeze before settling his own hand comfortably around your waist, not eager to share you with anyone else, as if asserting his ‘ownership’ of you.

“I only cross my boundaries for you. To be frank, I quite enjoy being so close to you, even though I was a bit skeptical from the start.”

You could feel his smile on you, which was definitely much more cunning and cocky than yours right now. Ayato’s breath was warm against your neck, before you decided to turn around and face him, your fingers caressing his hair. You heard his breath hitch at that moment yet he didn't move away. He froze in place, allowing you to cuddle him the way you saw it, despite him always being the one in control. Ayato showed vulnerability once he’s gotten into bed with you, even if for such pure reason as sleeping. As he was taller, your breath would tickle his neck while you snuggled him. After some time, Ayato pulled his arm around your waist at last, even though your position, face-to-face, was quite personal.

In the middle of the night you were restless and you woke up to drink a glass of water. Your mood lightened up when you saw that the cunning, extremely arrogant and calculating leader was still in your bed. He did not run away and remained completely still, his hand subconsciously reaching to you even in his sleep.

Wriothesley

“Hope you haven't forgotten to bring your tooth brush”, you say as Wriothesley enters your place with a backpack on his shoulder. He is certainly not a dude who suffers from financial hardship but his reaction to your house is not as frustrated as you thought it’d be. His house by any means is more comfortable and spacious than yours so you had a reason to expect his disappointment or at least slight displeasure. However upon entering your corridor Wriothesley only chuckles lightly “Nice place you got here. Can I just drop it here?”

“No, take it to the bedroom”, Wriothesley looks at you with shock. Seriously, you would trust him to drop his belongings in your room?

“It’s alright, trust me. Come upstairs with me.”

It is already quite a late hour when he arrives, and the both of you logically feel sleepy. Each one of you are a full time employee and your job takes its toll on you. Tonight is the first time when you’ll allow your boyfriend in the same bed with you. You were stirring in anticipation for this day for weeks, as the both of you thoroughly planned it. Luckily, Wriothesley did not forget to grab his tooth brush and pyjamas. Although you know his like for sleeping with naked chest, he shows incredible politeness and sensibility tonight by putting on a whole set of pyjamas. His muscular top cannot escape your curiousity as you watch him change carefully, his muscles flexing softly. Your eyes rake over his form, his chest and shoulders as he puts on his azure pyjama shirt. When he starts changing the bottoms you turn away, smiling to yourself. Naughty, you think, of me, to watch him undress like that. Should’ve asked him to change in the bathroom.

When Wriothesley is done changing he clears his throat,

“So, you ready? I’m getting really sleepy here.”

You can’t lie and say you don’t want to sleep, too. You point your palm at the bed, inviting him into the softness of sheets. Wriothesley lets you get in first to take the comfortable position and establish your boundaries before letting himself settle.

His strong, ex-inmate body presses against the matress, sinking into the sheets with you and taking the place on your right. Your bed feels no longer empty and lonely.

“What do you usually do before bed?” You ask him, spontaneously, absolutely sincerely wanting to make a conversation flow naturally. The silence is insufferable and it’s irritating you. When you are with him, you don't want to keep your mouth shut, you want to talk, and to listen. Wriothesley gives it a thought for a moment.

“Usually I have a cup of herbal tea before bed. It adjusts your sleep, helps your body and mind to relax. Why, you’d like to indulge my habits?”

Yes, archons, of course you’d like him to to share his habits with you. That’s what happens when you strive to be closer with someone. And him being your boyfriend, not just a rooommate, only justifies this desire.

“I have a citrus melissa tea if that would suffice?”

Wriothesley’s eyes widen but his voice remains flat. His expressions are always like that – internally he’s impressed but never showing the open vulnerability.

“Yes, that’s a brilliant idea I assume. Do you want me to come with you?”

“No”, you mean, yes, but… making him get up from the bed and experience embarrassment as he realises how red you’ve become by being so intimately close to him for the first time? No, never. “I’ll make it quick. You just relax here.”

“’kay”, he smirks to himself. This sharp-minded man definitely senses your actual reason to making him stay in bed.

Your hands shake slightly when you brew the tea, firstly for him and then for yourself. You choose a minimalistic white cup for him which is by size bigger than yours. As Wriothesley is an infamous tea addict, you want to serve him the best and as generous as possible. There you go, placing the mugs on the tray with napkins and spoons and taking it upstairs. When you kick the bedroom door with your leg, Wriothesley’s already holding a book he probably grabbed from your bedside table.

“Detective stories? Romance intrigues? Interesting. You like this kind of stuff?”

You place the tray on the table and snatch the book from his hand.

“That’s what’s popular in Fontaine. That’s what everyone reads.”

“But you, do you like it?”

His inquiry makes you question your beliefs.

“In a way yes, it’s scandalous and offensive, and I love stimulating my nervous system”, you offer him the mug. “Here’s our sleep time tea.”

“Thank you.”

You carefully take your place back into the bed with Wriothesley and sip your tea. The room is complete tranquility, with you and Wriothesley enjoying your evening conveniently in pyjamas.

Once the mugs are emptied and sweet tea has filled your stomachs, you place them back on the table. It’s time to actually sleep and you switch off the lights.

“Well? Good night now I guess.”

“Do you wanna cuddle?” The words escape your mou faster than you could think of them. Wriothesley answers a subtle smile, hinting at having waited for you to offer that. You are the one to mention it, but he’s the one to start. Wriothesley carefully wraps his big calloused hands around your waist. His touch is firm but not pressuring at all. As if asking for your permission he first runs his hand over your back, caressing before actually moving closer, until the two of you are flush against each other.

“How do you feel? Alright?”

“Yes.”

As soon as you approve, your response serves motivation for Wriothesley to pull you even closer, making you a small spoon to him and actually cuddling you. It is wrong to assume that Wriothesley is not embarrassed or shy at all having you pressed so close to him. His breathings and careful, slow movements prove that he is agitated too and does his best to not ruin your expectations and comfort. Deliberately, he wraps his arms around you fully and keeps you warm, not a single thing occupying his mind right now except for you, while you slowly fall asleep to the beating of his heart and distant clock ticking.

Pantalone

With a borderline soft smile Pantalone walks out of the shower and looks at you. He smells like heavenly musk and mint toothpaste, delivering a mix of impossible. A dark navy satin gown hugs to his body loosely. His skinny complexion is of course the cause of it. You can’t help but notice the sharp outline of his shoulders and his hands – bare and calloused, subjected to eczema, but still looking incredibly tender.

“Are you sure you’ll be comfortable staying a night with me? After all, I’m a man.”

His clarification makes you smile — careful, isn’t he? Setting a slow pace is certainly one way to maintain a positive vibe between you two.

Once getting into the bed sheets where you welcome him with a soft smile, Pantalone relaxes and lets out a soft exhale. He takes his glasses off and puts them into the case on the bedside table.

“Good. Please, make yourself comfortable.” You wait for Pantalone to pull on the blanket, but he seems to be waiting too. The both of you freeze there, in the bed, expecting one another to make a move. Pantalone realises how inconvenient and inconsiderate the situation is and his smirk turns into a wide smile.

“This is so silly of me, isn’t it?” He finally grips onto the blanket and pulls it, the fuzzy warm thing coats you both smoothly.

You notice the way Pantalone stares you up and down, not in a weird way, but rather studying your face again and again. He has seen you so many times, yet now you seem different up close to him in this intimate moment.

You clear your throat:

“Do you cuddle?”

“Cuddling?” His smile falters only for a moment, the wheels in his head are turning. “I assume so, only if you’d like that.” Something about his answer remains unspoken. Letting someone so intimately close not only to the body but to his soul is apparently a burden. Kisses and hugs after all are much different than a one night stand with a gorgeous rich woman he doesn’t love.

“I’d very much like that.”

Pantalone nods, as if accepting his fate he snuggles closer to you and says firmly:

“Wrap your arms around my waist.” You do exactly that, wrapping your arms around his what seems to be quite thin waist, even though covered in a robe. The robe however does not hide the fragility of his body.

Pantalone relaxes into the mattress and attempts to get into a more lying-like position, all before you notice something.

“You have toothpaste on your face.”

“Toothpaste? On my face?” Visibly startled and embarrased, he who is used to always take care of his appearance to the highest standard, immediately roams over his face with his fingers trying to find the spot but ends up smearing it. Seeing the helpless Harbinger failing at finding the toothpaste spread on his cheek, you bring your thumb to his face and wipe it properly. Certainly not expecting your touch, Pantalone tenses up a bit but lets you finish the task. Once you clean it with your delicate touch you slowly lower you hand to run down his shoulders.

“Are we ready to sleep?” you ask, your hand lingering on his robe, embracing the warmth coming from his body. Pantalone chuckles, still covering his previous embarrasment and responds softly:

“If you find yourself completely comfortable, then we shall sleep”, his face once again loses his smirk as he pulls on you slowly and gently to keep you flush and pressed to his chest, with no visible ulterior motive however. His touch is so gentle it is almost innoticeable, yet he manages to guide you closely to him. He looks into your eyes for a few moments before murmuring simply “Good night” and shutting his eyes.

During the sleep however he tosses and turns his body so that the big spoon role averts to you naturally.

[anotherspnfanfic]

Wrecked (Part 2)

Summary: Dean takes his time with some quality aftercare after your intense night together.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word count: 1500

Warnings: really mild sub drop if you squint

A/N: I'M BACK! Momentarily anyway. This was me wanting an aftercare fic because they seem to be hard to find! Then it turned into a collaboration with Michelle (@luci-in-trenchcoats) so go check out the smutty part one on her page! Enjoy! 🥰

Part 1

———

You felt like you were floating. As if you were having an out of body experience. Taking deep breaths, you tried to catch your breath and slow your racing heart.

Dean efficiently released your wrists from the restraints, rubbing over the reddened skin from pulling on the binds. He pressed gentle kisses across the marks before gently rubbing your sore shoulders. “You did amazing tonight, pretty girl.”

You hummed softly at his words of praise.

He tenderly kissed your forehead as you felt him press a straw to your lips. “Sip your juice for me, sweetheart.” You greedily sucked down the cool liquid before he pulled it away and set it on the nightstand.

He was quiet for a moment, and you panicked thinking he had left. You quickly peeled your eyes open just before the bed dipped under his weight. “There you are. You okay?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, reaching for him with grabby hands, wanting him closer. He laid down on his back and pulled you into himself. You rested your head on his chest, and he wrapped his arm around you and started running his fingers softly up and down your side.

