#I want the jacket more than ever now ugh.

[theserenityinviolence]

HAHAHHAHHAHAHAHHAH YOU LITTLE BITCH MESS WITH THE BULL GET THE HORNS

RIP KUJO ROTTEN MAGGOT ASS UNWASHED HOODIE LITTLE SHIT. can't wait for thursday i dont remember the last time i was this excited for a song. i'll wear black too, it's a goddamn funeral, spit on the grave ;D

btw guys; https://youtu.be/rZ5enSfldj4?si=uotaylaf6ax-RRep you're welcome :)

[notlongtolove]

your star next to mine

nobody loves the earth for spinning, not really. it's been turning for 4.6 billion years with no applause. the sun rises then sets, and the moon follows suit. the stars flicker in their wake and the earth spins regardless. spencer thinks you’re more than the sun, moon, and stars combined.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: established relationshippp ugh waking up to spencer reid <3 actually more like spencer reid waking up to bau!reader (spoiler: hes out of this world in love with her)

word count: 1k

note: writing this made me SICKKKK with longing and yearning (they r so in love and i hate them for it ugh) sorry sorry writing ab stars and spencer reid in bed AGAIN im sorry i just want to romanticise small moments in life (theyre coming for me with a strait jacket as we speak)

a line: It’s hard to tell where you end and where he begins—Spencer hopes he never has to find out.

When The Big met The Bang and science happened before eyes that did not exist yet, collided and made love to each other was your star next to mine? Tell me, my love; did someone ever wish upon the star we are made from? - m. chase

There are roughly 7100 languages spoken and signed on earth. Spencer himself is familiar with at least seven of them. Russian, Latin, Middle English, to name a few. You remember him explaining the intricacies of medieval typography during your third date—You think you fell in love with him somewhere between his comparison of Gothic and Carolingian scripts. 

Before there were text messages made up of abbreviations and emojis, there were letters. Love letters of thoughts born from lovelorn minds that made their way into granite, pressed against the grain of paper. Before that, feathered quills dipped in ink, sometimes splattering on parchment. A testament to words too heavy to get out right, but a need to get them out all the same. 

But the earth has been spinning for 4.6 billion years. And before that, there were cavemen that carved primitive symbols into stone—etches and notches that archaeologists still devote their lives to deciphering. Spencer sometimes thinks that had he not joined the FBI, he might’ve found himself in their shoes, decoding ancient scribbles, a circle with four notches, stick figures huddling around it. 

Now, he thinks, there’s not much left to figure out after all.

You turn in your sleep, hand searching for him in the mess of sheets. No words needed. I missed you, even in sleep. I miss you. Spencer shuffles a little closer to appease you, the small crease in your brow softens, almost vanishes, content when you find the curve of his hip. When Spencer places his hand over waist, he knows you know what he’s saying. I missed you too. I miss you, even in sleep.

Your hand shifts to accommodate his, intertwining with his in a way that makes his chest squeeze. It’s a dance you’ve both perfected, your fingers settling into the spaces between his. His hands are far from soft. The callus on his left palm is rough and worn, a result of years in the field with his gun. Yours aren’t perfect either—nails a little less neat than you'd like, a few nicks from the hurried days of recent weeks. His thumb traces the back of your hand. You give a small squeeze in return. And then two more. It’s instinctual—fingers find fingers. Spencer gives three squeezes back. 

But then your hand pushes past his, brushing lightly over the scab on the small of his back—A close call with a bullet during last week’s case. Even in sleep, you frown at the reminder. Not a big deal, baby, he’d winced through the burning pain in an effort to reassure you. You’d cried anyway. Later, you’d marched straight to Hotch, demanding better bulletproof vests—I don’t care if they have a bigger budget, I want the kind they use down in D.C.

Spencer gently takes your hand and places it on his chest. The tension in your brow visibly eases. For a moment, it rests there, still and quiet, before it stirs again, sleepily travelling up to settle on the curve of his neck. The birthmark on your shoulder makes a quiet appearance when his shirt slides off you a little. A lover’s kiss from a past life. Spencer hopes it was him in your life before this. And the one before that. And all the other ones before that. 

