#I usually say thank you and just keep working and I thought that was a good response

[dindjarindiaries]

Clueless

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompts: “Are you flirting with me?” “Have been for years, but thanks for noticing.”

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

You tapped around the usual controls you could reach from the chair behind Din's as the cockpit of the Razor Crest groaned to life around you. "How's the hyperdrive looking?"

Din kept moving his gloved hands along the main console as he answered. "It's online." He gave his helmet a quick tilt as he pushed one more button above his head. "For now."

Din exhaled a heavy breath and wrapped his hands around the joysticks, giving them a squeeze before he maneuvered the gunship off the ground. The breath you let out was one of relief; the two of you had certainly been trapped on worse planets before, but you were glad to see the sight of it fading below you.

"Glad you're confident in your work." You failed to hide your growing smile as you relaxed and let Din take care of the rest.

"This isn't a confidence problem." Din spared a look at you over his shoulder before he lifted his hands to grasp the hyperspace levers. "The Crest just manages to surprise me from time to time."

With that, Din pulled back, and the stars stretched out before you. They then burst into the familiar plethora of blue and white swirling lights, beginning yet another long journey through hyperspace.

Hopefully one that you wouldn't get forcefully pulled out of. Again.

But you were still stuck on what Din had said: This isn't a confidence problem. That drew a pleased hum from you, one that you didn't bother to keep hidden from him. It wasn't like he'd get it, anyway. Not if he hadn't the other countless times you'd done it.

"I like that."

Din, now leaning back in his chair, swiveled in his seat to face you. His helmet was tilted in genuine confusion. "Like what?"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you instead gestured to him with your chin. "The confidence."

Din shrugged. "Comes from experience."

You smirked and kept your arms crossed over your chest. "I'd like to see what kind of experience."

Din didn't move, but his tone spelled out all the confusion you likely would have seen on his face if it wasn't covered by his helmet. "Was getting pulled out of hyperspace hours ago not enough experience for you?"

That time, you really did let yourself roll your eyes as you laughed and stood to your feet. Honestly, the tally of your advances versus Din's own cluelessness was getting difficult to keep track of. "Fair point."

You stepped over to Din and set a hand on his armored shoulder.

"It's been a long day. I'd say it's time for some beauty sleep, but you've already got the first part covered." You gave his pauldron a squeeze and turned around. "And no, rest isn't an option this time."

You could only get a few steps away, however, when you suddenly heard Din stand up behind you. "Wait."

You froze in place and looked at him over your shoulder, lifting your brow as you awaited him to retaliate with some kind of meaningless yet humorous joke.

Instead, you saw him nervously shifting his weight between his feet. Even his gloved hands were pulling tight into fists before he asked a question you never thought you'd hear.

"Are you flirting with me?"

As surprised as you were to hear the words, you didn't miss a beat with your response. "Have been for years, but thanks for noticing." You flashed him a wink and started walking forward again, letting your sudden adrenaline carry you. "See you in a few hours."

You had only just started to cross the cockpit's threshold when Din found his voice again. "What?"

You laughed to yourself but didn't stop your stride as you stepped over the ladder towards the storage space you had claimed as your own private bunk. The door slid open for you, but before it could close, something—or someone—stood in the way.

"Hold on."

Din sounded out of breath, and when you turned around, you saw him leaning against the metal material of the storage room's threshold. His body was still rigid, the same way it looked when he was preparing to leap into battle.

"You can't just... after you..." Din gestured absently behind himself, to the open cockpit.

You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest again as you fully faced him. "I know this incredibly obvious revelation is somehow news to you, but it's not to me, and I'd really like to get some sleep."

Din just shook his helmet in pure disbelief. His modulated voice was lower than usual when he spoke again. "All this time?"

You huffed and looked down at your boots. "What did you think I was doing?"

Din's tone with thick with embarrassment. "Being nice."

You laughed again. You couldn't help it. "Of course you did." You reached forward and tapped your knuckles against his helmet. "Your skull must be as thick as your beskar."

You stood back where you were before and watched Din carefully. His visor was focused on the floor, and his gloved fingertips were fluttering thoughtfully on the hand he had propped up by his head.

You closed your eyes and sighed. His cluelessness was even worse than you thought it was.

"Listen, Din, you clearly need some rest. Just... go to sleep and we can talk about this later. Okay?"

Din's helmet snapped back up to you at that. "No. I'm sorry, let me just..."

He leaned off the threshold but continued to stand in it, keeping the door open for himself. His gloved hand palmed his helmet as his chest rose and fell with a frustrated breath.

"Kriff."

You chuckled and shook your head at him. "Din, it's really not that big of a deal."

Din stared at you before his armored shoulders deflated. "It isn't?"

You let out a softer breath as your chest squeezed. "I didn't mean..." Now you were the one palming your face. "Not like that. I just meant that I'm not offended or anything."

Din tilted his helmet. "Offended by what?"

You shrugged, too overcome by your newfound embarrassment to look at him as your stare returned to your boots. "You not reciprocating."

Din let out a sigh so heavy that you had no choice but to look up at him again. He had changed his position so that his hands were set on his hips as he shook his helmet.

"That's the thing." His visor found your gaze before he nodded. "I've been trying to."

Now, it was really your turn to be shocked. You blinked at him a few times as your heart somersaulted in your chest. All this time, you thought your flirting was just a vain effort to get the attention of a man who would never be open to you or what you had to offer. You were starting to wonder if you had somehow managed to miss something.

You found your voice, but it was only a squeak. "What?"

Din gestured with a gloved hand behind you. "I'm not good with words, so I tried to do things. Like helping you set up this room. And cleaning your weapons." The next part was a mumble you nearly missed. "And making you that blanket."

You whipped around, spotting the blanket—your favorite, by the way—that had just shown up one day on your makeshift bunk. You huffed in disbelief and turned back around to face him. "That was you?"

"Who else?"

It was Din's turn to laugh, though it was only a raspy chuckle for him. He even turned your own question back on you.

"What did you think I was doing?"

And your answer was nothing different. "Being nice."

Din let out the biggest sigh you'd ever heard from him, and you couldn't even blame him.

Oh, the irony of it all. Maybe you were actually the clueless one.

"So..." You clasped your hands behind your back and rocked on your heels. " What now?"

Din shrugged. "Hell if I know." He gestured with his helmet behind him. "I think I just proved I'm not the most qualified in this area."

You spared another glance at the blanket. "Clearly, I'm not much better."

Din looked off to the side the way he always did when he was planning something. After a few heartbeats, he nodded to himself and looked at you again. "I might have an idea."

You lifted your brow. "Yeah?"

Din nodded again. "We should switch."

"Switch what?"

Din shifted his weight and used his finger to gesture between the two of you. "Techniques?" The suggestion came out as a question. "I'll try words, and you try actions."

You hummed in consideration before ultimately nodding. "Okay, yeah. I like that idea." You smirked at him. "You first."

Din, for once in his life, stammered. "What? I—Well, I can't just..."

"You can." You took a step closer to him. "You have something to say to me. I know you do."

It was then that something overcame Din, and you could see it in the way his posture relaxed into something much more familiar and comfortable. His visor gave you a steady once-over as he took a smaller step closer to you.

"I have a lot of things I want to say to you."

You let yourself embrace the flustered feeling even as you let out an impressed whistle. "That was good, Djarin! You're learning." You gave his armored shoulder a pat.

Din gave his helmet a soft tilt. "Your turn."

You grinned, letting your hand fall from his shoulder to instead grasp his arm. You other hand rose to meet it, and gently, you pulled him further into the room, causing the door to slide shut behind him. Din looked back at it in surprise, but when he looked at you again, he didn't seem displeased.

"I'm offering you my bunk." You gestured back towards it. "Because I want you here, but also because I don't want you sleeping on that sorry excuse for a bed down in the hold anymore."

Din chuckled at that, the sound thick with both amusement and admiration as he nodded. "Fair enough."

You helped him get settled into the bunk with you, draping the blanket he had apparently made over both of you as the final touch. Your face was the closest it had ever been to his visor as you laid beside him. Surprisingly, he was the one to break the brief silence.

"This is a good start."

You smiled, humming once more before getting close enough to rest your face against his cowl. "I agree."

The gloved hand you felt on your back was enough evidence of the fact that he was just as comfortable, now, and not as clueless as you had thought him to be.

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ɴ ɪ ɢ ʜ ᴛ ᴡ ɪ ɴ ɢ ⸻

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Fem Reader

Headcanon: how would he be when he's obsessed?

Note: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Dick’s obsession isn’t born from malice or control—it’s born from love that he can’t let go of, love that consumes him and twists into something far more dangerous. His inherent empathy and need to protect mutate into suffocating possession when it comes to you.

You’re someone he meets while working as Nightwing—perhaps a civilian caught in the crossfire or someone aiding him on a mission. Your kindness, your bravery in the face of danger, captivates him. For someone like Dick, who has spent his life saving others, your ability to stand tall despite the world’s darkness becomes a light he can’t ignore.

But then the cracks begin to show.

You start noticing him everywhere. If you casually mention a favorite café, he’s suddenly a regular there too. When you run errands, he just happens to cross paths with you. At first, his bright smile and boyish charm disarm you. "What a coincidence," he says, as if he hasn’t been planning these encounters for days.

You come home one day to find an item you mentioned in passing—a book, a scarf, something small. There’s no note, but you know it’s from him. He swears it’s just a friendly gesture, but the way he watches you when you thank him says otherwise.

For Dick, these actions feel natural. He’s always been attentive to those he loves, always ready to go the extra mile. He doesn’t realize—or refuses to acknowledge—that these gestures aren’t innocent anymore.

When you’re hurt—even slightly—it awakens something primal. The fear of losing you mixes with the ghosts of everyone he’s lost before, and he can’t bear the thought.

Dick isn’t one to stalk in shadows; he convinces himself his obsession is protection. He keeps tabs on you, memorizing every detail of your routine. He tells himself he just wants to ensure your safety, but when you start to notice him everywhere—at the coffee shop you frequent, outside your workplace, even at your doorstep—it feels deliberate.

You confront him, but his response is calm, disarmingly charming.

“I’m just looking out for you. You mean too much to me.”

And there’s that vulnerability in his voice that makes it hard to push him away completely.

Dick’s obsession grows insidious. He’s subtle, using his charm and resourcefulness to insert himself into every corner of your life. A coworker who’s been bothering you suddenly transfers to another department. Your apartment’s locks mysteriously upgrade overnight, and Dick is the first to offer to show you how they work.

When someone flirts with you, the shift in his demeanor is terrifying. The usually affable, kind man becomes something colder, his jaw clenched as he watches from the sidelines. Later, the person who dared approach you ends up in a minor but suspicious accident.

“Don’t you see?” he tells you, his voice laced with desperation one night when you question his behavior. “I’ve already lost so much. I can’t lose you too.”

Dick doesn’t think he’s doing anything wrong. His obsession is rooted in his fear of abandonment, his compulsion to save everyone he cares about. But in trying to protect you, he becomes your greatest danger.

"You’re the only thing keeping me grounded.” He leans on you emotionally, making you feel guilty for trying to push him away.

"I’m doing this for us.” He convinces himself every action, no matter how bad, is for your benefit.

When you try to leave, it shatters him. Dick isn’t someone who handles rejection well when it comes to people he loves. He pleads at first, his voice breaking with emotion. But when you insist, you see the darker side of his devotion.

“I can’t let you go. Don’t you see? I need you.”

His obsession becomes suffocating. He starts isolating you, not out of malice, but because he genuinely believes the world outside is too dangerous for you.

The most chilling part of Dick’s obsession is his duality. By day, he’s the same charming, selfless man everyone admires. But with you, behind closed doors, he’s desperate, controlling, and unrelenting.

He’ll kiss your forehead softly, whispering, “I love you,” as if nothing is wrong.

But then he’ll cage you in with his presence, ensuring you can never leave.

In his mind, he’s your protector, your savior, and your soulmate. He would go to any lengths to keep you safe—even if that means keeping you locked away from the rest of the world. After all, he’s lost so much already. He won’t lose you, too.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @silverslutsposts

Request: Sooo I'm thinking possessive demon.. submissive fem reader.... but the demon is confused why he feels these unknown emotions for reader (love obvi 🤪) the smuttier the better imo Maybe he tries to do some hate fucking with reader to rid himself of the odd fluffy feelings? But it doesn't work 🤭🫠 I'd like to think reader is a plump, thicccc thing with a love for Monster romances

A/N: Hi there! This turned out to be a lot more love-love than hate-love for some reason, hope you like it, tho!

Bring it

Demon x chubby fem!reader || dom/sub, dirty talk, praise kink, tail play, impact play (light)

You starting hanging out with demons was almost a surprise.

You worked at the monster bar as a bartender, so it made sense you started to know some of the clientele that was there every other day. Some of them were really friendly, and some of them were jackasses. Especially the demons.

The demons were usually stupid as fuck to everyone… everyone but you. You didn’t know why, but the demons treated you so nicely you became their waitress even thought it wasn’t your job. But none of the other’s would take their orders because they were mean, and after watching the third person crying because of it, you had enough. You marched to their table and called them out, which made them laugh, but somehow, you became their favorite human.

Later, you would discover it was because of the leader, the big red demon that always stared at you across the bar as you talked with everyone. His eyes never left you as you moved around, and it felt nice… You felt seen and desired in a way that should have been creepy, but it wasn’t. So little by little you became friends with them, and developed some kind of tension with the big red leader that had you pressing your thighs together more than once. He was hot as hell (pun intended) and you were a bit thirsty for demon cock. But who could blame you? But apparently he didn’t feel the same. (Or so you thought.)

The bar is closing and you are cleaning the tables absently as he talks about something. Everyone already left, but he insisted on hanging around to accompany you home, which you find as charming as his smile full of pointy teeth.

You turn around to look at him, nodding along and laughing at him when you see his scrunched up nose and the look of disgust when you pick up a half eaten sandwich. He stares at your mouth, and then he quiets down and glares, not saying anything.

You stop laughing, worried you offended him in some way. “What?” You ask, confused by the sudden tension in the air.

“Why do I feel like this?” He asks you, rubbing his chest as if it’s your fault he has some kind of ache.

You are even more confused after his response. “Like what?”

“Like my insides are going to be ripped apart if I don’t get closer to you soon,” he explains, making your heart skip a beat. You know he realizes it skips a beat, because his eyes fixate on your chest when he keeps talking: “Like every breath I take is thanks to you. Like every twitch of my body is a response of you being alive,” his words make your heart beat skyrocket. There’s no way he means what you think he means. But then he breaks the bubble of blooming happiness. “It’s infuriating, I need to get it out of my system. Now.”