Nuzzling against him, you squeezed him in a hug. He rolled onto his side, seeming to sense you were trying to get closer. He wrapped his other arm over your shoulder and his leg around your hip.

He peppered kisses over your forehead and cheek, everywhere he could reach without letting you go. “You were perfect tonight, sweetheart.”

You sighed contentedly and let yourself drift toward sleep.

Eventually, Dean shifted, disrupting your half asleep bubble. “Let's clean up and then you can sleep.” He moved to stand and you grabbed his hand before he could step away. “I'm just going to start the bath; I'll be right back.”

You shook your head. “Don't leave me.” You knew it wasn't rational, but you weren't ready to be away from him yet.

His eyes swept over your face, assessing. “You feeling a little extra clingy tonight?”

You hid your face in your pillow, suddenly embarrassed.

He leaned over and kissed your shoulder. “Hey, no need to be shy now. You can cling all you want, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere.”

“Take me with you.”

He hummed. “Okay,” gesturing you towards him, he requested, “stand up.” He patted the bed in front of him.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, but did as he'd asked and stood on the bed.

He turned his back to you before looking over his shoulder. “Hop on.”

You stepped closer, and he wrapped his hands under your knees and lifted you into a piggyback ride. You squealed as you grabbed hold of his shoulders to stop yourself from falling backwards. Giggling, you tried to shift into a comfortable position as he walked toward the bathroom.

Once he'd turned the water on for the tub to fill, he set you on the counter and pulled out your toothbrush. He put toothpaste on it and handed it over before doing the same with his own.

Toothbrushes replaced in their holder, Dean lifted you off the counter in a bridal carry and shifted to set you carefully in the warm bath. He held your hand as he stepped in and settled behind you. “Warm enough?”

“Just right.” You rolled your eyes. He asked every time even though the water was always the perfect temperature. “Thank you.”

“You don't have to thank me for taking care of you.” He kissed along your neck and shoulder as you melted into him. “So you still want me to throw out your mini vibe?”

“Dean,” you grumbled, getting a chuckle out of him.

“No, no, I’d never take away our favorite little helper.” He rubbed your shoulders gently, kneading the tense muscles. “We should just get you a spreader bar though so you stop misbehaving once and for all.”

“Don’t tease me with a good time,” you mumbled, burrowing back into his warm body.

He reached for the cup on the edge of the tub and scooted you forward enough to tilt your head back. Then, he washed and conditioned your hair before washing your body and himself. All the while, he continued to praise you as he littered your neck and shoulders with soft kisses. When the water started to cool, he pulled the drain and stood.

After quickly drying off and wrapping a towel around his hips, he helped you to stand and wrapped an oversized fluffy towel around your shoulders. He helped you step out of the tub and then rubbed his hands over the towel to dry you off. Once he was satisfied, he traded the towel for your rainbow colored robe with unicorn designs all over it. It never failed to make Dean laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

“Sit,” he requested, leading you towards the closed toilet seat. He ran the towel over your hair, ringing out as much moisture as he could. Next, he grabbed the blow dryer from where it lived on the counter and your brush and then spent the next several minutes brushing and drying your hair.

Once he was done, he took your hand and led you back to the bed. He moved over to his dresser and pulled out clothes—a pair of boxers for himself and a pair for you, along with one of his softest henleys. He untied your robe and pulled your arms free. He rubbed lotion into your skin, taking extra care over all the reddened marks he'd left.

He pulled his shirt over your head and held the arm holes open for you to more easily slip into. Finally, he knelt on the floor in front of you and helped guide your feet into the boxers.

He crawled up onto the bed and pulled you in with him. He settled in the middle and wrapped both arms around you like he had earlier. He kissed the crown of your head. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

You slowly started to wake and snuggled into the bed. Shifting, you rubbed your nose, suddenly realizing that that was not a pillow.

Dean chuckled, and the sound vibrated through you. You were lying fully on top of him, your head on his chest and your legs pulled up on either side of him. You tried to roll off him, but he was too fast and wrapped both arms around you and hugged you. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Morning. Sorry for using you as a body pillow.”

He kissed the top of your head. “I don't mind. I was going to go make your breakfast in bed, but clearly, you had other plans.”

“It's not my fault you're so comfortable.” You lifted your head so you could kiss his chest. “What were you planning on making?”

“Bacon,” he announced. “What do you want? Pancakes? Eggs?”

Your stomach growled loudly. “Yes.”

He finally released you so you could roll off him. “Both, got it. Let's go.”

Half an hour later, you were sitting at the kitchen table with pancakes, eggs, bacon, and a large mug of coffee as Dean settled in across from you.

You both ate in comfortable silence until you finally pushed your mostly empty plate away. “I can't eat any more. I'm stuffed.”

He shot you a cocky smirk and a wink.

“Oh, my god. Get your head out of the gutter.” You couldn't help but laugh as you tried to scold him.

He just chuckled as he stuffed more bacon into his mouth.

“Do you want to go grocery shopping with me?” you asked. “Maybe we could also go to the bookstore, and I can buy a new book… or ten.”

He shook his head. “I was thinking more like a lazy day hanging out at home.”

You stood and took your plate to rinse it off. “Why? We need groceries, and I'm almost done with my book.”

He brought his plate over, set it in the sink with yours, and wrapped his arms around you. “Both those things can wait until tomorrow.” He kissed along your neck and shoulder. “You dropped a little harder than usual last night. Just let me take care of you today, please?”

You spun in his arms and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could see he needed this the same way you had needed him to stay close. “Fine. Deal. But only if I get to pick what we watch.”

He rolled his eyes. “You're going to pick another princess movie, aren't you?”

You shook your head. “I was thinking more like the Christian Bale Batman movies.”

Quicker than you could anticipate the movement, Dean had you thrown over his shoulder as he walked toward the living room. He unceremoniously deposited you on the sectional before settling in beside you and pulling your feet into his lap.

You grabbed the remote and opened Netflix. As you searched for the first movie, he started to rub the arch of your left foot. “Okay. You win. Your plans were better.”

———

[dismalflo]

hi, Uhm… so, I love your blog (like, reading your drabbles to sleep love) and I’d really like to request a poly!wolfstar x fem!reader where they are in an established relationship already, and the guys come back from a party or smth, and find reader dancing to the beat of Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A man after midnight) by ABBA, (and they’re coming home late from said party) and so they tease reader about it but in the end they start dancing along with her? Thank youuu 💚💚💚

hi darling, tysm for requesting and for your kind words <3 i hope you enjoy!!

poly!wolfstar x reader who dances the night away ✩ 1k words

cw: fluff

What the boys expect to find is you in bed, waiting for them. Probably dozing–half-awake, ready to insist you’re not even that tired–only to fall asleep two minutes into Sirius’ dramatic retelling of their night out. He and Remus would share one of those sly, wordless smiles over the top of your head, as if managing to lull you to sleep were some grand feat. They’d follow you into dreams not long after, limbs tangled and content.

But what they expect isn’t what they come home to.

Remus is the first through the door, Sirius close behind, still fumbling with the handle as it swings shut. Normally, the loud click would make Remus wince, but tonight, he barely notices. There's a sound drifting faintly from the kitchen; a low, familiar thrum.

ABBA.

The unmistakable glittery beat of Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! carries faintly through the flat.

Sirius lets out a noise that might be a laugh, might be a groan—shifting his weight from foot to foot. “If I don’t get these shoes off in the next five seconds, I’ll have to saw my feet off. I swear they’ve shrunk since we left.”

Remus chuckles, his hand finding Sirius’s elbow to steer him toward the sofa. “Alright, c’mon.”

 Sirius drops onto the cushions with a contented sigh, already slumping sideways. Remus crouches to untie his laces, deft fingers at the ready, only to be swatted away.

“I think you should check what Y/N is up to,” Sirius says with a wink. “I can handle my own laces just this once, handsome.”

Remus rolls his eyes but stands, throwing Sirius a fond look over his shoulder as he pads toward the kitchen. The music grows louder with every step, bouncing lightly off the walls. He stops just short of the doorway.

You're dancing.

Well–half-dancing, half-preparing some kind of midnight snack at the counter. There’s a butter knife in one hand, a piece of cheese in the other, and your hips are swaying. Bare feet shuffle against cool tile, and though your voice is too soft to carry over the music, you’re humming along.

He leans against the doorway, arms crossed, head tilted, a stupid smile blooming across his face.

Remus lingers for a moment, content just to watch. There’s something magnetic about the way you move–unbothered, joyful, utterly at ease in the quiet sanctuary of your shared home. Your shirt hangs loose off one shoulder, one of Sirius’s band tees he’s definitely going to pretend to be mad about you stealing later. The kitchen is softly lit, golden and warm.

You spin around mid-chorus, your mouth opening to belt out the next line.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight–”

And then you spot him.

You freeze mid-twirl, eyes wide.

He just raises an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Don’t stop on my account.”

Your mouth opens, flustered. “You–you weren’t supposed to be home yet!”

“We left a bit early.” His smile is soft, fond, not at all mocking. “Got tired.”

Sirius’s voice calls faintly from the living room, laced with the laziness of someone who’s already kicked their feet up. “Are you both coming in here?”

Remus doesn’t reply. He crosses the room to you, every step quiet. You set the cheese down, suddenly shy.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you murmur. “Thought I’d wait up. Got hungry. And then it was too quiet…”

Remus’s eyes soften as he crosses the space between you. Without hesitation, he brushes a loose strand of hair from your face, his fingertips grazing your cheek gently.

“You didn’t have to wait up, you know.”

“I know,” you say. “But I missed you both.”

Remus smiles, warm and worn-in, and then he’s folding you into his arms, your body tucking instinctively into his. He sways with you, just slightly, despite the poppy beat still looping through the kitchen. His chin rests against the top of your head like it belongs there.

Then; footsteps.

The kitchen door swings wider, and Sirius appears in the doorway. His shirt is wrinkled, half-untucked, collar unbuttoned. That mischievous gleam in his eyes is unmistakable.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls, arms opening dramatically. “What do we have here?”

You look up at him, warmth creeping up your neck. “I was just… waiting.”

Sirius’s eyes flick between you and Remus, the corners of his mouth pulling into a grin. “Looks like I missed the opening act of your kitchen concert,” he says. “Very rude.”

Remus laughs softly, squeezing your waist. “He’s just upset he missed the food.”

“And the dance,” Sirius adds, stepping in close. His hands find your waist before you can react, and with a gleeful spin, he twirls you away from Remus and across the kitchen.

You stumble into laughter, clutching at Sirius as he steadies you. His grip is sure, warm, familiar.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming,” he says with a wink.