He breathes you in as you nuzzle into his neck, the motion guided by how tightly he pulls you to him. The only thing he loves more than falling asleep to you is waking up to you. It’s hard to tell where you end and where he begins—Spencer hopes he never has to find out. You pull back slightly humming lightly into his skin, a good morning before the good morning. A hi again, i’m glad it’s you i’m waking up to. 

The strands of hair falling into your face can’t hide the explosion of color in your eyes when they sleepily blink open. Once, then twice, before you’re closing them again—It’s woefully insufficient. Spencer thinks of how constellations were once used for navigation. They guided sailors across vast oceans, helping them find their way home. 

Then you’re leaning in to kiss him, eyes still closed. When the big met the bang all those years ago. His hand moves from your waist, tracing the curve of your spine, down your arm, and back up. You catch his bottom lip lightly between your teeth and Spencer sees stars. He thinks it’s a wonder you still have this effect on him after 439 days—206 of those being nights spent together. His fingers graze along your jaw before resting gently on your lips. A journey from waist to lips—one Spencer would gladly make a thousand times and more.

As someone with a PhD in Mathematics and who prides himself in his comprehension of logic and reason, Spencer knows infinity is an abstract idea. It’s an unreachable concept through mere arithmetic. But for you, he’d solve for it a million times over just so he doesn’t have to spend a single day without you. Honest to god, he doesn’t think he can. Truthfully, he doesn’t know how he’s managed to go so long without you in the first place.

When you pull away breathless, grinning, it’s almost a little wicked. You're definitely fully awake now. Cheeks flushed, lips red and rosy and you’re both leaning in again.

No words said. Lips to lips. A universal love letter through the ages. Pieces of parchment, folded and sealed, wax stamps guarding tenderness in ink. Hairs tucked inside lockets. Pictures in weathered wallets. From the sea to the shore, from the granite to the quills, from the stone to the paper. No words needed. 

Nobody loves the Earth for spinning, not really. It's been turning for 4.6 billion years with no applause. The sun rises then sets, and the moon follows suit. The stars flicker in their wake and the earth spins regardless. Spencer thinks you’re more than the sun, moon, and stars combined. 

There’s nothing else to decipher. A fact, pure and simple. An absolute consistency through and through. 

Lips to lips, over and over. The big meets the bang, again and again. I love you, I love you, I love you.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: sidelines by phoebe bridgers sailor song by gigi perez

[anantaru]

ONE KISS IS ALL IT TAKES ... OR MORE? — SCARAMOUCHE

your boyfriend scaramouche can be so grumpy sometimes, but you know of a couple ways that will make him show his soft side, wc. 1.3k

・✶ ｡ warnings — heavily making out & tit play, fem! reader, fluff, established relationship, grumpy scaramouche

it's not difficult for you to discern whenever your boyfriend scaramouche was grumpy after a long day and you could already hear it from afar, not needing to see him— the familiar sounds of grumbling and frustrated sighs flowing from his lips to your ears even before you entered your shared apartment.

to be clear, you really don't mind your boyfriend being in one of his moods again, it was quite normal to you and in all honesty, there was nothing more inside of you than a burning impulse of wanting to help him as good as you could.

you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for what might've been the reason this particular night.

right as you walked into your bedroom, you found him lividly pacing back and forth, his brows furrowed and his lips set in a tight line of frustration, agitated to the point where he didn't even acknowledge your presence, too wrapped up in whatever was bothering him.

"hey, are you okay?" you ask him gently, stepping a bit closer before setting your jacket on the bed, not taking your gaze off him.

"hah, what? oh, yeah, totally fine, totally okay," he mutters back, awkwardly glancing at you before resuming his pacing, giving you a cold shoulder— and ah, he did this often, for scaramouche it was difficult to actually open up but also, the last thing he wanted was to somewhat drag you down with him.