“Wha- what does that mean?” You question as he approaches you fast, like you are his prey about to be devoured. You can feel your pussy tingling with that idea.

You walk backwards as he takes step after step getting closer to you. When the back of your thighs hits the edge of a table, you know you can’t run anymore. His eyes are burning with something unknown and you can feel your juices soaking through your panties.

You round the table, getting away from him just in time. “Come here,” he orders, an edge of danger in his voice. You shake your head, playing with him. “Come here little morsel, you wouldn’t like what would happen if I have to go to you.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” you tell him trusting totally on your words. He would never.

And you are enjoying way too much driving him a little bit insane, giving him one taste of the way you’ve felt since you started to know him, since you realized he might be a demon but he was the best monster you’ve ever known. You aren’t ready to use the L word, but maybe… maybe you already felt it.

He sighs, and agrees. “I wouldn’t. But pain is not the only way to make you submit to me,” he teases. You whine low in your throat, making him stop in his tracks as he stares at you like you just grew a second head.

“Bring it.” You smirk at him, your brain going a thousand miles per minute was your brain pictures all the monster romance stories you’ve read over the years. You are so ready to be devoured by a demon… so, so ready.

Suddenly, he’s moving faster than your eyes can process. He grabs you by the hair, your neck pulled back almost uncomfortably as he launches to suck a mark on your neck. You squirm against him, your hands grabbing his hair with equal force as you whimper. He’s biting and licking the soft spot under your ear that makes you see stars and your knees start to feel like jelly. Fuck. He drives you crazy.

“Are you going to be good for me, honey?” He whispers against your ear, his tail wrapping around your middle and making you shiver. His hands are everywhere, your body is pliant under his traveling fingers as you whine at him, unable to form words to answer. “Of course you are, you are so good to me,” he purrs and you blush. You don’t know why, but hearing his praises is doing it for you big time.

He grabs your ass with both hands and sits you over a table, squeezing your soft hips as he does so. He’s groping you everywhere he can and it’s driving you slowly insane. You’ve never felt arousal like that, it’s like burning inside of you and you know he’s the only one who can put out that fire.

“I need you, please,” you beg.

“You beg so beautifully, such a good human for me.” His words are making your head fuzzy, the desire so high you can only think about his dick inside of you. ASAP.

He rips your clothes off your body, leaving you naked in the middle of the bar. That shouldn’t make you as hot as it does, but you are desperate for him. His hands are frantically touching every centimeter exposed until you are screaming his name and begging for him to keep going, to touch you where you want him most, but he does nothing like that.

He opens your legs wide and stares at your pussy. You try to close your legs, embarrassed, but he only chuckles, his tail coming around him and landing a slap against your open center. You scream his name again, this time full of fire and pent up sexual frustration. He laughs and does it again. And again. And again. You’ve never been so turned on.

“Are you going to take my tail like a good human fleshlight?” You whine. “Is that a yes, my little morsel?” He teases and you groan, unable to form words. “I will let you act like this just once because it’s our first time. But next time I’ll make you say it out loud, are we clear?” You nod vehemently, making grabby hands at him and making him laugh.

You feel the tip of his pointy tail at the same time you feel a gush of juices coming out of you. You are almost embarrassed of the sounds your pussy makes when he starts to enter you slowly. You are so wet you can feel it traveling down your ass, forming a pool under you as he fucks you shallowly. His tail is entering you enough to touch your G-spot but not enough to stimulate it. You don’t know who you are anymore, you can only focus on that pointy appendage playing with your aching core.

“Please, please, please…” You chant as he chuckles, his face buried in your neck as he kisses your throat softly.

“What do you need? Do you want my cock?” You nod, grabbing his hair and pulling him back so he’s looking at your eyes. His pupils are blown wide and he’s mirroring your desperation. “Okay, I’ve tortured you enough… for now.”

The last words send a shiver running down your spine and you moan his name softly, making him smile at you openly, his fangs on full display. He’s so fucking handsome you can’t control yourself from moving your hips and fucking you against his tail still in you. He pulls back his tail and you cry out, begging over and over for more, and he gives it to you.

You feel the tip of his cock against your entrance, your pussy quivering at the first intrusion. He’s so big and wide you can barely fit him inside, but when he passes the first tight muscle you both groan in unison. You wrap your legs around his middle and press your heels on his ass, urging him to go deeper, faster, harder. And he complies, his whole body surrendering to the pleasure as he tells you how tight you are, how warm and wet and perfect.

It’s exhilarating to have a demon so desperate for you that he can’t stop telling you how good you are, and it’s driving you completely insane. And when your orgasm hits and you start convulsing against him, he growls and fucks you harder. The frantic pace drives you higher and higher, a train of orgasms hitting your body until you are exhausted and can’t hold your legs or arms around him anymore. But he keeps going, fucking you like a flashlight.

By the time he comes inside of you and his hot seed fills your insides, you are nothing more but a limp body against him, his hands around you as he thrusts a couple more times and a big smile on your lips. You’ve never felt so satisfied in your life, and you have enough energy to tell him that. He chuckles.

And then you pass out.

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter One: Blue Hydrangeas- Gratitude

Summary: Your job as a florist has been the highlight of your day for years. It becomes even more exciting when a certain new customer becomes a regular.

Word Count: 2286

Author's Note: Hey guys! My first multi-chapter fic, i'm so excited!!! i don't have a strict posting schedule, but I won't go more than two weeks without an update. please bear with me here because I have no idea what it's like to be a florist. I hope you all enjoy!!

p.s. special shoutout again to @deprivedmusicaljunkie for beta reading, i can't thank you enough!

fic below the cut :)

You were a part of the small minority of people who actually loved their job.

The concept of this was strange to most people — strangers making small talk, men asking introductory questions on dates, even your own parents. Maybe because it wasn’t exactly a career; more so a job that someone has as a way to make rent while getting their degree, which is how you originally began to work at Earth's Laughter Florists. College had been years ago for you now, and yet you stayed behind the counter, making bouquets for customers with a genuine smile on your face. It got to the point that when the old owner decided it was time to retire, she chose you to take over. Of course, you immediately accepted; this job was the best part of your day. While all of your friends were going insane with their office jobs, you… admittedly still went insane from time to time, just in a much prettier workplace.

You had even taken it upon yourself to learn flower language: different types of flowers having different symbolic meanings. It was almost like extra credit. It gave you a new challenge of arranging flowers while keeping both color and symbolism in mind, and helped you create bouquets and arrangements with more meaning. This, in turn, gave your customers a new incentive to buy different flowers for different occasions based on what they meant. More business for you, more smiles on people's faces, and more money in your pocket. Everyone wins.

Another benefit of the job — your favorite part — was that it gave you small glimpses into the lives of other people. Flowers had a multiplicity of sorts. They were so versatile that people bought from you for almost every occasion. Weddings, funerals, birthdays, dance recitals, you name it. It made you more appreciative of others. Every day was a new insight into whatever your customers had going on. And today was no exception.

You arrived an hour before the store opened, as usual. You went into the back and threw on your apron, adjusting your name tag. Thoughts of everything you had to do before opening ran through your head, and you quickly began to busy yourself with everything from giving some flowers new vases of water to following up on an order for a wedding. Your two coworkers came in around a half an hour after your arrival, donning their aprons, saying their hellos, and also beginning their day. When the time finally came, you flipped around the sign hanging from the door, telling everyone outside you were open. You stood behind the counter and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

One of the only downsides of your job was that it required a lot of patience.

It's not like you were just staring at the clock, biding your time until a customer entered. You still had work to get done, mostly tying up loose ends from what you didn't finish before. Your coworkers were occupied with a tall order of arrangements, so they stuck to the back, with the occasional popping in to ask if you needed assistance. Politely, you declined.

Mundane was the word that kept repeating itself in your head as you did your odd jobs around the store. Not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, mundane meant nothing horrible was occurring (even though it meant nothing was occurring). Of course, mundane never does last long.

You had just finished creating an arrangement to put on display when your first customer of the day walked in.

The bell above the door rang, and you quickly walked back over to where you were supposed to be standing, not even bothering to see who had walked in until you were behind the counter.

The first thing you noticed was that he was taller than you had expected, with long brown curls that fell down to his shoulders. His outfit, a black turtleneck, a brown leather jacket, and black jeans, was the right mix of formal and casual; you could tell he had somewhere to be, but with people that wouldn't mind if he laughed a little too loudly.

To top it all off, he was handsome. You couldn't pull your gaze from him if you tried.

He walked forward, slowly looking around at all the flowers on display until his gaze locked onto you. He broke the silence between you.

“Hello. I need some flowers.”

You maintained your composure and brushed off your previous thoughts. You started your usual routine, asking him the same questions to get to know the situation (and him) better.

“What's the occasion?”

“It's my mum’s birthday.”

“Does she have a favorite flower?” You asked. He replied with no hesitation.

“She loves hydrangeas. Blue hydrangeas. She always has.”

His immediate answer brought a small smile to your face. You nodded intently and began to think of all the possible combinations of flowers that would work well.

“You're specific. I like that. That makes my job easier. Usually guys say something like ‘I don't know’ or ‘the purple ones’ or just ‘roses’. It's like some people don't even pay attention.”

“Well, that's all I know how to do.”

“A blessing and a curse, I imagine.”

“More of a blessing, believe it or not.”

“I have a similar blessing, though it seems to be laser-focused on plants of all things.” You joked. “Speaking of plants, let me start on your bouquet.”

You left your spot, walking over to the wall of flowers on display for you to pick from. You stopped and stood next to the man, fixated on the wall as you tried to decide what flowers would go well together, in meaning and in visuals. Mumbling, you thought out loud.

“Alright. For his mother. Blue hydrangeas… that's gratitude. What can go with that?”

The customer tilted his head in confusion, clearly having heard you.

“I don't mean to interrupt, but what's with blue hydrangeas and gratitude?” He asked. Your eyes widened, and you turned to face him as you started your explanation.

“Oh, it's flower language. I learned about it to help me make more symbolic bouquets. Back in the Victorian era, people would use bouquets of flowers to convey messages they couldn't say out loud. Most of the time it was a love confession, though you could also reject someone if you picked your flora wisely. Individual flowers have meanings, too. Blue hydrangeas, your mum's favorite, symbolize gratitude. There was even a change in the meaning based on which side the ribbon was on, or if they were given upside down, and…” You cut yourself off when you realized you’d been talking for much too long, your excited expression dropping. “I’m rambling about something you definitely don't care about. I’m sorry.”

He gave you a confused look, and a small laugh of disbelief escaped him.

“What? Don't apologize. That was fascinating. I don't know if I’ll ever see flowers the same way again. In a good way, of course”

The fact that he was actually invested in what you had to say pleasantly surprised you. People — not just customers, people you actually choose to surround yourself with — would often tune you out after the first two sentences.

You knew this man for two minutes and he was already raising your standards.

“Well then, I’m happy to give you a new perspective. I’ll get started on your arrangement.”

You stepped back to get a better look at the flowers lining the walls of the room. You already had a vague idea of what you wanted, you just needed to put it into action. Hydrangeas were grabbed first, and made the focal point of the bouquet immediately. Other flowers were picked up and put down, a trial-and-error of sorts until you found which ones truly matched.

Occasionally, you looked over your shoulder to find your customer still standing there, spectating you from a few feet away. He watched you with a certain gleam in his eye, one you would attribute to admiration if you didn't know any better.

Once your selections were made, you picked out a plastic sheet and took the flowers into the back, where there was a smaller room with a much larger table surface for a workspace. The wrapping was laid out, and meticulously, flowers were laid down. Rearranged. Shifted around. After a few small touches, everything was in the exact place you wanted it.

You finally finished up, wrapping the flowers in the silver plastic and tying it up with a blue ribbon. You went back behind the counter and held the bundle of flowers up, pointing at each one as you described the meaning of each specifically selected flower.

“There's the blue hydrangeas for gratitude, white roses for loyalty and beauty, and belladonna delphinium for protection and well-being. You're basically showering your mum with compliments with this thing.”

“It's gorgeous,” he replied, the look of astonishment from before lingering on his face.

“As nature tends to be.”

“I mean, you can't argue with that, but the way you’ve arranged them, it's… stunning. She’ll love it.”

His compliment surprised you; it wasn't too often you got such a compliment for a simple bouquet. It caused your heart to flutter in your chest in a way that definitely crossed the border of the employee-customer relationship you had going on. Frightening. Maybe if you kept acting unaffected, it would magically stop.

“Let me ring you up.”

There was no true cash register, and you instead relied on a pen, a yellow legal pad, and mental math for customers’ totals. It took a moment, but you calculated what he owed you.

“That'll be $54.”

He muttered in agreement, and you watched as he reached into his coat pocket. His hand stayed there, fiddling around. After a moment, he reached the opposite hand into the opposite pocket. He felt around for a second, pulling his hands out and placing them on his hips. His content expression was replaced by one that was much more panicked.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit!”

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s the matter?”

“I…I forgot my wallet back at my house. Do you take any online payment?”

You shook your head.

“No, sorry. We're old school. That's alright though, I can put these to the side and you can run home and get your wallet.”

He let out a frustrated sigh in response, angry more at himself than anything else.

“That's the thing. I live thirty minutes from here and I’m meeting my mum in fifteen minutes, and I have specific instructions to be on time. I might just…”

He stopped his sentence, paused, and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’ll find something else. Thanks for all your help, though. You have a gift.”

You caught the sincerity behind his now bitter tone, and it made your heart ache. He turned to leave and took a few steps forward. You didn't process that you had said anything until his reaction.

“Wait.”

He immediately stopped in his tracks and turned around, and you realized your impulses led you to call out for him even though you had no plan whatsoever.

Biting at your lower lip, you thought of an idea. You genuinely wanted to help this man give his mother flowers… The fact you found him attractive was merely an added bonus. Besides, the pity you felt for him overrode that. Once the metaphorical light bulb lit above your head, you spoke again, leaning in closer and lowering your voice so only he could hear.

“Okay, I’m not supposed to do this, and this definitely isn't a good business practice, but I can tell you're not just doing this to steal flowers from me, so I’ll make an exception.”

He leaned in as well with a look of intrigue. You continued to explain.

“You can take the bouquet for now, and then within… I don't know, two days, you have to pay me back. I’d just need a name and phone number so I can contact you if you don't show up.”

