#(but i feel like leaning too far into that cuts room for everything else)

[sorceresssundries]

A Study of Hands

Pairing: Emmrich x Female Rook

Tags: Oral Sex, masturbation, Porn with Feelings, Emmrich Volkarin being a soft dom.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: First Veilguard fic and it's smut. I am nothing if not predictable. Anyway, I had a vision of Emmrich very slowly taking off all that slutty jewellery he wears and then this happened.

Bon appetit!!! <3

Another battle done, another day survived. More bruises to body and ego. Things had not gone as planned - they so rarely did these days. But Rook was still alive, and so was the team. So was Emmrich.

She had retreated to her quarters to breathe, to let the steady, reliable rhythm of her lungs remind her she was here, still standing. Her love, as usual, wasn’t far behind her. 

His breathing was not as steady as hers. 

“You almost died,” he said, his voice tight as he crossed the room. Without hesitation, he reached for her, his elegant fingers brushing along her jaw, trailing softly across her cheekbone, where a bruise was just beginning to bloom into full colour.

She winced at the contact, and he immediately began to pull his hand away. She stopped him, covering his hand with hers, holding it in place. She needed to feel his touch, even if it hurt. 

“But I didn’t”, She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, pretending for a moment that they weren’t in the Fade, weren’t in someone else’s domain. That they were somewhere real, somewhere with day and night and time and a heartbeat. Maker, she thought, i’d give anything for more time. 

“I’m pretty tough,” she added, opening her eyes and smirking at him, trying for a lightness that didn’t quite escape the shadows. “It will take more than merely two unkillable Gods and a few hundred...”

Her teasing faltered as his lips crashed into hers, cutting her words short. His hand slid from her cheek to cradle the back of her head, holding her to him as though she might vanish if he let go. 

Too soon, he pulled back, his lips leaving hers as abruptly as they’d claimed them. The fire simmered and waited. He looked at her, his breathing ragged, and in his eyes, she saw everything he didn’t say - the fear, the need, the relief.

“I… My apologies,” he said, his voice uneven as he stepped back, running a glittering, ring-adorned hand through his hair. “I lost the run of myself. Adrenaline has… certain effects on the body, and I am only flesh and blood, after all. And you…”

“Emmrich,” she interrupted, her voice sharper than she intended. “If you start with your gallantry, I swear I’ll crack the spine of every book you own.”

That drew a quiet, warm laugh from him, and the tension in his posture eased just slightly. He rubbed the back of his neck, a crooked, sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

His gaze flicked over her, lingering on the bruises that mocked him with their shameless display of her mortality. He was always so eloquent, so dexterous and purposeful with his words, but they had all abandoned him now. He couldn’t think of how to express the depth of his feelings; perhaps there were no words for it, or perhaps they had been stolen along with his heart.

Finally, he made a weak attempt, “Darling, I cannot watch you almost slip away again.”

“I didn’t slip away. I’m right here.” She stepped closer, placing a hand over his chest, feeling the wild thrum of his heart beneath the layers of fine fabric. “And so are you.”

Before she realised it, her back hit the wall, her smaller body bracketed by his. His hand left her hair, trailing down to cup her jaw, his thumb brushing the edge of her bruised cheek like an apology. She felt the tremor in his touch, the barely restrained hunger in the way his lips trailed from her mouth to her jaw, down to the curve of her neck. His breath was hot against her skin, and her knees almost buckled when he nipped lightly at the sensitive spot just below her ear.

“Emmrich,” she managed to breathe, her voice shaky. He hummed softly at the sound of his name on her lips, his fingers splayed against the small of her back.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured against her throat, his voice dark velvet. His lips were back on hers, swallowing whatever words she might have said. Her hands slid up to his hair,  and the low, rumbling sound he made at the sensation sent sparks dancing across her skin.

She had lost sight of him earlier, during the battle. She thought she had lost him completely. 

A brief silence settled between them, not awkward, but heavy with the unspoken. Their combined breaths mingled in the narrow space left between their bodies. His eyes searched hers. 

“Is everything all right?” He pulled back, his hand still cupping her face. “We can stop here, if that’s what you want,” he murmured, his voice and eyes kind. 

She shook her head, her fingers tightening in his hair. “Don’t stop,” she whispered. 

He leant in slowly, giving her every opportunity to change her mind. But her mind was as steeled and immovable as her newly-given heart. 

Emmrich’s hands moved with care, sliding from Rook’s face down to her hips. Without breaking the kiss, he guided her gently, his touch featherlight, until the backs of her knees met the edge of the sofa. His lips parted from hers just long enough to whisper, “Lie back for me, my love.”

She obeyed, her breath shallow, her body alight beneath his gaze. Emmrich undressed her slowly, reverently, as though she were a gift so desired, so deeply hoped for, that to rush would dishonour the moment. Each button of her blouse came undone with measured precision, his hands never faltering.

When he pushed the fabric from her shoulders his breath caught, his lips parting slightly as though the sight of her had stolen the air from his very lungs.

“Beautiful”, he said as he took in her soft and scar-flecked skin in the pulsing blue light of the aquarium, making the marks and lines of her body dance like an aurora across a midnight sky. 

His hands came to rest on her waist as he knelt above her, his fingers flexing around her sides, thumbs brushing her abdomen. She arched under his touch, her back bowing instinctively, and a shiver passed through her at the cool press of his rings and bangles against the heat of her sensitised skin. Leaning forward, he pressed a long, devoted kiss to the space between her bare breasts, lingering there as though offering a silent prayer. Then, without a word, he let her go and stepped away.

Rook’s eyes snapped open, her breath hitching as the loss of his warmth sent panic flooding through her. She sat up, her mind racing. Had she done something wrong? Too much? Not enough?

Her fears were met with the sound of his soft, rich chuckle - intoxicating as aged brandy. Standing by the small bowl on her dressing table, Emmrich lifted his eyes to hers, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Apologies, darling,” he said, his tone smooth, “Let me strip off these trappings. I wish to touch you properly, without jangling like a jailor.”

Rook’s eyes followed his every move, unblinking, as he turned his attention to the task. He moved with his usual grace, deliberate and unhurried, his hands steady as he slid the first bangle free from his wrist. The metallic sound of it landing in the bowl—clink— echoed in the stillness, resonating in her chest and low in her stomach.

He worked at the clasp of the next bracelet with calm precision, maddeningly slow, every motion purposeful. The deliberate pace of it - the care, the sensuality - had her chest rising and falling rapidly, her breaths uneven.

She couldn’t look away. Those hands, so elegant, so recently mapping the curves of her body, now moved as though performing a sacred ritual. Every flick of his fingers, every twist of metal, felt deliberate, charged, and she could feel her composure coming apart with the golden clasps.

Another bracelet fell into the bowl. Clink.

Heat pooled in her abdomen, spreading across her skin as her thighs pressed together involuntarily. She was burning, the tension inside her coiling tighter with every piece he removed. Emmrich paused, glancing up at her.

“Growing impatient, are we?” he teased, the crooked grin on his lips devastating.

Rook shook her head steadily, though her voice betrayed her. “Not at all,” she managed, her breath uneven. “Please, take your time. I’m very much enjoying watching you.”

His head tilted slightly, a subtle, feline movement, his expression one of curiosity.

“Fascinating,” he murmured thoughtfully. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen this particular reaction before. You’re practically breathless, my dear.”

He was hesitant to touch her, to put his desires into practice without first understanding the intricate theory of her. Emmrich was a scholar at heart, an academic by nature, and he could never bring himself to handle something so intricate, so breathtakingly delicate, without first understanding its every nuance. She was a symphony waiting to be composed, a masterpiece to be studied in exquisite detail. He wanted to get this right. No, not just right. Perfect. 

He would require a demonstration. 

Her half-lidded gaze and the flush blooming across her skin captivated him as he methodically worked another ring from his fingers. Every one of his movements was deliberate, each moment stretched and savoured.

“I’m going to take all of these off,” he stated, his voice low and steady, “slowly. And then, my darling, I’m going to touch you.”

Clink.

As soon as his ring hit the dish she gave a soft, uncontrolled moan, her lips parting, the sound like magic newly discovered. His jaw tightened, but he held his composure, his hands still moving with practiced control.

“But first,” he continued, the silken patience of his voice wrapping around her, “I would very much like you to touch yourself.”

Clink. Another ring in the dish. 

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t waver. Her hands trembled slightly as they moved to obey. She let out a shaky exhale as her fingers dipped lower, brushing through the curls between her thighs and finally to the place where her body burned with need. Where she had touched herself before, in secret moments spent imagining him speaking to her like this, watching her like this.

“You’re doing beautifully” he murmured, his molten voice guiding her forward. 

His fingers found the last ring on his thumb, twisting it slowly before slipping it free and added it to the bowl with the others.

Clink.

Her fingers moved delicately at first, trying to pace herself, basking in the delight and eroticism of watching him unadorn his beautiful scholar's hands. She wanted him to touch her, so desperately, but she also wanted him to see her like this and know it was all for him. She wanted more than just sex, she wanted every intimacy. She wanted him to know, without doubt or question, that he was worthy of being wanted. That she wanted him now, as she always would. 

As her fingers slowly caressed herself she gasped and tilted her head back, she was hurtling far too quickly towards rapture. 

“Don’t stop looking at me, darling.” Emmrich said, as he worked another cuff off his wrist. He was finding it more and more difficult to keep steady, his fingers stumbling a little over some of the clasps, so focused was he on watching what she was doing, how she was touching herself. 

Clink.

She was slow, delicate, moving in featherlight circles. Occasionally stopping to dip the tips of her fingers inside herself, even from here he could see, he could tell how slick she was. He studied her rhythm and pressure as he continued to delight in the vision of her. 

Just a couple more bangles, and he would be free to touch her, to rest the pads of his fingers upon each dip and swerve of her body. 

"Tell me, what does it feel like when you touch yourself like this? What goes through your mind?” He wasn’t commanding, he was curious. Yes, his voice was deeper than usual and slow like thick honey - but he wasn’t trying to take charge of her, he was trying to learn from her. 

“You,” she confessed, bold now, her blush forgotten as her gaze locked with his. “It’s you. And it feels…” Her words broke off with a gasp, her hips rising to meet the rhythm of her own fingers, and his composure wavered. He fought the urge to grasp her by the ankles and pull her to him, his restraint hanging by a thread. He was slipping, and they both knew it.

“More, dearest,” he coaxed, his voice hoarse but steady. “I need more than that. Specifics, if you please.”

She exhaled sharply, the challenge in his words igniting something reckless in her. Fine, she thought. No more teasing. If he wanted the details, she’d give them to him—and let him act on every single one.

“Your hands,” she began, her gaze dropping to them. She groaned softly, watching as he stripped the cuff from his wrist, his fingers deft and deliberate. She wanted to grab those wrists, pull his hands to her body. She wanted those fingers in her mouth, on her skin, inside her.  “Those fingers… I think of them. Everywhere.”

His breath hitched, his composure cracking as her words painted vivid images in his mind. Images he had also lost himself to in his solitude. His mouth went dry. She wasn’t done. 

“Your mouth,” she continued, her voice low and sultry now, “your tongue… On me…”

“Where?”

Her answer was a moan first, then words. “On my cunt.”

She tried to continue, her lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. Instead, she let her hand move faster, her breathing turning into soft gasps, and Emmrich felt his control unravelling. His heart pounded in his chest, his hands tightening into fists as he fought the urge to abandon his methodical restraint and close the distance between them.

For all his careful planning, for all his scholarly precision, he knew one thing with absolute certainty: he had never desired anything, anyone, as much as he desired her.

“Emmrich, please.” 

That’s all he needed, he would never deny her. The last of his cuffs slid off his wrist in quick succession, and he finally made his way over to her. To kiss her. To capture her moans and sighs and taste the sweetness of them. He cradled her face, he would touch her like this first. Like he had waited a lifetime just to feel her lips upon his. 

“You are perfect.” He said gently, “You did so well, my love”

She hummed softly, a sound of pure contentment, as he lifted the hand she had used to pleasure herself. Slowly, he brought her fingers to his mouth, his gaze never leaving hers. He took them in deeply, his tongue swirling around them with deliberate reverence, humming like a starved man savouring the first taste of a feast. His teeth grazed her fingers gently before releasing them.

“May I take over from here?” he asked.

She laughed lightly at the politeness of his request, as though she had not just begged him, as though she had not been fucking him with her eyes and her words and stroking herself to almost-completion at the very idea of his hands upon her. He was a romantic, a gentleman through and through, and she adored him for it. She played along, because she knew this mattered to him - that this wasn’t just about passion, but about care.

"You may, but I would like to study you a little first" she lilted, taking his hand in hers. His hands, now bare - free of rings and cuffs - were beautiful: lithe, strong, and elegant. They were hands made for conjuring magic, for turning the pages of ancient tomes. Hands made to touch her. 

She brought his fingers to her lips, pressing soft, deliberate kisses to the places where his rings had rested. One by one, she kissed each faint indentation, reverent of every spot where the weight of his adornments had marked him. Her lips trailed to the delicate veins at his wrist, where she lingered, savouring the thrum and rush of his pulse beneath her mouth.

It was her turn to undress him. He looked achingly beautiful in his loosely buttoned shirt tucked carelessly into his slacks—so different from the polished, formal attire he typically favoured. His hair, usually immaculate, was slightly tousled, a stray strand dancing across his brow. His shirt was rumpled from her wandering hands.

Rook’s shaky fingers undid the buttons of his shirt, until he stood bare from the waist up in front of her. She drank him in, pale and lithe, like a sculpture carved from marble and brought to life. His slacks hung low on his hips, drawing her gaze to the sharp, defined V that disappeared below the fabric. The sight of him made her breath hitch, and she couldn’t resist leaning forward to press her lips to the planes of his stomach.

The sound he made - low, raw, unrestrained - was a revelation she had never heard from him before. It was nothing like the measured, gentlemanly demeanour he always carried. She felt a surge of smug satisfaction that she could unravel him, piece by piece, with just the brush of her lips.

Her kisses trailed lower, her mouth finding the soft, sensitive skin just above the waistband of his trousers. She pressed her lips there, featherlight. His thumb brushed tenderly against her cheek, his fingers combing gently through her hair,

“You do not have to…” 

She didn’t wait to hear the rest of his polite protest. She was done with his control, his formality, his carefully composed demeanour. Those were the parts of him she cherished, but tonight, she wanted them undone - wanted him undone, entirely by her hand.

Her lips curved into a triumphant smile against his skin as she eased his slacks lower, freeing him. The sharp hiss of his breath and the way his body tensed beneath her touch were all the confirmation she needed. His head fell back, his composure shattering as a single word escaped him, raw and unrestrained.

“Maker.”

The sound of it, desperate and wrecked, sent a wave of pure exhilaration through her.

She let her kisses trail from his stomach to his length, her tongue tasting him, savouring the heat and the way his breath hitched with every movement. Slowly, deliberately, she used her mouth to drive him further from that refined man she adored, coaxing him into a state of pure, unfiltered need. And as his hands tightened in her hair, his low, broken moans filling the space around them, she knew she was succeeding.

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching as her lips moved over his skin. She smiled against him, revelling in how this slow worship left him helpless, and as she took him as far back as she could and hummed with pleasure, he gasped and bucked and she knew he was close. 

But just as he teetered on the edge, he pulled her upright, his strength effortless as he brought her face to his. 

“Not yet.” 

He didn’t want to finish yet, he wished to prolong the exquisite and wholly perfect feeling of being this desperate and priapic for her. Most importantly, he wanted to witness the crest of her pleasure before his own. 

After one final kiss to the fullness of her lips, he knelt before her. An acolyte at his altar, a scholar at his tome, and when she gasped his name as he pressed his lips to her core, he decided he would never hear it said so perfectly again. 

The taste of her was an elixir, a rejuvenation, a nectar that the Gods themselves would bottle and lock away if they knew the glory of it. Sharp and deep and singular, he mimicked the movements he had watched her demonstrate, keeping the strokes of his tongue light and focused where she needed, occasionally dipping his tongue inside her, gathering more of her taste on his tongue, savouring her like an Nevarran vintage. 

Rook was shaking, breathless at his worship. At the lap and hum of him against her. Her hands reached for him greedily, her fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer as she whimpered his name again, her voice breaking on the syllables. Her hips lifted instinctively toward him, seeking more of the pleasure he so skillfully offered.