"those people in the akademiya just, they're, ugh, aggravating, you know? they don't under- understand me, they don't listen, they don't leave me alone,"

"they also can't stop staring and muttering their little mouths to death."

you listen patiently, nodding contently as he vented out his frustrations while ever so often attempting to stop himself by biting into his lower lip— and well, scaramouche had a big tendency to get grumpy pretty easily, and it often took him a while to wind down but talking to you helped, even if it takes him a little to actually do it.

not to mention that you knew the secret to calming him down, always, achieving great relaxation in softening the expression on his face.

you take his hand, guiding him to the edge of the bed as he flinches he moment you touched him, "come over there," you motion towards the bed as he nods, pulling him down to sit beside you, "relax, okay? you're home now."

"i can't relax right now," he barks back, furrowing his brows although he can never resist your welcoming, more so warm embrace as you tugged him closer to your chest, "how can people be so stupid there? aren't they supposed to be geniuses or something?"

you couldn't suppress a laugh, chuckling as you tenderly run a hand through his tousled hair, "maybe you're just too smart, ever thought about that?" you add and listen to him as he exhales shakily through his mouth.

but the man grumbles and you could swear you saw a smile, a slight pucker of his lips when you called him smart, seeing it as a small victory in itself before you shift closer, your arms wrapped around his neck.

he reacts to your touch immediately, his body tense against yours as you just hugged him for a while, holding him gently and waiting until you felt him start to relax.

"breathe and— and just feel me, okay?" you utter.

he sighs but you know whenever he sighs just like that, when the tension in his soul and body eases a bit more, "you're too good to me, keeping up with this," he frowns, his voice losing some of it's earlier sharp edge as it attains a pillowy note.

"ah, i know," you tease, "—don't have to tell me that all the time," as you playfully roll your eyes, kissing his cheek, "kidding, i love all sides of you."

"feeling better already?" you ask him, "now that i'm here?" your voice barely above a whisper.

"maybe, only a little though," you're helping and he knows it, he's both in love and scared by how well you already knew him by now.

his gaze flickers to your lips and back to your eyes, "there's something that would make me feel better, great even,"

a curious expression dances over your cheekbones, a playful smile tugging at your precious lips, "oh, really now? what are you thinking about?"

and instead of answering you with words, he captures your lips in a kiss that was a cross between a need and a fleeting frustration, an eager want that quickly deepened the kiss between you. you tug at his hair, pushing him into your lips as he kissed you like a man starved of love and lust, his tongue moving over yours in a hunger well beyond desperation.

the intensity multiplied in seconds, in every touch and every swipe of tongue— scaramouche was eager, he made sure to kiss you even harder as his hands roamed freely over your chest, leaving you short of breath.

never in a million years was his touch not possessive, not almost desperate to the point where you immediately needed more— although it was easy to discern that there was an underlying reason as to why scaramouche kissed you that way, it's as if he was afraid you might slip away if he didn't hold you tight enough.

you broke the kiss only long enough to gasp for air, looking into his doughy eyes as your heart knocks and knocks against your chest, his facial expression drowsy and clouded, his lips swollen and glistening, "scara," you whine, your thighs pressing together.

"hmm?" he just hums an answer, not giving you a chance to say more before capturing your lips yet again, another kiss that was even more fervent than the last one he has given you.

he helps you get onto his lap before one hand slipped under your shirt to play with your tits, instantly targeting your erected nipples with a playful pinch and tug.

you shiver and moan his name, your body responding to his touch with a need that barely matched his own.

he shifts the both of you before pressing you into the bed, his body on top of yours and his lips searching for your neck as it elicits a hefty gasp from your throat.

scaramouche laughs with a deep groan as he continues to pinch your nipples and squeeze your pretty tits, his bangs sticking against his forehead and only showing the pace he was going for.

"scara, please— please," you whine, your hands clutching at his shoulders as you arch into his touch.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire, "please what, hmm?" he asks teasingly, like he doesn't know what he's doing to you— as if he's not fully aware on how to get you to this point.

his voice was now, consisting of a low growl that sent shivers down your spine before he grabs at his clothed cock to show you what you're doing to him, stroking the obvious bulge in his pants and hissing as he grinds his cock into his palm.