You snatched one of your business cards from the display and flipped it over so the blank side faces upwards, leaving a pen in front of you so he could write. He picked up the ballpoint, seemingly scribbled for a moment, and then slid the card back over to you. Written in surprisingly beautiful handwriting, you read his name aloud.

“Andrew… Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

“I know.”

This caught you off guard. For a second you wondered if maybe you did accidentally give a free bouquet to a shady guy.

“Excuse me?”

Andrew’s mouth went agape as he realized the connotation behind what he said, and he quickly muttered an explanation, flustered. “Oh my god! No. Not like that. You… your name tag.”

A sigh of relief escaped your lips, and you gave him a nod.

“Right. Forgot that was there for a second. Alright, take your bouquet. Happy birthday to your mother. And remember, two days.”

He gave you a gesture showing his gratitude, pressing his hands together.

“Thank you. So much. I don’t know how I’ll repay you.” He said, grabbing the bouquet.

“Hopefully with money in two days,” you joked.

He let out a laugh.

“Money would do the trick. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

You watched as he left, the smile of your face growing as you noticed his appreciation of the flowers you had arranged by the doorway. He paused for a moment before opening the door and leaving, and you caught him humming a tune you'd never heard before.

You hoped he would come back much sooner rather than later.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: gotta right my final reflection today and then I don't have schoolwork for a while!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

“So, when is the wedding?” Lillians asks over a half-empty plate. 

You take your time chewing. You don’t have an answer. As far as you’re concerned, this is Lloyd’s plot so he can come up with the detail. You're here to enjoy the wine. 

“Uh, the spring,” he blurts out. 

“The spring?” Gwenyth repeats. “Don’t you have a specific date?” 

“Erm, May something...” Lloyd says. 

“May? That’s so soon. If you don’t even have a date, I doubt you have a venue or a dress or--” Lillian counters. 

“Oh, well, we were thinking of. Er...” Lloyd turns his fork in this hand. “Eloping?” 

“Eloping,” Gwenyth hisses. “Eloping? Does that mean we’re not invited? It’s simply not fair.” 

“Mom, I--” 

“Gwen, he didn’t say that, did he?” 

“Well, dad--” 

“We are invited,” William states. It’s not a question. 

“You see what happens?” Gwen takes her cloth napkin and folds it, dabbing her tearless eyes, “the groom’s mother is always excluded. He is my son--” 

“A destination wedding would be nice,” William suggests. 

“Uh, of course. Yeah. We’d like to go somewhere far away, but uh, not far from you...” Lloyd stammers and you kick his foot. You could laugh at how flustered he is if you were entwined in his lies. He sits straighter, “We’ll have the invitations out soon. Everyone’s invited of course--” 

You kick him again. He slips his hand on your knee and squeezes, “we’re still figuring things out,” he declares. 

“Oh, it seems so!” Gwenyth clasps the napkin between her hands. “Darling, you must let me help. And Lillian. Her wedding was fabulous.” 

“Which one?” Lloyd snickers. 

“We’ll see if you even have one,” his sister retorts. 

He cackles and William sighs. 

“Yes, weddings. All that mess,” William drawls. “The ladies can suss out the details but I do believe it’s time for the yearly rematch.” 

“You still do that?” Lloyd asks. 

“Hm, of course. It is a tradition. What’s the matter? You too old, boy?” 

“Speak for yourself,” Lloyd bounces back, shocking you with the snipe. 

Another surprise, William laughs. 

“Ben may need to sit out,” William suggests. 

“Oh, to the contrary, old boy, I’ve had just enough bourbon that I am a prized asset in my state,” the man with the fluffy ash hair doffs his mug. 

“Hm, yes, Carter, Linus, Ransom, Ben, myself, Lloyd,” William counts on his fingers, “Dawson, Lewis, Hudson, and Owen. Quite the lineup this year.” 

You look at Lloyd confused. He doesn’t look excited. You reach under the table and move his hand off your leg. He flinches and glances over at you. 

“Is this some sort of cribbage tournament?” You scoff under your breath. 

He shakes his head. “Touch football...” 

“Football...” You peer across the table with concerns. At least four of the players named are a bit too old to be running around in the snow. 

“It’s fine. Just like tag,” Lloyd shrugs unconvincingly. You chew your lip as you consider him. His eyes follow the movement and you stop yourself. “What?” He asks. 

“I’m just trying to picture it,” you say. “You don’t seem like a football person.” 

“What does that mean? You don’t seem like one either? What would you know?” You hiss back. 

“Ah, dear,” William calls across the table, “do not fear for his safety. We are all family, no one means to hurt each other.” 

Despite his assurance, you’re even less convinced that there won’t be some horrible accident. Again, you remind yourself, it’s Lloyd’s problems. Your sole focus is the money. And the wine. 

You reach to drain your glass, “I’m not worried at all,” you smile, “oh, and honey,” you turn to Lloyd, “you never asked but I love football. I’m a big Bills fan, actually. Remember, laces out.” 

Lloyd grumbles and stands. The other men do in a lazy succession. They stretch and groan over the scraping chair legs. The women rise too and start to clear the table. You’re not a fan of that divide; the men get their fun and the women get to tidy, but you will not be as rude as they’ve accused you. 

You start to gather cutlery and plates. Lloyd startles you as he puts his hand on your hip to stop you. You face him. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” He says. 

You bat your lashes and smirk. You’re amused that he thinks you’re that concerned. 

“Oh, I’m sure you can handle a game of tag, but you might want to stretch. There’s no one you can pay to run the ball for you,” you snort. 

You move past him and follow Lillian. He huffs as you leave him to the rabble of old man talking trash. As you enter the kitchen, Lillian sets the plates on the counter and you put yours next to hers. You take the top one and scrape it clean. 

“You’ll enjoy it. It’s always a good show. I am interested to see the teams this year,” she trills. “Of course, without Lloyd around for so long, I had to step in. Unfortunately, this year, I'm in no condition to lace up.” 

“Oh, it sounds like a fun tradition,” you remark. 

“It’s wonderful fun,” she assures as Gwenyth enters. Lillian shifts closer and lowers her voice, “also, you might want to consider, Lloyd wasn’t keeping us from you, perhaps it was the opposite. We are a rather selective bunch.” 

You meet her bruising sneer and smile. The wine helps drown your agitation. Why should you be bothered? Once you have your money, it won’t worry what the bloated bitch thinks? Oops, let’s keep those thoughts inside. 

“Oh, I’ll be sure to thank him for that,” you wink. She frowns. 

“Leave the plates at the sink, ladies,” Gwenyth commands. “Let’s grab out coats! The powder’s fresh. It’ll be a good match.” 

It’s odd. You really didn’t take this horde of pretentious ghouls as the football type. Well, maybe not the NFL-watching, tailgating type in pickups or minivans. Still, you can’t help but be a little amped for a Christmas game. 

There’s a crunch at the front door. Andrea, Angela, and Raquel warble with Gwenyth, as Shanna, Linda, and Lana come over to admire Lillian’s bump and ask her about the birth plans, while you stand to the side and watch Beatrice with a few younger girls, the elder daughters from all those pairing, who are less than enthused about the whole show. The parade of names escape you though you hardly wonder who is who. 

Your eyes wander to the next room. The younger kids are kept busy before the large Christmas tree by women you haven’t been introduced too. You assume those are the nannies Lloyd mentioned. It’s rather grim, a family divided as if the younger generation were a nuisance. Despite the enthusiasm for Lillian’s coming child, the poor soul will only end up at kids’ table apart from their mother. 

The men chatter near the open door as a brisk wind flows in. As you reach for your coat, you collide with another. You turn in the tight space to face Ransom as he cracks his neck. 

“You going to cheer me on, baby girl?” He smirks at you. 

You stare at him crisply. You continue to pull your coat on as you censor the variations of ‘hell no’ rolling through your mind. You look around for an escape but there isn’t one. The entry way is packed with bodies. 

“It will be cathartic. You’d just be cheering on the team, not necessarily, cheering against your beloved fiance,” he snickers. 

You look at him dully, “oh, I'm certain you’ll run circles around a team full of middle aged and elder men.” 

“You love to see it,” he grins and reaches around you. Before you can react, he pinches your ass again. You hit his chest as he pulls away and rubs his fingertips together, “for good luck.” 

“You’re nasty.” 

“Look at who you came with, sweetheart,” he sticks his tongue out and turns away. “But I understand if it’s my ass you’re watching out in the snow.” 

You curl your lip as you zip up your coat and shuffle over near the women. The men disburse through the front door ahead of you. They holler at each other, pointing impatiently, “over there.”; “Ben, too far”, “No, you snap--” 

You watch them break into team in the snowy street, barren of cars in the calm of Christmas Day. You tuck your hands into your pocket as you stand along the curb and the other women puff clouds into the frigid air. Lazy flakes swirl down and add to the glowing ambiance of the wintry midday. 

William, Ransom, Linus, Dawson, and Hudson huddle on one side with the ball as the others, Benson, Lloyd, Carter, Lewis, and Owen watch, waiting to respond to the first play. You’re not expecting anything more than wobbling throws and clumsy runs, still, it’s better than arguing at the dinner table. 

Ransom gets down to snap to William. The ball passes hands as Dawson runs a route and Ransom and Linus block the front light. Hudson takes the running backs route for the fake handoff before William searches for his receiver. Not bad for amateurs, especially given the demographic. 

The ball is caught as Owen makes the touch. No proper tackle, just a tap on Dawson’s shoulders. The play end as the next play is called in the huddle. Instead of moving down the street, the team resets at the same line, counting yard from that point. 

Another snap. The run is stuffed as Lloyd makes the touch on Hudson, almost indifferent about the play. The women cheer but not at the right times. They’re not really paying attention as they garble about desserts or their hair stylists. 

“You know what would be perfect, some mulled cider,” Beatrice suggests. The comment does make you thirsty but you’re not so sure you’d trade the cold outside for that inside. 

The ball switches possessions. Lloyd takes the snap. You’re a bit surprised but Benson is swaying in his blocking position. That’s less shocking. 

Snap. A pass. Straight and on target. Carter, one of William’s brothers, makes the catch and runs for ten more. Or what’s assumed to be that man. 

A new call. Lloyd rambles out signals in a parody of a real game. “Blood. Wine. Beemer, beemer beemer. Black sheep...” Your eye is drawn by Ransom as he shifts low. You tilt your head. 

“Offside,” you mutter as the ball snaps. Ransom’s across the line before the blockers can react and before the ball can change hands. In an instant, Lloyd is in the snow beneath the other man. 

“Oh my!” “Gosh.” “Ransom...” The concern washes over the audience of women as the men stop the play and turn to look at the two men in the snow. 

The latch onto each other in a toothless brawl. Lloyd knocks Ransom into the snow and grabs his neck. Ransom grips him in turn and they roll back and forth, trying to throttle each other. The other men move to separate them. 

“You two,” William booms. 

“Oh, Ransom, what are you doing?” Linda rushes over. 

“Linda,” William growls as Lloyd is dragged away from her son. “We were kind in letting him come here after everything--” 

“Oh, don’t blame him. Your son is just as bad.” 

“My son has a job,” William snarls back. 

“Don’t worry, that cuck barely got a ding on me,” Lloyd sneers as he shrugs the other men off. There’s a raw and red patch on his cheek bone and snow in his mussed hair. Scratches peek out above his collar as he coughs. 

“Fucker’s weak as pudding,” Ransom jeers back. 

“Both of you. That’s disgusting,” William growls. “Enough. Both of you, benched.” 

“I didn’t do anything,” Lloyd whines. 

“Doesn’t matter. You’re ruining the game,” William says. “Both of you, go inside.” 

“He antagonized him,” Linda squalls, “you heard his play call--” 

“Your son’s grown. He can handle words,” William rebuffs. “You can go inside with them.” 

You’re disappointed. It wasn’t bad while it lasted. Lloyd chuffs and steps around his father. Several bodies move to keep him away from Ransom. He rolls his eyes and waves them off. 

“He’s not worth it,” he stomps over to you. “Whatever, let’s get some hot chocolate or some shit. Better than standing in the snow with a bunch of geezers.” 

He grabs your arm and you have no choice but to let him lead you away. You can hear Ransom pleading his own case, whining at his mom, as she huffs and sighs. The argument fades as you near the front door. 

Lloyd pushes through and drags you in with him. He checks his reflection in the wall mirror, fixing his hair as he winces. He left his coat and blazer inside, wearing only his black turtleneck, now wet from the snow and streaked with salt along his back. He shakes his head at himself. 

You undo your coat and hang it. You almost want to call it a day. You came to brunch, you faced the wolves, and there isn’t enough wine to make them tolerable. 

He touches his cheek and hisses, “ugh, bastard.” 

“Hard hit,” you say. 

“Sure was. Who knew the brat had it in him?” He gingerly presses his cheekbone, “ugh, well, Pix, how about you kiss it better?” 

“What?” You grimace. “No way.” 

“But it hurts,” he turns to you and pushes his bottom lip out. 

“Uh uh,” you cross your arms. “We need to talk. About the wedding.” 

“Really? You wanna talk about that?” 

“Lloyd, I said a courthouse.” 

“I know but...” he pauses and glances around the entry way, “come on.” 

He ushers you down the hall and into the bathroom. He shuts the door and you’re once more trapped in the tight space with a Hansen twin. He stands in front of the door as he faces you. 

“Look, I’m just trying to get this done. It’s good for both of us. You want your money, don’t you? So you need to play along.” 

“I am.” 

“It’s just a fucking ceremony and a dinner.” He argues. 

“It’s not what I agreed too.” 

“Yeah, well, we have to be convincing if we want our prize.” 

You scowl, “I really am not enjoying this whole ‘we’ narrative.” 

“That’s the script, Pixie pie. So put a little bit of energy into it.” He steps closer and you stiffen as he puts his hands on your shoulders. “Loosen up and you might actually have a bit of fun.” 

“It was supposed to be the holiday and the courthouse,” you insist. 

“Not good enough. We both know it.” 

“I want more money,” you grit. 

He pouts again, “you drive a hard bargain for such a soft little thing.” 

You push him away as he goes to stroke his cheek. 

“Two million. I’m not wearing a white dress for anything less.” 

“Baby, please, you’re bleeding me dry--” 

“I’m not blind, Lloyd.” You look around emphatically, “I know what I’m asking for is a fraction of what you’ll get. I’ve worked for you long enough to know your tactics. Whatever I ask, I’m being undersold. Two or I walk right now.” 

He takes a deep breath and lets it out, “let me just see a little ass.” 

You blink, stunned by his barter. You shake your head. “Not for a three million.” 