“Exquisite” he breathed against her, his lips brushing her skin, the timbre of his voice vibrating through her, “I could stay here forever, my love.”

The words sent a new wave of heat flooding through her, and she felt herself teetering dangerously close to the edge. Her breath hitched, her body tightening as the tension inside her coiled impossibly tight.

“It won’t take forever” she gasped, and his low chuckle against her sensitive nerves made her back bow. 

He didn’t falter. His focus was unwavering, attuned to every sound she made, every shift and quiver of her body. He listened intently, learning her as if she were a concertino, each moan, gasp, and tremor guiding him. Her cries grew louder, her breaths shorter, and the trembling in her legs turned to uncontrollable quaking. Ever the rigorous study, he allowed himself a brief, smug satisfaction in his success—but his hunger for perfection remained insatiable. There was always more to learn, more to explore, and he intended to make this particular discipline a daily, devoted pursuit.

When she finally shattered beneath him, it was with a cry of his name, her voice raw and filled with abandon. He held her through it, his hands steady on her thighs, caressing her even as she came undone. His lips and tongue coaxed out every last shiver and aftershock, prolonging her ecstasy until she collapsed back onto the bed, utterly spent—boneless, breathless, and radiant.

Only then did he pull away, his chest rising and falling heavily as he watched her, his lips shining with evidence of his devotion. He looked at her as though she were the centre of his universe. 

“You are extraordinary,” He leaned forward to press a soft, lingering kiss to her inner thigh. Then, with the same care he had shown her throughout, he moved to join her on the sofa wrapping his arms around her trembling form, pulling her against him. His hands, steady and warm, cradled her as though she might break under anything less than absolute gentleness. “And I would do this again, and again, and again, just to grant you a single moment of peace and pleasure.”

"Believe me, it was much more than just a moment." Her voice sounded unfamiliar to her own ears, softened by a serenity she hadn’t felt in as long as she could remember.

He held her tighter, burying his face against her hair. He refused to let his fears seep out and blight the perfection of this night. How many moments like this would they have? The question loomed and sneered at him, but he banished it, focusing instead on the warmth of her in his arms.

They spent the night in blissful discovery - talking, laughing, teasing, and drifting between bouts of comfortable snoozing and slow, tender lovemaking. Time stretched and sighed around them, and Emmrich’s laughter was unguarded as he teased her about her stubbornness. She would fire back, calling out his incurable weakness for romance, and inevitably their banter dissolved into playful kisses that deepened and slowed into seduction.

When exhaustion finally stole them into slumber, their bodies remained entwined, her head resting on his chest while his fingers combed idly through her hair. But sleep was fleeting; neither could hold still for long. Time and again, they would wake, their gazes and mouths meeting in the dim light. Without a word, they came together, hungry and hot, not wanting to waste any time when there was no sun or moon to guide them. 

As she lay asleep in his arms, peaceful and radiant in the bloom of dreamlight, Emmrich watched her, still not quite believing his privilege. She was the glow in the lighthouse in a land without seas, where no storms raged and no darkness fell. She was his anchor in an unmoored place.

If death had ever scared him before, it terrified him now. The thought of her being pulled into it without him, of existing in some plane where he was not, was an agony he could not endure. 

He held her a little tighter, and eventually followed her into sleep, slipping into an uncertain tomorrow where he vowed he would not lose sight of her again. 

[sinsirellaxx]

Slytherin Boys – They Hurt Your Feelings

Warning: Toxic!boys, not proofread, cheating, etc.

Enjoy!

Mattheo …

… watches you with disinterest as your eyes grow wet with unshed tears. He’d just told you that he simply forgot about your birthday and had spent the whole day with some random female students.

… shrugs his shoulders when you ask him whether he is being serious. “It’s not that big of a deal – I simply forgot.”

… groans when you start pointing out all the times he stood you up and neglected you for the sake of being with other people. “Please – not this again.”

… plays the “If I’m really such a bad boyfriend then leave”-card.

… will smirk if you decide not to leave.

… will quickly get up from his bed if you actually turn around and slam the door behind you as you rush out of his stinky teenage dorm.

Theodore …

… sits on the edge of his bed, completely unfazed when you confront him about the girl you saw him kissing. “You’re overreacting. It didn’t mean anything.”

… doesn’t try to explain himself, running a hand through his hair as if the conversation is exhausting him. “Merlin, can’t you just drop it already?”

… scoffs when your voice cracks, and tears spill down your cheeks. He is obviously annoyed by your display of emotions, “Honestly, this is pathetic. Do you have to cry about everything?”

… rolls his eyes when you demand answers. “You weren’t exactly keeping me entertained. What did you think was going to happen?”

… doesn’t even try to stop you as you storm out of his dorm, muttering under his breath about how dramatic you are.

Lorenzo …

… lets out a mocking laugh when you trip over your words in front of his friends, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Did you seriously just say that?” he sneers.

… dismisses your protests when you pull him aside after the incident. “Oh, come on, it was just a joke. Don’t be so sensitive.”

… refuses to acknowledge the hurt in your eyes as you try to explain how humiliated you felt. “If you can’t take a little teasing, that’s on you.”

… crosses his arms when you demand an apology, shaking his head. “No one else would’ve made such a big deal about this. Maybe grow a thicker skin.”

… rolls his eyes when you walk away, but for a fleeting second, guilt flickers in his eyes before he brushes it off.

Draco …

… sneers at you in front of a crowd after you tried to share your opinion during a heated debate. “Why don’t you leave the thinking to people who actually know what they’re talking about?”

… watches your face fall as you try to defend yourself, a cruel smirk playing on his face. “You’re embarrassing yourself, you half-blood.”

… doesn’t care about the tears in your eyes, cutting you off with a wave of his hand. “Oh, don’t start crying now. You’re acting like a child.”

… shrugs his shoulders when you call him an ass before storming off.

… feels the slightest pang of regret later, but he buries it deep down, convincing himself you were overreacting.

Blaise …

… snaps during an argument, his voice icy and sharp. “You’re so goddamn needy all the time. Do you ever stop to think about anyone but yourself?”

… watches as your eyes widen, but instead of softening, he doubles down. “Oh, now you’re crying? Of course, you are. That’s your solution for everything, isn’t it?”

… crosses his arms and leans back, clearly unimpressed by your attempt to defend yourself. “You always have to play the victim, don’t you?”

… rolls his eyes when you try to leave the room, grabbing your wrist. “Don’t walk away from me. We’re not done here.”

… later sits alone, the weight of his words sinking in, but his pride won’t let him admit he went too far.

Tom …

… grips your wrist too tightly during an argument, his voice low and venomous. “You will not walk away from me while I’m talking.” You had been fighting due to his treatment towards your muggle-born friends.

… shoves you backward when you try to push past him, his eyes cold and unfeeling. “Don’t test me, darling. You won’t like the consequences.”

… watches you stumble, your eyes wide with shock and fear in annoyance – you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to be his girlfriend. You knew who he was.

… sneers when you try to regain your composure, his tone dripping with condescension. “Wipe that pathetic look off your face. It doesn’t suit you.”

… takes a step closer, his shadow looming over you as his voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “Do you think they’d risk anything for you? Those mudbloods you’re so desperate to protect?”

… brushes past you with deliberate force when you don’t respond, his shoulders rigid, muttering, “You’re lucky I don’t make an example of them for your insolence.”

[sagesturns]

Cozy In The Chaos

Summary: During a sudden rainstorm, you and Chris build a cozy pillow fort, enjoying each other's company and the quiet comfort of the moment. Laughter, playful teasing, and shared warmth turn the fort into a peaceful escape from the storm outside.

contains: fluff!

The rain came without warning. One moment the sky seemed cloudy and the next the clouds parted and water began to fall like a waterfall. The windows rattled as the wind roared and one was almost feeling a little confined within the house. But, in all honesty, one did not feel bothered. The storm was, in a way, soothing. The way everything felt like it moved at a much slower pace outside.

You stood at the window and peered out for a pause as you enjoyed the rain. The city out there was unrecognizable behind the glass with monotonous colors and you couldn’t help but contemplate about the span for this weather for quite a long time.

Then, you heard a fabric shift followed by a light thump sound somewhere behind you.

You turned just in time to see Chris toss a pillow your way, his grin already spreading as he motioned to the couch. “Pillow fort time?”

You blinked, raising an eyebrow as you caught the pillow in your hands. “A pillow fort?”

Chris leaned against the back of the couch, looking utterly proud of himself. "Yeah! Why not? We've got time. The storm won't let us go anywhere."

You smiled. Warmth flooded your heart at the thought. It was silly, but those very spur-of-the-moment things were exactly the sort of fun you had with him—distinct moments that made the ordinary days remarkable.

"Okay," you said, considerately tossing the pillow on the floor. "You build it, I supervise." 

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Supervise? You mean, ‘help,’ right?” You chuckled. “Exactly.”

You both had started gathering piles of pillows from the couch, blankets from the bed, and anything else that could be used to assemble your kingdom. Chris surprisingly proved to be fast about it, draping the blankets over the couch and chairs, forming walls and a delicately constructed roof, while you tossed pillows and blankets wherever you could to make the place as cozy as you could. 

The process was a mix of laughter and a little chaos. Every time Chris tried to stack the pillows, the whole structure would topple, and he’d groan in mock frustration, sending you into fits of giggles.

“You are terrible at this,” you teased, adjusting one of the blankets that had fallen askew.

Chris raised his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright. Maybe I need a little help. But I’m good at making this fun.”

You crawled into the partially completed fort and threw a pillow at him, which he caught easily. "Okay; I’ll let you off the hook just this once!". “Lucky me,” he said with a wink, following you into the fort.

Inside, the space was snug. The walls of blankets and pillows made the living room feel like a whole new world—one that was warm and private, cut off from the storm outside. You both settled in, your shoulders brushing as you lay back against the cushions. The sound of the rain still filled the room, but now it felt like background noise to your own little haven.

You shifted slightly, propping your head up on a pillow, your gaze drifting to the window again, watching the rain pound against the glass. The world outside seemed so far away in this little space with Chris. You felt the weight of the day lifting, the kind of peace that only came from being here, in this quiet, shared moment.

After a few seconds, you felt Chris shift beside you. He didn’t say anything, but you could feel his presence so clearly, his body just a little too close to not notice. You glanced at him, and your eyes locked for a moment. His gaze softened and the air between you held still for a beat—just the two of you in this cozy fort, all surrounded by blankets and the sound of the rain.

He held your gaze and, for a brief moment, neither of you spoke. Something inside you built, something unsaid. Slowly, Chris began to lean in, still gazing into his own. The kiss was soft and lingering, gentle at first, warm, and then it grew tender, slow, drawing out until you both parted breathless.

Chris smiled tenderly as he stroked your cheek with his thumb and gazed down at you. "You are so gorgeous," he whispered, hardly audible above the sound of the storm. 

Those words make your heart flutter. Without a second thought, you leaned in again and kissed him, this time with quiet urgency. A soft laugh escaped you and you pressed your forehead against his when you finally pulled away.

"I think we're both getting a bit too comfortable in this fort," you said with a teasing smile. Chris chuckled, running his fingers through your hair as he pulled you closer. “Can’t say I’m complaining.”

You smiled, sinking into his embrace, your body settling against his as you both laid back onto the pillows. The rain outside continued, but here, in your blanket fort, everything felt soft and warm. The comfort of sharing each other's company in quietude was what kept the rush of the moment away and unworried.

A few moments passed, peaceful and still, before Chris spoke up again, this time his voice quieter, almost sleepy.

"So, after this... we could make a couple of hot chocolates. With lots of marshmallows. Maybe even a little whipped cream.”You smiled, resting your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath you. “Sounds perfect.”

He paused, then added, “And we bring the hot chocolate back to the fort. No rules. We’re fort royalty now.”

You giggled softly at his playful tone, feeling completely at ease, tucked into his arms. “Deal. But we have to pick a movie first. Something really cheesy. Like, so cheesy it’ll make us cringe.”

Chris laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’ve got it. As long as it's kind of cheesy.”You stayed like that for a while, the two of you slowly drifting, the comfort of the moment wrapping around you.

Eventually, Chris broke the silence with a quiet, teasing tone, “Alright, but I have one rule for this fort: If you spill that hot chocolate on me, you’re sleeping outside the fort.”

You laughed, your body shaking with the sound of it. “Oh, I’ll be sure to keep my distance from your lap then.”

“Good,” Chris said with mock seriousness. “We don’t want to mess up our fort’s reputation. It’s too important.”

The light teasing, the warmth of his arms, and the shared laughter felt like everything you needed. With the storm still raging outside, you both settled deeper into the blankets, slowly drifting off to sleep, wrapped in the cozy haven you’d created—together.

word count: 1.5k (1,574)

tags: @sweetshuga

a/n: first Chris fluff, finally deserve it after writing all of his fic angst  😭. hope you enjoyyy. tysm for all the love and followers I've been gaining. it means the worlddd. <3.

@sagesturns

[thesixthstar]

i just did a rewatch and like yes its insane already how fun and surprisingly good Teen Beach Movie and Teen Beach 2 are, but its more insane how good they could be if they bothered to use the incredible potential and the THEMES

Like. Wet Side Story - The time loop vibes. the "what if Sisyphus WAS happy rolling the rock, until he remembered the nature of his predicament". and "what if Sisyphus put down the rock and walked away and then HAD to go back". the Orpheus and Eurydice of Brady and Mack. feminist icon Lela. perfect ken doll Tanner.

like my god. Someone has GOT to make the two movies into a single stage musical where the song lyrics are less empty and gut a bunch of exposition to make room for expanding on the Themes/character development.

[n0vazsq]

Pretty Boy | LN4 x Reader

pairing . . . lando norris x gf!artist!reader

summary . . . While you're sketching a drawing of Lando, you notice that something's off with him. Then, you remind him that he's much more than what people think of him

request . . . no!

word count . . . 759

warnings . . . none! just one use of 'damn'

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . first lando fic!!! a bit short but i hope you guys like it <33

. . . The room smelled like salted caramel and the leather of the couch you were currently sitting on. Lando sat across from you, sat on the arm of the chair, one leg bouncing restlessly. The glow from his phone lit up his face every few seconds, softening the sharpness of his jawline, but it didn’t hold his attention for long. He set it down after scrolling aimlessly, leaning back with a sigh.

"You know," you started, stretching out your legs, "you really need to learn how to sit still. You’re stressing me out."

He flashed you that damn grin, the one he knew you hated for how effortlessly it made you forgive him for everything. "You sound like my engineer," he laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Maybe I should be," you shot back, holding up the sketchpad in your lap. "You’re not exactly making this easy for me."

His eyes flicked to the page, and he tilted his head, squinting slightly. "That’s me?"

"Who else do you think I’ve been sketching this whole time? Your mum?"

Lando grinned, leaning in closer to get a better look. His hair was slightly messy, still damp from the shower he’d taken earlier, and you could smell the faint trace of his shampoo as he hovered over your shoulder. "Not bad," he said with mock seriousness, tapping his chin. "You almost got my nose right."

You turned your head, glaring playfully. "Almost? You’re lucky I even attempted that ski slope you call a nose."

He pretended to be offended, leaning back dramatically, a hand on his chest. "Ski slope? That’s rich coming from someone who-" He cut himself off, laughing at your raised eyebrow.

"Go on," you urged, smirking now.

"Nah," he said, still laughing as he settled back into the chair. "You’re not worth the fight."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Lando had this way of lighting up a room without even trying, of making you feel like the only person who mattered when he turned that adorable charm your way. It was infuriating, really.

But tonight, something about him seemed quieter. The usual spark in his eyes was dimmer, and the edges of his grin didn’t reach as far.

"What’s going on with you?" you asked, setting the sketchpad aside.

He shrugged, looking down at his hands, which were fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. "Nothing. Just thinking."

"About....?"

He hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek before finally meeting your gaze. "You ever feel like… I don’t know. Like people only see what they want to see when they look at you?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Where’s this coming from?"

He shrugged again, more defensively this time. "It’s just… I don’t know. Everyone’s always saying stuff, you know? About me. Pretty boy this, golden boy that. Like that’s all I am."

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. "You know that’s not true, right?"

"Isn’t it?" he countered, his voice softer now, more uncertain.