"please don't stop," you whisper and cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you before your voice trembles in need, "i need you, it feels so good,"

ah, what was the reason he was grumpy about again? because archons— scaramouche swears he forgot, he can forget just about anything when he hears you say that you need him.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[defmaybe]

mirrorball

IVE’s Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader

1.4k words

Inspired by Taylor Swift's mirrorball

A/N: This Wonyoung really makes me go :dentt:. Also, thanks to a half of @k-dgn for beta-reading!!! Thanks for reading y'all! Oh, and this one doesn't have pegging (or mentions of it) lmao.

—

Taylor Swift’s mirrorball echoes through the locker room. It’s quiet, except from where two souls are struggling to tear each other’s clothes off. Your hearts are beating fast, and they’re killing you.

“Why the fuck–ugh–is this dress so tight, Wonyoung?”

“It’s prom, baby–mmph. I can’t just go with a tee with jeans and call it a day.”

“That’s not the question.”

“And I don’t give a–mmph–fuck,” Wonyoung says, peppering pecks on your neck. You keep jolting and jolting in response. Her hands are a tangled mess on your buttons.

You’ve been trying for a few minutes now, but her zipper just won’t come off. She pauses her kisses to chuckle now and then, watching you embroiled in the predicament. Still, even with her looking down on you like this, she’s still drop dead gorgeous.

“Let me?” Wonyoung finally asks. You’re panting in exhaustion. Fuck, why is this so hard?

“Yeah, I–I’ll just–fuck–take off my clothes.” You take a step back, throwing the jacket away to god knows where, before unbuttoning your waistcoat hastily, hands trembling. Wonyoung is also reaching for her back, unlocking the otherworldly strong zipper—too bad you aren’t going to see her in this beautiful white dress for a while, at least until you finish with her. Still, there are those pretty eyes and those pouty lips to compensate for the lack of an ethereal garment.

And you realize that you’ve been looking at her for a little too long.

“Hey.”

You’re snapped out of her hypnosis.

“Are we fucking or not?” Wonyoung asks, chuckling as you’ve been gawking at her.

“Y–Yeah, it’s just–uh–”

“Thanks,” she replies with a smile, a genuine one. “I’m more than just face, of course, but thanks.”

You smile back, before returning to unbuttoning your coat. It comes off much easier. You can feel your heartbeat decelerating. Wonyoung’s dress is also coming off, revealing her firm chest beneath it. Her long, slender legs come into view, and you just can’t help but stare at them.

“Fuck,” you utter in awe of her body. That hourglass shape. Those curves. Those contours. Fuck is the right word.

“You’re quite a catch too, you know?” she playfully points at your bulge, still pants and a shirt away to be naked.

You chuckle. “T–Thanks.”

A few more garments are down and you’re now bare in front of this goddess. She’s left with her panties, her small breasts resting on her chest. 

“God, I just wanna–”

“Eat me? Devour me? I’ve heard all of that, baby. Now if you’d just fuck me with that cock,” Wonyoung says, licking her lips.

Bloody hell. “Come on, Wonyoung.”

A giggle escapes her lips.

You take a step towards her. Your faces are just a hot breath away from each other. You can feel your heartbeat accelerating again. You’re lost in each other’s eyes.

Without a word, Wonyoung pulls you into a burning kiss, legs tangled to remove her panties for you. You feel her pouty lips resting on yours. Her tongue invades your mouth ever so masterfully, drawing breathless moans out of you. Her hands grip onto the back of your neck tightly, not wanting to let you leave her in the dark with Taylor Swift alone. She moans and moans into your mouth. Your hands move towards her firm breasts, kneading them, squeezing them, and both of you let out a satisfied hum at the touch.

“Shit,” she says, muffled by the kiss.

You don’t want to let this moment go—bare, kissing under the faint moonlight from the outside. Your hands are wandering around each other’s body. Your moans are sealed within the searing kiss. You pin Wonyoung against the locker, not wanting to let her leave you in the dark with Taylor Swift alone.

It feels like an eternity before she pulls herself back from your lips—flushed. Her breaths come out as pants.

“That–That felt great,” Wonyoung says, breathlessly.

“I know.”

Suddenly, Wonyoung flips the position between you two. You’re now the one pinned on the locker doors, locked within her embrace. She’s looking at you predatorily—determined, eager, lustful.