“Gross,” you tease, wrinkling your nose.

Remus rejoins you both with a soft chuckle, his hand sliding around your waist from behind. Sirius presses closer from the front, and the three of you sway together now, the remnants of ABBA giving way to something softer.

No one moves to stop the music.

For a moment, words feel unnecessary. There's only the slow rhythm of shared breaths, the warmth of bodies pressed together, and the kind of peace that settles deep in the bones.

Remus kisses your temple.

Sirius squeezes your hand.

The night stretches around you, golden and easy. There’s nothing more to say.

masterlist <3

[mashtatosworld]

eyes on me (6)

summary: Tension simmers behind closed doors as boundaries are blurred. And the haunting shadow following you finally has a face.

warnings: dark thoughts, smut

You stood in the entryway, arms limp at your sides. The apartment door shut behind you with a final click, the sound echoing far louder than it should have.

It felt strange.

Familiar.

But strange.

You never thought you’d be back here.

Jiyong tossed his keys onto the coffee table, already rushing ahead like a whirlwind. “Sorry about the mess,” he said with a nervous laugh, sweeping up an empty cup. “I didn’t expect company,”

You glanced around the open-plan space, watching as he fluffed some of the couch pillows and dusted off the leather even though it was spotless.

The apartment was almost exactly the same as when you left.

The framed photos of you two still hung on the walls. Your favourite blanket - the one he always used to steal - was still draped over the sofa. Your slippers were still by the door, right where you used to kick them off.

Like you’d never left.

Your chest twisted.

“I kept everything the same,” he said, watching you with cautious hope. “You know. Just in case.”

You didn’t answer. You just kept staring. At the remnants of a life that once felt permanent.

Then, a familiar little trill cut through the thick air.

“Iye,” you breathed.

The blur of beige fur came scrambling into the room with a chirp, sprinting straight for you. You dropped to your knees instantly, arms out, catching her as she leapt into your embrace.

“Oh my god, baby,” you whispered, nuzzling her fur, kissing her head as she pawed at you desperately. “I missed you so much.”

“She missed you too,” Jiyong said softly, watching you, that smile you remembered curling at his lips. “I was actually thinking I’d have to get her a companion... she was getting so lonely. But you're home now, so.”

You didn’t respond. You stayed buried in Iye’s fur, ignoring the implication of his words.

You're home now, so.

He stood there a moment longer, eyes on you, then asked carefully, “Do you want to eat? I can order - ”

“No,” you interrupted, finally standing, Iye still in your arms. “I just want to go to bed.”

Not that you’d sleep.

He nodded once. “I’ll get our bed ready.”

He turned and headed to what was once your shared bedroom, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

You blinked. “Wait - no.”

He turned, confused. “What?”

“I want the guest room.”

A flicker of disappointment crossed his face. “Oh…”

“I’m not sharing a room with you,” you said firmly, hugging Iye to your chest like a shield.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Then I’ll sleep in the guest room.”

“No, it's fine, I can - ”

But you were already opening the guest room door, even as he called out to stop you.

Too late.

You froze in the doorway.

It was wrecked.

A mirror was cracked, a pile of shards on the floor below it. The dresser was cluttered with opened bottles, scorched papers, something suspicious in a glass tray. Overfilled ashtrays lay on the side tables.

The most concerning of all the chaotic mess were the holes in the drywall - as if someone had punched through it, over and over.

You went to take a step into the room without thinking, gaping at the sight, but the sound of crunching porcelain beneath your shoe halted your step - preventing you from entering.

It was your favourite mug.

Shattered.

You blinked, your mouth dry. “What... what happened in here?”

Jiyong stepped up behind you, silent at first. Then, with a low voice, he said, “I wasn’t coping. Not... not well.”

You turned to look at him, lips slightly parted in shock.

He didn’t meet your gaze. Just stared past you into the wreckage.

“I’d come in here when I wanted to pretend you were still around,” he continued quietly. “Then I'd remember you weren't,” He gestured vaguely to the room. “And well...”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t know what to say.

He finally looked at you, voice cracking. “I'm sorry that you had to see this. That I was cruel to you. That you saw the darker side of me."

Iye pressed against your chest, and you looked down at her instead of him.

The apartment might have still looked like yours. But you weren’t sure if you were the same person who’d once called it home.

“I'll sleep in our old room,” you whispered, accepting that there were some things you couldn't avoid.

Because sometimes it was scarier opening new doors, than retreating to the ones you knew well.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling you’d stared at a million times before.

The same ceiling that watched you cry when Jiyong was away on tour, or when you were sick and feverish in bed. The one you’d stared up at, half-lidded with lips bitten raw from his kisses.

Now, you stared at it like it belonged to someone else.

You felt like a ghost haunting your own memories. Like your body had returned to this apartment, but your mind was still curled up on the carpet of your old living room - knees to chest, shaking.

Still seeing footprints that didn’t belong.

You were safe now.

You had to keep telling yourself that.

Jiyong’s penthouse was practically a fortress, too high for anyone to climb, guarded by security around the clock.

No one could get in.

Not anymore.

You closed your eyes and let the soft hum of music in your AirPod distract you, the playlist Daesung had made playing gently through your ear.

A smile ghosted your lips. He’d even named it after an inside joke between you.

He was always thoughtful like that.

You ran a hand down your face, sighing. Eventually, he’d notice your absence.

When he showed up at the cafe and you weren’t there. When he knocked on your apartment door and no one answered.

You scrolled absently through your camera roll, flicking past photos of food, neon-lit streets, karaoke booths. You paused at one in particular. Daesung was leaning over you, chin resting on your shoulder, pulling a ridiculous face as you snapped a selfie.

You swiped to the next photo.

He had turned his head towards you now, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. And seeing your own, bright smile caught you off-guard.

You stared at the photo for a long moment before swiping again - only for your phone screen to go black.

“No, no, no - ”

Your phone had died.

The music stopped.

The silence roared.

You sat up in bed, heart quickening. You fumbled around for a charger but came up empty. Panic flared, sudden and irrational - as if without the music, the thoughts might eat you alive.

You slipped out of bed, padding barefoot down the quiet hall. A sliver of warm light peeked beneath the guest room door. You knocked gently.

A quiet voice answered, “Yeah?”

You pushed the door open.

Jiyong sat in bed, notebook on his lap, pen between his fingers. His glasses were slipping down his nose. When he looked up, he blinked at you, then quickly slid them off.

“Is everything okay?”

“My phone died,” you murmured, embarrassed. “And I can’t find a charger.”

He was already unplugging his and holding the cord out to you. “Here.”

“Thanks.” You hesitated before taking it. Then your eyes flicked to the notebook in his lap - pages covered in messy, crooked scrawl. It looked as if his pen moved so fast that he couldn’t keep up with his own mind.

“Are you writing something new?” you asked.

He glanced down, then nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been writing a lot. It helps me.”

You knew that Jiyong wrote his feelings into songs. It was how he processed. How he healed. How he loved.

“Do you want to read it?” he asked suddenly, holding the notebook up halfway. “You inspired most of it - all of it, really.”

You huffed a quiet laugh. “Is it a ‘fuck you’ song?”

He looked wounded. “No. I'd never - ”

Then he saw your pointed look.

“…Okay. I wrote one. But I burned it after.”

You remembered the scraps of paper with singed edges, tucked in the corner of the guest room earlier.

It was cleaner now. The glass swept to one side. Whatever had been on the dresser was gone.

But the energy still lingered like smoke after a fire.

You glanced back at him. “Maybe another time.”

He nodded, accepting it. “Yeah. Another time.”

You took the charger and turned to leave, but his voice followed softly.

“Hey.”

You paused in the doorway.

“I’m really glad you’re home.”

You didn’t turn around as you whispered, “Goodnight,” and let the silence follow you back to bed.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Your days were grey.

Not stormy, not dramatic.

Just… a miserable grey.

Faded and washed out, like a painting left in the sun too long.

You sat in the apartment staring out of the tall windows. Watching the world move far below like it belonged to someone else.

Sometimes you played with Iye. Tossed her toy mouse across the hardwood floor and watched her chase it, large paws tapping with excitement. Sometimes you’d fill the bath, slide into the water and hold your head beneath the surface until your lungs screamed.

It was quiet under there.

Sometimes you’d even lace up your shoes and walk to the door. Grip the handle. But you had yet to open it.

It was like something monstrous waited on the other side. Something you didn’t want to name.

The police hadn’t called. No updates. Nothing.

You overheard Jiyong one night, shouting on the phone at them from the hallway.

Pissed.

Furious.

“How has no one been caught yet? She’s scared to fucking breathe! Listen to me you fuckin - ”

You didn’t listen to the rest.

And you'd kept it all from Daesung.

You told him you were sick. That you were holed up in your apartment. But even that lie had a time limit.

A few days later, his voice cracked through your phone.

“I’ve been coming by. Every day. Soup, flowers. I left them at your door. You haven’t been answering.”

You stayed silent.

Your throat was dry. Your body still damp from the bathwater.

He sounded hurt.

“Are you… back with Jiyong?” He exhaled sharply and you clutched the phone tighter. “He said things were going well between you two but - ”

“No.” You cut him off too fast. Too defensive. “No. Ignore him. We’re not back together. He’s… he’s just being dramatic.”

“Then where are you?” Another pause. A beat too long.

You hesitated. You were literally in the bathtub of Jiyong’s penthouse, hair stuck to your back and a rubber duck floating past you. He had filled the bath will all sorts of bubbles and creams before leaving you in peace.

It didn’t look good.

But you told him the truth anyway.

Where you were.

Not why.

Not how the scent of tulips now made you gag. Not about the window glass that sparkled like broken stars on your bedroom floor.

Daesung was quiet.

“I see.” He hesitated a moment. “But you’re not back with him?”

“No,” you whispered. “Everything’s just… a mess right now.”

He exhaled like he wanted to say more. “Well I won’t intrude.”

You sighed in relief, thinking he meant he wouldn’t press you for more answers. But then he said quietly, “Goodbye, Y/n.”

And the call ended.

You stared at your screen.

Then you threw your phone hard against the wall.

It cracked.

The screen ricocheted off, landing separately to the battery.

The music stopped.

And you slipped back under the water, letting it close over you like a blanket.

No light. No sound.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed under.

You didn’t care.

You felt nothing.

You were nothing.

Until a hand pulled you up.

You gasped, sputtering as you were roughly tugged to the surface. Water ran from your mouth, down your chin and you felt a hand wipe your face.