"My beloved Lando." You said his name like it was the answer to a question he didn’t want to ask. "You’re so much more than what people say. You’re brilliant, and kind, and funny, annoyingly so, actuall. You care about the people around you more than you probably should."

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you with this look that made your chest tighten.

"I don’t see some ‘pretty boy,’" you continued. "I see you. The real you. And if other people don’t, that’s their loss. But just saying, you are pretty."

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "You’re too good at this whole therapy talk thing, you know that?"

You smirked, leaning back against the couch again. "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep your ego contained."

He laughed then, the sound breaking through the tension like sunlight through a cloud. And when he looked back at you, the spark in his eyes was there again, faint but unmistakable.

"Thanks," he said simply.

"For what?"

"For being here. For being… ," He took a deep breath, arms raising and falling, like he was trying to cut the air. "You.”

Your smile softened, and you shrugged. "Someone’s gotta put up with you."

He laughed again, shaking his head. "Lucky me, huh?"

And in the glow of the room, with the soft hum of the music in the background, you thought maybe you were the lucky one.

[jasmines-library]

Remus Lupin whose sense of smell heightens around the full moon. You come to him and you’re stinking of Sirius. Obviously, he’s really jealous, especially around this time, and he’s clutching you to his side, rubbing his scent all over you, basically claiming his territory.

Lunar Possession

(Art not mine, found on Pinterest. Cred to original owner)

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: When I say I dropped EVERYTHING the second this came into my inbox...

Warnings: Pre-full moon remus angst, possessive-ish (?) remus

Word Count: 1.7k

⛧ MARAUDERS MASTERLIST⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Remus Lupin was not in a good mood. He was antsy. With the full moon so close, everything put him on edge: His ears seemed to twitch at the smallest shift in the floorboards and his nose seemed to smell every person that passed his dormitory door on their way to and from the common room. It made his stomach churn, like a boat being tossed about on the sea. It made his head pound in a steady rhythm that made it hard to focus on anything else beside the tedious beat. It was followed by a tightness too; pressing harshly against his temples. 

Remus thought he should be used to it by now. He had been dealing with the effects of the full moon for practically as long as he could remember, but he would never truly get used to it. Having you and Sirius by his side always helped though. Remus wouldn’t ever dare admit it out loud, he spent far too much time trying to convince the two of you that he was dangerous and not to be trusted, but you and Sirius calmed his nerves. You made the transformation just that bit more bearable.

He would forever remember the day that you revealed your animagus form to him. Remus could hardly find the words to express how he felt. Never before in his life had he had someone care for him the way that you and Sirius did. James too. He was scared at first,  Remus didn’t know how his friends were going to react when he told them about his lycanthropy. Almost certainly he had expected you to run and to never speak to him again. But that night you did the opposite and held him close. And Remus had never felt more loved and accepted. Now, of course he was cautious at first. Angry. Scared. But slowly the three of you had talked him into realising it was a good idea: He was coming home after each transformation with fewer injuries and seemed to be managing much easier with your help. Of course, seeing the scratches and cuts appear on his friends bodies each night made him grimace and try to convince you to stop. He was supposed to protect you and, instead, he was allowing you to get hurt. But you stayed. And Remus was impossibly grateful for that. 

Remus groaned as another ache shot through his body, and he turned tugging the blanket closer to him. The moon made him feel the need to hold you close all of the time. He yearned for the smell of your shampoo and the coolness of your skin flush against his. When the moon made him get like this Remus often found himself missing class. All of the people just made his nerves sizzle. Unfortunately, your boyfriend's condition did not mean that you also got a free pass to skip class. Or Sirius for that matter. So, instead of having you close, Remus lay curled up in his bed as his bones ached, waiting antagonisingly for you to return. 

When you finally pushed the door open quietly as to stop it creaking, you were clinging onto Sirius’ arm. You arm was looped between his and you leaned your head against the crook of his shoulder. The two of you had been like that all day, he could tell. 

You and Sirius had had a busy day to say the least. Not only had potions class run over, but you also had homework that you needed to catch up on during your lunch break. Not that you actually got much done with Sirius around. Sirius was an observer. He could tell from the way you held your shoulders higher than usual and walked with heavier steps that you were stressed. So he did all he could to help you relax a little. Knowing that you were also worried about your boyfriend, he placed gentle kisses to your forehead whilst you worked, or stole them from your lips in the corridor. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you to his chest to try and expel the tension from your body. Your boyfriend's efforts seemed to have helped because by the time the bell finally rang and the doors spilled open to reveal the flood of students, you were feeling much better. Especially because you could now fill the empty space that Remus’ absence had created. 

“Rem?” Your voice was quiet and tender, near a whisper in case he was asleep, or was finding everything too loud.

He peeked his head out from under the blanket, his hair tousled from hours of restlessness. You smiled at him brightly. It was enough for him to return it, and lift his sour mood.

“Hey, Dove.” he greeted, shuffling out of bed to greet you. He couldn’t help but eye his boyfriend who stood with his hand placed tenderly on your lower back. Remus’ fingers twitched. “Good day?”

You hummed, slipping off your shoes and making your way over him to wrap him up in your embrace. You knew it had likely been a tough day for him. “Better now you’re here.”

As you took another step closer to him and away from Sirius the tender moment between the two of you was interrupted. At first, Remus had thought it was because he was standing right next to you. That his nose was getting confused, another side effect of the moon, but now you were standing right beside him across the room from your other partner, Remus knew that he was not mistaken. You stank entirely of Sirius: warm, musky, rich, honey-like and a little earthy. It was complemented by the faint smell of cigarette smoke and leather from his jacket. Normally, the boy would savour the smell of his partner, but you smelt so much like him that it completely drowned out everything about your scent. Something possessive inside him seemed to switch on. 

Remus snatched you up immediately, pressing you so tight to his chest that you thought he was going to smother you. He couldn’t help the glare he sent to his boyfriend over the top of your head. Glowering, he pressed a kiss to your head as his fingers reached to fiddle with the hem of your jumper, trying to inch it upward.

You pulled away and frowned at him. Sirius also bore a similar expression. “Moony?”

“You smell of him.” It was a simple statement that came out almost as a growl in his voice. 

“Who?”

Remus gestured to Sirius, who had moved to sit on the edge of his bed, with a nod of his head. When he spoke, his tone was filled with something Remus did not possess often. Jealousy.  “Sirius.” 

Sirius furrowed his brows, before realisation crossed his face and he gave you a look. Remus was feeling left out. He had been feeling rotten all day and now he was being left with a constant reminder of how you and Sirius had been spending the day clinging onto each other instead of him. To make matters worse, the moon was making him possessive: he needed to state what was his. 

“Take it off.” Remus’ voice was demanding, but you could hear the need hidden deep behind it. “Please.”

You nodded, your hands slipping over him as you helped him to remove your jumper. Remus tossed it to Sirius and pulled you back to him. Although the jumper was gone, which had helped a little, he could still smell his boyfriend all over you. Understanding this from the way Remus shifted antstily, being the loving boyfriend that he is, Sirius moved to Remus’ trunk to pull out one of his jumpers for you to wear. Before he could reach it however, Remus snapped. 

“Don’t touch them.” Remus moved toward his trunk and took a sweater before a very startled Sirius could react. Siri nodded slowly, taking a step back and raising his hands in a surrendering gesture. When after seeing you slip it on, the boy released a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding. It was better, but his mind still screamed at him: mineminemine.

“You alright Moons?” Sirius asked hesitantly, unsure or not whether to approach or not. Remus was still holding you close to him, peppering you with kisses, though he seemed to be less tense now.

He hummed, twisting toward his boyfriend but still not letting you go. This time his expression held much less venom than it had before “Sorry…” He started “I don’t know what came over me.”

Sirius took his chance to move toward him. Instinctively, Moony turned you away, but instead of trying to move you as he thought Sirius would, his boyfriend placed an arm on his shoulder. “It’s alright Rem. I understand.”

Remus tucked your head beneath his chin as your hand wandered to his own to fiddle with the rings on his fingers. “Still. I guess I thought I could handle being alone today… but it was all just a bit much. And seeing her come in here smelling of you…”

“Shh” Siri hushed, smoothing Remus’ hair. “You want to lay down?”

Remus nodded. “Is that okay with you, Dove?” He asked.

“Of course.” You smiled. Taking Remus’ hand you moved over to the bed, shifting the covers out of the way so you could climb beneath them. Remus followed, tucking you close to his body once more, and then Sirius lay on the other side of Remus, resting his head on his shoulder. 

Remus relaxed into the mattress as you ran lazy circles over the palm of the hand he was using to keep you in place. He pressed his lips to your head.

“I love you.” He murmured. “I’m so glad I can call you mine.”

“And we are glad to be yours.” Siri told him. 

“Thank you for doing this. I’m sorry if I overreacted…”

“Never.” You said. “Anything for our Moony.”

Remus pulled you closer to him. You had a feeling you weren’t going to be moving anytime soon.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

MARAUDERS TAGS:

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[idkwhatever580]

You Like Me?

Pairings: WandaNat, WandaNatxreader (eventually)

Prompt: I decided to pair this prompt and this prompt together to create one big mess :)

Warnings: Poly couple, swearing, Nat being kind of a bitch, crying, a wee bit of angst I assume, fluff, soft Wanda, suggestive tones, shit writing, really im serious this writing is so shit, lmk if I missed any!

A/N: I really hope I did y'all justice because this is my first time writing WandaxNatxreader so please bear with me as I probably write a trainwreck of a story @sxlfishbrokenheart

Also don't ask what is going on with the povs I am clearly struggling throughout the whole damn thing T-T

Natasha's thoughts = Red

Wanda's thoughts = Orange

Y/n's thoughts = Purple

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

Movie night at the Avengers' tower means cry night for you. Everyone in the tower has strict assigned seating so that nobody gets in a fight, even though it doesn't always keep the peace.

Everything seems to be great except for the fact that you have to sit beside Wanda and Natasha. Which isn't a problem for everyone else right? Wanda, Nat, and Y/N the towers' favorite trio...

Bestie trio, that is.

While Wanda and Nat are the perfect power couple, you're left as the third wheel that also happens to be pining for the both of them. So, while everyone thinks you love sitting with them on movie nights, you sit in agony while watching them out of the corner of your eye.

Sometimes Wanda, who sits in the middle of you and Nat, will pull you into her and claim that it's just what besties do. You of course, can't say no to her, so you end up running back to your room after most movie nights to cry about your wishful thinking.

You honestly can't even remember a movie night where you actually watched the movie. You usually just fall asleep in their arms trying to soak up the affection while you can.

But your dynamic has changed in the past few months...

Wanda is still super lovey and always pulls you in, maybe even more so than before, while Nat has become meaner and ruder towards you. So, you really feel like you're impeding on their relationship, which makes you get into your head.

Maybe Nat is being mean to me because she is jealous. Of course, she has a right to be jealous when Wands has been really close with me. I don't want to ruin their relationship. I'm not even trying anything. Maybe it is because they can sense that I like them. Oh my gosh, it is... Of course! Wanda is being extra nice because she pities me, while Nat is being mean because she is blunter and more obvious that she doesn't like me. I need to leave them alo-

You are cut out of your thoughts when a hand is placed on your thigh. That hand is none other than Wanda's, she leans in and says, "Hey, you alright?"

You quickly nod your head, and she visibly relaxes, but she continues, "Are you sure? Because we haven't even started watching anything and you look like you're zoned out on the tv that isn't even on."

This conversation peaks Natasha's interest, so she leans forward so she can see you past Wanda with an eyebrow raised. She is clearly waiting for you to conjure up an answer.

You quickly stutter out, "Oh- yeah, um, I am fine, I just- I just zoned out for a sec, you know how my ADHD can be."

Wanda squints her eyes and exchanges a look with Nat, but they let it slide. You still decide that you need to pull away from them, you can't be pretending like they are yours to love when they aren't.

So, you scooch over to the other side of the couch you three share, which isn't too far considering there is almost no wiggle room between the three of you. It still saddens Wanda regardless, but you don't see that it also saddens Nat.

The movie starts and Wanda tries to pull you in again, you consider letting it happen, but today is different. Today you pull away again, but the look of hurt that flashes over Wanda's face hurts you more than any sort of cuddling could ever.

Her expression pains you so much in fact that you get up and go to run off. Nat grabs your hand to try and catch you and see what is going on with you, but you are somehow swifter, so you just pull your arm away from her grasp and walk off.

Nobody saw you run off because your couch is in the back, but Wanda and Natasha exchange each other's glances and immediately jump up to go comfort you.

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

Wanda's pov

Y/n just ran off after I tried to cuddle with her, so Natasha and I are currently going to find her.

We are standing in the elevator waiting for it to go to our floor which is also Y/n's.

"Wanda, why did she run off like that?"

I look over at Nat and shrug with wide eyes, "I don't know, she doesn't normally do this. She pulled away earlier before the movie started but I didn't think anything of it. Oh God she didn't want to cuddle today, and I did it anyways I totally made her uncomfortable!"

Natasha cuts me off, "Hey! You're spiraling, clearly Y/n needs us to be there for her, so we have to stay calm. I am sure there is a very good explanation as to why she didn't want to cuddle tonight."

The elevator dings and we rush over to Y/n's room and before Nat bangs on the door, I lean up and hear her sniffles.

Nat hears this too and loudly knocks on the door.

I say, "Y/n? Honey? Can you let us in?"

She lets out a sob, but doesn't answer, and I am concerned for her safety, so I say, "Okay, I'm going to come in now."

I carefully pry open the door and see her sitting on her floor in tears, so I quickly make my way over to her and sit down next to her, "Darling can I hold you?"

She shakes her head, so I sigh and stay seated next to her. Eventually though, she ends up leaning into me and I wrap my arms around her. Once her tears cease, I softly say, "Can you tell us what's going on?"

She looks up at Natasha and gets scared and shakes her head. Natasha tries to ask, "Why did you run off Y/n?"

I know that she means well when she asks this, but the way it comes out is really harsh and Y/n starts crying a little bit again, and just starts shaking her head, so I hush her and lean into her ear to whisper, "Do you not want to say in front of Natasha?"

Y/n thinks about it and softly shakes her head.

I sigh and say, "I can send her out if you'd feel more comfortable."

She stays silent for a moment, and right when I think she is going to start crying again, she nods her head into my shoulder, so I lift my head up and use my powers to silently conversate with Nat in her head.

"She wants you out..."

"What?! Why?"

"Not sure."

"Then why do I have to go?"

"I know you don't get it, but she needs to feel comfortable and if that means that you have to leave then you need to go, please, I love you baby, but we have to get to the bottom of what is going on. I'll let you know after."

Natasha huffs and nods her head without another word, and she leaves the room to presumably go lay in our bed waiting for me to come and give her an update.

Once Nat leaves I go back to tending to Y/n. "Do you want to go on your bed? This floor might hurt your back."

Y/n nods softly and I pick her up and carry her to the bed. When I set her down, she sits up, so I know she is ready to talk. "Alright, what was that whole thing about? You never leave a movie night early, and you definitely don't run off crying... Right?"

The defeated look Y/n sends my way makes me realize this crying is a normal thing for her, "Oh dorogoy, why do you do this? Why don't you come to me or Nat?"

She sighs and says, "I can't go to you because- because... I- I can't tell you."

This hits me kind of hard, I don't want the woman that we love to feel like she can't come to us for anything. "Why do you say that?"

She gets frustrated and just blurts out, "Because Wanda! I-" Her face contorts to surprise at her outburst, and she quickly tries to cover it up, "I said I can't tell you for a reason."

I sigh and secretly read her mind, She is struggling because she thinks Natasha hates her.

All I see when I subtly read her mind are flashes of Nat being a complete and utter bitch to her, and that is all it takes for me to realize that she thinks Nat totally hates her guts.

I nod and say, "Okay, well I will let you figure it out, since you seem to want to be by yourself. We're always here if you need us. I am gonna go to bed I guess, Nat is waiting in our room, are you alright on your own?"

She simply nods and I ask another question, "You'll come to us if you need anything?"

She nods again and we say our goodbyes.

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

I almost run to my shared room and immediately start telling Natasha everything. "Natasha, she does like us!"

Nat furrows her eyebrows, because I only use her full name when I am mad at her. So, she looks at me and says, "That's old news, but are you mad at me? And it also doesn't explain why she was crying."

I sit down on the bed and tell her, "Nat, I am not mad at you, you are just dumb."