“Ready?” she asks, tilting her head a little.

You nod.

She steps back, before settling herself on the bench behind her. She gestures her finger as a signal.

“Fuck me.”

You take a step towards her body, lining up your cock with her wet slit.

“Ready?”

She nods.

And you push yourself into her cunt. She welcomes you with her tightness, as both of you moan on the entry. You watch your cock slowly disappearing, inch by inch, into her. Wonyoung’s deep moans are nothing short of angelic. You can just listen to this all day long.

“You’re so tight, Wonyoung,” you grunt, lost in the throes of pleasure she’s giving you.

“T–Thanks, y–you’re big too, you know? Ha–Hah.”

Her wet cunt grips you tightly. The insides of her are hugging you so well. She’s blushing uncontrollably, and so do you. You’re absolutely trembling with excitement right now, as her tightness grips you like a vice. You hear her breaths come out shallowly. Her hands are gripping onto the bench tightly.

You push yourself to the limit that your cock can give, before languidly pulling out of her wetness. She feels so damn good, and you wish that you can just do this forever.

Slowly, you find your rhythm with her. The movement becomes more mechanical, like a clockwork. You’re setting a pace in sliding in and out of her cunt now. She feels even better like this. You’re drawing moans and moans out of her lips. Her hand starts to rub her sensitive clit now—so eager to cum with you.

You cannot fathom the feeling you’re experiencing right now. Her pussy feels too good to be true. She’s smiling as your shaft slides in and out of her, happy to be stuffed with a cock. Her breasts heave with the movement.

Her eyes stare into yours with unbridled need. 

“W–Wonyoung.”

“Hmm, y–yes?”

“C–Can I cum on your face?”

Wonyoung bursts out a laugh. “Only if you kiss me after. I wanna kiss you so fucking bad.”

You then seal your lips with hers, invading her wanting mouth with your tongue. You bite her bottom lip softly, drawing out a moan out of her. She bites your bottom lip back ever so softly, matching your gentleness. Below, you’re still giving the same roughness she craves, thrusting into her wanton cunt with no abandon.

After an eternity, you two both come up for the much-needed breath outside of the kiss. You see her face becomes all flushed after the kiss, bringing out a chuckle from you.

You pull your cock out of her wanton cunt, using your hand to relieve the pent-up pressure. Wonyoung kneels, sticking her tongue out lewdly, making a sound, while her hand is rubbing her swollen clit furiously. What a sight.

“Come on, paint my face. Think of it as a canvas or something,” she says.

You can feel it, that all-so-familiar feeling building up in your lower stomach. Your thighs tense up, ready to blow the load on her gorgeous face. The wave is coming. It’s going to crash into you, and you’re so fucking ready to welcome it.

“Do you need encouragement, baby boy?”

And with that word, you give in. Your cock shoots spurts of cum onto her face. Your vision turns white. Wonyoung moans as her orgasm hits at the same time, eyes fluttering in ecstasy. Her whole body jerks and shakes with you. Fuck, you’re going to remember this forever.

Your cum lands on her forehead, between the plump lips inside her mouth, on her perfectly sculpted nose, on her rosy cheeks. Some even land on her tits. She’s happy to take it all.

“Good boy, good fucking boy,” says Wonyoung with her cum-smeared face. She picks up a portion of it from her reddened cheeks with her slender fingers, before having a taste.

“Yum.”

She then stands up before staring into your eyes. She looks so damn breathtaking like this.

“D–Do you need anything else, Wonyoung?” you stammer out.

“I was promised a kiss, pretty boy, after you painted me like your goddamn canvas,” Wonyoung says.

Again, her tongue invades your mouth relentlessly. Her pouty lips rest on yours, and the wet sounds of kissing rings in your ear. Your hands move onto her pert breasts. Her grip on your neck becomes tighter.

“So good,” says Wonyoung, muffled.

She then breaks off the searing kiss, blushing, breaths coming in ragged.

“We’re going to have to do this again.”

“Definitely, or maybe.”

“What do you mean, maybe?”

You laugh, before sealing her lips again with a kiss.