“Y/n!” Jiyong’s voice was frantic, eyes wide with horror. He clutched the back of your head, his sleeve soaked from reaching in.

“What the fuck are you doing?” His voice cracked at the end. His hand gripped you tighter. “I’ve been calling your name. For hours. You’ve been in here for four hours.”

You blinked at him with a confused frown.

The water was freezing cold.

Your lips were numb and your limbs were heavy. Yet you hadn’t even noticed.

He pressed his forehead to yours, his voice breaking again. “What were you doing…?”

He didn’t want to say what he thought you were doing. But you didn’t answer either way because there was no response you could give him, that would make things better.

You let him drain the tub and wrap you in a towel. You didn’t care that you were naked.

He’d seen you like this a thousand times.

It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

He moved quietly, gently. Like you might shatter.

He dressed you in your old pyjamas pulled from the shared closet. He combed the tangles from your wet hair with fingers so careful you almost cried.

Jiyong then tucked you into bed after sliding a pair of fuzzy blue socks onto your feet.

And you let him.

Because it didn’t feel like you were really there anymore.

Just a shell.

Just a body full of silence.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You were under strict watch now. Not by the police, not officially, but by Jiyong.

He hovered like a ghost.

He sat on the floor of the bathroom as you showered, back against the cabinet, scrolling through his phone without saying a word.

He would poke his head into your room throughout the night, quiet as a breath, eyes squinting in the dark to make sure your chest still rose and fell.

He ordered food instead of stepping outside, not even trusting himself to leave you alone for a minute.

Your old phone was shattered. So until the new one arrived, you shared his.

You kept the music playing constantly. Daesung’s playlist had become your lullaby.

Sometimes you scrolled through your private Instagram, the one no one else knew about.

Sifting through photos from Japan; the shadow of Daesung’s head leaning into yours at a ramen bar; two bowls of miso soup; a blurry shot of his sneakers beside yours on a temple path.

Moments tucked between filters and quiet captions.

Nothing explicit.

But everything was implied.

Then you’d lock the phone, and there it was - the two of you on his lockscreen.

You and Jiyong.

A memory capturing the two of you laughing with each other. You couldn't even remember that day now.

Your old self.

Your old life.

And every time you tried to change it, the next time he'd hand the device back over to you, the photo had returned.

Like a cruel reminder that even in this borrowed stillness, he was the one holding the phone.

You'd snapped at him when he suggested getting professional help. Flat out refused.

"No therapists. No strangers. This is my mess. I’ll clean it up.”

He hadn’t pushed again. Just nodded, jaw tight.

And then one morning, it wasn't your new phone that arrived at the door, but a new distraction.

Jiyong appeared in the living room, cradling something small. Something grey. And squirming in his arms.

You sat up from your slouch on the sofa, brows lifting in disbelief. He was grinning at your curious surprise. It was the most your face had moved in a week.

She mewled in his grasp - a tiny ball of static fluff, confused and demanding to be heard.

He knelt beside you and gently placed her in your lap. You stiffened at first, eyes wide as she pawed at your hoodie strings.

“W–What?”

“I saw her on your Instagram,” he said, a sheepish little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Your eyes snapped up. “You what?”

“You were still logged in,” he defended quickly, hands raised. “I didn’t go snooping. She was just… there. On your feed. Sitting in the cafe window.”

You looked down at the kitten as she curled up, warm and vibrating with purrs.

“I had to get her,” he said softly. “We always wanted two, remember?”

You nodded faintly, unsure of what to feel. Startled, yes. But also… touched.

“She’s perfect,” you whispered, stroking her ears.

He brightened. “We’ll introduce her to Iye later - let them have some sister bonding time.”

You smiled at the thought of the fur balls chasing each other through the apartment, battling over who gets to sit in the ridiculous designer cat bed he once bought. Or maybe they'd curl up in it together.

“Does she have a name yet?” you asked.

He shook his head, gently petting the top of her head with his finger. “I thought we could name her together. We still have that baby name list.”

You froze. Your hand stilled against her soft fur. The words caught you off guard.

That list.

You hadn’t thought of it in so long.

The two of you had made it together, when everything was different. When there was hope. When you were thinking about the future.

When you almost started a family.

Now you were barely surviving in the cracked shell of the same life.

You didn’t answer. Just lowered your gaze and kept petting the kitten.

He sat beside you quietly as the new little heartbeat in your lap purred on, and for just a moment - you considered that maybe grey wasn't such a bad colour.

Maybe there could be happiness in grey.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Zoa lightened your mood.

Not entirely. Not enough to fix you.

But just enough to make the shadows a little less sharp around the edges.

Where Iye was wild and elusive, only curling up when she decided it was time, Zoa wanted nothing but to be on you.

On your lap. On your chest. On your head as you tried to nap.

She was soft, gentle, and mildly chaotic. You laughed to yourself sometimes - she’s basically Jiyong in cat form.

And as if to prove it, he remained just as clingy as ever.

He watched over you like a man with nothing else to hold onto, like he was terrified you’d fade away if he took his eyes off you.

Now, he was in the shower. The adjacent bathroom door was wide open, and you could hear him singing to himself and every so often shouting when he'd get shampoo in his eye.

You lay on the bed in a comfortable sleep shirt, Jiyong’s phone in your hand, aimlessly scrolling through boredom and music apps.

Restlessness buzzed beneath your skin.

Your mind was clearing - just enough to itch, to want to do something.

Be someone again.

But your body hadn’t caught up yet. It still clung to the stillness like a security blanket.

A notification pinged across the screen.

You almost didn’t look.

Almost.

The name caught your eye, it was a message from his head of security. You hesitated, eyes flicking to the open bathroom.

Still singing.

Still distracted.

You clicked on the message, opening the conversation you shouldn't have been reading. It was about you. Your case. And apparently, there was a new lead.

Jiyong had hired his own private team because he wasn’t waiting on the police anymore. He wasn’t satisfied with their pace.

The tapping of your feet against the mattress stilled. They had a suspect, and with it came a photo.

You stared. Hard.

The man looked… normal.

Not monstrous. Not mad-eyed or ragged. Just a guy, with short dark hair and shadows of stubble. His eyes were too dull to be remembered.

That was the most terrifying part.

He looked like someone you could pass on the street and never think twice about. Had you passed him on the street? Had he watched you before? For how long?

The message mentioned a possible location - a hostel downtown. And they were following the lead now.

You locked the phone just as the water shut off.

Your heart thudded against your ribs.

The lock screen flickered up. Jiyong had begrudgingly changed it to a new photo at your request. It was now an image of you playing with Zoa.

A moment later, he stepped into the room, towel slung low around his hips, water dripping down his back in glistening trails.

He ran a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back as he dug through the dresser.

He was talking to you. Saying something casual, something light.

But you weren’t listening.

Instead, your eyes followed the curve of his shoulder. The way his muscles shifted with every movement, tattoo rippling. And the long, clean line running down the centre of his back was all too familiar. You used to run your finger down it, following the sloping path.

Your toes curled beneath the sheets without your permission.

Then Jiyong turned to you, catching your open stare.

His expression shifted subtly.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice softer now.

You nodded slowly. “Just... a lot on my mind.”

He gave a quiet hum and stepped closer, eyes never leaving yours.

Still in just a towel.

Still dripping.

Still him.

You tried not to look lower. You failed.

And he noticed, of course he did.

“Do you want your phone back?” you asked quickly, voice a little hoarse.

He nodded, stepping close enough for you to hand it over. When you did, the tips of your fingers grazed his open palm.

“I’ve got some messages to catch up on,” he said. “But you can have it back after. For the music.”

You nodded. The music helped to calm your thoughts. But you didn't think anything could drown out the sound of your pounding heartbeat.

He looked at you, really looked. Then, gave a slow tilt of his head.

“Is the music still helping?”

You nodded again, avoiding his eyes.

“Good,” he murmured, taking another measured step closer.

“Do you want…” he paused, watching the way your throat moved when you swallowed, “...a different kind of distraction?”

Your eyes flicked up to his; wide and uncertain.

“I can help too,” he added softly. “If you allow me.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy and fragile, it felt like you were standing on a glass table.

You didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

But you didn’t say no.

Jiyong knelt at the foot of the bed, climbing onto the soft mattress like he belonged there.

His eyes, daring and dark, searched your face as if waiting for some divine signal to move. You didn’t say anything. You just shifted your hips slightly, parting your legs in that silent way that made the blood rush straight to his cock.

And he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for weeks.

“Please,” he whispered.

It wasn’t clear what he was asking for - your permission, your body, your forgiveness - maybe all three. But his hands were already reaching, trembling slightly as he pushed your legs apart and lowered himself between them like he was praying.

You were barely dressed. Still wearing an oversized sleep shirt, and your underwear was swiftly tugged to one side as his lips met your inner thigh.

He took his time - kissed softly, wetly, like he was trying to memorise you all over again.

Every inch of your skin was a holy thing to him.

He licked a stripe up the inside of your thigh, then kissed your hipbone with reverence. “I dream about this,” he murmured. “About you. Your taste. The way you sound.”

You threaded your fingers through his hair, slowly tugging his head to where you wanted it.

“I know,” you said. Your voice was low, demanding to remain in control.

And then his tongue met you - and it wasn’t sweet anymore. It was needy. Filthy.

He moaned against you like he’d just taken the first drink after a year in the desert. He buried his face deeper, mouth open, tongue working in slow, firm strokes as his nose bumped against your clit.

He was already panting. Already ruined.

You let your head fall back against the pillows, your grip tightening in his hair. He took the cue, latching on to your clit and sucking gently - then harder when you gasped.

“That’s it,” you breathed.

His hands slid further up, beneath your shirt, desperate to touch more of you, but you caught them before they could venture too far.

Instead, he just curled them around your waist, thumbs stroking your skin like a man grateful for whatever he was given.

You looked down and caught the sight of him - eyes glazed, mouth soaked, lips swollen, rutting his hips subtly into the bed like he couldn’t help it. His towel had come undone, like a symbol of his unravelling composure.

“Don’t you dare cum,” you said sharply.

He whimpered against you, immediately stilling.

“Yes,” he gasped out. “Yes, I - I won’t. I promise.”

In that moment, you knew he'd tell you anything you wanted him to, even if his control would say otherwise. Still, you let him keep going.

You let him fall apart between your thighs, worshipping like his entire world was between your legs. He was messy with it, tongue everywhere, whining, pressing sloppy, desperate kisses between licks like he was grateful for every drop of wetness he could taste.

The coil inside you built fast - your thighs tightening around his head, breath catching, the tension wound so tight you could barely think.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, biting your lip. Your neck strained as you tilted your head back against the pillows, looking up at the ceiling above you through blurred vision.