Her jaw drops a bit, and she says, "I'm not stupid!"

I laugh when her subtle Russian accent comes out, (she's been hanging around Yelena way too much recently, but I like it) and say, "I called you dumb, not the same thing as stupid. Anyways, Y/n was crying because she likes both of us, and she is scared she is going to split us up because you don't like her."

She frowns and retorts, "but- I do like her?"

I glare and say, "I know that, but Y/n thinks you hate her because you are mean to her! You know she is a sensitive soul; you have to try a different approach than what you did with me."

The crease across her forehead never goes away, if anything, it gets bigger, "But I am only flirting with her, you know that is how I flirt."

I laugh and say, "Oh Natty, I knew you liked me because I can read minds, Y/n cannot do that, so she can't tell that you like her if you are a bitch to her, no offense."

She looks down and realization washes over her, so she says, "So what do I do? She barely talks to me anymore, and she definitely won't let me in her room right now."

I sigh and say, "you'll have to figure it out somehow."

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

idk pov (guys I can't- I seriously don't know right now)

It has been a few days since the day you locked yourself away from everyone, and you have been avoiding both of them since.

You have locked yourself up in your part of Tony's lab and you just can't bring yourself to face them. You also skipped movie night last night and everyone was trying to see if you are okay, but you just told FRIDAY to let them know you are fine.

You are tinkering with one of your suit pieces when you realize you need a tool that you don't have, but you know Tony has it on his work bench.

So, you walk over to his side of the lab and of course none other than the Natasha Romanoff is sitting at his bench looking for something. You sigh and contemplate waiting for her to leave, but you really need this tool, and you see it right on a shelf above his desk. So, you sigh and make you way quietly over to the desk, but while you reach out to grab it, Nat also reaches up for the same tool and you bump each other's hands.

Within the blink of an eye, three things happen; Nat and you bump hands, you end up hitting the shelf, and one of Tony's weird gadgets fall onto your wrists effectively locking around your wrists and binding you together.

You groan and Nat says, "Shit, I didn't see you."

You shake my head and turn away as much as you can, and you say "It's fine, I should have made my presence known."

She starts looking at the gadget and you take a second to examine it closer and say, "Oh. My. God."

Natasha furrows her eyebrows in confusion and says, "What is it?"

You groan and say, "These are the vibranium tondricuffs Tony has been working on."

She rolls her eyes when you don't explain and says, "And what does that mean? I might be a spy, but I don't know this sciencey shit you do."

You shake your head from the soft thoughts of her perfect lips and say, "Oh- uhh it is just what he calls them, but when I say he is working on them, it means that he hasn't figured them out yet and I don't think he knows how to unlock them."

Nat takes a deep breath and says, "So, you're telling me, that since Tony can't seem to put away his stupid toys, we are locked together for the foreseeable future?"

You sigh and nod your head, dropping it the second you feel heat rising to your face at the thought of all the things you might have to do with Nat. "Who do we tell? Isn't Tony on a mission?"

Nat groans even louder at the realization and says, "I guess we should go tell Wanda, and then she will help make a plan right?"

You bite your lip at the thought of facing her, and Nat sees your hesitation, "Hey, what's up with you lately? You always want to see Wanda."

You make brief eye contact with Nat and quickly look away until she puts her fingers to your chin and pulls you to look at her. She looks deep into your eyes and says, "You've been distant, ever since..."

You sigh and say, "Sorry, I guess I don't like when people see me cry."

Nat furrows her eyebrows and says, "You're a terrible liar."

You look at her with shock and say, "I am not lying!"

She laughs and says, "Oh really?"

When you nod your head she smirks and says, "If you really didn't like when people see you cry, then why did you never shut us out before? You have cried in our arms before, and you have never done something like this."

You sigh and say, "Okay, well- maybe I have changed."

Nat rolls her eyes as you decide to continue your work on your suit, effectively dragging Nat along wherever you go, not that she minds. She keeps pressing even though you clearly want to drop the subject, "You're hiding something."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"No. I'm. Not."

"If you weren't hiding anything then why don't you tell me why you couldn't face me the other night? And why you can barely look at me today?"

This seems to break you, her constant nagging is really pissing you off and you just slam your tools on the work bench and say, "Alright fine! You really want to know why I have been avoiding you?"

She nods her head, "yes please do enlighten me."

You groan and turn to her completely and just blab everything, "Because! You clearly see that I like Wanda and you are mad so you have been really mean, which is understandable, because she is your girlfriend, but what you don't know is that I like both of you and I know you probably hate my guts even more than before, but I really needed to get that off of my chest and-"

Before you can let any more word vomit fall out of your mouth Natasha's lips are on yours in an instant. They shut you up really well.

Your eyes widen and you push her away as much as you can, given the fact that you're still handcuffed together.

"Nat what are you doing?!"

She looks at you, "Is that not what you wanted this whole time?"

"Well, yes, but what about Wanda?"

She realizes that you don't know that she and Wanda knew, "Oh! Right! Wanda knows you like her. And I knew I just didn't know how to flirt. I am apparently a really shitty flirt when I am being genuine. I can fake flirt, but when I have a real crush, I turn into an asshole. It worked for Wands, but I realized it didn't necessarily work for you huh?"

You shake your head with wide eyes. Still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that both of your crushes like you back. Before you can fall deeper into your thoughts, Nat asks, "Wanna continue what we were doing?"

All you can do is nod, but her lips are immediately locked on your own. The feeling burns but it burns so so good. You two continue to swap spit until you hear someone speak, "Am I interrupting something ladies?"

You both pull away and look to see Wanda standing in the doorway. You freeze, still unsure if she is okay with you kissing her girlfriend, and she starts to step towards the two of you.

Once she gets up really close to you, she gives you a soft look and walks by you to kiss Nat pulling away to say, "Hi baby."

They exchange some small talk, and you are really uncomfortable because you have no idea what to do. They are just acting like you're not there and that you and Nat weren't just kissing.

Then, they both turn to you and Wanda leans closer to you, "Tell me Natasha, was it your intention to keep this sweet thing from me?"

Your eyes widen as Nat shakes her head aggressively letting out a soft 'no'.

Who knew Natasha was a bottom... they even acted like she was the top around me. Impressive.

Wanda lifts your chin a bit to look at her and she smirks, "What is going on in that pretty little head of yours, y/n/n?"

You snap out of it and whine a bit, and Wanda smiles and says, "Do you want a kiss too?"

You nod your head.

"Words sweet one."

"Y-yes please."

She smiles and looks back at Natasha briefly saying, "This one has good manners. She knows her place well. We've known her for all this time and yet we're just finding this out. Oh, we're going to have so much fun with her Natty."

Nat nods her head, and Wanda turns back to you to say, "Now... about that kiss."

She leans in, and you meet her halfway to interlock her delicate lips together with yours. It is likes soft pillows meeting sparkling fireworks.

You get lost in the kiss and try to push a little more for a deeper one, but Wanda pulls away with a soft smirk. As much as you want to pout for losing contact with her, all you can do is send a dopey smile her way.

Wanda exchanges looks with Natasha and they both look back at you. Nat speaks first, "So, now that we have that out of the way, Wands and I were wondering if you wanted to be our girlfriend?"

Your eyes widen and Wanda speaks up a bit, "Don't feel pressured to give us an answer right now. We understand it's new, and you might be feeling overwhelmed, we just want to put the offer on the table."

Then she leans closer to you and speaks in a low tone, "Although we don't like to be kept waiting."

Her silky voice makes you blush a bit, but you clear your throat and say, "Date both of you? At the same time?"

They both nod their heads and you say, "Yes! A thousand times yes!"

They both smile as you kiss each of them multiple times.

Natasha sighs and says, "Alright, what do you want to do as our official girlfriend now?"

You smile and say, "As much as I would love to go watch movies to make up for the last two movie nights that I missed, I really would like to get this thing off."

You hold up both Natasha's and your connected arms up to show Wanda the tondricuffs.

Wanda's eyebrows raise, she's probably wondering what happened to get that locked onto you. Natasha sighs in defeat and says, "Oh, right... that." You softly grab Nat's hand.

Wanda is about to ask questions, but you cut in and say, "Ask questions later, find Tony now. Please."

Safe to say there was a lot to discuss, but it will all work out now that you have your girls.

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

A/N: I'm so terribly sorry for how long this took me to write... I genuinely thought it would be quick and easy, but college is kicking my ass, and I really didn't want to leave you with nothing. So, it's a little shitty, but it's something!

Masterlist

Taglist

@ilovesnat @ihartnat @marvelnatasha12346 @moistblobfish @justarandomreaderxoxo @lovelyy-moonlight @symp4nat @ale-estrabao @mrsrushman @kkreader78o @cheekysnake

[theemporium]

and to the poll voters who i thought i cheated you out of these two idiots, here they are!!

series masterlist

.

“You know I love you, right?”

Max lifted his head when you stopped right in front of him. He raised his brows, leaning back in his seat on the couch as he took you in. You looked serious, which was only slightly unsettling, as you stood with your hands on your hips.

“Yes?” He said eventually, though it came out more like a question.

“And I only want what’s best for you. You know that, right?”

He frowned a little. “Yes. Although stressing me out with whatever you are going to say next doesn’t feel like it’s best for me…” 

“Okay, good. As long as you remember those things in a few minutes when you’re cursing me out,” you said with a nod, ignoring the discombobulated look on your husband’s face before you let out a sharp whistle. 

Max’s frown deepened. “What’s—”

However, he was promptly cut off when the door swung open and all three Leclerc brothers made their way into the flat. Max barely had a chance to acknowledge them before they were grabbing him—two on his legs and one on his arms—and carrying him out the house. 

“What the fuck?! Let me down!” 

“I’m sorry, baby!” You called out as you followed the four of them out of the house. “But this fear of the dentist can’t keep getting in the way of your health!”

Max’s struggles seemed to quicken at the mention of the dentist. “Baby—”

“Max, you know it’s for the best.”

And it was. He knew that. He knew that the second he was outside of the dental practice, there was little else he could do. But he would put on a great damn struggle until then, on the off chance he could escape and top up on the painkillers he had been having over the last week to numb the pain in his mouth.

…

“Do you think he will be mad at me?”

“He could never be mad at you,” Lorenzo assured you as he tugged you into his side. “You were doing what’s best for him. He knows that.”

“What if I broke his trust doing this and he never forgives me?” You continued, letting out a shaky breath. “He was just in so much pain and I couldn’t just sit there—”

“The man worships the ground you walk on,” Arthur pointed out. “He couldn’t even give you the silent treatment for longer than five minutes the last time he tried.”

But his words didn’t ease the tightness in your chest. “But what if—”

“He’s not going to break up with you over this,” Charles spoke up, a sincere understanding glimmering in his eyes that your other two brothers lacked. “He loves you far too much for that.” 

You nodded, opening your mouth to say something else but a voice interrupted. 

“Mrs Verstappen?”

You barely glanced back at your brothers as you followed the nurse through the dental practice. You nodded as you listened intently, taking in everything she said about how to best treat Max at home with painkillers and the healing process in general. 

You were about to ask a few more questions when you heard a familiar voice that made your stomach flip.

“WHERE’S MY WIFE? I WANT MY WIFE! BABY? WHERE ARE YOU?” 

Your cheeks burned as you shot the nurse an apologetic look before quickly rushing into the room, making your way towards Max as you tried to quieten him down. However, the second he noticed you, his face instantly lit up and he had little care in the world for anything else.

“Where have you been?” The words were muffled and slightly slurred, but the slight lisp made your smile widen. 

“Waiting for you,” you assured him as you took his hand, raising it to your lips to place a quick kiss on the back of his hand.

He stared at you blankly. “That’s not my lips.”

You snorted. “Your mouth is a bit too busy right now for me to kiss.”

Max frowned before he turned to the dentist. “Take these out right now! My wife won’t kiss me!”

Your eyes widened. “Max!” 

“No, I want kisses from my wife!” Max said, shaking his head before he tried to reach out and pull the gauze out himself.

“Looks like you’re gonna have a handful with him,” a nurse teased as she watched you grab both of his hands before he could rip his stitches open in his mouth.

You smiled. “Yeah but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Because she loves me!” Max added. 

“I do.”

“Soooooo much!”

“That is also true.”

“She loves me so much that she even lets me—”

“Okay, that’s enough talking, babe!”

.

[wolvietxt]

💭 thinking about…

𝗅𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗅��𝗍𝗍 𝗑 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖼!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : anxiety, panic, angst, fluff, overstimulation, implied age gap, pet names, budding relationship au wc : 1.5k a/n : i’m thinking about maybe making the odd prompt list, not sure if anyone would be interested? idk i feel like i have so many ideas on what to write but not enough time to actually write them. lmk if it’s something anyone would be interested in😭

you'd always hated crowded spaces, but this - this was something else entirely.

the pounding bass from the club’s speakers seemed to vibrate through your whole body, and the flashing lights made it impossible to focus on anything for too long. it was all too loud, too chaotic. the mission had been simple: blend in, keep an eye on the target, and extract information. easy enough. except no one had accounted for the fact that a telepath like you could hardly stand in the middle of a packed nightclub without being bombarded by the overwhelming flood of thoughts and emotions from every single person around you.

the drinks, the laughter, the flirtations happening at every corner - they were suffocating. you tried to block them out, but your mental shields were already thin, your energy worn down from the mission prep. and now, with the music and flashing lights adding to the noise in your head, everything was starting to blur together. the alcohol from earlier wasn’t helping either.

you stood near the edge of the room, trying to focus on anything other than the mental cacophony around you. the team was scattered throughout the club, everyone doing their part to blend in with the crowd. but for you, it was becoming harder to concentrate on the task at hand. the target’s thoughts were buried under a thousand others, each one screaming for attention inside your mind.

you felt sick, like the world was spinning too fast. the room was closing in. your head pounded, and you could feel a sharp nausea creeping up your throat. you needed to get out of there, away from the noise, the thoughts, the people.

a warm hand suddenly brushed against your arm, pulling you out of the spiral you were falling into. you turned, blinking, and found logan standing beside you. his sharp eyes were locked on you, concern written all over his face. he’d always been able to read you better than anyone else on the team, even without telepathy.

“you alright, kid?” his voice cut through the haze, gruff but steady. it was like an anchor, something real and solid to focus on.

you nodded quickly, though it was a lie. “i’m fine,” you muttered, but the words felt weak, shaky.

logan didn’t buy it for a second. “yeah, bullshit,” he muttered, his hand still resting on your arm, grounding you. “you’re lookin’ pale as hell. c’mon, bub.”

before you could protest, logan gently but firmly led you toward the exit, weaving through the crowd with ease. you followed, grateful for his presence. the second you stepped outside, the cool night air hit you, and you felt like you could finally breathe again.

logan guided you away from the line of people waiting to get in and toward a quieter spot around the corner of the building, far from the pounding music. the noise from inside was muffled now, and without the sea of thoughts crashing into you from all sides, your head began to clear, just a little.

“better?” logan asked, his voice softer now, though still carrying that rough edge that was so inherently him.

you nodded, taking a deep breath. “yeah… yeah, much better. thanks.”

he leaned back against the brick wall, folding his arms across his chest, watching you carefully. he didn’t push, didn’t demand an explanation, but you could tell by the way his eyes narrowed slightly that he knew something was wrong.

“it’s just... the noise in there,” you said after a moment, your voice quiet, almost embarrassed. “not just the music, but the people. their thoughts. it’s... it’s a lot.”

logan’s expression softened, just a little. he might not understand telepathy the way you experienced it, but he got it in his own way. he knew what it was like to have too much going on in your head, to feel overwhelmed by things out of your control.

“should’ve said somethin’,” he muttered, though his tone wasn’t harsh. “i would’ve gotten you outta there sooner.”

you shook your head. “i didn’t want to mess up the mission.”