“Ugh, fine. You’re so damn stubborn. I like it but I also hate it,” he sighs. “Two,” he pulls his hand free and offers it. You shake it with a triumphant smirk. “Let’s seal that the right way.” 

He tightens his hold on you as he grabs the back of your head and bends to smother you with a bristly kiss. You squeak before you can pull away. You scoff at him and yank your hand free to wipe your lips. 

“It’s gonna happen, Pixie,” he grins. “Trust.” 

[magical-reid]

A Little Something Extra

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Genre: fluff

Content warnings: none

Word count: 1.1K

Prompt 22: “You brought me breakfast?” “Well you said you always forget to eat before you go to work, so I thought I’d make sure you ate something.”

______________________________________________________________

It was another early morning in the BAU office, and the quiet buzz of activity filled the room. The coffee machine was working overtime, and the low hum of computers was accompanied by the soft shuffle of paperwork being passed around. In you usual spot near the windows, you were hunched over a stack of files, trying to make sense of the case that had been keeping you up for the last few days. There were too many details to sift through, and your brain felt like it was running on fumes.

You had told yourself that today would be different. You promised you'd take better care of yourself. You'd eat breakfast, take breaks, and not let the case consume you. But here you were, the morning slipping by, and you hadn’t had more than a few sips of cold coffee.

The sudden, unexpected sound of footsteps brought you back to the present. Looking up from your paperwork, you were met with a familiar face—Spencer Reid, looking more put-together than usual. He was carrying a tray with a bagel, fresh fruit, and a coffee cup with your name on it, balancing everything with an almost comical level of concentration.

You blinked, slightly confused. “You brought me breakfast?”

Spencer smiled sheepishly as he set the tray down on the corner of your desk. He’d already taken the time to carefully arrange everything as if he knew exactly what you liked. “Well, you said you always forget to eat before you go to work, so I thought I’d make sure you ate something.”

You leaned back in your chair, surprised at the thoughtful gesture. Spencer wasn’t exactly known for being overtly expressive with his feelings, but every now and then, he'd do something that made you realize just how much he paid attention to the little things.

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow. “You remembered that?”

Spencer's smile widened a little, but there was a trace of that characteristic nervousness in his eyes. “Of course. You’ve mentioned it a few times. And, well, I know how important it is to stay fueled, especially when we're dealing with, you know... all this.” He gestured to the mountain of case files on your desk.

You stared at him for a moment, your heart doing an unexpected flip. How did he always manage to do this? The little things, the quiet ways he showed that he cared—they added up. They meant more than you could say. You took a deep breath and smiled, your voice softening. “That’s really sweet of you, Spencer. Thank you.”

He looked slightly embarrassed now, his fingers fiddling with the edges of the tray as he cleared his throat. “I just thought... maybe you’d be able to concentrate better if you ate something. You know, breakfast helps with focus and energy levels, and I—”

You cut him off with a quiet laugh, reaching for the bagel and pulling off a piece. “Spencer, I’m sure you know all the scientific reasons why breakfast is important, but honestly, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble. I’m just... kind of terrible about remembering to eat.”

He shrugged, but his expression was still warm. “It’s no trouble. I know how intense these cases can get, and sometimes you forget to take care of yourself when you’re too focused on the work. I thought this might help.”

You felt a warmth spread through you, a mixture of appreciation and affection. “It definitely helps,” you said, taking another bite of the bagel. “And I think this is exactly what I needed.”

Spencer smiled, looking slightly less nervous now as if relieved that you weren’t going to make it awkward. He adjusted his glasses and stood back, a little uncomfortable but trying his best not to show it. “Well, I’ll leave you to your paperwork. I just wanted to make sure you were eating.”

Before he could turn to go, you quickly reached for the coffee cup he’d brought and held it out toward him. “Hey, would you like to sit for a second?” you asked, your voice soft, the invitation clear. “I don’t mind the company.”

Spencer’s eyes flickered to the seat across from you, then back to you, surprised. “Oh... I mean, I’d love to, but I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

You waved him off, smiling. “I’m already behind, but a break wouldn’t hurt. Besides, you brought me breakfast. The least I can do is share a few minutes with you.”

Spencer seemed a little flustered but pleased. He pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, taking a moment to adjust his posture, as though he were preparing for some deep conversation. When he spoke again, it was in his usual, thoughtful tone.

“So... how’s the paperwork going?”

You gave a small sigh, rubbing your eyes. “It’s slow going. We have a lot of details to connect, but I’m still trying to make sense of the pattern.”

He nodded, immediately falling into his element, discussing the finer details of the case with ease. His deep knowledge and sharp mind were always a comfort, and you couldn’t help but appreciate the quiet way he always made you feel heard, understood.

As you listened, nibbling on your breakfast and sipping the coffee he’d thoughtfully brought, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Spencer was always a little awkward in his own way, but the way he cared—it was something you couldn’t ignore. The small gestures, the careful consideration, the fact that he’d remembered something as simple as your bad habit of skipping meals... It meant more than you could express.

“So, you know,” you said, breaking into his focused chatter, “I’m actually really glad you brought me breakfast. It’s like... the perfect little reminder to take care of myself.”

Spencer blinked, then paused mid-sentence, his cheeks flushing a little. “Well, you should... you deserve to be taken care of,” he said, his voice a little quieter now, but there was a sincerity in it that made your heart flutter.

You looked at him, your gaze softening. “Thank you, Spencer. You always know just what I need.”

He gave a small, almost shy smile in response, but there was something in the way he looked at you—a flicker of something more, something deeper.

You knew that, for all his brilliance, Spencer had always been a bit of a mystery when it came to feelings. But in this moment, as you shared breakfast together, you didn’t need any more words to understand. He cared. And that meant everything.

[tinylilacbun]

Hello!! I’m loving the babysitter JJ, I was wondering if you could do one where he gets into an accident and ends up in the hospital (nothing too serious) but the ask if he has anyone to call and he calls the toddlers parents and they go and pick him up with toddler!reader and she brings him a balloon and teddy bear.

Maybe he should have just minded his business when some kooks made snarky comments about him, maybe he shouldn't have started a fight with one of them that resulted in the group chasing after him and him jumping over every obstacle until he climbed over a fence and braced the ground wrong causing him to twist his ankle.

After he found he somewhere to hide and took deep breaths he winces the second he tried to put pressure on his foot, knowing it couldn't be just a simple sprain.

JJ would usually never go to a hospital, given the fact he had never the money for it and because he couldn't stand the scent of disinfectant, but ever since he works as your babysitter he had a bit more budget than he ever had in his life.

That's how he's now sitting on a hospital bed, his ankle already in a brace and morphine in his system to help with the pain as he's waiting for the nurse to bring him the discharge papers.

He's looking down at his phone, hesitating to do what the nurse suggested to him earlier, that he should call someone to pick him up since the way home would be taking too long for him to manage alone.

His thought of calling his father dismisses he the second it enters his mind, knowing he would just end up sitting here for another reason after doing so, the Twinkie is having some issues right now so not even John b can pick him up right now.

With a sigh he sends a text to your mother, making sure to say that it's not necessary if they're busy, instantly regretting his decision and about to delete it again until he notices that she already read the message.

He curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair. Since then he hasn't gotten a reply, sitting there for another half hour the door opens and he thinks it's the nurse with the papers but his eyes widen a tad when he sees your parents.

Your father is holding you securely on his hip, setting you down the moment you start to squirm in his hold, quickly running towards JJ to hug his waist, standing between his legs.

"Hey, there, princess..." He chuckles, patting your back before he looks up at your parents, seeing the clear concern on their faces.

"Are you okay? Did they give you proper care? Because if not I'll-" Your mother starts but JJ nods, reaching down to pick you up and sit you down next to him as you keep clinging onto him.

"I'm fine...I shouldn't have bothered you 'cause of this." He mumbles, glancing at the things you're holding. "Watcha got there, huh?"

"Oh! Dis for you jay! To makes you happy." You smile at him, holding the blue balloon and a small teddy bear out to him.

JJ doesn't know how he deserves all this, seeing you in the country club that one day was the best thing that ever happened to him and he will forever be grateful.

"Thanks, cupcake..." He says quietly, booping your nose with the paw of the teddy bear to hear you giggle. "He's just as adorable as you."

Soon the discharge papers were signed and JJ made his way outside with crutches, not really protesting when his father asked if he wanted to stay over, just for the night.

Your parents know that it's hard for JJ to let people help him, even more if they're kooks, but your parents seem to be the only exception. He would never admit that though.

You hold his hand the whole car ride back to your house, wanting to comfort him like he always does when you're hurt or sad, rambling about your day and he listens to every word you say, smiling at you the whole time.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu @mylettterstoyou @sunf1ower16 @sweetstars-posts @rafecameronsloverrrrr @rafenroostersgirl

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @flora-eva

[crowhyun]

gym rat taehyun who you end us seeing frequently at the gym whenever you’re around too and he starts helping you out on some of the stuff and sexual tension and then BAM, sex

a/n: I haven't written smut in so long so please bare with me 😭 I'm trying to get back into the groove of it but I've kinda lost confidence though I hope that doesn't show in my works lol. I hope you enjoy this, anon, and thank you for requesting!!

Warnings: smut, pnv, exhibitionism, unprotected sex but hyun's pull out game is top tier, I would know

WC: 1.8k

The gym a few blocks away from your apartment was always too crowded for your taste. Midday was the worst, with every piece of equipment occupied, and the ones that weren't were a sweaty mess due to peoples' lack of politeness.

Though, around 10PM was always the best time to go. It was much less crowded, and it was almost calming, in a way.

You, along with a few other late night gym rats, took this time to your advantage. The gym was nearly empty, and hip-hop music played quietly from the speakers. The sound of equipment moving and barbells clanking was miniscule compared to how it usually was.

Though, you'd be lying to yourself if you said that that was the only reason you came to the gym at that time.

Your other reason - your main reason - was currently at the pull-up bar, biceps bulging and sweat dripping down his clear skin as he effortlessly hoisted himself up on the bar. You were quite familiar with this man, or at least as familiar as you could get from afar. Without fail, he'd always be at the gym at this time, always alone, and ever so efficient in his workouts.

You tried not to stare as you leisurely stretched. You weren't in the mood for heavy lifting or cardio, yet you were fully intent on boy watching.

After what seemed like over a dozen pull-ups, the man hopped down from the bar, turning around with a hand on his hip to grab his towel, and you quickly looked away to not get caught ogling. To look busy, you continued with your stretching, doing basic stretches to pass the time. You were so distracted trying to look busy that you hadn't even noticed a certain someone approaching until you heard his voice.

"Your form isn't good." He said, causing you to flinch and sir upright, staring right at the man who was sipping from his water bottle.

Is he talking to me?, you thought. Though, he was obvious who he was talking to, due to his large brown eyes seemingly piercing into your soul. "...huh?" Was all that you could muster out.

"Sorry." He apologized, screwing his water bottle shut. "I don't mean to bother you, but I just thought that I should tell you that your form isn't very good. You might hurt yourself."

Your lips went into an O-shape as you realized what he was saying, and you couldn't help but feel embarrassed. You fully expected him to just walk away after that, but he spoke once more.

"I can help with some stretches if you'd like." He said. "I'm no personal trainer, but I know a thing or two."

"Oh...you'd do that?" You asked, trying to keep your voice steady as you inwardly fangirled, knowing that this was the perfect opportunity to get closer to the man you've been crushing on.

"Yeah, of course." He nodded, placing his water bottle down and coming closer, your heart beating a mile a minute. He gave you a sweet smile before he bent down to your level, and you got a close up look at his sweaty skin and well built arms, causing you to shiver in anticipation.

"See, when you're doing lunge stretches, you have to make sure your back is flat and your core is engaged so that you can keep your balance." He said, his voice soft, though the near emptiness of the gym made it seem as if he were loud and clear. He got into position beside you, showing off the proper way to stretch, and you followed suit.

Throught the stretches, you had learned that his name was Taehyun, and he was pretty flexible himself. You may have even purposefully made yourself seem incompetent in your stretches so that he wouldn't leave anytime soon. It was getting later and later, but you didn't want to go home - not yet.

"Hamstring stretches are a bit harder, as most people don't stretch for long enough." He informed you, gently pushing you onto your back. "How flexible are you?" He asked, helping you to hike your leg up. You were hyper aware of the feeling of his strong hands on you, and the change of position nearly made you dizzy.

"Uh, maybe moderately?" You spoke, clearing your throat in an effort to sound like your panties weren't starting to get damp.

"Moderately?" He chuckled with a slight tilt to his head. "We'll see about that then, yeah? Just tell me when it's too much." He said, his hand circling around your calf as he started to slowly push your leg up...up...and up.

You winced a bit, the stretch starting to get painful, but you were too distracted by how he placed his other hand right on your thigh.

"There you go." He encouraged, your leg straight up and pushed against his shoulder as he kneeled down in front of you. "How're you feeling? Think you can go a bit more?"

"I can definitely feel the stretch." You chuckled, your heartrate beating a mile a minute. "I think I can go further, though."

With that, he started to slowly push your leg up once more, your thigh almost touching your chest. "Hmm, you're pretty flexible, aren't you?" He spoke, and you don't know if it's the rising desire within you or not, but his voice was starting to sound more...intimate.

"I didn't...I didn't realize before now." You said, finding it hard to breathe.

"Good thing you have me here then, huh?" He smirked, the sight making your walls clench around nothing. He then started to slowly lower your leg before doing the same to the other one. Your breath hitched at the stretch, and you winced.

"Fuck..." You whispered, unable to keep it in.

"Just a bit more, you got it." He said, his whisper matching yours as he stretched you further. His torso pressed against your leg, and you couldn't help yourself from taking a peek down between your legs. Truthfully, you just wanted to make sure you didn't completely soak through your leggings, but instead, you got a glimpse of what Taehyun was packing. The dim light of the gym reflected on the bulge in his gym shorts, and you literally felt your heart beat in your clit.

You quickly looked back up, eyes slightly widening, just to see that he was making eye contact with you. There was a certain gleam in his eyes that told you that he knew exactly what you were looking at.

If that didn't tell you enough, then his next actions did.

Stretching your leg so that your thigh met your chest, he positioned himself so that he was pressing up against you, and your breath hitched once you felt his bulge directly press against your clothed heat.

Shit...he's so close.

"There you go..." He said, his voice dangerously lustful. "Now you're all stretched out for me."