He sucked your clit again, just the way you liked, tongue flicking up and down - and you came with a gasp, your hips twitching. Your grip wound tightly in his hair, firmly holding him in place as you rode it out.

He didn’t stop.

Even as your legs trembled. Even as you flinched from the overstimulation.

“Jiyong,” you warned, yanking him by his hair.

He pulled back slowly, dazed, lips slick and red, chin dripping, eyes starving. He looked drunk on you.

“I missed that so much,” he murmured, voice cracked. “I’ll do it every night. Every hour. Whatever you want. Let me - ”

He went to climb over your reclined frame, but you cut him off with your foot, pressing it against his chest. He froze.

“No more,” you said. “Not tonight.”

His eyes darted down to where his cock was painfully hard, a visible desperation blooming at the tip.

“Can I - ?” he started.

“No.”

He groaned, head falling forward against your leg like he was physically in pain from denial. He clung to you, cheek pressed against your thigh, body trembling with pent-up frustration.

“Please,” he whispered again. His lashes tickled your heated, damp skin. “Please, baby. Just - at least just let me touch it. Just a little - ”

You pulled your leg out from under him.

“I said no.”

Jiyong nodded quickly. Submitting instantly.

“Yes. Okay. I won’t. I just… Can I stay here? Just like this?”

You didn’t answer. Just shifted onto your side, turning your back to him as you pulled the blanket up.

He stayed curled up beside you, head resting beside your hip, arms wrapped around your leg like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

You heard him sigh. Quiet. Longing.

And then nothing.

Only the sound of your heavy breathing - one satisfied, one still aching - filling the dark, still air.

This was your mess.

You’d made it.

And you were going to fix it.

Letting him touch you tonight might have been a slip up. Maybe even a mistake.

But it had helped, for now.

You could finally breathe in the silence.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

uh-oh

ummmmm let's just say it's for the plot ok? ok good.

anywaysss, on the left is the original lock screen and right is new lock screen:

let me know if you want me to make a photo dump from japan! it's quite hard to make smau type things for dae since he doesn't post a lot but i can try <3

also sorry there wasn't much dae in this chapter, but in the next we'll see the plot with the stalker start picking up now! ;)

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure , @breakmeoff , @emmiesoverthemoon , @rafesbunniebby , @ricecake9999 , @fleabagspurplewife , @sylviavf , @ldydeath , @wonyluvi , @deliciousmagazinequeen , @heartubeatusalon , @imminsugasgf , @steponupbabe, @moontabi , @@1950schick

[cherie-doll]

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: You're A Bookworm

𖦹 i apologize profusely for my absence, time and writer's block decided to team up against me

༢ུ· Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Alejandro, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Ghost

Buys a reading light for you so you don’t keep the ceiling lights in the room on and disturb his sleep

I actually think he’d be a reader, like if he got to pick between watching tv or reading a book he’d choose a book

I’d fr be salivating if I saw this man resting on the couch, pick up a book and reading while stroking our shared pet cat

Is actually a good conversationalist about topics he’s read up on

Soap

If he had long hair he’d be twirling it in his finger as he listens to you babble about books

It doesn’t matter if it’s a cute romance book, something intellectual, a classic or even a gory horror book, he’d listen to you go on ALL DAY

Whenever you visit the library/bookstore he’s ready to carry the piles of books for you

No longer asks “Want to watch a movie together?” But instead “Want to finish reading that book together?”

Emotional support cuddling when the ending is angst

Gaz

He remembers the first time he saw you it was at a cafe

Thought you looked so cute invested in your book, a drink on the table, glasses (if you wear them) that you had to keep pushing up

He had bought you a pastry and politely come up to you and ask about your book

Even now he likes finding new cafes to take you to and buys you a book everytime

Likes to write poetry or romantic notes on little slips of paper and tucking them into the books he buys you for when you open them later <3

Alejandro

Made you a book bouquet (y’all seen that one vid of this guy who instead of buying or having someone else make the bouquet he figured out how to make it instead???)

Once you complained about not having a proper place for your books which were kinda just lying around in piles on the floor, you thought it strange that he’d spent long periods of time outside until he brought in a bookshelf he built and painted for you

Helps you pot plants to add as decoration for your bookshelf

Keegan

Sometimes he worries you’re going to ruin your eyes staying up late reading

“Did a character do something stupid?” When you throw a book across the room

Gets startled when he turns to your side of the bed only to find you on the last pages of your book, “Did you seriously stay up all night reading that?”

König

He likes keeping track of your progress and constantly checking your wishlist for books he can buy for you

He makes sure you’re always stocked up on booktabs and pens + markers to underline your fav quotes with

You somehow always lose your bookmarks and he replaces them

Sometimes he likes to make them himself! <3

Horangi

Likes to distract you while reading by teasing

Finds out when your favorite author (if they’re alive lol) has events and takes you to them

Buys the special editions of your favorite series + signed by the author

Takes you to the movies when the book gets an adaptation and listens to your rant afterwards about how badly/good they adapted it

Nikto

He likes that you enjoy reading because it keeps you quiet and in one spot

He does get annoyed when you’re absorbed into your book and you go too long without giving him attention

Bought you an ereader after you begged him for one because it was more “practicable” and after he borrowed it a few times he now uses it more than you do

[tootiecakes234]

Katsuki Preparing for the Proposal:

*if you want to read the Part 1 you can click here

“Can you for once just do what I ask you without questioning everything Pinky? I’m offering a spa day full paid and you’re acting like I’m holding you at gunpoint!” I said exasperated.

Ive been on the phone for 10 minutes for what should have been a 2 minute phone called. I’d called and told Mina that i would pay for y/n and her to have a spa day. Massages, nails, hair, the works. What i didn’t expect is for the this woman to put up a fight about it.

“ I’m just trying to make sure a villain hasn’t taken over your body and is impersonating you! But fine, twist my arm. I’ll take your card AND your girlfriend and go do some damage on your dime. I’m tired of going back and forth. What time should I be there to get her?” She asked cheerily now that she’d accepted to “gift” being offered to her.

“Around 11 in the morning. You guys can go get lunch or something. And again I say, big mouth, do not tell her that I’m apart of this. Do you understand?” I said in the most threatening tone possible.

“Sir yes sir.” She mocked at me. “I’ll text her to set up it up now. Oh and I hope whatever you’re planning goes accordingly to plan, Mr. Inconspicuous.”

The gurgle that came out of that my mouth had Mina laughing on the other end of the phone.

“Shut up idiot. I’m not planning anything. Bye!” And i quickly hung up the call.

Dammit. She’d better not know anything. Eijirou better not have run his mouth and Pinky sure as hell better not run her mouth. Putting faith in any of my shitty friends to keep a secret was like trying to sweep sand at the beach… hopeless.

I had no other way to guarantee that y/n would stay away from the house long enough for me to get everything set up.

I’d gone into my office and locked the door to call Mina just to make sure she didn’t overhear anything.

When I finally made it back to the bedroom, she was in bed on her phone and didn’t LOOK like she suspected anything so that’s as good as I could hope for right now.

“Mina just randomly texted me and said she wants to go to the spa tomorrow. Isn’t that weird? It’s 8 o’clock at night and I just saw her earlier and she didn’t mention anything about it.”

“Mina’s weird all the fucking time anyway so no more than usual I guess. You should go though…. I mean you’ve been saying that works been stressing you or whatever.” I know I’m a shit liar, but this insane technically lying, so I’m hoping she buys it.

Ever since I’d decided to propose to her, everything I say sounds like something rehearsed or scripted and it’s putting me on edge. I’m either gonna give this woman this ring or have a goddamn heart attack trying.

“Hmmmm, you’re right. She said she’s going to cover it so why not.” She texts back and then sets down her phone on the nightstand score she turns to me. “I have the best friends in the world, don’t I?”

“Yea… just fucking terrific” I said frowning

“Katsuki, baby, don’t be jealous. I’ll tell Eiji to get you guys a spa day for your birthday. It’ll be a cute little outing.” she says all cheeky.

“No way in hell. I’ve gotten massages with E before and that bastard groans and moans while he’s getting his. I’ll be damned if I suffer through that again.” That makes her giggle but I’m being completely serious.

She does that a lot, finds humor in my honesty. One of the reasons I can’t wait to marry her. She’s one the few that I can be myself with and never feel like I’m saying the wrong thing or being the wrong me…. Fuck.

“Hey, where are you right now? You’re looking at me but you are not in the same space?” And I feel her warm hand press up against my cheek.

“Nowhere, just thinking. I’m tired, long day. You ready to go to sleep?”

“Mhmm.” She leans and presses 3 quick kisses to my lips before she turns to turn off the lamp next to the bed.

The time she snuggles down into the sheets my arm is wrapping around her and pulling her back flush against my front.

“Goodnight princess”

“Night Kat-daddy”

The last thought before I drift to sleep is that hopefully by tomorrow night I’ll be sleeping next to my fiance instead of my girlfriend.

*ok, so I don’t like writing super long fics soooo this is going to end up being part 2 of 3 or 4. I haven’t decided. But I feel like all this filler is super cute and important because Katsuki is actually such a simp and such a nerd underneath all that attitude and I wanted to showcase that soooo please don’t be mad that this isn’t the actual proposal🥺

Katsuki Masterlist

Tooties Tags: Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @xxvendettaxx @jays-adventure3 @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @mintsbubbletea @darkstarlight82 @anon-mouse223 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @i-literally-cant-with-this @flowerbedbaby @kit-katsukii @tippy-toes @superlegend216 @liliththeunqualifiedsimp @burgvndy @yoyolovesdaiki @zaiban2989 @citrustsuki-2 @queenpiranhadon @mikestuffffs @gold24fish @getou0309 @djlance-rock



[aquared46]

Happy ao3 downtime. Have a little andreil fic. As a treat.

It was only because Neil recognized the cadence of the footsteps downstairs that his pounding heart calmed. He untangled his legs from the blankets, but didn’t rise from the bed. He listened as Andrew locked the front door, the pounding in his head and the sickness swirling in his stomach indicating he only managed about an hour of sleep. Vague images clung to the backs of Neil’s eyelids, a nightmare that slipped from his waking mind. Something Andrew had saved him from before he was even in the room.

Andrew wasn’t supposed to be back in South Carolina for another two weeks, obligated to spend time training with his team between games. Neil himself should’ve been on campus, ready for practice in the morning. Instead, Coach took one look at him yesterday afternoon and sent him away with orders to get some sleep. To give his vice captain a chance to practice for the real thing once Neil graduated in a few short months.