“the mission doesn’t matter if you’re about to pass out,” he shot back, his eyes flashing with irritation - not at you, but at the situation. “you gotta take care of yourself.”

you sighed, leaning against the wall beside him. “i know. ‘s just... hard. when you’re in a place like that, and everyone’s thinking all at once, it’s like - ” you shrugged, trying to find the right words. “it’s like being underwater. you can hear everything muffled, but it’s all too much at the same time. i couldn’t block them all out.”

logan was quiet for a moment, processing what you said. then he nodded, as if he understood. “well, you’re outta there now. you don’t need to go back in. the rest of us can handle it.”

you frowned, shaking your head. “no, i can’t leave the team like that. we’re supposed to - ”

“hey,” he interrupted, his voice low but firm. “you’ve done enough, kid. let us take it from here.” his gaze softened as he looked down at you. “besides, you ain’t leavin’ us hangin’. you’re just takin’ a breather. nothin’ wrong with that.”

you met his eyes, feeling a little less guilty under his steady gaze. he was right, of course. but it still felt wrong to step back when the rest of the team was inside, working.

“how about this,” logan added, his tone softening. “you stay out here for a bit, get your head straight, and if you’re feelin’ up to it, we’ll go back in together. but only if you’re ready.”

his words made you relax a little more. the pressure to keep pushing through was gone, and the idea of taking a break, even if just for a few minutes, didn’t feel so bad when he framed it like that.

“okay,” you agreed softly. “i think... i think i need a few minutes.”

logan nodded, satisfied with your answer. he pushed away from the wall and motioned toward a nearby bench. “sit down for a sec. no rush.”

you followed him, sinking onto the bench gratefully. the fresh air felt good, like it was clearing away the fog in your mind. logan sat beside you, silent but present, his arm resting on the back of the bench, his fingers grazing your shoulder lightly.

“how do you do it?” you asked after a few minutes, your voice barely above a whisper.

logan glanced at you, eyebrow raised. “do what?”

“stay so calm,” you murmured, staring down at your hands. “you’re always in control. even when everything’s going crazy, you just... keep it together.”

he huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “you think i’m calm?”

you looked at him, a little surprised by his response. “well, yeah. you always seem like you’ve got it under control.”

logan’s gaze softened as he met your eyes. “darlin’, i ain’t always calm. most of the time, i’m just as pissed off or frustrated as the next guy. but i learned a long time ago that lettin’ it take over don’t do any good. doesn’t mean it’s easy, but... you get used to it.”

you frowned slightly, processing what he said. “so... you’re just used to it?”

“nah,” he corrected, his voice softer now. “i’m used to dealin’ with it. there’s a difference. but i had to figure that out the hard way. you’ll get there, bub. more easily i hope.”

you nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. it wasn’t the same as what you were dealing with, but in a way, it felt like he understood more than anyone else on the team ever could. and the fact that he was here, sitting with you, offering quiet support, meant more than you could express.

“thanks,” you said after a moment, glancing up at him with a small smile. “for getting me out of there. for... everything.”

logan looked at you for a beat, his expression softening. “anytime,” he muttered, his voice gruff but genuine.

for a while, the two of you just sat there in the quiet, the night air cool against your skin. the noise and chaos of the club were distant now, and with logan beside you, the overwhelming thoughts and emotions that had threatened to drown you finally felt manageable.

“you ready to head back in?” logan asked after a few minutes, though his tone wasn’t pushy.

you hesitated for a second, then shook your head. “not yet.”

he smirked slightly, nodding. “good. let’s stay out here a bit longer.”

you smiled, leaning into his shoulder, and he didn’t pull away. instead, his arm settled around you, holding you close as the night stretched on, the two of you finding a moment of peace amidst the chaos.

general taglist : @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @k1t-k4ts, @icurushasfallen, @eddxemxnson, @nickiinator

@chamomile-tea420, @rooroen, @spitfy, @cannon-writes, @platinumblondeedition

@cloudcandyala, @v3lv3tf0x, @california-boys-and-sun, @harleyyquinnsgf, @lemoanaid

@notacleangirl, @jabberwokee, @aetherthetrashpanda, @schrodingersjigsaw, @sylaswrites

@t0mmy-th3-gh0st, @correnz, @fvhs-things, @kallmeweirdhprroe, @dugiioh

@thugbiscuits, @rosiahills22, @cassehtwah, @whxtewolf, @mystcrium,

@bluevclvet, @angellreads, @babey-fruit-bat

[shadowbriar]

Five Hargreeves - Back To You

Pairing : Five Hargreeves x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 2.8k Warning : Angst. Season 4 references. Synopsis : After one too many subway trips, Five's plan of temporal refuge extended as he met someone he refuse to lose. Notes : I refuse to acknowledge what happened in Episode 5 and 6 though I use the gif of said episodes. Don't come at me if you don't agree. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

Living in a small cottage by the lake has never been in his cards. To settle down and watch the sun sets everyday, hearing the rocking chair creak as he takes a sip of his coffee. This was beyond anything he could ever hoped for, anything he could afford. He knew that this wasn’t the life he’s supposed to lead. Lord, this wasn’t even a life he owns to begin with. But with each second passed in this universe, Five finds it hard to drag himself back to that subway and return to his own timeline.

“Enjoying the scenery, are we?” She whispers as she sits on his lap, clinging her arms around his neck “You know, I could really use the help stuffing that chicken. It is afterall your special request.”

The boy raised an eyebrow, “Shouldn’t I be off of any chores since it is my special request?”

“Just because it’s your birthday, doesn’t mean you’re having a vacation, big guy,” She reasoned “We’ve only got two hands and this house is only getting bigger than smaller.”

The boy couldn’t bite his grin when he leaned in to kiss her. His heart swells. She was right. The house feels like it’s growing along with them. They might not have much, certainly far from the wealth his father possesses, but it was much more than enough. Having her was much more than enough.

“You know that I love you, right?” Five asks as he pulls away, his left hand still cupping her cheek as his thumb caresses her gently.

“I know,” She nods, smiling “But you can’t sweet talk your way out of kitchen duty, Mister.”

Five chuckles, standing from his seat as he carried her in his arms, “Alright, Missy, let’s see what this chicken fuss is all about.”

—-

The muscles on his cheeks were aching but he couldn’t fight the need to grin as wide as he could. He was happy, watching her carry that awful looking cake out of the oven. The icing that supposedly spelled ‘happy birthday’ was crooked, its colour pale compared to the bright fondant covering it. Thank God the candles were their only source of light, otherwise she wouldn’t even bring it out, he reckons.

“It’s ugly, I know,” She says as she lets it rest on the table “But it tastes better than it looks, I promise.”

Five shakes his head, disagreeing with her discouraging comments as he steals a kiss, “It’s perfect.”

“Well, go on and make a wish!”

The boy closes his eyes. His hands holding hers as he whispers his wish: I wish for this to last forever. Her squeals of excitement was music to his ears as he blew the candles. It is indeed the best birthday of his life.

“I’d ask but I know you wouldn’t tell me your wish.”

“Who said I made any wish?”

“You did,” She says as she helps him cut the cake “You make that little frown everytime you say your little prayer, do you know that?”

“I don’t pray, Love.”

“You do. Well, not religiously, but sometimes you do. You say your little prayer, your hopes. You whisper them sometimes, but most times you just close your eyes and do that little frown thing.”

Five raised an eyebrow, “Have you been watching me?”

“I might,” She teases “I mean who wouldn’t watch such a handsome man like you?”

The night continues as the couple finishes their dinner. Fulfilled would be such an understatement for what he feels right now. Everything he ever wanted, everything he ever dreamed of, is served right in that room. He wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

“So can I take a guess about what you wished for?”

“Really, Love?” He asked, putting down his glass of wine.

She shrugs, “We’ve talked about everything else, haven’t we?”

“You know, there’s a belief that if you say your prayers, it won’t happen.”

“Well, you’re not saying what it was, I’m just taking a guess what it’s about.” She argues, still persistent “And what’s so bad with it not happening? Do you really want it that bad?”

“I— Nothing, I just don’t—”

“What is it that you could wish for? What is it that you don’t have?”

“Nothing, I’m not saying that I want anything, I just—”

“Is it your family?”

Five pauses. It was as if he was stupefied. He hadn’t thought about his family in a while. Shameful of him, sure, but after one too many subway trips, he figured that a little rest shouldn’t be so bad. He just had to find a timeline where there weren't that many people shooting at him. Perhaps take a week or two to rest and gather his strength before jumping into another subway.

It just had to be her. The girl he bumped into right after he got out of the station. He remembers vividly the concerned look on her face when she saw him. He was littered with bruises, dirt and dust covering his body. He looked more like trouble than a lover yet she still found it in her heart to ask if he needed any help.

And here he was, feeling the happiness in his heart wither as the thought of his family returned to his consciousness. He knew that the universe is cruel, that he couldn’t have the best of both worlds in this lifetime, that he had to choose between his lover or his family. Some nights he wonders if his family had succeeded in preventing another apocalypse without him. Some nights he wonders if his family had found a way to another timeline. Some nights he wonders if his family were still alive. But most nights he tried his best to ignore these wonders. His family must have found a way to stop the apocalypse, or at least escape another one.

Taking a deep breath, Five reaches for her hands. Guilt and regret were evident on her face. He knew that she didn’t mean to sound as cruel. Perhaps it was the wine that made their blood more sensitive or that the fatigue of the day had clouded their minds. Either way he knew that they both would be sorry when the morning came.

“I love you,” He starts gently “I love you more than anything in this and every timeline.”

A tear left her eye. It was painful. To love someone you know doesn’t belong to you. To desperately grasp into the moments you knew would end anytime soon. To selfishly stay in a relationship that was doom from the start. Neither of them deserved this, yet neither of them wanted to let go.

“It’s been six years, Five,” She reasoned “As much as I love you.. We can’t keep living like this.”

“Time works differently there, my love. Six years here might only mean a couple hours there.”

“That doesn’t make it any less wrong for you to stay. Those couple hours might be the most crucial hours for your family. They might be fighting for their lives right now, they might be dying, for all we know! You need to come back to them, Five. You have to.”

Five forces a laugh, “Wait, what are you saying?”

She remained silent. Her tears were falling, biting her lips to conceal her tremble. A bitter feeling is brewing in his stomach now.

“Your family needs you and—”

“Okay, stop,” He stood from his seat with an offended look “Are you breaking up with me? On my birthday?”

She looks away, unable to meet his eyes.

“Goodness, you can’t be serious.”

“What choice do we have, Five? One way or another, you’d have to go back to your family. They need you—”

“And you? You don’t need me anymore?”

Her jaw clenches, “That’s beside the point.”

“No, that is the whole point, actually,” He argues, this time coming close to her “I love you, alright? Why is it so wrong for me to want to be with the person that I love? I’ve lived more than a lifetime alone, why can’t I have someone for once?”

“You don’t belong in this timeline. I—”

“I belong with you,” He cuts in “It’s not the timeline that matters, it’s where you are. I belong with you.”

If there’s anything she loves most about Five other than his gentle and caring nature towards her, it would be how adamant he is once he’s set his mind into something. There’s no doubt in her heart about the genuinity of his words. But as much as she’s grateful and touched over it, she knew that they could only spend so long before the guilt eats them whole.

She lets go of his hands softly, placing them on his cheeks instead. She admires him. The beautiful man that’s now standing in front of her with his heart on his sleeves, announcing his devotion to her on the day when he’s supposed to be the one showered with attention and love. His eyes were glossy, clearly conflicted.

“I love you, Five,” She whispers, gently caressing his skin as if it was their last goodbye “But I can’t keep you here, I can’t. I can’t keep you from your family.”

Five looks defeated, silent.

“Don’t you want to know what happened to them? If they’re okay? If they’ve figured out how to stop the apocalypse? Don’t you want to know?”

“I— I don’t know.” He answers “What I know is that I want to be with you.”

“I’ll always be with you, Love,” She reassures, kissing his cheek “I might not understand how this whole different timelines work, but I know that whichever timeline it is, whatever universe we live in, I will always belong to you. I will always be with you.”

And he finally cries. His tears flowing and wetting her palms. His heart shatters, finally succumbing to the guilt he’s tried so hard to bury and forget. He misses his family, he wanted so badly to get back and pick up where he left off, but would it be worth it? Would leaving everything here be worth it? Would leaving her be worth it?

“We’ll find our way,” She reassures, pulling the broken man into her embrace “You’ll find me in your timeline. Maybe we’ll meet at the grocery store, or at a bar, or perhaps at another train station.”

Five chuckles a little, letting a shaky breath as he asks, “And if we don’t?”

“We will,” She says firmly, giving a little space between them so they could gaze into each other’s face “I’m too much of a troublemaker and you’re too much of a problem solver for us to not meet. It’ll be too hard to ignore each other with our nature, Love. We’re bound to meet each other, in any timeline, in any universe. Trust me.”

The boy forces a smile. He leans in, kissing his lover gently as if she’d burst into petals if he pushed too much. Her hold around his neck feels different. Like she wasn’t looking for support but giving one instead. He could feel her trembling a little as his hands pulled her closer by the waist. Her heart is breaking too, as much as his is, but they knew that it’s inevitable. It’s only a matter of time before time pulls them apart and it certainly would be much more painful then.

“I’ll find you,” He whispers “I promise.”

—-

Canada is certainly much colder than home. Five rubs his hands and blows some air to his palms in hope to gain some warmth, but it’s obvious that the only comfort he’ll find in this weather is to get in Viktor’s bar and ask for some drink. That is, if Diego could start the car and get them going.

“It says here that Viktor’s bar is only five minutes by foot,” Klaus says “Who wants to run to the bar with me?”

“No one is getting out of this car!” Diego says in frustration, irritatedly trying his best to start the engine “We’re going to get to his bar together, in this car. That’s the whole point of a family road trip. We go to the bar by car, not by foot!”

“Yes, but it’s freezing here, Diego! The heater is not even on!” Alison argues.

“Well, it won’t be unless the engine is on.”

“No shit, Luther,” Ben says “I vote to run.”

Lila raises her hand, “Second to run.”

“No! No one is getting out of this car!” Diego yells once more, hitting the steering wheel frustratedly “I just need to—”

And by God’s miracle, the engine turns back on. Though their trip would soon reach its main destination, the bicker done by the family persists. The coldness of Canadian weather and how the heater broke almost twenty kilometres ago has made the seven heads’ temper raise. They really need to get to Viktor’s bar before they start to kill each other.

“I’m out of here,” Five announce as the car gets into the parking space of the bar. He space jumped inside, finding himself on one of the empty stools “Good to see you, Viktor.”

“Five,” VIktor greets, a little startled but his smile grows “You’re here. Where are the others?”

“Still figuring their way out to get here. Can I get whiskey on rocks?”

“On it.”

Five taps on the wooden table as he waits for his drink. His heart was content, as much as it might mean now. Their plan to stop the apocalypse worked. Viktor managed to take the marigold off of Ben before the Cleanse happened and now they’re trying to get back or rebuild their life. For once they finally managed to stop the apocalypse from happening.

Right after they succeeded in preventing the cleanse, Five found himself running to the subway station. He could still feel his feet burning from how fast he tried to get back to the station, wanting to jump in the train and go back to her timeline, but once he got there, the station vanished. There was no trace of it, no matter how many times he tried to run around and look for it. The subway is gone. She is gone.

Perhaps it was the price he has to pay for saving the universe. One’s happiness in exchange for the lives of millions doesn’t seem to be a hard sacrifice to make, but it’s still a tough pill for him to swallow. He knew that she would be proud. That she would hug and kiss him for doing all the hard work in saving the world. But the more he thinks about it, the more it stings for such touch would only be as good as a dream now.

“You ordered whiskey on rocks?” A voice asked, breaking his train of thoughts.

Five’s mouth went agape. He couldn’t tell if he was daydreaming or if this was some sick new power he gained from the marigold, but she was there. Standing right in front of him with a glass of whiskey in her hand.

“Viktor said his brother ordered whiskey on rocks, I assume that’s you?”

“I— Uh, yes,” He stammers, getting off the stool “You’re here.”

Five couldn’t believe his eyes. In his heart he knew that they would meet again, that somehow the universe would let him keep both her and his family, but he never expected that it was true. He never expected that he would meet her again. Not this fast, not this way.

“Sorry?” She asks, raising an eyebrow “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yes. Yes, I’m fine,” Five said, shaking his head and taking the glass “Thank you.”

The girl smiles. It was a different smile than what he’s used to seeing. There wasn’t much love in her eyes, but he wasn’t in the position to complain. The girl he’s staring at and his lover might be the same person but she’s yet to know him here. She’s yet to know that he’s hers. She’s yet to know that he loves her. She’s yet to know that he belongs to her.

“Sorry, but have we met before?” She asks, still staring back at him “You look very familiar.”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” He lied, offering his hand “I’m Five. Five Hargreeves. Viktor’s brother.”