You weren't exactly sure when the switch flipped, and at this point, you didn't care if you were soaking through your leggings or not. You weren't crazy, his voice definitely held some underlying tension there, and neither of you could hide from it.

"Now that you're all stretched out, you can work out safely, no matter how hard."

Next thing you know, your leggings were hanging off of one leg, and your panties were pushed to the side to accommodate for how Taehyun's girth was stretching you out in a completely different way.

Sweat dripped down the strands of his wet hair, and your leg was hiked up on his shoulder, ensuring that you had no way to hide from just how deliciously he was rocking his hips into yours.

It was a caconaphy of hushed moans, grunts and whimpers, the sounds of your bodies colliding. You but your lip harshly to try and silence yourself even though you were pretty sure the gym was empty at this time. Taehyun's cock ruthlessly massaged your g-spot with each thrust, and he groaned in ecstacy as your nails dug into his arms in order to brace yourself.

"Ah- ah- ah-" Staccato moans left your lips as your body jerked each time his tip slammed against that spot within you, his pelvis hitting your clit over and over again.

"Fuck, you're so tight." He groaned, his brows furrowed in concentration, solely focused on fucking you dumb on his cock.

A loud keen ripped from your throat as he slightly adjusted his positioning, his cock hitting so deep inside your fluttering walls. Your hips bucked up and your other leg lifted, the urge to close your legs and run away from the numbing pleasure growing greater.

"Nuh-uh." Taehyun tsked, shaking his head as he roughly spread your legs, his cock pushing deeper inside of you. "C'mon, you can take it. Take this cock." He grunted, gifting you with a particularly harsh thrust that had you reeling.

Your head fell back on the mat underneath you and your thighs shook. You could feel his cock throb inside of you, his low grunts only driving you closer to the edge. You then gasped loudly, your jaw dropping and your body tensing.

"C-cumming, I'm cum-" You stammered out, only to cut yourself off with a high pitched moan that would've been impossible for you to keep in. Your pussy walls clamped around Taehyun's thick shaft like a vice, and he felt like he was seconds away from absolutely losing it at the way your fucked out face contorted into barely concealed pleasure as you creamed all around his cock.

He wrapped his hands around your wrists, holding you down as he pumped faster, his balls tightening as he saw completion on the horizon. "Mmmh, that's it...cum on my cock just like- hah- that." He groaned, his jaw clenching as his blunt nails dug into your wrists, and before he knew it, he couldn't take anymore.

He was quick to pull out of your tight heat, which was almost painful, but that no longer mattered to him, because his hot, thick cum was spurting out of his glistening cock and onto your stomach. The hottest whine left his throat as he came down from his high, his chest heaving up and down, and his eyes darting down to your fucked out form.

A few minutes of comfortable silence passed, the only sound being the low volume of the music playing through the gym speakers and the sound of the both of you catching your breaths.

"Well, uhm..." He suddenly spoke, clearing his throat. You noticed that he was avoiding eye contact, and the tips of his ears were tinted red.

Was he...embarrassed?

You fought the urge to laugh as he continued.

"If you just, uh...do those stretches before every workout, you should be good to go." He said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Thanks..." You spoke, your voice a bit hoarse. "For helping me stretch...and for the little present you gave me." You said, referring to his seed that was splattered across your stomach, seeping down to your belly button.

His eyes widened and he choked, almost as if he forgot that he had came on you.

"I'll...deal with that."

[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 7: You Don’t Choose Your Family

Y/n gets a surprise visit of her father at the apartment. It's not that she's not happy about it...but you don't choose your family.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, mentions of divorce, D&W.

A/N: hey!! I am BACK!! I am absolutely not done with the story nor my exams but do not worry about anything. Chapter 7 is here (*applause*) and it's the continuation of the last one😚 we are also getting more of the Logan x reader I promised you 🤭 hope you like it!!!! enjoyyyyy <3

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist / Previous Part

Y/N wasn’t expecting the call.

Her evening was supposed to be low-key —grading papers, maybe catching a show with Logan and Wade later. But when Logan called, everything changed.

When she arrived, her father was comfortably seated on the couch, chatting animatedly with Logan. Logan looked both polite and slightly panicked— caught in the middle of a conversation he didn’t initiate. The sight almost made Y/N laugh. How Logan always ended up trapped with the chattiest person ever was a mystery.

“Dad!” Y/N greeted, pulling her father’s attention away from Logan.

“Hey, kiddo!” Your father, Daniel, stood up with a grin, acting as if this surprise visit was the most normal thing in the world. “I thought I’d drop by and see how you were doing.”

Y/N gave him a quick hug, still trying to process the unexpected visit. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

“Just figured I’d come check on you in this new place of yours!” he said, waving it off as no big deal.

Logan stood, relieved now that Y/N was here to handle things. “I’ll let you two catch up,” he murmured, retreating toward the kitchen.

“Thanks, Logan,” Y/N said softly, before turning back to her father. “You’ve met Logan?”

Daniel nodded. “Yeah, nice guy. We were just talking about his work—special ed teacher, right?”

“Yeah, he is,” Y/N replied, adjusting to the idea of her dad sitting in her apartment, chatting with Logan of all people.

A moment later, the door opened, and Wade strolled in after his shift at the bar, his usual grin plastered across his face. He spotted Y/N and her dad sitting in the living room and raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, what’d I miss?” Wade asked, dropping his bag by the door.

“Wade, this is my dad,” Y/N introduced, trying to keep the situation from becoming even more awkward.

Wade immediately brightened. “Ah, family!” he announced with his signature charm, shaking her dad’s hand. “I’m Wade. Roommate number one— the one who makes sure this place doesn’t burn down.”

Y/N tried not to laugh while Logan snorted from the kitchen. Daniel chuckled, easily won over by Wade’s humor. “Nice to meet you, Wade.”

Wade flashed Y/N a grin before slipping off toward the kitchen, joining Logan who was standing by the counter, quietly observing from a distance.

“So that’s Y/N’s dad?” Wade asked, leaning against the counter. “What’s the verdict?”

Logan shrugged slightly, glancing back at the living room. “Talks a whole lot. Very intense. Protective. Y/N’s surprised by the visit.”

Wade crossed his arms, clearly intrigued. “I know, she was at the bar when you called. Did he mention why he’s here?”

Logan shook his head. “Not really. Just asked me a thousands questions in less than ten minutes. I didn’t want to pry.”

“Good call,” Wade nodded, then peered over the counter toward the living room again. “He staying for dinner?”

“No idea.” Logan replied, though the question hung between them as they began preparing something simple.

From the kitchen, Wade called out, “Mr. Y/L/N, are you staying for dinner?”

Before Y/N could answer, her dad jumped in with a grin. “Absolutely.”

Y/N shot a look in Wade and Logan's direction, as if to say, I wasn’t planning this, but they simply exchanged a glance between themselves. They shared a silent understanding— something about the situation was off. Wade raised an eyebrow, while Logan gave a subtle nod, signaling that they were both on alert now.

With no turning back, they set about preparing a simple meal, something easy but filling— pasta and a salad. While they worked, the soft hum of Y/N and her father’s conversation continued in the background, though they couldn’t help but tune in occasionally, catching snippets of what they were saying.

———

“So,” she began, choosing her words carefully. “What brings you here, Dad?”

Daniel leaned back on the couch, his eyes scanning the room. “Do I need a reason to visit my daughter?”

Y/N gave a small, hesitant smile. “No, of course not. But you didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“Wanted to surprise you,” he replied with a shrug, though there was something in his tone that sounded off. “Thought I’d check out your new place. Make sure it’s... decent.”

Y/N nodded slowly, sensing the subtle judgment in his words. “It’s fine, Dad. I like it here.” She let her eyes drift to the kitchen where Logan and Wade were working, grateful for the slight distraction.

Her father followed her gaze, raising an eyebrow when he saw Logan. “So… Logan, right?”

“Yeah,” Y/N said quickly, confused as to where this was going. “What about him?

“He seems like a solid guy. You sure you two are just... roommates?” He asked and she bit the inside of her cheek, bracing herself for where this conversation might go. 

“Yes, Dad. We’re just roommates. That’s all.”

“Alright, alright, but what about Wade?” he asked,

“What's going on with you?" she blurted, raising an eyebrow as a grin threatened to break through.

Her father held up his hands in defense. “Just asking. Your mother and I used to talk about stuff like this, you know.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the mention of her mom. Her father rarely brought her up that way, especially with how tense things still were between her parents, even decades after the divorce.  It was usually more an inappropriate comment her mother didn’t deserve. 

“Oh, really?” she asked carefully, not sure where this was heading.

“Yeah,” Daniel continued, his tone softening a little. “Back before things went... south. We used to wonder what you’d end up doing, where you’d live, and who you’d end up with. She always had these big ideas. Thought you’d find someone nice. Maybe settle down with a guy like one of these guys.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond but paused, momentarily stunned by his gentler tone. Her father, for once, wasn’t launching into some bitter comment about her mom.

“She really said that?” Y/N asked softly, her curiosity outweighing her hesitance.

Daniel nodded with a smile. “She did. We were always so worried about you, you know? But it wasn’t just about who you’d end up with. We would imagine your entire future, what career you’ll end up choosing, how many dogs you would have— cause you always wanted one and we always told you ‘You’ll get one when you'll have your own house’…”

Y/N was quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. It had been so long since her father had spoken about her childhood without bitterness that she almost didn’t know how to respond.

“I didn’t know you guys had my whole life planned,” Y/N chuckled, her voice softer now, her guard slowly lowering.

Daniel glanced over at her, smiling. “Yeah, well…we did that with your brother— although we didn’t expect any of his life choices, but that’s another story.”

For the first time in years, Y/N felt a connection with her father. A sense of mutual understanding that didn’t come laced with tension or resentment. It was brief, but it was something.

She smiled, a real one this time. “Thanks for telling me all that, Dad. That means a lot.”

Daniel reached over and squeezed her hand, his touch firm but comforting. “I missed you, honey.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the weight between them lighten. “I missed you too.”

Before the moment could grow too emotional, Logan called from the kitchen, “Dinner’s ready.”

Y/N looked toward the kitchen and then back at her father, who was already starting to stand.

“Well, let’s see what your roommates can do in the kitchen,” Daniel said with a faint smirk.

As they made their way to the table, Y/N couldn’t help but think that they’d actually had a good conversation. One that hadn’t ended with her dad tearing her mom down or leaving her feeling caught in the middle. Maybe things weren’t perfect between them, but for now, this small moment of peace was enough.

Daniel took the seat next to Y/N, while Logan and Wade sat on the opposite side. The conversation started politely enough, with Wade doing his usual job of keeping things light. He shared stories from his bartending adventures, as he always did, earning a few chuckles from James, who seemed to enjoy Wade’s humor.

The smell of the simple pasta dish Logan and Wade had thrown together filled the apartment. The atmosphere was initially warm, with everyone engaged in casual conversation.

“So, Wade,” Y/N’s dad said as he twirled his fork through the spaghetti. “Y/N told me you're a comedian?”

Wade grinned. “Yeah, I make people laugh for a living. Or at least try to. It’s a tough crowd out there.”

Daniel nodded. “Well, we could all use more of that these days.”

The conversation ebbed and flowed easily at first, moving between work, the city, and Y/N’s life in the apartment. Wade cracked jokes here and there, and Logan offered his quiet, thoughtful input when needed. It felt comfortable, almost like a normal family dinner.

But then, the conversation shifted.

“So, Y/N,” her dad began, his tone changing ever so slightly. “Have you heard from your mom lately? Still living the California dream, I assume.”

Y/N felt her body tense, and she shot a quick glance at Logan, who was watching her father closely. Wade picked up on the shift too, though he didn’t say anything.

“She’s doing fine,” Y/N replied cautiously. “We talked last week, actually. She’s been busy with work, but she’s good.”

Her dad gave a small, dismissive shrug. “Work. Right. And still with that guy, I suppose?”

Y/N's eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes. His name is Paul.”

Her father sighed, shaking his head. “I just don’t get it. She moves halfway across the country, barely checks in, and now with your brother all the way in Europe—”

“Dad,” Y/N interrupted. “She didn’t move across the country to get away from us. She moved for herself. And we’re fine. Sam and I are doing just fine.”

Daniel scoffed softly, setting his fork down. “I’m not saying you’re not fine, Y/N. I just don’t see how a mother can be so far away from her kids and not feel guilty. If I were her, I’d—”

“Well, you’re not her,” Y/N cut in, her voice sharper now. “You’ve been divorced for years. She didn’t abandon us, and she still cares. You don’t need to keep bringing it up like she left us to fend for ourselves.”

Logan’s jaw tightened as he glanced between Y/N and her father, sensing the rising tension. Wade shifted uncomfortably in his seat but stayed silent, eyes flicking to Logan for some kind of cue.

“I’m just saying,” Daniel continued, his voice lower now, “she could have stayed. Made more of an effort. But she left.”

“She didn’t leave us, Dad,” Y/N said, her patience wearing thin. “And honestly, Sam and I— we’re adults. We didn’t need her to stay and ‘raise’ us anymore. You’ve moved on with your life. Why can’t you let her do the same?”

Her father’s face tightened, and the air in the room grew heavy with unspoken frustration. For a moment, it felt like everyone at the table was holding their breath.

“I know you’re grown, Y/N,” Daniel said quietly, his eyes hard but sad. “But I don’t think a parent ever stops worrying about their kids. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Y/N sighed, trying to keep her voice steady. “I am okay, Dad. But you’ve got to stop blaming her for everything. This is your issue, not mine. Mom’s living her life, and I’m living mine.”

The room was thick with tension now, and no one knew quite what to say. Y/N’s father looked down at his plate, clearly feeling the weight of her words. Logan glanced at Wade, who shot him a silent look of understanding—they both knew when to stay out of family affairs.

After a long pause, Daniel finally spoke, his voice quieter than before and looking at all the people at the table. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag things down.”

Y/N softened and shook her head. “I know, Dad. But you’ve got to let this go.”

There was another silence before he nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

The mood at the table lightened just slightly as everyone tried to return to their meals, though the weight of the conversation still hung in the air.

For a moment, there was silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Then, as if on cue, Wade jumped in, his voice cheerful and light. “You know what’s great about family dinners? Dessert! Who’s ready for some ice cream?”

The sudden change in tone broke the tension, and Y/N gave Wade a grateful look. Her dad, too, seemed to relax, chuckling at Wade’s enthusiasm. “Ice cream, huh? Now that’s something I like to hear.”

As Wade made his way to the kitchen, Y/N’s father glanced around the apartment again. His eyes landed on the fridge, and something seemed to catch his attention. “Hey, is that the picture I think it is?”