Neil couldn’t get any sleep at the dorms, but his and Andrew’s bed in Columbia called to him. Neil made the trip and collapsed into it, his mind wandering to the countless firsts they shared there rather than the onslaught of memories March brought.

Neil had survived three Marches since the riot, since his father’s people had delivered him to the basement in Baltimore. His fourth March should’ve been no different.

Except there was one thing Neil hadn’t accounted for: Andrew wasn’t there.

Neil was in his final year, Andrew was playing on a professional team states away, and Neil had never realized exactly how much he leaned on him in times like this. How the shared cigarettes steadied his hands, how Andrew’s palm on the back of his neck halted the crawling beneath his skin.

Objectively, he knew Andrew helped, but it was also something Neil should’ve been able to do on his own. It wasn’t something he wanted to burden Andrew with, something that pulled him away from his responsibilities because Neil couldn’t manage to get through just a few fucking days without nearly falling apart.

And now Andrew was standing in the doorway of their bedroom in Columbia, the light from the hall flooding into the room and illuminating Neil in all his disgrace. The sweaty skin, the greasy hair, the circles under his eyes, the t-shirt Neil had bundled under his head.

Neil had found it wedged between the nightstand and the bedframe, undoubtedly tossed aside carelessly on a good day that involved lots of kissing and touching. It smelled a bit like old sweat, but Andrew’s scent also clung to it, and Neil was far beyond denying himself such a simple comfort.

Andrew kicked the bedroom door closed, and Neil listened to his footsteps as he approached in the dark. There was a click as Andrew tugged the chain of the small lamp on the nightstand. Andrew always hated how bright the overhead light was.

Andrew gestured to Neil’s entirety. “This is not fine.” He snagged the shirt from under Neil’s head, wrinkling his nose before tossing it aside.

Andrew had called him just two days earlier. They’d talked as they always did, exchanging stories and sometimes just sitting in silence, knowing the other was there and listening. Except this time Andrew had explicitly asked how Neil was holding up, and Neil had said he was fine.

“I meant what I said.” Neil mourned the loss of the shirt, but tucked his face closer to the pillow, where some of the smell had transferred.

Andrew’s jaw tensed. “I thought you weren’t going to lie to me anymore.”

“I’m not.”

“Then you’re lying to yourself.” Something settled in Andrew’s gaze as he examined Neil, the tension in his shoulders easing. “And you’re an idiot if you think I’d make you bear this on your own.”

Andrew emptied his pockets on the nightstand, and Neil felt something loosen in him as well. As Andrew peeled off his jeans, Neil scooched over to make enough room on the bed.

“There were no games scheduled, so I got cleared for this time off weeks ago,” Andrew said as he slipped under the covers.

The relief Neil felt from his proximity didn’t lessen the weight of his glare. “And you’re telling me this now?”

“You should’ve known I’d be here for your yearly mental breakdown. At least you keep a consistent schedule. I was curious whether you’d be honest with me, but now I have to ask: Was it a lack of self-awareness or sheer bullheaded stubbornness that kept you from telling the truth?” Andrew was close enough Neil could feel the warmth radiating off him. “I didn’t believe you then, and your current appearance only validates that assessment. If I asked again what would your answer be now?”

Neil ignored his first impulse, which was to say he was fine. Not only was it the answer Andrew didn’t want, but it certainly wasn’t true. Frustratingly, everything Andrew said was right. The way Andrew could peel back his layers and see what was underneath used to be unsettling, but nowadays Neil found it reassuring. Even if it pissed him off. Even if Andrew told him things he didn’t want to hear.

“That I can’t sleep,” Neil said through gritted teeth. “That he’s the only thing I see when I close my eyes, and that I wish you were here.”

“That’s better,” Andrew said. “Certainly more believable.”

Andrew reached for Neil, settling his arm over his waist and tugging him closer. Neil sagged into the contact, shuddering with relief as he tucked his head under Andrew’s.

Neil breathed him in. “I should be able to bear this on my own.”

“You don’t have to. I’d rather be here when you don’t need me than be away when you do.” Andrew tightened his arm, tangling Neil’s legs with his.

Neil had been holding himself together by threads for the past few days. In Andrew’s arms, he was safe enough to let himself fall apart. His chest was tight, and he gradually lost the steady breaths he forcibly maintained.

Andrew held him through it, his fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on Neil’s spine. It was something Neil could focus on, something he could latch onto to draw himself back into his own body. Exhaustion crashed into him as soon as he did, but not before he made Andrew a promise.

“I’ll do better next time.”

“I know.”

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

i got this request on my other account and figured i’d do it since it seems like it’d be a funny fic!!

i want to give credits to @alwaysthefangirl as i based a lot of my ideas of “lyra being stubborn and not wanting help when shes sick” around her fic, and seriously ive reread that one countless amounts of times omg. anyway thank you for being the amazing writer that you are and inspiring me to write this with your own fic. i dont think i would have been able to write this so quickly if it werent for your fic that seriously helped me write this one so thank you!!! <33

A Sick and Stubborn Lyra

(could you tell that i couldn’t think of a title? 😜)

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

Lyra knew she was sick. She knew it the other day when her entire body was feverishly burning up and she couldn’t evade the constant dizzy spells, and she knew it now as she felt the same way—no, worse.

She thought that sleep might heal her, and she’d done a good enough job at hiding it from Grayson, but it was no use. She had classes, classes she couldn’t risk missing as she’d just added an extra one to her schedule, and despite her feverish state, had to be present for them. No matter how dry and aching her throat felt, or how her head was heating up astronomically.

Crawling out of her sheets as quietly as possible, Lyra cast her gaze to the blonde sleeping peacefully beside her. Grayson. He looked so beautiful while he slept, so at peace and calm.

Lyra reminded herself that she had a mission that Grayson couldn’t distract her from: get ready and out of the house while Grayson’s asleep/getting ready so he doesn’t see the state she’s in.

Fully getting out of bed, Lyra softly walked over to her walk in closet, where she clicked the door behind her quietly and put on her clothes as softly as possible. Then she tip-toed past a, thankfully, still asleep Grayson towards her bathroom, where she brushed her teeth and did her skin care for the day. Every movement sent her head spinning and made her body ache, and once Lyra spat out her toothpaste, she collapsed onto the mat in her bathroom and tried her best to breathe. She gave herself only a minute of sitting on the floor and trying not to pass out, before getting up, not bothering with make up, and walking out the bathroom.

She knew she was being sloppy. She no longer cared about being quiet; all that mattered to her was getting out of the house without fainting or throwing up first.

With her teeth clattering in her mouth and sweat beginning to bead on her forehead, Lyra grabbed her car keys with slow, aching movements, and was just about to stumble out the door when she heard a low rumble behind her.

“Lyra?” Came Grayson’s sleep riddled voice. Shit.

Lyra didn’t dare turn around, as if she did, he would see how sick she is and make her stay home. Not today, Grayson. Thought Lyra through clenched teeth as she tried not to shiver.

“I’m about to leave, Gray, but I’ll call you at lunch.” Lyra said, before freezing once she realized how terrible her voice was.

It visibly sounded scratched and nasally, and she didn’t sound well in the slightest. She froze as she heard Grayson’s steps behind her.

“Wait, Lyra.” Grayson ordered. Lyra would have spit back a retort if she wasn’t in her current state. Pulling her forward by the waist, Grayson turned her around, and she immediately saw surprise cross his features. Lyra furrowed her brows.

“I’m fine. Let me go.” Lyra ordered, hoping her (regretfully) sharp tone would ward him off.

But nothing really warded off Grayson Hawthorne.

Grayson placed his hands on her shoulders, his bare chest breathing in and out slowly, and he seemed to be looking over her, seeing how bad of a state she was in.

“You’re not going to your classes like this.” Grayson told her. Lyra rolled her eyes.

“I’m fine.” Lyra stubbornly told him, before sneezing, trying to take a step back, and stumbling to the ground. The sudden movement left her head reeling, and her body would be aching along with that if it weren’t for Grayson, who caught her in his arms.

“Breathe, sweetheart. I’m right here.” he told her softly, lips pressing onto her neck. Lyra went limp at the sudden affection, growing dizzier. She shuddered in his arms, and he suddenly picked her up, carrying her bridal style to their room.

“Breathe.”

Lyra awoke from her sleep a couple hours later, tangled in sheets with her hair splayed out on the pillow. Lyra lifted her head up—and then immediately regretted it. Her head was hit with a terribly dizzying feeling, and it was burning up wildly. Lyra slouched back down.

Searching the room, she tried to look for Grayson, but all she could see was his laptop and notes splayed on the ground beside her bed. Their room didn’t have a desk, aside from Lyra’s vanity, and Grayson’s office was in the other room. Lyra’s heart warmed once she realized he’d worked on the floor to keep an eye on her.

Looking towards the bathroom and seeing that the light was on, she realized that Grayson was inside. Lyra pulled herself up slowly, her body screaming at her all the while to lay back down, and sat up. She didn’t want to do anything, but she knew she had to.

“Tea,” she could remember her mother telling her as a child whenever she get sick, “is a remedy for all ills. Now drink!”

Granted, tea was never Lyra’s favourite, but tough times called for tough measures.

Peeling off her sheets with aching movements, Lyra ignored the thumping sound in her head and got up, shaking terribly. Pressing her freezing hands to her burning forehead, Lyra began to walk to the kitchen, pushing down the dizzying feeling the best she could.

Once she got to the kitchen, she bent down shakily towards the cabinet, opened it up, took out the kettle—and that’s about as far as she got.

Well, as far as she got before she heard her name.

The tone of which Grayson said Lyra was clearly not happy. Lyra winced as she stood back up, and saw Grayson come into the kitchen with accusing eyes. He was all dressed, clad in a suit with his hair fixed, and Lyra couldn’t deny that he looked good. So good that she forgot that he was currently staring at her as if she had just learned to walk.

“What are you doing up?” He accused, striding up to her and reaching to take the kettle from her hands. Lyra moved her hands away, hiding the kettle behind her and away from his reach.

“Making tea.” she said stubbornly, coughing all the while. Grayson’s eyes were concerned as he studied her, moving hair from her face to really look at her.

“Sweetheart, you aren’t well. Please go back to bed.” he told her softly. Lyra only rolled her eyes.

“I’m fiiiiiine.” she said, breathing hard and sniffing. Words became harder to say when she was sick. Grayson’s eyebrows furrowed, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.

“I’ll carry you.” he warned. Lyra rolled her eyes again, waved him away with his hand.