She took his hand, telling him her name, “I didn’t know Viktor had a baby brother.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not really his baby brother. It’s— It’s complicated.” Five could feel his cheeks burning like a little boy, bashful “It’s a long story.”

“You mind telling me about it?” She asks, leaning on the table “I’ve got time. I love hearing stories.”

“I know you do,” He says with a big smile “Well, where do I start..”

[dreamdragonkadia]

A/n; I want Xaden kisses. This man is just so so fine

The "You're Mine" Kiss

It’s not subtle. Never with Xaden. He doesn’t ask; he declares. These kisses usually come when someone’s pushed his buttons, stirring that fierce, protective side of him—or when he’s feeling the slightest flicker of jealousy. Whether it’s a lingering glance from someone else, a whispered comment he doesn’t like, or your casual flirtation with danger, his reaction is immediate.

Xaden’s hand curls around the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair, while his thumb presses lightly against your pulse. It’s deliberate, as if he’s savoring the way your heartbeat quickens under his touch. His other hand finds your waist, holding you firm, anchoring you to him.

When his lips crash against yours, it’s not a question—it’s an answer. There’s nothing tentative about the way he kisses you. It’s fierce, unapologetic, and possessive, the kind of kiss that takes and keeps, like he’s trying to carve his name into your very soul. His tongue brushes against yours in a commanding and relentless way, until the world fades into the heat of his touch and the fire of his kiss.

When he finally pulls away, your lips are swollen, your breath uneven, and yet he still doesn’t move back, his forehead resting against yours. His dark eyes lock onto yours, smoldering with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. His voice is low, roughened by the kiss, as he mutters against your lips, "Don’t forget it."

The Silent Apology Kiss

Xaden doesn’t stumble over apologies. He is honest—sometimes brutally so—and he rarely sugarcoats his words. It’s just who he is. But that honesty cuts both ways, and when his temper gets the better of him, the feeling of his regret is visible in the aftermath.

He doesn’t apologize right away. Instead, he clutches his fists tight enough that his knuckles turn white, jaw set in frustration, and leaves the room to cool off. It’s not anger at you—it’s at himself.

Later, when the quiet stretches too long and the sharp edges of the fight haven’t dulled, he finds you. You’re sitting alone, arms wrapped around yourself, the anger still coiled between you like a living thing. Xaden pauses in the doorway for a moment, as though gathering the resolve to step closer.

When he does, he doesn’t say a word. He crosses the room with quiet stubbornness, his shadow stretching long across the floor. Without hesitation, he kneels in front of you, his dark eyes meeting yours, raw and unguarded, willing you to see his apology. His hand moves to your chin, tilting your face toward him with a touch so gentle it almost breaks you.

Then his lips press to your forehead—warm, steady, and conscious. The kiss lingers, longer than normal, like he’s trying to say everything he can’t put into words. You feel his breath against your skin, the slight tremor in his exhale, and the unspoken apology that hums in the quiet between you.

When he pulls back, staring into your eyes, his fingers still resting lightly against your jaw. “I shouldn’t have snapped,” he finally mutters.

But you both know the words aren’t necessary. The kiss already said it all.

The Teasing Peck

These are the kisses that catch you off guard, the ones that leave your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. It’s usually when you’re rambling, your mind spiraling in a dozen directions while you pace the room, oblivious to his gaze. Xaden leans lazily against a doorframe, arms crossed, his infuriatingly smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

He doesn’t interrupt—yet. He’s watching you, his eyes following the gestures of your hands as you emphasize your points, but you’re too focused to notice the way his thoughts wander. He’s imagining you in ways he probably shouldn’t: sprawled beneath him, lips swollen from his kisses, cheeks flushed as you—

“Xaden, are you even listening to me?” you snap, finally noticing the far-off gleam in his eyes.

He doesn’t answer. He just steps forward, closing the space between you with ease. His hand grabs yours, the roughness of his fingers distracting you for a split second before he dips down and presses the quickest of kisses to your lips.

It’s fleeting—barely more than a brush—but the warmth lingers, and before you can even process it, he’s pulling back. You’re frozen mid-sentence, the words catching in your throat as you gape at him, completely derailed.

His smirk deepens, satisfaction rolling off him in waves. His eyes glitter with amusement as he says, “I am now.”

Then he steps back, leaving you standing there while he saunters away like he hasn’t just turned your entire train of thought into a pile of rubble.

The "I’m Proud of You" Kiss

Xaden’s praise is rare, which makes these moments all the more significant. He’s not the type to toss around compliments lightly—they’re earned, and when he gives them, you know they’re sincere. It’s after you’ve done something he didn’t expect—holding your ground in a heated argument, outmaneuvering him in a sparring match, or catching him off guard by being a step ahead of his usually unshakable intuition.

He won’t show his admiration immediately when there are other eyes watching or more pressing matters at hand. That’s not his style, particularly when serious things are going down. But once the adrenaline fades and it’s just the two of you, that’s when you see it.

The moment comes quietly. His hands finding your waist with a confidence that feels like second nature. His touch is familiar yet tender, like all he wants in that moment is to hold you, to ground himself in you. His gaze softens, the hard edges of his usual intensity melting into something gentler, more vulnerable.

“You amaze me, you know that?” he says, his voice intimate, meant only for you.

There’s no smirk this time, no teasing gleam in his eyes—just quiet reverence as his lips find yours. The kiss is slow, unhurried, and meaningful, carrying none of the urgency or fire you might expect from him after a meeting. Instead, it’s full of something deeper, something that speaks volumes more than words ever could.

His hands tighten slightly at your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer, as though to keep you in the moment. It’s not about heat or desire; it’s about acknowledgment, admiration, and the way he sees you as someone who continually surprises him, challenges him, and is there for him.

When he pulls back, he lets out a soft exhale, as though saying the words aloud was as much for him as it was for you. The corner of his mouth lifts in a faint smile, his thumb brushing over your side as he adds, “I love you.”

The Protective Kiss

These kisses come when fear shadows his features—something you rarely see. Xaden seems unshakable, the rock in any storm, but when it’s you, when it’s your life that’s been on the line, that unyielding façade cracks.

It might be after a battle, when the adrenaline is still coursing through his veins and the memory of you being too close to danger burns fresh in his mind. Or maybe it’s in the quiet aftermath of a dangerous mission, when the reality of what could have happened finally catches up with him.

His hands are on you before you can even speak, his grip hard, almost bruising, as they settle on your arms. His dark eyes sweep over you, searching for any sign of injury, his jaw clenched so tightly it looks like it might snap. It’s as if he’s trying to convince himself that you’re really here, whole and unbroken, standing in front of him.

He doesn’t say a word—he can’t, not yet. Instead, he leans in, his lips finding yours with a desperation that borders on frantic. The kiss is desperate, unrelenting, like he’s trying to breathe you in, to memorize the feel of you against him. There’s nothing soft or measured about it; it’s raw, primal, and filled with the kind of fear that only comes from almost losing the one thing that matters most.

His hands slide down to your waist, his fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as though he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

His voice, when it comes, is low and hoarse, laced with an edge of anger that’s born entirely of fear. “Don’t you ever do that to me again,” he murmurs, the words both a command and a plea.

You can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightens even further as he pulls you into his chest, holding you close like he needs to feel your heartbeat to steady his own. And in that moment, you realize just how much power you hold over him—and how much he’d risk to keep you safe.

The Slow-Burn Kiss

This kiss doesn’t start with lips; it starts with a look. A glance that’s lingered far too long, one of those smoldering gazes that sets your pulse racing and makes the room feel suddenly too warm. Xaden’s been giving you that look all day—subtle, deliberate, the kind that curls low in your stomach and leaves you wondering if he’s toying with you or if he’s just biding his time.

It’s not just the look, either. It’s the small touches: his hand brushing yours as he hands you something, his fingertips ghosting over your lower back as he passes by, the way his thumb lingers a fraction too long when he presses it to your cheek. And yet, somehow, he’s avoided your lips. He’s kissed your forehead in the early morning light, his lips soft and fleeting, and later, he brought your hand to his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. But your lips? Not once.

It’s a game, you realize—a maddeningly obvious one. He’s drawing it out, savoring your growing impatience with the kind of quiet control that only makes you want him more.

When he finally moves, it’s with an intended slowness that feels like it’s meant to unnerve you. He steps closer, his presence overwhelming, and the space between you vanishes until he’s right there. His hand comes up, his fingertips tracing the line of your jaw, his touch impossibly soft.

He leans in, his breath warm against your skin, and for a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. But his lips brush against yours so lightly it feels more like a question than an answer, a whisper of what’s to come. It’s intentional—teasing, torturous—like he’s testing your patience, drawing out the moment until it stretches impossibly thin.

And then, finally, when you tilt your head and close the gap, he lets you have it. His lips press to yours, a kiss that’s all-consuming without ever feeling rushed. His hands slide around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the world around you fades until there’s nothing left but him—the warmth of his touch, the steadiness of his breath, and the unspoken promise that this moment is entirely yours.

It’s not just a kiss; it’s a claiming, a vow in its own right. And you can’t help but wonder how you ever managed to breathe without him.

[luveline]

grumpy!joel and sunshine!reader? like he is very gruff and short with people until his girl comes around and tess is like wow are you soft now?

tysm for ur request! disclaimer: I am not an expert in tlou I just think Joel is very fit and also scary ♥︎ tess and joel are roommates here (and also no hate on tess at all I tried to make her a realist rather than a pessimist but she may sound a little jaded) idk lol pls enjoy! fem!reader 

Joel's asleep when you come around. Tess is stirring her drink, small spoon bouncing against the sides of her mug with a metallic tap-tap-tap as your familiar knock raps the door. She doesn't bother yelling, just opens the door to let you in. 

"Hello," you say, though you wince when you spot Joel dozing on the couch. You drop your voice to a whisper. "Nice shiner, Tess." 

"Thanks." She steps aside to give you free reign, rolling her eyes when you toe off your shoes. 

You're not right in the head, in Tess' opinion. You're too soft for this life, and your continued survival feels like luck and nothing more. You know how she feels about you, and you know what she thinks: that to be vulnerable is to kill yourself. You don't feel the same. 

Joel's flat on his back. You push him against the cushions of the couch to make room, perching at his hip with a small sigh. He couldn't have been with Tess when she got hurt, his face clean of contusions. No speckled bruising, no scabbing cuts. 

You place your hand over the solid plane of his stomach and lean forward just a touch. You could kiss him. 

"Joel," you murmur, hand sliding to his waist. His jeans are rough under your palm. "Wake up. I have good news." 

He never wakes gently. His eyes scrunch, his lips tug down into a scowl. When he sees you, it takes a good long second for his agitation to fade into a more neutral expression. 

"Hey," you say, smiling. 

He doesn't smile back. "Where have you been?" he asks succinctly, voice rough with the lingering dregs of sleep. 

"Why should I tell you?"

He almost pushes you off of the couch as he sits up and swings his legs to the side. His shoes touch the floor, and of course he sleeps with his shoes on, he's ready for everything.

"Don't play games." 

You hum in delight at his dark tone and stand up before he can grab you, shivering at the feeling of his fingertips scratching your thighs. You backtrack through the room for your bag thrown haphazardly by the door. You pick it up, excited and scared at once, and scrabble to procure your promised 'good news'. 

"I wasn't far." 

"Your definition of far isn't one I trust," he says. 

"She's a big girl, Joel," Tess says, sipping her drink. She winces at the taste but isn't deterred. "She can take care of herself." 

And if you can't, who cares? You shouldn't be anybody else's problem, and to your credit you aren't. You take care of yourself. You take care of Joel, too, whenever you can, which is why you've brought him the book you found. 

"Here, handsome," you say, holding it out with little ceremony. 

Joel stands up to take it. He stares at the cover in silence. 

"It's a shame they can't include a snippet on every page," you lament. "Like when they used to put perfume samples straight on the paper. I don't know what half of those songs sound like. Which is weird, right? The biggest Billboard hits and I can't remember them." 

"And this is for…" 

"Your codes. Your radio codes?" Your beaming smile starts to shutter. Maybe it isn't useful after all.

Joel knows better than to ask what you want for it. You never ask for anything, ever. You give and you give and at first he'd thought you were stupid, just plain dumb. Generosity is a myth and everybody has their motives. He'd been suspicious of your angle, rejecting you, talking down on you, practically spitting at you to get lost. And you'd listened, for the most part, but then he'd see you in line after shifts for cards, around dark corners talking to dirty FEDRA officers, and you'd always impossibly feel his gaze and pin him with a smile. You've eroded his reluctance over time, and now you're here, sprightly and pretty in his too-big apartment filling every inch with light. 

He reaches across the gap and takes your hand. He squeezes, savouring the warmth of your smaller hand. You have delicate fingers compared to his, and they look smaller still enveloped in his grasp. 

"I'll make you something to eat," he says. 

You nod once, a pop of movement. "Thank you." 

You're not the one who should be saying it but you're the only one who's willing to. Thank you has become synonymous with I owe you. 

Tess lets her gaze flick between your two bodies, clearly startled. Joel drops your hand and it's too late, far too late, she's already gearing up to make fun. 

"Is this how it's gonna be now?" she asks. 

Joel huffs quietly. Tess talks with a brittle kind of love, the familiarity of knowing someone for a long time softening what would otherwise be ridicule. She thinks, without malice, that you and Joel are a bad idea.  

"Hasn't it been like this for a while?" you ask, turning to face her, your usual sunshine attitude worsened by Joel's affection. 

"You're fucking up my guy." 

"Don't get stiffed so often and you won't need a bodyguard," you say lightly. 

Joel snorts, tossing your catalogue of songs on the counter. He doesn't know if they have anything worth eating here, but he's gonna damn well try and find something. 

"You're soft," Tess says to Joel, quick and quipping as she dumps what's left of her drink into the sink. "I'm going out." 

Not much changes when she goes. You come to stand beside him at the counter, your elbow brushing his arm. He doesn't move away. 

Joel doesn't understand why you stick around. Doesn't know what it is that makes you so sweet on him. The first time you met, outside the old meat market on the edge of curfew, he'd been standing watch as Tess made a deal. You'd slunk up on him from the right, and said, "You look unhappy," with your usual softness. 

He'd turned to you in wonder. Wonder in the very worst sense of the word; what could possibly possess you to approach him? Agitation struck like the powdery head of a match against its box, fuck off on the tip of his tongue, and you'd said, "You ever hear that Bill Withers song? 'Ain't no sunshine without rain?'" 

He'd thought you were a wannabe member of the resistance, and that fuck off had rolled right out of his mouth with ease. Your smile hardly wavered. 

"It's 'when she's gone,'" he says now.

You look up at him, he looks down at you. His thick brows relax, and his brown eyes calm. It suits him, and you'd tell him, but you're confused. 

"Huh?" 

"That Bill Withers song. It's 'ain't no sunshine when she's gone,'" he corrects you, the you from the past. He's trying to tell you something without saying it out loud. 

"Oh," you say. Your eyelashes kiss in the corners as you smile. "Right. What am I thinking of?" 

"How should I know?" He doesn't sound mad, smiling at you very briefly.

"I don't know, I thought you knew everything." 

That's not true. He can't know everything, because he doesn't have a clue in the world what he did to deserve meeting you. 

—

please forgive any inaccuracies, I only played the game a little when I was much younger, and so this was made of my watching the first episode twice and some help from people / the wiki!! it's just for fun lol so I hope you enjoyed <3<3<3

[mustainegf]

HI ELENA

I have a fic idea where James is the readers stepdad and he finds her dairy and he reads one page that talks about her feelings for him and he confronts her about it and fucks her(btw add any kinks you want idc)

YES YES YESS!!

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: daddy kink, stepdad x stepdaughter, unprotected sex

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐘 ²⁰²⁴

With a sigh, I dried my hair, breathing deep with the thick, steamy air from the shower I'd just had. I grabbed a fresh towel and wrapped it around my body, hugging the soft fabric over my curves and tucking it tight before stepping out of the warm bathroom.

On the way back to my room, I smiled as I saw that the lights were turned off in the living room and Kitchen. James must be working late tonight. I'm glad; I don't want to run into him right now.

I padded down the hall before reaching my room and twisting the door open, met with a sight that made my heart stop.