—

[enhard]

nishimura riki — “late night wishes”

: late at night, you find yourself missing him like crazy. what better way to spend your night other than sneaking out together?

not proofread!

pairing: n.rk x gn!reader

cw: fluff, established relationship, cuddling, kissing, just ni-ki being as sweet as ever. (& jay teasing both of you)

——————————⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭——————————

you’re laying on your bed, waiting to fall asleep.. but how can you fall asleep when you can’t stop thinking about your dear boyfriend.

you squish your pillow between your arms and body, wishing that it was riki instead.. holding him in your arms and running your fingers through his silky hair.

the song “one and only” is playing in the background, hearing his voice isn’t helping the situation but.. you love this song. mainly because riki is your one and only.

you tell yourself not to text or call him since he might be busy or he might just want to rest after a long day, but lucky you, he decides to text you first.

from the second you hear the phone bing, you grab your phone to see who’s texting you at this hour.. you can only imagine the excitement on riki’s face when he saw that you read his message, thinking you’re already asleep.

my love🐥🩷

“hey baby, hope you’re not asleep yet.. i need to see you. i know its risky going out right now but i’m craving a kiss from you badly. 😓”

“riki you have no idea how much i miss you, i’ll do anything to see you rn. let’s sneak out.. i wantttt some boba 😜”

“fineee let’s get you your boba.. just because you’re so cute”

“hold on jay is calling me”

“oh he just told me that i need to go to sleep mannnn eff him seriously🙄”

“just ignore himmm ugh i don’t care i need to see you..”

“i’m getting dressed rn, you better be ready by the time i’m outtt”

“fine fine i have to be quick, if jungwon catches me it’s over☠️”

5 minutes later..

“ok i’m getting out right now, are you there?”

“yup, hurryyy it’s cold out”

read 23:06

anddd.. you suddenly see him running up to you. the smile on your face automatically forms, spreading your arms to hug him. he falls into your embrace.. his scent sucking you in even more.

“i missed you so much love.” he says immediately leaning in to kiss you. his leather jacket shining thanks to the fairy lights hung on the boba stand.

you smile, leaning in to kiss him again. “i missed you too. i actually couldn’t sleep because i was thinking about you.”

“oh really? you love me that muchhh? come on. let’s get you your boba.”

as you’re drinking your boba, he can’t help but admire you. he grabs your hand just to feel your warmth.

you end up walking through the park a bit, small lights from the stars shining in your eyes..

riki is holding you close trying to keep you warm. you finally finish your drink so you toss the empty cup into the trash.

“wanna sleep at our dorm?”

“huh?” surprised with his question, trying not to seem too excited.

“yeah i mean, we can sneak in. come sleep in my room, wanna?”

your eyes widen and you grab his arm tightly, getting all bubbly and happy.

“duhh!! come on come on lets go alreadyyy”

riki laughs at you while he’s getting dragged by the arm. —

you get to the dorm, quietly sneaking in, thinking you’re slick but. you get startled by jay’s voice coming from the living room.

“oh you lovebirds came back already?”

“shut up jay. come on baby let’s go.. i’m tired.” riki grabs your hand, walking you to his room.

“oooo if i tell jungwon about thisss”

“no you won’t.”

jay rolls his eyes and lets you guys go, drinking his tea like a middle aged mom.

riki immediately gets in his room, only having a dim light on, his bed looking mad comfortable for your sleepy self.

he gives you a hoodie of his to put on, which is over sized for you but.. it smells like him.

you both get in bed, cuddling so close together, his read resting on your chest. you play with his hair just like you wished almost an hour ago.. he’s whispering sweet nothings as he’s on the verge of falling asleep..

“go to sleep my love.. you must be tired..” you say smiling at him, seeing how his eyes grow heavy.

“i love youuu…” he mumbles.

you both fall asleep hugging each other, warming up yourselves under the blanket. you fall asleep admiring his pretty face.