Y/N followed his gaze, realizing he was looking at the family photo she had put up weeks ago.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, her voice softer now. “Wade and Logan insisted that I should put it up when I moved in.”

Daniel stood and walked over to the fridge, staring at the picture for a long moment. His expression shifted, a mixture of nostalgia and something else—regret, maybe. He ran a hand through his hair, his voice quiet when he finally spoke. “That was a good day. One of the last before things started to go wrong.”

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. Something about the way he was looking at the photo made her heart ache.

“It was,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daniel turned to face her, his eyes softer now. “You’ve grown up so much, Y/N. I don’t say it enough, but I’m proud of you. No matter what happened between me and your mom, I’m proud of the person you’ve become. And I’m sorry for…all the mess that we caused.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words. She gave him a small, genuine smile. “Thanks, Dad.”

The moment hung in the air for a beat longer before Wade returned with bowls of ice cream, his voice breaking through the heaviness. “Alright, dessert is served! I got vanilla, chocolate, and this weird one Logan bought—pistachio whatever. Anyone feeling adventurous?”

Daniel chuckled, the warmth returning to his expression. “I’ll stick with chocolate, thanks.”

The atmosphere lightened once again, and they all sat back down at the table, enjoying their ice cream and talking a bit more.

As the plates were cleared and the remnants of dinner were packed away, Y/N walked her father to the door, feeling the tension of the evening settle uncomfortably between them. The earlier argument still simmered, but it had cooled to a manageable level.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” her dad said quietly, standing in the doorway. “It’s just hard, you know? Seeing you grown up, dealing with your own stuff, and not being able to do anything about it.”

Y/N offered a small, tired smile. “I know, Dad. And I appreciate that you care. But I’ve got this. You don’t need to keep fighting old battles.”

Daniel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I just still see you as my little girl. Hard to let that go sometimes.”

Y/N stepped forward and hugged him tightly. “I’ll always be your little girl, Dad. But you’ve got to trust that I know what I’m doing.”

Her father hugged her back, his arms wrapping around her in a way that felt both protective and regretful. “I’m sorry for bringing all that up. It wasn’t fair.”

Y/N pulled back slightly, meeting his eyes. “It’s okay. Just…next time, maybe we can talk about something else?”

He smiled. “Deal.”

With one last hug, Daniel stepped out into the hallway. “I’ll call you soon. Let me know if you ever need anything.”

“I will.” Y/N said, watching as her dad gave her one last nod before heading down the hallway.

When she closed the door, Y/N leaned against it, letting out a long breath. It hadn’t gone perfectly, but at least it was over. She turned around to find Logan and Wade standing there, watching her with quiet concern.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N began, her voice barely above a whisper. “I had no idea he was going to show up like that. I didn’t mean to put you both through all that drama.”

Wade, who was leaning casually against the kitchen counter, waved it off. “Are you kidding? This is mild compared to some of the shit I’ve seen and heard.”

Logan stepped closer, his expression soft. “You don’t need to apologize. Family stuff happens. We’re in this with you.”

Y/N blinked, a small, grateful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Thanks, but it was just… a lot.”

Logan nodded. “We get it. You don’t choose your family, but you can make your own, you know?”

Wade chimed in with a grin. “And lucky for you, you’ve got us, the best family you could ever create.”

Y/N laughed softly, the warmth of their words settling into her chest. “Thanks, guys.”

Logan gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and Wade, sensing the need for space, stretched dramatically. “Alright, I’m out. This emotional rollercoaster wiped me out. I’ll catch you both in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Wade,” Y/N said, shaking her head with a smile as he disappeared into his room.

Logan gave Y/N a lingering look. “You good?”

She nodded, still trying to shake off the heavy emotions of the night. “Yeah. I just need a minute.”

Logan gave her a small nod. “Take your time. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight.”

Logan disappeared into his room as well, and Y/N sank into the couch. The living room was quiet now, and for a while, she let herself just breathe. The weight of the conversation with her dad still lingered, along with the tangled emotions from the night. She found herself staring at nothing, lost in her thoughts.

The hours slipped by unnoticed, the apartment dim and silent around her. She didn’t realize how late it had gotten until she heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. Startled, Y/N turned her head to see Logan walking into the living room, his hair tousled from sleep.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low, concerned.

Y/N let out a small, humorless laugh. “I thought you went to bed.”

“I did,” Logan said, sitting down on the couch beside her. “But I saw the lights were still on and thought you had fallen asleep here.”

Y/N sighed, her eyes fixed on the floor. “Sorry. I guess I didn’t realize how much time passed. I’ve just been… thinking.”

Logan watched her closely. “About what?”

Y/N shrugged, trying to find the words. “I don’t know. Everything, I guess. My dad, my mom, the divorce… I don’t want to cry about it. It feels like I’d be a little girl again, crying over something that happened so long ago. Like I can’t move on.”

Logan leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees as he looked at her. “It doesn’t matter how long ago it was. If it’s still hurting you, it’s okay to cry about it.”

Y/N shook her head, trying to swallow the lump forming in her throat. “But I shouldn’t. I’m not a kid anymore. Fuck, I’m a grown ass adult in my thirties. I can’t let this stuff affect me like it did back then.”

Logan's voice softened. “Y/N, you’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling. You don’t have to hold it in just because it’s been years. It’s still part of you.”

Y/N felt the tears prick at her eyes, but she fought to keep them at bay. “I don’t want to cry.”

“You don’t have to,” Logan said gently. “But if you do, I’m right here. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Y/N’s defenses crumbled at his words. She felt the dam break inside her, and before she could stop herself, the tears started to flow. At first, it was just a few quiet sobs, but soon she was genuinely crying, her shoulders shaking as the weight of everything she had been holding in finally spilled out.

Logan didn’t say a word. He simply shifted closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a comforting embrace. Y/N buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking his shirt, but Logan didn’t seem to mind. He just held her, letting her cry, offering nothing but his presence.

After a few minutes, Y/N’s sobs began to quiet. She stayed in Logan’s arms, feeling the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek. It was calming, grounding.

“I hate this,” she whispered after a long pause, her voice hoarse. “I hate that it still hurts.”

“I know,” Logan murmured softly. “But it’s okay. You’ve been carrying it for a long time.”

Y/N wiped her eyes, her breathing evening out. “I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Logan said.

Y/N sniffled, pulling back slightly to look at him. “Thank you. For being here.”

Logan gave her a small smile, his hand still resting on her shoulder. “I’ll always be here for you. You know that, right?”

She nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over her, and maybe something else. “Yeah. I do.”

After another long moment of silence, Logan shifted, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You should get some sleep.”

She nodded. “You’re right. I got school tomorrow.”

Logan stood up and offered her a hand, helping her up from the couch. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Y/N smiled, feeling a little lighter. “You need to rest too, you know.”

Logan chuckled softly. “I will. But I’m not the one who just went through a rollercoaster of a night.”

Y/N gave him a grateful look as they walked toward their rooms. “Night, Logan. And… thanks again.”

Logan stopped at his door and gave her a soft smile. “See you tomorrow.”

With that, they each retreated to their rooms, leaving the quiet of the apartment to settle around them once more. But this time, the silence felt a little more peaceful, a little more comforting.

XXX

[midnight-mourning]

*Taps mic* Heard y'all like Moon around here, you're in luck, this one's for you

massive, MASSIVE thank you to @lunarmoves for beta-reading this chapter!!

She put a lot of time and effort into making my BS readable for y'all and it's greatly appreciated <3 <3 <3

Shay also makes really good dca stuff (also sebastian solace but I know very little about the fish tbh) and you should check her out!

Also, happy 200k+!!! We're only 297k from truly becoming the 500k enemies to lovers slowburn of our dreams lmaoooo

But for real I apologize for such a delay with this one. If you'd like to hear my excuses/reasoning they're below the cut, or you can just go read the chapter whatever suits ya ^-^

Tag list (if you would like added please see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

CW: medical stuff & additionally a bit of unreality mentions

Okay going to try and keep this simple bc I've said parts of it before

So as most of you know, I've been sick for 3 months now

I've now been on two rounds of steroids, and currently on my third round of antibiotics, which are basically keep me fucntional, not improving

besides general discomfort and pain, my memory has been pretty shot at times, I will go through the day and barely remember what I did/what I'm doing/what I need to do

as someone who had brain fog caused by covid a few years ago, this was genuinely a scary experience because ultimately, this has been worse

i've felt out of control of my body, having times where I'm mid thought and then instantly lose it

this is not my normal, I usually pride myself on my memory, so losing it has been incredibly devastating and scary

this was not helped by the fact that the quick care I went to (THREE TIMES for this) basically kind of sort of tried to gaslight me into believing nothing could be done and that it's not an infection

so not only has this entire thing has gotten dragged out so much more, which makes me sad tbh, but I've also felt like I've been going crazy bc it felt like no one was believing me when i said I was sick and not getting any better (including friends, family, coworkers etc, though unintentional on their parts to be fair)

I feel like I've lost three months of my life and coming to terms with that has been, yeah

on top of all that, I'm still in school AND doing grad stuff, and while the school side of things has been okay (thank god), grad's had it's moments, won't get into it but have had multiple issues with my advisor that have been at times just really tough to deal with

Confused spirit got pushed to the back burner, because i quite literally at times could not think, and when it comes to this fic, where there's multiple ongoing plot threads, characterizations, lore, and so on to keep track of, it was just, impossible to me to even consider writing for it

having shorter stuff like promptober, the oneshots and such was great to keep me writing, and also still interact with everyone in the community, plus i had a lot of fun with them so that helped too

this is all to say that I do sincerly apologize for the delay, and at the very least I should've clearly communicated about there being a hiatus, when this all started I thought i'd be down for two weeks max, then as that time kept increasing I just kept putting it off and putting it off because i thought i was going to get better, and then I didn't

I do this for fun and for nothing else, fic writing isn't content (it's engaging with fandom) and i have to remind myself of that sometimes but given that I've been around in some capacity on and off I feel I should've said something in some regard

Having said all that, I'm doing okay now! Still sick, but as long as I'm on meds I'm functional, stuff is getting managable with grad, and hopefully have some fun things coming up irl! Point is, the last three months haven't been the best, but they've been alright, due in part to all the support you all have given me, so thank you for that, can't say it enough :)

Okay, I think that just about covers it, thank you for taking the time to read all of this if you did <3

[inthehouseoffinwe]

AU where even after death our favourite Finwëions are being stubborn as ever so a new solution is found. Finarfin just wanted to help his grandson in law.

Fëanor and Fingolfin are being stubborn as ever

It’s been three ages, their wounds are healed, they’ve made up and understood most of their deeds

But they cannot for the life of them get along, and everyone, from Mandos to their children and people, know that if they’re released in their current state, things will go right back to how they were

Even if their people are kept in line by their kids, it’s a very explosive situation

And in all honesty, Námo feels like they’ve put poor Finarfin through enough without this addition

He can’t keep them here forever. The halls aren’t meant to be a permanent residence unless it’s by choice, and they’ve started causing chaos in here too

…but speaking of the sons of Finwë

Finarfin himself isn’t doing particularly well right now. He feels great guilt for his inaction over the last two Ages, especially as Tyelpë and Ereinion turned up with their own tales

Then of course little Celebrian

(Doesn’t matter how much everyone tells him they’d genuinely be lost without him and his actions. The Noldor especially would’ve been outcast and alone. They needed a stable ruler, not another revolutionary. And the work he’s done is more impactful than either of his brothers ever managed)

Not to mention he’s still furious at his brothers despite what he’s convinced himself of

…and misses them greatly.

Truth be told, the Valar owe him a lot.

So they offer him a choice.

Ereinion’s skilled with managing all kinds of people and people don’t have a problem with the kid, so for a time he’ll be the High King

Finarfin is overjoyed at the chance to help his granddaughter’s family. Elrond is dear to many across all factions, and his children too.

…He’s less overjoyed at the news his brothers will be joining him if he agrees.

Nevertheless desire to be of use for once wins out and he accepts.

He gets a week or so to say his goodbyes and prepare for the journey. Asking around, particularly asking the third age elves who’ve recently arrived and Celebrian most of all, gets him the clothes and supplies he needs to somewhat blend in.

They’re still his colours (though he has none) and his symbol is carefully hidden under the cloak.

And he heads to the Hall’s Opening.

“For what it’s worth, Arafinwë, I’m sorry for the additional baggage. We’ve asked much of you, but hopefully this at least will benefit us all.”

Námo is kind when he stands and opens the gates.

“I know you’ve missed them too.”

The soft whisper dissipates into the wind with the Vala and now two figures are walking out. Tall. Broad shouldered. Eyes shining with light.

Clad in their usual blue and red, weapons strapped to their backs and hips.

Fëanaro and Nolofinwë have returned at last.

Before he can say anything there’s a whirl of light and the three elves are swept away.

Aragorn did not sign up for this

A bright flash of light all but blinds him, leaving three figures in its wake.

Three very tall. Very Elven. Figures.

And if that’s not enough, they look strangely familiar. Like he should know them from somewhere.

“That damn Vala! He couldn’t have warned us!”

And now they’re speaking Quenya.

“He did. It’s not his fault you don’t listen to anyone but yourself,” the one clad in blue says viciously.

The third elf, the only one with blond hair, groaned and glared at the two others. Aragorn winced at the look, thankful he wasn’t under it, though neither of the others so much as flinched.

“You’ve been back how long?” He scoffed. “And here I thought I missed you.”

To his credit the one in blue showed some regret and bowed his head. Beside him, the red one huffed, but it was much less heated, and his hands clenched into the leaves around him.

“Forgive me, Arafinwë,” the blue one said.

Aragorn’s hand found his blade. It couldn’t be…

“Depends what you want forgiveness for, Nolo,” was the cold reply, tinged with hurt.

No way.

But it was there. The uncanny resemblance to the portraits he’d seen in his books as a young boy learning his history. This was no doubt Fingolfin, and beside him Finarfin. Which only left-

“My feud with Fëanaro has long tainted our relationship, little brother,” the blue elf- *Fingolfin* replied bitterly, glaring at the third elf. “I’d like to start again.”

“Well I’d like you two to shove your issues aside for once and try and get along!” Finarfin hissed back, and his older brother’s eyes widened. “How long will you keep fighting?! How long will you divide your people, your children! How long will you make them suffer for your egos?!”

Aragorn expected Fëanor to scowl, angrily proclaim his youngest half brother had no right to speak that way, but the elf only glared into the floor. Fingolfin stared into the trees and Finarfin turned away, eyes clouding with pain.