There was my stepfather sitting at my desk chair with his head cocked, one eyebrow raised as he looked through my journal.

I didn't think I had even closed the lid on the book when I was finished writing. I gasped and clapped my hands over my mouth, mortified. "How long have you been there?" I squeaked, not knowing what else to say.

He smirked slightly and chuckled, never once looking away from the page. "A few minutes, sweetie." I could feel the heat creeping up my neck as he said this.

My eyes dropped to the ground and I shuffled closer towards him. I wasn't sure how he'd react if he knew everything I wrote about him, but I wanted to know for certain whether or not he's read it all.

"So," he started, "It seems like you're quite a naughtygirl underneath that shy exterior. Always thinking dirty things..." His voice trailed off.

"I uh..." I whispered, feeling like my legs would give out beneath me any second. I tried to ignore the arousal building between my thighs at the thought of James reading my fantasy.

James only snickered at my reaction, turning back to the pages to read part of it out loud.

"My stepdaddy has his hands on my shoulders,' yeah?" He chuckled again and kept going. ''He pushes me into bed, holding me there while his cock stretches me op-"

I cut him off, my face almost purple with embarrassment. "Wait, stop..."

I pleaded, hoping he wouldn't get too far. But James ignored me and continued, his eyes trailing down to where his fingers slowly traced the letters of each word.

"You want daddyinside you, don't you baby?" James cooed, shutting my book and setting it down.

Before I could answer, he stood and sauntered toward me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Please don't tell mom," I begged.

A smile appeared across his face as he nodded. "Of course not, sweetie." He let out another chuckle and leaned forward, brushing his lips against mine.

It took every ounce of strength I had not to move forward with him, kiss him back, grind against his erection, beg him to take me right then and there.

With our mouths connected, I couldn't help but whimper softly when his tongue brushed against my bottom lip. James moaned in response, the sound vibrating against my skin.

Our kisses grew more passionate, James' hands roaming across my hips before slipping under the towel to caress my ass.

"Fuck, you are so sexy," James groaned, squeezing my cheeks in his grip. The sensation sent a jolt straight to my core, making me slicken even more.

James sensed this immediately and began rubbing his hand along my slit, smearing my juices everywhere. "Oh God," I cried, arching into his touch.

The warmth of his palm radiated through the thin fabric, heating me up even further. When his index finger found its way to my cit, I nearly lost control.

"Let's get this towel off, hmm?" He snickered.

Taking advantage of my state, he tore the fabric from my chest and threw it onto the floor behind us. Before I could object, he scooped me up in his arms and tossed me onto my bed, following after me quickly.

I was still squirming on top of my sheets when he grabbed hold of my ankles, spreading them apart.

One leg was bent while the other was still flat on the mattress, giving him easy access to me.

Without hesitation, James wasted no time burying his face between my legs, his nose pressed directly on my swollen nub. I screamed loudly, unable to hold myself together anymore.

All thoughts flew from my mind as James devoured me hungrily. I dug my heels into his back, drawing him closer to me, needing his tongue inside me.

"Yeah? You want this? My tongue all up your tight cunt?" James teased, taking his time licking my folds carefully. "Yes!" I breathed, clawing at the covers below me. "You want it bad huh, baby?"

He asked mockingly. James proceeded to tease me mercilessly until I was begging him to stop and please just put his dick inside me already.

After hearing enough, James abandoned my pussy altogether and rose above me, stripping himself off his clothes, bootcut jeans and an old Saxon tee.

Once naked, James positioned himself on top of me, lining his cock up with my entrance. "Do you want this, sweetie?" He asked, beginning to press his way inside me.

I couldn't find words to respond; instead, I only whined, bucking against him, desperate for his length. "Well?" James demanded, slowing down his pace.

"Tell me what you want," he commanded. "I... I want your dick, daddy. Please fuck me," I said desperately. This seemed to excite James because he picked up speed, filling me completely now.

"Fuck! Ohhh, yes," I cried, throwing my head back against the pillow. James' grunts and groans were drowned out by my own cries of ecstasy.

His thrusts grew harder and faster, hitting all of the right spots within me. I clung to him tightly, moving with him as best as I could, relishing in how good he felt buried deep inside me.

Each stroke made my pussy clench tighter and tighter around his thick member. "Damn, you feel amazing," James hissed, lifting one of my legs over his shoulder. The sudden change brought about a wave of intense pleasure, causing me to squeal loudly. "Ahhh! Shit, oh God! Fuck me! Take me!"

I screamed uncontrollably, losing myself completely to the overwhelming feelings coursing through me. There was nothing else except James and his powerful strokes.

"James- daddy!" I squealed, gripping the bedsheets in a white knuckled grasp.

As soon as those two words left my mouth, James's whole demeanor changed, the expression on his face morphing from relaxed to pure lust in an instant.

"Holy shit! You're such a little slut," he growled, pounding into me relentlessly. His declaration sent another jolt of electricity through me, making me even wetter than before if that was possible.

"My dirty little girl aren't cha?" He growled, sucking at my collarbone between thrusts.

"Say it," he demanded. "Yes, sir!" I gasped out, barely able to speak. "That's my girl." James complimented me, slamming his entire being into mine. My eyes rolled back in my head as he fucked me roughly.

"Daddy, I'm gonna - mhpf.." I mumbled over the fabric of the pillow.

I knew I was close but I wanted to last longer for him. Suddenly, James pulled out of me without warning, leaving me aching for more.

"Good job..." he coooed, keeping his forehead on mine as he jerked the final ropes of seed from his shaft, painting my heaving stomach.

I whimpered pathetically as he continued to rub his cum on my skin. Feeling particularly nasty, James trailed a single drop of his hot seed along the side of my breast, smearing it onto my dark nipple.

"You did such a good job, Princess.." he painted.

I swallowed hard, staring wide eyed at his hands as they smoothed their way across my sensitive skin.

They felt so soft compared to his thick cock that had just been inside me.

A shiver ran up my spine as he slowly dragged his hand towards my throat, stopping just shy of touching me there. "Oh... daddy..." I breathed, mesmerized by his actions.

"Y-you came all over me.." I croaked.

"I know, sweetheart. It looks like I'll need to clean you up later. Don't you worry." He whispered, laying beside me.

[scorpioriesling]

I (Almost) Don't Believe You

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Brennan x reader

Warnings: mutual pining, tiny mention of injury

Summary: It was already bad enough to find out your father and brother invaded your best friend's privacy; but sending you on a mission where it nearly killed her? Unbelieveable. What else is unbelieveable? The boy you'd fallen for so long ago would only be waiting for you on the other side...

SR’s Note: Um okay, as I am progressing through Iron Flame rn... like, Brennan is... ooh okay I am liking him quite a bit. He's helping ease the pain of loosing Liam (': Jokes, jokes... I don't think I'll ever get over that reality. Enjoy, lovelies.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The hours you'd been counting seemed to blur together as exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders. Was it exhaustion? Maybe it was just guilt. After everything you'd seen and gone through today, differentiating the two was... well, near impossible.

Your dragon has been all but silent, giving you time as thoughts race through your mind. Would your best friend wake up? If she didn't, the male sitting to your left would be all but gone too. A male you've come around to, especially seeing the way your closest friend reacts in his presence.

Gods, you wished for something like that.

Violet stirrs, her brow furrowing and shoulders moving on the cot where she lay. Both you and Xaden lean forward instinctively at the same time, and he huffs a small laugh as he glances sidelong at you. The two of you haven't spoken much since the arrival, and you're sure his mind is racing just as yours is.

"Vi... I hope you wake soon, you have people who've been waiting forever to see you," Xaden whispers. Your heart warms at his words -- long gone is the fearsome Wingleader you'd met only a year ago, and his familiar warmth is graciously returned in Violet's presence. She rolls to her side, eyes squeezing closed as she lets out a wide yawn. Xaden is on his feet in an instant -- you're quick to follow, flanking to her bedside.

"Violet?" You whisper. Xaden extends his hand, brushing hair from her face as she slowly blinks her eyes open. You can practically count the emotions swirling in her green eyes -- the one she registers and lands on quickly though, is confusion.

"Xaden... Y/N..." She pushes to a sitting position, Xaden clutching her shoulders and helping her readjust. She rubs her eyes with the back of her hand, and looks around the room in confusion.

"Where... what is this?" She asks. Xaden sighs, hanging his head low. Her eyes meet yours in silent question, and you shrug. "Hey, I could ask the same thing. The more important thing right now is that you're awake..." You say.

"Awake and healing quickly," Xaden adds. His fingers have threaded through hers, and her confusion quickly turns to anger.

"Don't... don't think I've forgotten-" She yanks up the side of her shirt, revealing a dull purple bruise on her side. Angry black veins thread from the injury, and her gaze flicks back to Xaden.

"I haven't forgotten." Is all she says, and you feel sorry for Xaden. Sure; you're grateful your spitfire of a best friend is alive and well, but her gaze could cut right through him.

"I know." Is all he says, so hushed that you barely hear it. You nod once, and begin backing away from the bed.

"I'll... leave you guys for a while." You say. Xaden nods, and Violet shoots you a pleading glance. You can see her asking you not to leave her alone with him, but you know they have a lot to talk about.

You decide instead to head down the hallway outside the door, finding a kitchen shortly along your way. If you were going to give your friends space, you might as well do something productive. A million thoughts raced through your mind; where were you? Where were the others? How far from Basgiath were you? Not to mention the millions of thoughts plaguing your brain about your father, your brother; knowing what they were sending not only this section, but their own family into...

You shake your head. Productive. Rifling through the foreign cabinets, you look for something to make.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The afternoon sun is dipped low beyond the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of violet and navy as night falls. It didn't take long for the others to find you -- perhaps it was the smell of the dinner you'd scraped together that drew them in.

The first two days, Garrick or Bodhi were sent out to retrieve food for the group, and you decided by day three that you should lend a hand. After all, you'd been shown many house-chores like this over the years; your father never expected you to become a rider rather than a housewife, that is. Neither did your brother, and you knew he didn't like it one bit.

Your older brother Dain had always been protective over you; but his overprotection only intensified when your best friend's brother died, and he practically treated the two of you as though you were made of glass. When you'd braced the parapet, he looked ready to hurl, never expecting his little sister (or her fearless best friend, for that matter) to dare entering the rider's quadrant.

But, your appreciation for his overprotection died the moment he used his signet to send your section to certain death. Not only did he send you, his only sibling; but the girl he'd oogled over, swore so many times he loved with all of his heart, right along with you.

It didn't matter now. Everything was different.

"I don't know how you did it," Garrick smiles, sitting on the bench seat near the small dining table in the kitchen. "But you've got some skill, Y/N. I mean seriously, who scrounges all this up in a place they've never been, and produces such a delicious meal?" He shakes his head, shoveling a huge bite of stew into his mouth. You smile as Imogene makes her way into the space.

"Gods, I could simply kiss you for this," Bodhi follows her in, snatching up a bowl and waiting behind Imogene for his turn to scoop from the pot. You chuckle.

"You mean to tell me that you don't enjoy going out and hoping to return with food for us all?" You raise an eyebrow playfully, and before he can answer, Violet enters the kitchen. You instinctively make your way to her, and her pained smile emerges as she pulls you in for a light hug.

"How are you feeling?" Imogene chides, perching in a chair across from Garrick and looking Violet over. You let go of her, and she glances around to everyone.

"I'm... I'll be alright." She says, and you nod. Her eyes meet yours, and she quickly whispers, "We need to talk."

Your eyes widen, and you glance to the stove where the awaiting pot sits. "Violet, you haven't eaten in days-"

"It can wait." She rushes, taking hold of your wrist and all but dragging you into the hallway and out of earshot from the others. You glance around, and she sighs.

"Violet, I know you have questions; I mean, so do I, but-"

"Brennan is alive." She stares straight into your eyes, and a wave of adrenaline rushes over you at her words.

"Violet, what are you-"

"He's alive. He's here. Brennan. He's..." She fumbles, her hands clasping and releasing frantically. You place a hand on her shoulder lightly. "He's alive, Y/N." She says in finality. You shake your head, a small smile appearing on your lips.

"Violet, you might be thinking some wild things, they did give you a lot of medicine-" She grasps both of your shoulders with her hands, holding tight and giving you an incredulous look.

"Would I lie about something like this?" She whisper shouts. You furrow your brows at her.

"No! Gods no, I don't think you're lying, I just..." You shrug defeatedly. "He's been dead for six years, Vi. The last time we spoke of him..." Your throat tightens at the memory. "His soul was being condemned to Malek." The way the fire sparked as his belongings were thrown in. The way Violet cried for weeks, you sleeping in her room with her for sheer comfort. The way your heart tightened every time you thought of the way he used to look at you; his soft voice, so contrasted against his mother's uniformed nature. The way he'd lend you his books, sitting and talking with you for hours on end...

"Fine. Go see for yourself." She gestures down the hallway, the countless doors fading to dark as it stretched on. "Fifth door on the left. He's probably still in there." She says. You sigh, looking to her once more.

"Violet-"

"I'm going in to eat." She walks through the kitchen entryway once more, leaving you alone in the hallway. You sigh, wiping your clammy hands on your pants. You head down the hallway, counting the doors as you go. One, two, three... four...

You stood, face-to-face with the fifth wooden door, the only sound this far down the hall was your ragged breaths. You swallowed, raking your fingers through your hair as you remembered you'd been wearing the same, disgusting leathers for three days. If he really was on the other side of this door, you hated that the first thing he'd see of you in six years was... well, not your favorite look.

You knock softly, and the door creaks open. You hastily shove it open, breath catching as you peered around the room. The empty room, that is. Moving inside, you took in various things; tons of papers, many books, quills and ink pots upon the desk-

Your breath catches in your throat as you spot a tome that you'd recognized. It was one Brennan gave to you all those years ago, when you were nothing but a teenager with a crush. Your heart still fluttered at the feeling, the ache in your heart as fresh as it was the day he died.

You huff, not sure why you expected anything but this. VIolet was on many remedies, and there was no world in which a man that had died would come back to life, no matter how convincing your best friend sounded.

A small knock sounds on the door behind you, and your head whips around from the papers you'd begun staring at. Your heart immediately seizes as your eyes meet those familiar brown irises you'd longed for, for so, so long.

"Y/N?" Brennan whispers, and you can't help the immediate sting of tears behind your pupils as you look him up and down. It felt surreal; his cream-colored button down is only buttoned up half way; his fitted trousers outlining every muscle along his masculine legs. Your hand flies to your mouth as you gasp, the words choked behind a sob rising in your throat.

"Brennan?" You stutter, and his eyes widen as he immediately surpasses the door way. You don't stop yourself from stepping quickly toward him, throwing your arms around his neck as a soft cry escapes your lips. He was real. He was really real, he had to be. The ends of his brown curls, longer now than when you'd seen him last, tickle your forarms as you pull him close. His arms wrap tightly around your waist, lifting you on to your tip toes as he stands at his full height.

You can't contain the tears flowing from your eyes as you breathe him in deep; his familiar scent of cedar and cotton bringing you back to all of those special moments you'd shared before; sitting close, sharing stories and thoughts. All of those almosts.

Before he …died, anyway.

You pull back to look up at him, but he doesn't release you. Instead, his fingers card through your hair, stroking lovingly as he continues his embrace. You shake slightly, allowing every emotion taking over your mind to run free. You never thought you'd see, feel him again. All of your greif receeding as you accept the reality that you had only ever dreamed of.

"Y/N I'm... I'm so sorry." He whispers. You cry harder, only wishing he'd keep talking and convincing you this was real. But, you forced yourself to believe it was; the boy you loved, now in front of you once more, holding you, physically touching you-

"Gods, I missed you so much." You retreated from his hold, his hands still braced on your hips as your watery eyes bore into his. Taking him in, you realized he was different. Older. No more was the boy you'd been in love with six years ago; now before you, was a man. A handsome one, nonetheless.

"I... I don't..." you stutter, and a small smile braces his lips as his soft hands brush the few stray tears from your cheeks. "I... I don't know what to say." You admit, and his thumb brushes along your cheekbone.

"Well... at least you're saying something," he says, chuckling softly. The sound is like music to your ears, a sound you hadn't heard in so long. "I was afraid Violet would shread me with one of her daggers when I tried talking to her." You swallow, your gaze drifting to his mouth as he spoke.