[gold-onthe-inside]

R.E.M.

who? spencer reid (s8) x blake!reader summary: after an exhausting day looking after hysterical kids, you come home to a drowsy spencer who tried really hard to wait up for you. content warnings: nothing, just pure sleepy domestic fluff a/n: based on a spencer text post that went "coming home late and finding him like this, you wake him up to tell him to come to bed and he’s all sleepy, clingy and cuddly UGH". also, new divider, got too used to the old ones

It’s a long, hard day, dealing with crisis after crisis at the hospital, a case of mass hysteria in the paediatric ward meaning you were on your feet all day, trying to get these kids to stop somatising. So busy that you don’t see Spencer’s message that he was getting in early, in case you wanted to do something. He had a spare key to your apartment, though, so you find him sleeping in a strange contorted position on your couch, the X-Files playing on TV.

You frowned, closing the door quietly behind you, toeing off your sneakers and quickly putting your keys and bag in their place before turning the TV off and kneeling by the sofa, right by his head. Spencer looked so soft and peaceful like this, wrapped in the comforting embrace of your throw. His suit jacket was neatly hanging on the back of a chair, his tie loose around his neck, and guilt pools in your stomach for having made him wait so long. You carded your hand through his hair, soft curls giving way easily under your touch.

“Sweetheart?” you called gently, stroking his hair, trying to wake him up as pleasantly as possible. “Spencer, need you to wake up for me, honey.”

Spencer stirred, his face burrowing further against the pillow and into your touch before letting out the softest, most contented moan you’d ever heard. He cracked an eyelid, and his tired eyes widened in a look of panic. He’d fallen asleep, he was supposed to be spending his time with you, and you’d had a long and taxing day - you needed him on his A game, and he’d failed.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, sitting up and making no effort to neaten his appearance. “I didn’t mean to.”

You tried not to smile. "Only you would apologise for falling asleep," you said affectionately.

“I’m supposed to be here for you,” he insisted, blinking the sleep from his eyes and rubbing his face. He knew you sometimes had erratic hours. So did the BAU, but Spencer hated letting the people he cared for even think he was unreliable. “I can make us dinner and tell you about the case I’m working,” he offered, finally managing to get himself out of the nest of blankets he’d woven himself into. His shirt was even more rumpled than when he’d walked in.

"Hey, hey, slow down, lover boy," you said, tugging him back down. "I already ate at the cafeteria."

Spencer tried to stifle a yawn, but it only proved he was sleepier than he thought. “…I’m not doing a very good job of this, am I?“ he asked apologetically as he settled back down, his long limbs awkwardly arranged. The couch wasn’t designed for Spencer-sized people to be draped across it.

"Of sleeping? You're gonna get a crick in your neck like that," you said, shaking your head. "Come on, let's get you in bed."

“But I wanted to make dinner and talk about my case,” he replied with a frown. “You like my stories.” But the way he was curled in on himself, and how dark the circles under his eyes were, suggested that he wasn’t going anywhere fast.

"You can tell me about your case when you're all tucked in, promise," you said, gently nudging him up to his feet.

He pouted, rubbing his eyes again. “…but I can’t stay over,” he said. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes, it’s too cold for me to use you as my personal body-pillow - and I don’t have the energy to deal with a lecture from my landlord.” He yawned again, stifling it. “There’s more reasons, but I can’t think of them right now.”

"You don't have your go-bag with you?" you asked him, stroking his hair.

“I have my go-bag in the car… but it’s outside,” he mumbled, his eyes starting to droop. “I’m too tired to go get it. You’re lucky I managed to stay awake when you started touching my hair.”

You laughed softly. "Where are you car keys, sweet?"

“In my coat.” His eyes were closed now and he looked peaceful, his breathing easy. The stress lines from working a tough case had disappeared and left him somehow looking younger.

"Will you please go lay in my room while I get your bag?" you asked.

“I’m not moving,” he mumbled, his face pressed right into the pillow, his arms cradling it. You were amazed that he could look so awkward, and so serene at the same time. “You’ll have to carry me.”

"Sweetheart, you're a foot taller than me, I can't carry you," you said, trying to reason with him.

“You can drag… me,” he argued weakly, his voice growing quieter and closer to the deep, gravelly husk he only had when he was on the verge of sleep. “That isn’t… impossible…”

"Please, just this one thing for me?" you ask as sweetly as you can.