Only to stare right at Aragorn.

“Fëanaro, Nolo. Swords up.”

To their credit the elves immediately stood and followed Finarfin’s gaze to Aragorn. The Ranger carefully stepped into the light as the three sons of Finwë stared him down.

“It is not polite to lurk, stranger.” Fingolfin said in the common tongue and Aragorn vaguely wondered if he’d been taught it in the halls. He put his hands up, free of weapons, and lowered his hood.

“Forgive me, my lord Fingolfin. But I had to identify if you were friend of foe. You appeared in a strange manner wearing faces of old, and the enemy is skilled in his deceit.”

“You dare accuse us of being Sauron’s creations?” Fëanor’s eyes lit with a fell fire and Aragorn would have shuddered was he not accustomed to seeing much worse from his own father. Elrond could be… rather terrifying when he decided he’d had enough of his son’s’ shenanigans.

“He was being cautious,” Finarfin retorted. “Something you could learn from considering how your life ended.”

“I didn’t know what Balrogs were!”

“The great Fëanaro admitting to not knowing something, have the end of days come at last?”

“Some would say his presence here is an indicator of that,” Fingolfin muttered as Fëanor scowled at the blond. The scowl turned to him and he met it squarely. “I said what I said.”

The situation was fast unravelling and Aragorn had Nazgul on his tail. For all his training in Elrond’s house, nothing had prepared him for dealing with three Princes - Kings??? - of the Noldor at each others throats. Sending a prayer that this wouldn’t get him skewered, he whistled sharply and the three elves spun his way. He raised his hands in apology.

“Orcs and other fell beasts roam these lands, my lords. I’d advise a quieter argument?” He grimaced at the two stunned faces, wondering when it would turn to explosive anger that ended the line of Elros once and for all.

But Finarfin tilted his head, a small smile playing about his lips.

“It takes great courage to step between the arguments of the House of Finwë. What’s your name, stranger.”

The Ranger bowed his head.

“The trees have ears, my lord, I’d take you to an Elven safehaven before telling you that. But for now, you can call me Strider.”

[httpvomitello]

Fred Weasley x reader who hides their chronic pain/illness? With lots of comfort and reassurance. Thanks :)

YES, ANOTHER FRED REQUEST, I'M SO HAPPY! I hope you like it ~ ♡♡

In Sickness and in Strength *⁠.⁠✧

fred weasley x gn!reader

The cold wind of late December crept through the cracks of the Burrow, making you tug the thick quilt tighter around your shoulders. The chaos of the Weasley household had been a welcome distraction for most of the holiday, but today you were struggling to keep your usual mask in place. Fred was in the next room, regaling his family with an exaggerated tale about a rogue Extendable Ear mishap. His laughter rang out like a warm melody, but you couldn’t muster the energy to join him.

Your body ached from head to toe, the familiar, invisible weight pressing against your bones. It was the kind of pain that no spell could erase, the kind you’d learned to live with in silence. You loved Fred, more than words could express, but how could you burden him with this? He was sunshine incarnate, the kind of person who made the world brighter just by existing. You couldn’t dim that light by telling him about the storm constantly raging inside you.

“Y/N?” Fred’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, gentle but curious. You looked up to see him leaning against the doorframe, his trademark grin softening into something more tender.

“Hey,” you said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Done telling tales already?”

He crossed the room in a few strides and plopped down beside you on the worn sofa, his arm immediately draping over your shoulders. “They’ve had enough of my genius for now,” he teased, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “You, on the other hand, have been suspiciously quiet all day. What’s going on?”

You shrugged, your pulse quickening. “Just tired, that’s all. It’s been a long week.”

Fred’s brow furrowed slightly as he studied your face. He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Tired doesn’t usually make you look like you’re carrying the weight of the world. Come on, love, what’s really going on?”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as you tried to come up with an excuse. But Fred wasn’t the kind of person you could lie to easily. His gaze was too steady, too sincere.

“It’s nothing,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Fred shifted, turning to face you fully. His hand found yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Y/N, you know you don’t have to hide things from me, right? Whatever it is, I’m here. Always.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and before you could stop them, they spilled over, hot and unrelenting.

“I—” You took a shaky breath, unable to meet his gaze. “I’ve been dealing with this for a while. It’s… it’s chronic pain. Some days are worse than others, but I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to be a burden. You’ve already got so much going on, Fred, and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to take care of me too.”

Fred’s grip on your hand tightened, and when you finally looked up, his expression was a mix of heartbreak and determination.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. “You could never be a burden to me. Never. I don’t care how much you’re struggling or what you’re dealing with—I want to be there for you. That’s what love is, yeah? You’ve been there for me through everything, and I’ll be damned if I let you go through this alone.”

A fresh wave of tears spilled over, but this time, they were tears of relief. Fred pulled you into his arms, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world. His hand rubbed soothing circles on your back as he murmured soft reassurances into your hair.

“We’ll figure this out together,” he promised. “Whatever you need, i will make it work. If you’re having a bad day, you tell me, and I’ll do whatever I can to make it better. And on the good days, we’ll celebrate. But I need you to promise me something too.”

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. “What’s that?”

“Promise me you’ll stop trying to handle this on your own,” he said. “Because you don’t have to, Y/N. You’ve got me, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with a mix of gratitude and love. “I promise.”

Fred smiled then, his usual mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “Good. Now, how about we sneak some of Mum’s mince pies and curl up by the fire? I reckon a bit of warmth and sugar might be just what the Healer ordered.”

You laughed despite yourself, the sound lightening the heaviness in your chest. “That sounds perfect.”

[kouudi]

ᡣ𐭩 every path leads back to you — isagi yoichi

warnings: reader has an ex fiancé (not isagi), reader has commitment issues, description heavy, mentions of drinking, kind of proof read but not really, reader feels very guilty

a/n: i'm sorry this took so long ;-; life has been crazy and my job's been requiring me to come in more. turns out i work on christmas eve and day so that's fun i guess? happy late thanksgiving i'm thankful for all of you + my moots :D not sure when i'll be able to post again but i'll try to keep y'all updated and not disappear. also yes this was teased as a reo fic but ignore that...

The air in your apartment smelled like stale beer. The low hum of the refrigerator filled the silence in the background, only broken by the occasional wail of a distant siren outside. You’re perched at the edge of the couch, staring at the scattered beer cans on the floor as if they hold the answer to a question the universe is too afraid to ask.

You’re not even sure how the night started. Bachira called you, telling you that the team was home for a break. You rejected his invitation to go out for drinks, preferring instead to settle in at home with your own packs of beer.

Maybe Isagi called you, or maybe you texted him first—something vague after a few drinks, an invitation he somehow read between the lines. Now, hours later, he’s sitting in front of your couch, back against the edge, a comfortable distance away from you.

You think it should feel strange, having him here like this, so casually. Isagi Yoichi, with his perfect life and effortless charm, is a far cry from the mess you’ve become over the years of your friendship with him. Despite the differences, you feel a strange sense of comfort in his presence, as if for tonight, your loneliness isn’t yours to bear alone.

He’s quiet now, watching you with an expression that’s hard for you to read, his sharp eyes flickering all over your apartment as if they can’t settle on one thing for long. You take a swig from your beer, the bitterness burning your throat, and glance at him. You feel exposed, as if he’s peeling back the layers of whatever shield you’ve managed to build.

It’s that specific look that pulls the words from your tongue before you even realize it.

“Did you know I was supposed to get married last year?” The bitterness and disbelief are laced in your voice.

Isagi arches a brow at your sudden confession, his expression unreadable. The clutter of empty beer cans scattered around the floor brings up the thought of why he chose to end the night at your place, instead of suggesting his own for a late-night drinking session.

His gaze lingers on you, sharp and searching. “No, I didn’t. You’ve never mentioned it,” he says finally, his tone careful and neutral. You wonder if he’s doing it on purpose. “Are you joking?” he asks, his voice calm and even, his expression still unreadable. You force out a dry laugh.

“Yeah, well. There’s a lot I don’t mention,” you snort, lifting the beer can to your mouth. The bitterness in your tone stings your own ears. That wasn’t something you meant to blurt out. The weight of your guilt feels heavier than usual tonight, with Isagi here. His presence brings forth that strange sense of comfort, though it’s almost aggravating to you.

“Why bring it up now?” he asks, leaning back against the couch, still keeping his eyes focused on you. His voice is calm, but there’s a flicker of something beneath the surface—curiosity, or maybe even concern.

You shrug and stare down at the flat liquid in your can. “It’s been on my mind,” you mutter, though it’s only half the truth. It’s not just the memory of what could’ve been. It’s him—sitting here, looking too calm, too collected, as if your mess is just another puzzle for him to figure out.

You take another sip of your beer, the bitter taste doing little to ground you. Isagi’s gaze doesn’t waver, and you can feel the unspoken questions hanging in the air between you. Still, he doesn’t push, but his presence alone is almost like a small nudge, daring you to open up, to say more, to peel back a layer of your life that you’ve hidden from him for so long.

For a moment, you consider brushing it off with a dumb joke or changing the subject completely. But the quiet intensity in his eyes makes it impossible. Instead, you let the silence stretch, the weight of it pressing down until the emotions start to seep in—uninvited and vivid.

The memory floods back to you—the rush of slipping out the back of the reception hall, still in your wedding dress, makeup half-done and beginning to smudge. You remember the moment of freedom amidst the chaos, but the weight of the man you left behind quickly pulls you back.

“I left him at the altar,” you quietly confess, the words heavy on your tongue. The thought of your fiancé waiting for you at the end of the aisle, surrounded by friends and family, lingers in your mind like a shadow.

You never thought you’d be the type of person to run from their own wedding. You and your ex-fiancé had spent the year preparing to make that day meticulously perfect—the music, flowers, decorations, and even the vows that you spent countless sleepless nights perfecting. From everyone else’s perspective, the day was out of a fairytale. But to you, you didn’t belong in that story.

Your ex-fiancé was everything people thought you should want: a kind and successful man. You admit that it was everything you did want at the time. He was a respectable man. But, over time, the relationship became a suffocating routine, rather than one built on genuine love.

Every day that passed, and the wedding date drew closer, you felt more trapped. “It’s just cold feet,” you’d tell yourself over and over again. “Everyone feels this way before committing to forever.”

You remember the morning of your wedding, staring at your own reflection in the mirror, veil perched upon your head, feeling like an imposter. You remember the feeling inside you suddenly snap. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t marry this man. You couldn’t spend the rest of your life pretending to be someone you weren’t.

You can’t fake a thought—that was something you realized the day you met the man sitting beside you. In the last few months of your previous relationship, you started to notice things. It took you longer than usual to answer your phone, you never genuinely smiled anymore, and you only did activities that he suggested because you’d convinced yourself you didn’t know what you wanted to do. No matter how much you pretended not to notice the change in yourself, you did. You noticed it all.

It wasn’t until you and Isagi began crossing the lines between friendship and something deeper a few months ago that you realized what you had been missing. Isagi had a way of filling the empty spaces in your life—spaces you hadn’t even known existed. His presence was effortless yet inescapably consuming. And yet, as much as you knew you should surrender, a small voice kept reminding you of everything you had left behind: the stability, the comfort, the certainty. Isagi was none of those things, and perhaps that’s what drew you to him the most.

He was a force of nature, always moving, always shifting, while you were stuck in place, bound to the limit of the city you were in, caught between the pull of your past and the push toward something unfamiliar. You did try to fight it at first—tried to keep a distance, to protect whatever small sense of self that you still desperately clung to. But every time he smiled, every time he spoke, it was as if your world had narrowed to only show him. And that was terrifying.

You were stuck between staying with what you knew about yourself at age twenty-four or venturing out into the world. You didn’t want to stay stagnant, frozen in a life you felt was no longer yours. But with Isagi, there was no promise of tomorrow. There was no guarantee that things would stay the same. And maybe that was the most frightening thing. You could fall, and he wouldn’t catch you. Or maybe he would, but only for a little while.

A hand on your shoulder pulled you from your thoughts. Isagi’s expression had shifted, his usual calm replaced by something softer, tinged with sadness. His eyes met yours, but there was a distant heaviness in them, as if he were carrying a weight you couldn’t see. You weren’t sure when he got up to sit beside you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you, thick and uncomfortable. You could feel the shift in the air, like something unspoken had settled there, pressing down on the two of you.

Isagi opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but he hesitated. His brow furrowed slightly, and he seemed to be grappling with his words, as though he knew what he wanted to say wasn’t going to come out right. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than before, softer than his usual tone of confidence.

“I knew you were getting married. Bachira told me,” he confessed, his eyes flickering down for a moment before meeting yours again. “I didn’t want to make things... harder for you, so I pretended not to know.”

There it was—the guilt in his voice. You’d expected it, but hearing it now hit you harder than you thought it would. Isagi, who always seemed so composed, so untouchable, was suddenly vulnerable in a way you weren’t sure how to handle.

“I knew you would’ve told me if you wanted me to know.”

You swallowed, unsure of what to say, the weight of his words settling in. You weren’t prepared for this—this side of him. But before you could second-guess yourself, the words came out anyway. “I didn’t want you to know,” you said, your voice quieter now. His eyes softened, and you could see the faint shadow of regret in them. “You were always so busy, always out of the country… I just wanted to move on.” You paused, feeling the heaviness of it all. “We’ve been in this strange place for months now, but honestly, I’ve been here even longer.”

Isagi’s gaze intensified, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “What are you trying to say?”

You turned your head away, suddenly embarrassed to meet his eyes. “Isagi,” you whispered, the confession slipping out before you could stop it, “I’ve liked you for a long time now.”

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating, the kind that made you want to sink into the couch and disappear. You felt exposed, as though everything that protected you had been stripped away. But Isagi didn’t say anything, not at first. His eyes never left yours, and his silence—rather than pushing you away—seemed to be drawing you in further.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he exhaled slowly, his breath shaky. “I don’t know what to say to that,” he admitted, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “You’ve always been so distant. I didn’t think I stood a chance.”

The words hit you in your gut. Isagi, a man who always seemed composed and confident, had been uncertain the entire time? The realization made you feel both relieved and guilty—you had been blind to everything for longer than you thought.

“I didn’t mean to push you away,” you said quietly, your throat tightening. “I thought that if I just kept going, kept pretending, it would get easier. But it never did.” You paused, your heart racing. “And now… I don’t know how to fix it.”