"I... I don't say I could blame her," you say softly, your eyes reconnecting with his as shame takes over his expression once more. He sighs, the hands on your waist falling as he takes a step back. You immediately wish he wouldn't have, already hoping to be back in his embrace as soon as you could.

"Look, Y/N, I..." his eyes peer at the wall above you, as he seems to contemplate his words. "I never meant to hurt anyone, alright? I had to do it because-" You step forward, taking his hand in yours. You stare up at him longingly, shaking your head that this was all truly real.

"You can explain it all later," you say, and his mouth closes. You can't help but take in the familiar slant of his nose, his more defined jawline, the golden planes of his skin...

"You can't keep staring at me like that, Aetos." His voice has dropped so low it’s almost gravelly, as his gaze darkens upon glancing toward your mouth. You grin, your deft fingers unlacing his and moving to slide thorugh the mass of curls on his head softly.

"I'm just... I'm really, really happy you're okay." You whisper. His hands slide around you, finding purchase along the small of your back. You suck in a breath as he pulls you against him once more, and you spot the tears pooling along his waterline at your words.

"I thought you'd hate me," he whispers, his breath a gentle caress down the slope of your nose. His perfect lips, ones you'd pined over for years were so, so close. So... real. His chest lets out uneven breaths pushed up against yours, and your nerves threaten to eat you alive as you raise to your tippy toes once more to be eye-level with him.

"I don't think I could ever hate you, Brennan." He smiles, the motion only growing as your eyes search his once more. His perfect teeth are still the same; the sparkle in his eye, the way he chuckles softly. It's as if you're transported back in time.

"I didn't think I could love you more than I did the last day I saw you." A single tear slips, and your quick to catch it with your finger. As you retract your hand, his fingers are quick to curl around yours, holding your hands against his heart. Your brows knit in confusion as you lower your heels, but his grasp on you does not falter.

"You're..." you start. His hand caresses your cheek, guiding you as close to his lips as you could get without touching. Your heartbeat races as his thumb traces soft circles on the back of your hand pressed to his heart. His heartbeat picks up at the closeness, and you can't help but smile. Whether its anxiety, fear, pure love... you've never been quite the expert at sorting out your feelings anyway.

"I'm …what?" He whispers, and you can't stand it any longer. You lean up, pressing a hesitant kiss to his lips. He stills, and you pull back, eyes as wide as his in shock.

"I'm so sorry, I-" He tugs you close again, your mouth colliding with his as he kisses you more forcefully. He keeps kissing you, both of his hands now cupping your face as yours grab onto the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. His lips part, allowing you access at your own pace; but you're quick to oblige, sliding your tongue along his bottom lip. A soft groan escapes his throat, and you inhale through your nose sharply at the sound. He's definitely more grown up than he was six years ago; more confident too. Gone was the shy, 19 year old who’d been deemed ��too old” for you back then — now, he didn’t seem to mind the 5 year age gap now that you’d finally turned 20.

You continue indulging, before the strike of the clock from the hallway sounds. He doesn't seem to care as he explores your mouth; hands continuing their exploration, too. As the quiet overtakes the room once more, you finally pull back, gasping for air as he smirks down at you.

"I've waited… so long for that," he says, and your face heats. Little does he know, so have you. “Not coming back to find you, tell you I was alright was so hard, Y/N.” He leans back in for more, but you turn so his lips connect with your cheek instead.

"Oh, nuh uh," you hum. "You've got some explaining to do first before any of..." you motion between the two of you. "...this, continues." He rolls his eyes (glad to know he hasn't changed all that much), and backs up, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Okay, okay." He says. "I have to be in a meeting, uh..." He glances quickly at his watch. Your eyes track the movement; wishing his delicious fingers were holding you close again. "Uh, now, actually." He laughs sheepishly.

"Better get to it, then." You fold your arms over your chest, tilting your chin up in mock confidence. His hand slides along your jaw one more time, and he gazes down into your eyes.

"Later, we'll talk. I promise," he says. You continue your confident expression as his hand retreats, and he heads for the door, leaving it open behind him. You wait a few seconds before you follow behind him, but freeze as you enter the hallway and are met with a familiar stare you've come to know all too well. Leaning against the wall is your best friend, a smirk so similar to her brothers plastered on her face as she pins you with an accusatory look.

"I told you he'd be in there."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[rispwr]

Still with you - JK - MDNI - PART TWO

pairings : ex!jk x ex!reader

genre : fluff, angst

context : after breaking up with your boyfriend for 14 years for cheating on you, choosing to still stay with him in his apartment wasn't quite the best idea. especially after seperating.

warnings/contents : smut, mentions of pregnancy, cheating, rape, unprotected sex, alcoholism, degrading, and this jungkook should be a warning.

songs : house of balloons, swim, into it, goodluck, babe, so high, bloodline

this fic only has maybe 2 or 3 chapters

I wake up to the sound of my alarm, the shrill beeping cutting through the silence of the room.

 I’m on the couch again, my back aching from another restless night. The familiar weight of tension settles over me as I remember where I am, Jungkook’s apartment. I groan, rubbing my eyes, wishing I could wake up somewhere else, anywhere else.

Today’s a workday, and for that, I’m grateful.

 Work is my escape, the one place where I can forget about everything that’s gone wrong in my life. I sit up, running a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. My mind is already racing with the tasks I need to tackle at the studio, the new song I’ve been working on, the production tweaks that need to be made.

I stand, stretching, and glance at the closed bedroom door. He’s still in there, probably asleep. Good. The less I have to see him this morning, the better. I grab my clothes and head to the bathroom, trying to be as quiet as possible.

As I get ready, I stare at my reflection in the mirror, trying to push away the anxiety that’s been gnawing at me since I woke up. I need to focus on work today, not on the fact that I’m still here, stuck in this apartment with him. The makeup I apply is like a shield, something to hide behind. I can’t afford to look vulnerable, not today.

When I step out of the bathroom, fully dressed and ready to go, I hear movement from the kitchen. My heart sinks. Of course, he’s awake now. I should have left earlier. I quickly grab my bag, hoping to slip out without any interaction.

But as I near the door, Jungkook’s voice stops me. “You’re leaving already?”

I freeze, my hand on the doorknob. “Yeah. I have to get to the studio,” I say, not turning around.

“You’re always in such a rush,” he says, his tone casual, but there’s an edge to it that I can’t ignore.

I sigh, closing my eyes for a brief moment. “I have a lot to do.”

“Right. Because work is all you care about now.” His voice is cold, and it hits me like a punch to the gut.

I turn around, glaring at him. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs, leaning against the counter, his eyes dark. “Just that you’ve been burying yourself in work ever since...”

I know what he’s about to say, and I can’t bear to hear it. “Don’t,” I snap, cutting him off. “Just don’t.”

His eyes flash with anger, and for a moment, we’re locked in a silent battle of wills. But I don’t have the energy for this fight. Not today. I turn and walk out the door, slamming it behind me.

at work

“Hold the elevator!”

I quickly hit the button to keep the doors open, and a moment later, Yoongi slips inside, slightly out of breath. He grins at me, and for the first time today, I feel my mood lift a little.

“Thanks,” he says, leaning against the wall of the elevator. “Didn’t think I’d make it.”

“No problem,” I reply, smiling back at him. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

He nods, still catching his breath. “Yeah, just started producing for some of the artists here. It’s been a wild ride so far.”

“That’s great,” I say, genuinely happy for him. I’ve been running into Yoongi at the coffee shop for a while now, and there’s something about him that makes everything feel a little less heavy. “I’m a producer and singer here too. Guess we’ll be seeing each other around a lot more.”

“Looks like it,” he replies, his smile widening. “Maybe we could work on something together sometime.”

I can’t help but laugh. “You say that like I wouldn’t be honored.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “The honor’s mine. Seriously.”

There’s a comfortable silence as the elevator continues its ascent, and I feel a sense of relief that I haven’t felt in a while. Being around Yoongi is easy. There’s no pressure, no expectations. Just two people who happen to get along.

Before the doors open to my floor, Yoongi pulls out his phone. “Hey, do you mind if we exchange numbers? In case you need anything...work-related, of course.”

“Of course,” I reply, feeling a warmth spread through me as we swap numbers. The doors slide open, and I step out, turning back to give him a small wave. “See you around, Yoongi.”

“See you, Y/N,” he replies, and I can feel his eyes on me as I walk down the hallway. For the first time today, I feel a genuine smile tugging at my lips.

-------------

Yoongi’s arm is around my shoulders as we approach my apartment building.

 The evening air is cool, a welcome relief after a stressful day. We reach the door, and I fumble with my keys, feeling a tight knot of anxiety in my stomach.

As we step inside, I’m met with an unexpected and unsettling scene. 

Jungkook is sprawled on the couch, clearly drunk, his clothes disheveled. The room is a chaotic mess, reflecting his mental state.

Yoongi looks at me with a quick, sympathetic glance but doesn’t enter the apartment. “I’ll text you once I’m home,” he says quietly, giving me a reassuring smile.

“Thanks, Yoongi,” I manage to reply, though my mind is already racing with dread about the confrontation that’s about to unfold.

Yoongi watches me walk towards the door before turning and heading back to his car. 

I take a deep breath and step into the apartment, trying to steel myself for the encounter.

Jungkook’s eyes shift towards me, narrowing with a mix of anger and contempt. “Look who decided to come back,” he slurs, his voice dripping with disdain. “You and your new friend.”

I try to keep my voice steady. “Jungkook, can we not do this right now?”

He stands up with a lurch, stumbling towards me. His face is flushed, and his breath smells of alcohol. 

“Oh, so now you want to play nice? After everything you’ve put me through?”

I wince at his words but hold my ground. “I didn’t come here to fight. I just needed to get rest after work.”

Jungkook’s gaze hardens, and he stumbles closer, his voice rising with every word. “You think you can waltz back in here like nothing happened? You were too busy with your career to even notice what was going on with us. And then, when we lost the baby, you act like it’s all my fault?”

The accusation is a knife to my heart, but I try to stay composed. “That’s not fair. You contributed to the stress, too. It wasn’t just me.”

Jungkook’s eyes are icy, filled with cruelty. “Fair? Do you know how it felt to be ignored? To have the person I was supposed to rely on pushing me away? You didn’t care about me or our baby. It was always about your career, your stress. You failed us.”

My tears start to fall uncontrollably.

 “I was trying my best to handle everything. I needed your support, but you were too busy finding someone else.”i sob

Jungkook’s anger intensifies, and he stumbles forward, grabbing my arms roughly. “You think you can just come back and fix things? You destroyed everything, and now you have to face the consequences.”

Before I can react, Jungkook pulls me towards him, his lips crashing onto mine in a forceful, unwanted kiss. The suddenness of it shocks me, and I struggle to push him away, my tears mixing with the bitterness of the moment.

“Stop it!” I manage to cry out, pushing against his chest with all my strength. “This isn’t what I want.”

Jungkook’s grip tightens, his eyes wild with a mix of rage and desperation. “You don’t get to walk away from this. You’ve hurt me, and now you’ll face it.”

I wrench myself free, stumbling back. My heart is racing, and the pain is overwhelming. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m done.”

I pull out my phone, feeling the tears fall freely. Yoongi’s message is waiting for me: “I’m home. Let me know if you need anything.”

I respond quickly, “Thank you.” The message is a small comfort amidst the storm of emotions.

jungkook threw the phone away, my eyes watching the phone being thrown away to the couch. 

he then tries to unbutton my blouse "jungkook- s-stop" i whimpered, trying to pull away from him but it wasn't working. he didn't stop kissing me.

 i was trapped.

 "you're still mine y/n" jungkook’s grip tightens, his eyes wild with a mix of rage and desperation, his voice is deeper than usual.

i just cried. letting him do what he wants to me knowing i can't do anything about it. he's too strong for me. 

all i need is to get away from him and get out of this apartment as soon as possible.

jungkook was drunk as hell.

 pounding into me harshly "you think you can get away from me?" he grunts 

"this cunt is mine only" i moaned as i sob at the same time. i didn't want this. 

"jungkook! please.. stop" i let out a whimper, still my palm on his chest, trying hard to push him away. 

finally i felt jungkooks release into me. i felt dirty.

i felt dirty having him all over me.

he pulls out and forgets about me, and goes to the shower, leaving me as it is. 

like im some sort of object. 

i sit down looking down at my bruised cunt, sobbing.

[underoospeterparker]

can’t remember if I already sent this in but tasm Peter Parker x reader who has sensory issues and gets overstimulated easily. n him just calming her down, giving her something to fidget with or chew on cause he knows that calms her, getting her into comfy clothes that aren’t scratchy or tight and just taking care of her. asking her loads of questions and giving her options to choose from so she feels more in control of the situation <3 ugh i love him

thank you for requesting!!

tasm!peter x reader / mcu!peter x reader, 0.8k words

tw: overstimulation

You're resting your head in Peter's lap while he tangles his fingers in your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. Peter's friends are sitting on the seats opposite to you, and the two of them are laughing about something rather loudly. Peter glances at you every so often, leans down to press a soft kiss to your temple. Every time he does that, you let out a quiet hum of contentment, press your head further into his lap.

You're exhausted from a long day of school and came home to Peter's friends. You'd given them both a hug when you arrived, but Peter already noticed you were out of it: Your eyes were unfocused, you had this dazed look about you, and you kept fidgeting with your hands, wringing them out.

Peter had given you a concerned look, clearly worried, as if asking 'Do you want them here?' You'd given him a gentle, reassuring smile, mouthed to him that it was fine. You were currently rethinking your decision as their voices grew louder. You began to hear the screeching of the kettle, the scratches your cat was making on the wooden table, the spin of the fan. You could feel your tight knit sweater sticking to your body, and you could hardly breathe.

You forced yourself to take deeper, longer breaths as you curled up in Peter's lap. His hand paused on your head but then resumed its ministrations, as he looked up in shock at something his friend had said. It all sounded like a blabber of words to you: You felt confused; disoriented. The air conditioner was on, but you felt hot. Boiling hot. You tried to pull at your sweater, wanting it off.

You resisted the urge to scream, and to calm yourself down you tried to focus on the ground, on the carpet, but you couldn't: Everything else was far too loud.

"(Y/N)?" Peter's voice cut through the noise. You press your hands to your ears, trying to block out the noise, to soften his words. You turn around to face Peter's stomach, try to hide in his hold. "Sweetheart, are you okay?" His hands reached for yours, helped cover your ears. You looked up through blurry vision, meeting his loving and concerned gaze. Peter tilted his head slightly, searched your eyes for a response to his question. You shook your head slowly in reply, let out a quiet whine as you burrowed yourself closer to him.

Something in his eyes clicks in realisation. He held out a hand to his friends to get them to stop talking; helping you stand up with a hand on your wrist, gently moving you to a quieter room. Peter shut the door behind the two of you, sat you down on the soft comforter. You mumbled something incoherent, struggled to get your sweater off, the tightness suffocating you, making it hard to breathe.

Peter's eyes soften as he reaches for the hem of your sweater, helping you pull it off your head. He squeezes your hand before moving towards the closet, grabbing your comfiest pyjamas as helping you slip in to them with two hands on your shoulders. He doesn't speak until then, knowing you needed to feel comfortable and snug before you would be able to fully converse.

He settled you on the bed, covers not on because he knew you were feeling hot. "Can I get you anything? Your fidget toy? Or your stuffed animal?"

His voice was soft, only a murmur, and you nodded gratefully. "Both, please?" You asked quietly.

Peter presses a lingering kiss to your forehead and untangles himself from you, nodding quickly. "Of course, bug." He returns in under a minute, giving you the two items and watching as you settle down with them. "Do you want me here, or should I go?" He touches your leg soothingly, rubbing a hand up and down.

"Here," I mumble, "please?" Peter melts a little, feels his heart squeeze. He climbs onto the bed behind you, careful not to touch or jostle you too much. When he remains quiet, you add, "Can I have a hug?"

He softens. "Absolutely, honey." Peter doesn't wait another second before wrapping you up in his arms, bringing you closer to his chest. He thumbs at your neck affectionately as you curl up in his hold, wanting to be as close to him as possible. "My poor, sweet girl," he murmurs softly. "You're doing so good. Are you feeling a bit better?"

"Mhm, yes," I say quietly, "thank you." You give him your best, most grateful smile. "Y' the best, baby."

Peter rolls his eyes affectionately against the crown of your head. "Says you, lovely girl."