“No. Go work.” she told him. Grayson sighed before lifting her into his arms the same way he had earlier with ease. Lyra squirmed, which only tightened the grip he had on her.

“Hey.” Lyra said, trying to make her tone as threatening as possible, even though her voice was nasally and scratched. Grayson looked at her and pressed a kiss to her forehead before placing her in bed.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Apparently, I’ll be right back meant I’ll get every pill and remedy there is and force it down your throat. So far, she’d taken 4 pills, drank 2 cups of tea, had a popsicle for her throat, and was now getting her temperature checked by Grayson all while she laid in bed with a cold rag on her head like a sick peasant.

“102°F. Not good.” Grayson tutted, putting the thermometer down and fixing her with a concerned look. That’s all he was doing today: finishing up some documents, fretting over her, and fixing her with concerned puppy-dog stares.

Well, she liked the stares, but the fretting could be taken down a notch.

“Can’t I get up?” Lyra asked. Grayson gave her an unimpressed look.

“You’ve asked me that 4 times in the past hour and each time I told you no. What makes you think now you’ll get a different answer?” he replied. Lyra sighed.

“At least let me walk around the walk in closet. It has a stool if I get tired.” Lyra reasoned. She didn’t have much of a desire to walk around her closet, but laying down and doing nothing was much worse. Grayson gave her a look.

“What do you need that’s in that closet?” he asked her. An innuendo popped into her mind at the same time as an actual answer. Her choice on which of the two to say was obvious.

“If I can’t convince you to let me get up, I think my red thong that I keep in there can.” Lyra retorted simply, giving a half shrug and grinning despite her state. Grayson tried to look unimpressed, but she saw how his cheeks reddened slightly. Win for me, Lyra thought giddily.

Lyra realized then that her only entertainment in this jail cell that was her bed was riling up Grayson. And so she took every opportunity to.

“Grayson, my blankets are bothering me.” Lyra complained.

“Then take them off.” he replied simply from where he was sitting on the floor, talking his gaze away from his papers to look at her. Lyra peeled her blankets off her body, before slyly smiling.

“Grayson, my pants are bothering me.”

Every time she told him sly innuendos, he would act unaffected and continue doing what he was doing, aside from a few telltale signs that he was actually affected, like him clearing his throat, or his cheeks reddening, or, her personal favourite, his pupils dilating. After a few of those, her entertainment (Grayson) was no longer being entertaining. Every suggestive remark was becoming ignored, or he would just switch the topic. Now Lyra was irrevocably bored again.

Picking at her nails as she laid in bed, Lyra sighed. Then she sighed again. Sighing once more, she glanced down at Grayson who was still sitting next to her bed while working on his laptop, and wasn’t saying a word. Lyra huffed. She might as well sleep, if she had nothing else to do.

Turning to her side and closing her eyes, Lyra started to feel herself finally drifting to sleep.

She awoke a few hours later, drowsy, but overall feeling much better compared to earlier. It was now 6 PM, and Lyra doubted that she would be able to sleep tonight with all the napping she’d been doing.

Sitting up, she noticed that although her head was still hot, the aching feeling like somebody had just ran over her brain was gone. She felt less dizzy, too. The symptoms that had stopped her from getting up and generally being mobile earlier were gone. And, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, it was because of Grayson.

Lyra felt a little bit guilty then. She had spent the whole day trying to avoid his help, when without him she would probably be feeling even worse by now.

She looked to her side and realized that Grayson wasn’t there. Neither was his laptop or his papers. He must have switched to his office, Lyra thought. Then she pulled off her covers and got up. She still had small chills, and so she threw on one of Grayson’s Harvard sweaters, before stalking to his office. She used to knock when they first moved in, but Lyra never does it now.

Opening the door, Lyra quietly walked in, and saw Grayson working at his desk. Once he heard the door open, he turned to her, smiling that faint, beautiful smile of his that she’s so familiar with.

“I’m sorry I left the room. I had an online meeting to attend and I didn’t want to wake you up.” he explained. Lyra paused. He was apologizing to her? She was the one who owed him an apology.

Without a word, Lyra walked over to him and sat on his lap. He was surprised, but only slightly. Lyra usually liked to sit on his lap while he did work.

Turning around to make herself comfortable, Lyra rested her head on his shoulder while her legs were halfway tucked on his lap. Grayson smiled softly again, placing a hand on her thigh while the other was on his laptop. Still, his eyes were on her.

“Are you feeling better sweetheart?” he asked her, his voice gentle. Lyra nodded, and the guilt she felt then from his concern was tremendous.

“I’m sorry.” she said. Grayson raised a brow as his expressions grew curious and concerned.

“What for?” he asked her. Lyra bit her lip.

“For trying to avoid your help all day. I was acting stubbornly but I was too sick and stupid to realize.” Lyra admitted, looking away. Grayson froze, before taking her head in his hands.

“Don’t say that. Don’t say anything like that. You weren’t at all stupid, Lyra.” he told her, his eyes deep with emotion and oh so beautiful as he gazed into hers. “I know you can be stubborn. And every stubborn act of yours makes me love you more and more.” Lyra snorted, pulling her gaze away.

“Okay, I know you love me, but you don’t have to lie.” she said, humour tinging her expressions. Grayson’s, on the other hand, were dead serious.

“I’m not lying, Lyra. I love how stubborn you are because I love the fact that you are so set on your goals, and on your choices. You’re strong and determined, Lyra, and that comes with your stubbornness today.” he told her, resting his forehead on yours. “I wish I had even half as much of your perseverance. I always will.” Lyra couldn’t stop her smile from coming. He always saw her better than she saw himself.

“Grayson…” Was all Lyra said and all she could say before pressing a soft, gentle kiss onto his lips. Then she sprung back, groaning.

“Shit, sorry Grayson, I forgot I was sick-“ Lyra said, before she was cut off by Grayson pressing his lips to hers and giving her a deep and passionate kiss. Lyra returned it, and the two continued the kiss, pressing and pulling before finally separating. Grayson smiled at her.

“I would get sick a million times over if it meant being able to kiss you.” He told her softly. Lyra smiled sheepishly.

“I wouldn’t say that if I were you. This sickness was terrible enough as it is. Having it a million times more would be hell.” Lyra said, sighing. Grayson’s smile widened slightly, and he moved her off his lap to one of his thighs, both his hands firmly gripping her waist. Lyra’s cheeks reddened slightly.

“Ah, so now you admit you were sick?” Grayson teased, cockiness clear in his voice. Lyra rolled her eyes, and was about to respond when a notification suddenly went off on Grayson’s laptop. Lyra turned her head and saw an email pop up. He made an irritated noise in the base of his throat, but Lyra only laughed.

“Okay, I guess I should be letting you work now after you took care of me the whole day.” Lyra said. She was just getting up when Grayson pulled her back down on his thigh, his grip on her waist still firm.

“I thought you said there was another way of convincing me to let you get up?” Grayson reminded her. “A way that involved… something from our closet?”

His voice was deep, and, at the moment, a bit hoarse. Grayson also had a teasing look on his face with eyes that were currently thunder cloud dark. Lyra didn’t even know why, as her mind drew a blank.

Then, shock and a burning feeling spread across her features.

And Grayson’s eyes, that were staring much more now, darkened further.

————————————————————————

GRAYSON YA LITTLE FREAK

hope u guys enjoyed this!! it was fun to write ESP lyras innuendos hehe those were funny

[penkura]

First Mother's Day

Note: I decided to do a special post in what is now my OP Men as Dads series, and do a Mother's Day headcanon/blurb post. I understand this day can be rough for some, but I hope that whether you celebrate or not, whether your mom is in your life or not, that you have a lovely day otherwise and if this isn't your cup of tea, I hope there's something else that can entertain you today. <3

If you'd like my thoughts on other OP men as dads (Shanks, Kid, Usopp, etc.), please just ask and I'll give an answer! I'll include Luffy in this despite my viewing him as a son or brother, but it probably won't be x Reader based. Requests are being worked on as well.

I am using baby Ace image to break up this and the actual content from now on lol. He's just so cute. 🥺

Ace is going to go all out for your first Mother’s Day. He’s buying flowers, candies, and cards, all from him and your daughter. Even if you tell him you don’t want anything except a quiet day at home with the two of them, he’s buying you gifts.

He’ll likely buy you a bracelet with your daughter’s name on it, or maybe a charm bracelet with her birthstone, so you can add any more in the future if/when you have more children. Ace will try to make you breakfast in bed, but he ends up burning the bacon to the point your smoke alarm goes off, and you have to open all the windows to air out the house the rest of the day (at least it’s a nice day out). He orders out breakfast from a nearby diner to make sure you have something that morning, he’ll even try to take your daughter out for a walk or to Luffy and Sabo’s place for the day to give you a break, but you insist on going along.

“You should have the day off though!”

“Ace, I don’t want a day off. Rogue is only three month’s old, and I’d much rather spend the day with you and her than alone. That’s not a fun Mother’s Day to me.”

The three of you end up at Luffy and Sabo’s place, the two uncles absolutely adoring their niece as she coos and lets them hold her without any crying or fussing. When you get home later that night, Ace watches you get Rogue ready for bed. He knew from the start that you would be a great mother, and sometimes, he just wishes his own mother was around to see it, and to meet her granddaughter.

~~

Law has a plan that gets thrown off when your son decides to be born a week earlier than expected, on Mother’s Day itself. He still tries to do something for you, even though the original plan of taking you out for brunch and giving you a quiet day at home while you waited for your baby to be born was now out the window. He should’ve known, ever since he met Luffy all his plans go haywire at some point. At least it led to you two meeting eventually.

Once you’ve gone to sleep and your son Rosi is in the nursery at the hospital, Law slips out to quickly put something together. He has a gift for you, a mother’s ring that will fit into your wedding band, he just needs flowers, or chocolate, or something to add to it. He doesn’t really like to be cliché, but he ends up with flowers, at least they’re something pretty you can have in your hospital room and when you’re released to take your baby boy home.

The girl in the hospital gift shops tells him he looks happy, even if Law doesn’t really show it. She swears it’s just something in the way he speaks while he asks her to pull together a small bouquet for you. He is happy, beyond that actually, knowing you two have a son, you both are healthy and safe. He has a family again, his very own. The flowers and ring aren’t enough to convey his gratitude to you for giving him a family to call his own, but it’s a start. There will be plenty more times for him to do so in the future.

When Law gets back to your room, you’re awake again and in the middle of nursing your son, a nurse helping you when you need it. She notices the flowers he’s brought and leaves you both with a smile, saying she’ll come back in a few minutes.