Isagi’s expression softened again, the sharp edges of his usual demeanor fading into something gentler. He leaned forward, his voice steady but full of something deeper. “You don’t have to fix it. You just have to tell me what you want. I’m right here. I’ve always been here, but you’ve got to let me in, too.”

His hand finds its way to your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your lips. “We can be a team, but only if you’re comfortable being one together.”

You lean into his touch, as if it were muscle memory. The warmth of his hand on your skin, his thumb pressing gently on your lips—everything about this moment feels like something you should’ve known before, something that was always there, just out of reach. For a split second, you let yourself believe that it’s real, that it’s something you deserve.

But then, as quickly as you let yourself forget, the weight of everything you’ve kept buried presses down on your heart again. The guilt. The confusion. The silence between you, stretched thin over the last few months as you both tread the line between friendship and something more. You pull back slightly, enough to break the contact between you, but not enough to distance yourself completely. You feel colder without the warmth of his hand on your face.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you say, the words escaping before you can stop them. You feel the uncertainty creeping back in.

Isagi doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t let the space between you grow too wide. His eyes are softer now, though you can still see the same intensity in them. He studies your face for a moment, but it feels like he’s seeing past you, into the deeper parts of you, weighing your words carefully. Then, in a voice as low as a whisper:

“No rush. We take things slow, one step at a time.”

The way he says it—the calm certainty—makes your heart race. It’s as if he’s offering a lifeline out of the mess you’ve made of your life. And for the first time in a long time, you start to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

You meet his gaze, your breath catching in your chest. “Are you sure?” you ask, the vulnerability in your voice tightening your throat.

Isagi doesn’t hesitate. “I’m sure.”

And for the first time, you believe him.

written by koudi

tags: @sarahforever

[morningsharksworld]

Baby, I'm Yours

A/N: Ive been listening to this song for a while due to a hazard edit that I found on tik tok and it just has been eating at my brain. AND I also wanted to test out on writing out his accent just for one fic though.

Summary: Hazard has something on his mind that he wants to talk to you about

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

The sky was a bruised shade of purple, the last remnants of twilight fading into night as you and Hazard strolled along the quiet path. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers and damp earth, but the warmth of his presence beside you made the chill feel distant. It had been his idea to escape the bustle of the world for a while, though he’d been unusually shy about suggesting it.

“It’s nice out here” you said, breaking the comfortable silence. Your eyes drifted to the horizon, where stars began to prick through the deepening dark. “I’m glad you dragged me away tonight.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and slightly nervous. “Didn’t take much draggin’. Yer always up for a bit of peace and quiet—not that I blame ye.”

You glanced at him, catching the faint blush dusting his cheeks. It was rare to see Hazard flustered, the man who seemed to thrive on chaos and sharp wit suddenly subdued.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked gently, stopping to face him. The moonlight caught the edges of his features, softening the usually sharp lines of his expression. His gaze flickered away, then back to yours, as if he were steeling himself for something.

“It’s... well, it’s nothin’, really” he started, but the quirk of your eyebrow stopped him in his tracks. “Alright, alright. It’s somethin.”

You waited patiently, your silence urging him to continue.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about how to say this” he began, his brogue thickening slightly with his nerves. “But words... they’re not exactly my strong suit.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Figured if I didn’t say somethin’ tonight, I’d never work up the courage.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the earnestness in his tone. “Hazard” you said softly, stepping closer. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

He nodded, letting out a deep breath. “Aye, I know. And that’s part of the problem. Ye make it too easy, bein’ yourself. Yer kind, patient, funny... and ye’ve got this way of makin’ me feel like I’m somethin’ more than just... me.”

You felt a lump rise in your throat, your chest tightening at his words. He looked down at his hands, fidgeting with a loose thread on his jacket as if it could distract him from the vulnerability of the moment.

“The truth is” he continued, his voice quieter now, “I’ve fallen for ye. Harder than I thought possible. And I’ve tried to keep it to myself because I didn’t want to muck up what we’ve got. But every time I see ye, every time ye smile, it’s like...” He paused, his voice catching slightly. “It’s like I’m yours already, whether ye want me or no.”

You blinked, his confession settling over you like a wave. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze. Then, without thinking, you reached out and took his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together.

“Hazard…” you said, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. “Do you even know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that?”

His head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise. “Ye’re... yer no’ just sayin’ that, are ye?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Not even a little. I’ve felt the same way for so long, but I didn’t want to push you or risk scaring you off. You’re ... you’re important to me, Hazard. More than I can put into words.”

A grin spread across his face, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. He squeezed your hand, pulling you closer until there was barely any space between you. “Well, I’ll be…” he murmured, his voice tinged with awe. “Guess I’ve got to thank the stars for ye tonight.” You smiled, your free hand brushing a stray strand of hair from his face.

His gaze softened, and for a moment, he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. Then, with a tenderness that belied his usual bravado, he leaned in and kissed you. It was a kiss that spoke of everything he’d been too afraid to say, of every moment he’d spent wishing for this one.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m yours” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Now and always.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but they were tears of joy, of relief, of finally finding something you hadn’t even realized you’d been searching for.

“Baby, I’m yours” you whispered back, your voice steady despite the tears threatening to fall.

The two of you stayed there under the starlit sky, wrapped in each other’s warmth, as the night seemed to stretch on forever. And for the first time, the world felt right—not because it was perfect, but because you were together.

[dangerpronebuddie]

🏜️🏜️🏜️🏜️🏜️🏜️🏜️🏜️🏜️

I'm giving you all 27 🥰, plus some pining Eddie. This wip is my new obsession, I'm on a roll! What's happening here? We'll find out...

Eddie pulls over and parks behind the car. He steps out and approaches the young man, whose shoulders drop with relief. “Thank God, man,” the young guy says. “I usually keep a jack in the trunk, but my girlfriend must’ve taken it out,” he says, waving Eddie around the side of the car. His front right tire is flat, almost blown apart. The kid’s lucky he didn’t crash. “I told you you should’ve checked before we hit the road,” the larger man huffs. “No problem,” Eddie says with a smile, “I’m sure I’ve got one my partner gave me.” He realizes his slip too late and his heart aches. He ignores it and heads back to his truck. Sure enough, under the backseat is the jack Buck bought for him. Never know when you might need it, Eds. Eddie swallows the lump in his throat and grabs the jack, as well as the tire iron, before rejoining the men. He can mope later. “I don’t suppose you’d mind helping me out?” the young man asks with an apologetic wince. “Justin hurt his back last week, and…” he shrugs helplessly. Eddie really should be getting back on the road. But he can’t just leave these guys stranded. He agrees, and the two set to work. “You going home to your partner?” the larger one- Justin- asks as Eddie crouches down. “Uh, no,” Eddie says, that ache getting worse. His heart claws at his ribcage, desperate to turn around and go home. But he can’t. “I’m going to see my kid.” “Sorry we’re holding you up,” the young man says as he unscrews the lug nuts. “Your kid expecting you soon?” “No,” Eddie says, growing giddy with the thought of his plan. “I’m surprising him."

Make Me Write!

[actualalligator]

Just share some Roo stuff. The world needs it. Please.

I know it's been months since you sent this, anon, and I'm sorry. I had to take a break, but I'm here now and want to share some Thanksgiving Fluff.

Eddie wakes up first. He never wakes up first. He basks in it, just getting to enjoy the warmth of sleep still trapped in the blankets and to be cozy without needing to do anything. It's nice. Their days off are always so busy these days, but today isn't.

Today is Thanksgiving. Because the flu has been tearing through the 118, they've only been running two shifts. Twelve on, twelve off. They haven't had a day off in eleven days, but that changes today, and they're going back to their usual schedule. A-shift drew the lucky straw and got it off.

Pepa was in charge of dinner and wouldn't let Buck help. She was very firm that they'd been working too hard and deserved the morning off. Buck was allowed to make two pies. He'd prepped the dough at the firehouse and put the pies together to bake as soon as they got home.

So there's nothing to do. Chris is at a sleepover with his cousins. They had nothing until dinner, which was at three, but they'd been forbidden from arriving before two.

Eddie turns his head to look at Buck. He looks so soft and peaceful in his sleep. He reaches out and carefully cupshis cheek, just gently stroking across it with his thumb. "Roo Baby," he says softly.

Buck lets out a soft sigh and nuzzles into Eddie's hand, but doesn't open his eyes. Eddie smiles.

"Baby boy, wake up," he murmurs.

First, a nose wrinkle, then one eye opens.

"Good morning," Eddie says.

"Morning, Daddy," Buck mumbles. He squirms closer to Eddie, wrapping his arm around his middle and hiding his face against his throat.

"You want to move to the couch? I'll make hot cocoa," Eddie offers. He slides his hand up the back of Buck's shirt and rubs his back. He presses a kiss over the top of the messy curls.

"Marshmallows?" Buck asks.

"Of course. As many as you'd like. We have minis."

Buck hums at first, considering it but then starts to pull back. "Fifteen."

"Deal. I'll go start it. You make a couch nest," Eddie said.

Buck's face split into a grin and he scrambles off the bed.

Eddie uses the bathroom before heading into the kitchen.

He makes his hot cocoa the way his abuela always made it for him, starting with milk on the stove. She would always keep a big bar of chocolate to chop up and add, but, thanks to Buck, Eddie always has a supply of chocolate chips in the cupboard. He adds those, a little bit of salt, and a couple of pinches of cinnamon and slowly whisks as everything comes together. He then transfers it into mugs, adds exactly fifteen marshmallows to each, and deposits the now empty pan into the sink.

Buck has truly transformed the couch into the perfect little nest with him in the heart of it wearing his oodie, and with Emily the cow tucked right there with him. The warmth of happiness spreads through him. He sets the mugs down on the side table and settles in with Buck, jostling him as little as possible before he reaches for the mugs and hands Buck's to him.

"Thank you, Daddy," Buck says softly, taking a sip. His eyes close, and he lets out a soft little groan of happiness. "You make the very best hot cocoa."

Eddie leans in and kisses his temple. "Thank you, baby." He takes a couple sips of his own, then reaches for the remote.

Buck settles against him. "What are we going to watch, Daddy?"

"I thought we'd watch the parade," Eddie replies He turns it on and scrolls through the guide until he finds the right channel. It is almost 8:30. "That sound okay?"

"Uh-huh," Buck says, fishing a gooey marshmallow from his cocoa. He stuck both it and his sticky fingers right in his mouth. Eddie was pretty sure he could put infomercials on right now, and Buck wouldn't mind. It made him feel fond.

Eddie sipped his hot cocoa as the parade started. One of his earliest memories was watching the parade with his dad. He was little. Maybe four. It was the last Thanksgiving as an only child and he and his dad had been shooed out of the kitchen by his mom and Abuela who'd arrived early to help with dinner. He'd sat snuggled up with his dad in the recliner watching the balloons and all the dancers and marching bands all culminating in an appearance from Santa himself!

It had been magical. And even the next year when Sophia had been only three months old and going through it with colic, they'd still managed to watch the parade. It was somewhat of a tradition after that. Eddie shared the magic with Sophia and then, even though their dad wasn't around for every Thanksgiving when Adriana was born, he'd shared it with her too.

He'd missed out on Christopher's first few Christmases, but they'd watched more than a few parades together over the years. After about ten, Chris didn't have much interest in it anymore, and Eddie's work schedule made it harder to watch together, so the tradition had almost died.

When Buck finishes his cocoa, he sets the cup on the table and snuggles up even closer to Eddie. "Oh, Daddy! Look at the dinosaur!"

Eddie wraps his arm around Buck. "Isn't that so cool? The balloons are very big in person. I'd love to see them in person someday."

"Me too," Buck says.

Eddie presses a kiss to Buck's forehead. "I used to watch this with my dad."

"Yeah?" Buck tilts his head back to look at him. "And with Chris too?"

Eddie nods. He combs his fingers through Buck's curls, pulling them back from his forehead. "But he doesn't really care about the parade anymore. And the last few years, we've been working on Thanksgiving anyway." He presses a kiss to his nose. "I'm glad I can share it with you."

Buck grins up at him. "I wanna watch the parade forever and ever with you, Daddy. If we work, we'll watch it at the firehouse." He bumps Eddie with his nose and kisses his jaw.

"I love you," Eddie says.

Buck smiles and kisses him again. "Love you."

They watch. They talk on and off, pointing out floats and balloons they love, but about two hours in, Buck sits up. "Daddy! Marshall!"

Marshall from Paw Patrol makes his way across the screen.

"Did you hear that? He's long as TWO New York Fire Department engines! That's so big, Daddy! Just one engine is long, but two?" Buck rocks slightly with his happiness, clapping his hands. "That's so cool!"

"That is really, really cool, Roo. I didn't know there was a Paw Patrol balloon," Eddie murmurs.

Buck settles back down when Marshall leaves the screen, but he continues to talk on and off about how cool it was for the next while. That seems to be the highlight of the parade for him because no other balloon is "as cool as Marshall though, Daddy."

"Daddy," Buck asks. It's almost noon. The parade is almost over.

"Yeah, Roo?" Eddie replies.

Buck shifts so he can look up at him. "Did that lady just say Santa was coming?"

Eddie smiled and nodded. "Yeah! Santa always ends the parade."

Buck thinks over that for a second before he nods. "It's probably a good day for it cos tomorrow starts Christmas season, and I bet he is really busy."

And his expression is so serious that Eddie almost laughs. He doesn't. He kisses Buck's forehead and nods. "You're right. He's got a lot to do the next month."

Buck nods and settles again. There are a few more cool performances, the hosts continuing to hype of Santa until finally he comes, led in by a giant reindeer balloon.

"Tiptoe is not as cute as Rudolph," Buck whispers, but Eddie can see his eyes widen as Santa comes on the screen, smiling and waving. He doesn't move until Santa has gone, and the parade has ended.

Buck rolls over onto his back, resting his hea in Eddie's lap and looking up at him. "That was really cool, Daddy," he says. "Santa is gonna come to our mall soon, right?"

"He is. We will have to go see him," Eddie says, brushing his fingers through Buck's hair. "Do you know what you're going to ask for?"

Buck shakes his head. "Have to think more. And write my letter."

"We have time, sweetheart," Eddie promises.

It is time for them to start getting ready. They both need to shower. There are few last-minute things still to do, but Eddie wants just a few more minutes of this. He leans down and kisses Buck's forehead. Yeah, they can take just a few more minutes.

Tagging some friends:

@tizniz @goodmorninglovelies42 @chaoticcurious @theotherbuckley @pimento-playing-hopscotch @laneybishop89 @the-flaming-nightmare @anewkindofme