“Where’d you get off to?”

“Had to get something,” Law comes over and presses a kiss to your forehead, giving you a smile, “Happy Mother’s Day.”

~~

Penguin has thought of what to do every day since your daughter Wren was born. He’s come up with multiple ways to celebrate your first Mother’s Day, but nothing seems just right to him. He’s thought of brunch, breakfast in bed, giving you a day out with your friends while he watches your daughter, or even a weekend trip away, leaving your baby with her grandparents, but nothing works out. Restaurants and diners he calls are all booked up already, you hate eating in bed because of crumbs, your friends all had plans either with their own mothers or their spouses and kids, and your own parents were out of town for the next two weeks.

He ends up with no real plans for the day and feels terrible about it as it approaches. Its going to be another normal Sunday for the three of you, he hates the idea of that because it’s your first Mother’s Day, it should be special, shouldn’t it?

When the day finally comes around, Penguin is up first, hearing Wren’s little babbles through the baby monitor, and going to pick her up. At nine-months-old she’s figured out how to stand up on her own, still no steps being taken by herself, but when she sees Penguin enter the nursery, she grins and starts bouncing up and down, holding the rail of her crib and shouting “da” over and over. It makes Penguin smile as he picks her up, kissing her chubby cheek which makes her squeal.

“Good morning, Wren! Let’s keep quiet, mommy’s still asleep, okay?”

“Da!”

He laughs a bit, lifting her up over his head to make her giggle again, as she reaches her little hands towards his face.

“You know…a great gift would be for you to say ‘mama’ for the first time, yeah?”

“Ma?”

“Yeah, you’re close! Now, just say ‘mama’.”

Wren sticks her tongue out while she tries to speak, Penguin helping her along for several minutes until she finally says something close to ‘mama’.

“Mm…ma.”

Penguin sighs a bit, but nods as he brings Wren down and kisses her cheek again, making her giggle as she wraps her arms around his neck.

“You two sure have been having fun.”

Both look to you in the doorway, no shortage of smiles among the three of you, as Wren lights up and starts to reach for you, trying to say she wants you to hold her. You both take just a moment too long to get her to you, and it makes her fuss and kick her legs a bit.

“Ma…ma!”

You didn’t even get her in your arms, you and Penguin both freezing in place for a moment while Wren continues to fuss and whine, almost in tears since you haven’t held her yet.

“Mama!”

“I—”

“Her first word!!” You quickly take Wren from Penguin and hug her close, kissing her cheeks and forehead telling her how proud you are of your little girl. “This is the best Mother’s Day gift!”

At least that worked out, even if he didn’t have a plan in mind.

~~

Sanji wouldn’t have waited nearly a year to celebrate you as a mother if you hadn’t forced him to. With fraternal twins to now take care of and raise, you’ve both been through bouts of exhaustion and elation over the two babies you brought into the world. Sora and Angel, your precious blessings, were nearly a year old, and you’d already started planning a birthday party for them, completely ignoring the fact Mother’s Day was a few weeks prior to their turning one-year-old.

Sanji didn’t forget, he had a plan, one that included your twins scribbling away to make cards for you, though he didn’t expect the two to be so fussy about it and mark each other up more than the papers. He learned very quickly to not give babies or toddlers markers, unless they were washable. You still don’t fully realize how Sora ended up with a bright green mark over his right eye and Angel had a hot pink line down her left arm.

The rest was simple, breakfast in bed, made by your professional chef husband of course, and whatever else you wanted for the rest of the day. If you want to lay in bed and watch TV without interruption, he’d put your twins in the stroller and take them to the park. If you wanted to turn your phone off and sleep the day away, he’d take over and leave you alone until you needed anything. Whatever you want, it’s a day to celebrate you as the mother of his children, he wasn’t going to deny you anything.

But when you do tell him what you want, after finishing off breakfast, Sanji’s a bit surprised.

“Are you…sure?”

“Mm-hm,” you nod and try to keep Sora from grabbing the butter knife on the tray, making him whine while Angel slept in Sanji’s arms, “I want to spend the day with the three of you.”

“You…do that every day though, my love.”

“So?” smiling, you kiss the top of Sora’s head and watch Angel as she starts to stir awake, rubbing her eyes with her tiny hands, “You guys are my family. I hate the idea of not being with the three of you today, so I’d rather just spend it like we always do.”

Sanji nods a bit, seeming to understand, greeting Angel when she wakes up fully with a kiss to the forehead. It makes you happy to watch him with both your children, but especially your daughter. How could he ever think you’d want to spend the day alone? Not when you had these two blessings as your children and Sanji as your husband.

“We could still take these two to the park later, maybe burn off some energy so they nap at a decent time.”

“Of course! Whatever you want, my love.”

~~

Zoro doesn’t even fully realize that its Mother’s Day until Nami says something to him. The past few weeks with your son have been exhausting for both of you, but he can’t believe he forgot that this was a thing. He has nothing planned and isn’t sure what to do. He’s running out of time, it’s literally just a few hours away before Nami offers to take you out for the day wherever the Sunny docks in the morning. Zoro will stay with your son on the ship, and you’ll get a day off from being a mom and wife, the two think it’s the best thing to give you on such short notice, though Nami does up the interest on his debt again for this.

You don’t even get to say good morning to your husband or son before Nami has dragged you off to whatever she has planned, its really just a normal girl’s day out with shopping and lunch. Most of what you buy isn’t even for you, it’s baby items that you need or clothes you think are adorable. It just ended up making you miss your son more as the day went on.

When you do get back to the ship, your son is wailing and no one has been able to calm him down, not even Zoro while he tries his hardest and lightly bounces your baby as he shushes him gently. As soon as you drop your bags you’re taking him from your husband and holding him close to calm him down.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, mommy’s here, Keitaro. I’m back.”

He slowly calms down once he realizes its you, burying his little face in your shoulder and keeping a tight grip on your shirt. When you ask Zoro what the deal was with Nami dragging you off the ship so early, before you even had the chance to hold Keitaro that day, he explains the situation and it just makes you tilt your head.

“…it’s Mother’s Day?”

You hadn’t even realized it. That just makes Zoro feel bad that it caused your son such distress, and he and Nami both apologize for not talking to you about it beforehand. They both assumed the other had discussed it with you. You didn’t really care to celebrate, all that mattered was being with your husband and son, the rest of your day spent with just the two of them.

Note 2: Out here dropping names like I didn't say I'd make a post about that at some point lol. So, the firstborns in order of character are Portgas D. Rogue, Trafalgar D. Rosinante (called Rosi cause it's too damn cute), Wren, Sora and Angel, and Roronoa Keitaro.

[reverie-starlight]

{tell me a story - atsumu}

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. I’ve been having a rough time lately and was craving some comfort, so I figured I’d finish this draft I started a couple months ago. fluff, comfort, reader is in university, this hasn’t been thoroughly edited, that’s it <3

atsumu knows you haven’t been sleeping well this week.

he’s noticed your constant yawning in the mornings when you’re getting ready in the bathroom together, he’s seen the way you fight to stay awake in the car before he drops you off at your university’s campus. he’s seen the way you struggle to perform some simple tasks in your usual timeframe, as if your mind is completely fogged over.

you’re tired. exhausted, actually, and atsumu is determined to help you.

he knows when something’s up- he’s been with you for years and lived with you for about half of that time. he knows that your sleep cycle gets a bit screwed over when you can’t stop the thoughts long enough for any sleep you DO manage to get to be restful.

he doesn’t push it at first, hoping this time around he’s flat out wrong and it isn’t more than a lump in the mattress or that you’re just too warm at night- those are things he could fix for you without a sweat (pun intended and he pats himself on the back despite its mediocrity, but hey, he’s an athlete, not a comedian). truthfully nothing would be difficult for him to fix as long as you’re the person he’s making things better for.

but when it becomes clear to him that his initial assessment is correct, he knows what he needs to do.

you never tell him when you’re struggling to sleep, a bad habit he’s tried to get you out of, but he guesses that at this point you don’t have to tell him, anyway.

so when it looks like you’re getting ready for another late night, he leans in the doorway and stares at you with crossed arms.

you sigh, not looking up from your computer. “I’m okay, atsumu. go to bed, I’ll be there soon.”

he doesn’t move from his spot and you groan, tilting your head back against the sofa. “you’re not going to move unless I go with you, is that right?”

“you’re so smart, baby.”

he watches you melt a little, fighting back a smile and it does ease his mind a bit, knowing that you’re not yet immune to him.

finally you give in and shut your laptop, rolling your shoulders back.

once he gets you into bed, he doesn’t immediately close his eyes to go to sleep and you raise an eyebrow questioningly, wide awake.

“get comfortable, baby.”

you shuffle a bit further under the covers, and shrug. “okay, now what?”

“want me to read you a bedtime story?” he’s joking, honestly a little surprised he even got this far, but when you don’t immediately move to swipe at his shoulder, he looks at you.

you’re not meeting his gaze, but rather looking at his chest and picking some fluff off his sleep shirt. “that bad, huh?”

you pout a little. “I can’t turn my brain off.”

he sighs and pulls you closer to him. “it’s okay, baby, I’m here. what can I do for ya?”

you nuzzle into his chest and his arms tighten around your body. “can I take you up on your bedtime story offer? your voice is soothing… maybe it’ll help to focus on something other than my inner one.”

he nods and rests his cheek against your head as he thinks. “hmm, an actual story, or do ya just want me to talk?”

“story,” you decide, somewhat shyly. he smiles a bit and kisses your forehead.

“ya don’t need to be embarrassed, it’s alright,” he says, and he means it.

“it just feels a bit… juvenile,” you admit.

he shakes his head. “but it’s okay to want that sometimes, baby. yer not gonna get any shit from me about it.”

this seems to comfort you a bit and you nod, allowing yourself to relax your muscles a bit so you’re not as stiff.

he takes a moment to think about what story he could tell you, and decides on a fantasy retelling of how you met, and when he started to fall in love with you, starring you as the monarch and him as your loyal servant.

while he talks, he rubs up and down your back ever so slowly in an attempt to calm you down more.

the longer he talks, the heavier your eyelids feel. the soothing tone of his voice coupled with his steady heartbeat lull you into finally feeling that sense of security and sleepiness you haven’t been able to reach in a while.

he trails off once he notices you’re asleep and stays up a bit longer to make sure you don’t become restless again.

he smiles at the feeling of your breath against his neck and settles his head against his pillow, allowing sleep to pull him under as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

should we keep track of how many fics of mine end with the characters falling asleep??

hope you enjoyed!!