He sighed heavily, as if moving was the task of the century, peeling himself from the couch. Before he even knew it, he was being led towards your bedroom, where he flopped face-first onto your bed. His limbs were splayed, and you tried not to laugh at how utterly spent he seemed.

You grab a change of clothes for yourself, making quick work of your clothes before taking up the task of adjusting your boyfriend into a more comfortable position.

It was tricky at first. Every time you thought you had him, he moved again, or groaned in protest, or just didn’t want to budge. But when you finally managed to get him into a position you deemed comfortable enough to sleep in, he was out like a light. His hair was mussed, the pillow and blankets a warm cocoon, and it was clear that any more talking would be strictly one-sided. You kissed his forehead, stroking his hair, wishing you could keep him this content forever.

He let out a sigh of contentment at the feeling of your touch, nestling against the pillow and murmuring something in a voice that was too muffled to make out before he stilled again. His expression was completely peaceful. He looked the picture of comfort, safe and warm in your bed. Spencer looked so happy, so relaxed that you couldn’t bear to disturb him.

You tucked him into bed, watching him until you needed to sleep too, nestling your head against his, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

[waldau-archived]

hand in mine — lee seokmin | 1,550 words | fluff

slightly inspired by my friend and their partner, i didn't know it was possible for two people to be so in love :') here's just...dk being sappy. sappy dk.

gender neutral reader. warnings: bonus pov?

dokyeom swears you're like a portable human charger.

when he's away, whether it's because he's still in practice or because he's on tour or even when he's at his parents' place, a single phone call from you is enough to lift his spirits to get him through the rest of the day. weekends spent at each other's places together are almost enough to convince him to just become an apartment hermit.

it's been true for ages — and it's true again, tonight.

or it will be, if you'll stop talking to one kim mingyu.

dokyeom's getting antsier the longer you stand there talking to mingyu, nodding along to something he's telling you. can't it wait till tomorrow? doesn't mingyu see he's in dire need of recharging?

now he knows mingyu's not telepathic, but somehow the younger man realizes dokyeom's staring at the two of you, so he finishes whatever he's saying with a nod towards where dokyeom's sitting. you follow his gaze and smile when you see dokyeom, who swears his heart melts a little, right there.

but then you stop to greet joshua, chatting with him for a minute (a whole minute, in this economy?) before you're standing right next to dokyeom.

he stretches his arms out to you. you bend down, letting him wrap himself around you the best he can. it's good, but it's not enough. he lets go only to tug at your hand. "sit down."

you look around. "there's no place, kyeomie. i don't mind standing."

he frowns at you. "i mind. you can sit in my lap."

you give him a look. "in front of your friends? i'd rather not."

dokyeom pouts. "they're your friends, too."

"of course i know that, baby. but they don't ever stop teasing us, do they?"

"ugh. they'll make fun of me, not you. please?"

you run a hand through his hair. "i don't want them to make fun of you, either."

he huffs. "fine. c'mere," he mumbles, scooting to give you some more space. you go willingly this time, settling yourself into the minimal space next to him. it's not easy when there's already thirteen of them in a room, but he manages to nudge chan away to give you some more space.

"hi," you whisper, letting him throw his hand around your shoulder to pull you closer. "missed you today."

dokyeom pulls back to look at you. he feels almost shy to have all your attention on him, silly as it sounds. "just today?" he asks, grinning when you roll your eyes. "you got here safely?"

you nod, leaning up to press a kiss to his nose. "perfectly. there was way lesser traffic than i expected."

"good."

you snuggle into dokyeom's side, stretching your legs out next to his. this is always his favourite place to be — because he can have your words be all for his ears only.

but then he frowns when he sees your outfit — a shirt and a pair of shorts. he takes off his jacket and drapes it across your legs despite your protests.

"you should've worn something warmer," he frowns. you're never good with the cold, and you're not going to be comfortable with the way more than half the members need the air conditioning to be switched on at all times.

"i was almost ready to go to bed, kyeomie," you explain, adjusting the jacket on yourself nonetheless. "i wouldn't be here if shua didn't call me. thank you, though. how was your day?"

dokyeom sighs. he doesn't want to talk about his day when he's been living through it for the entirety of...well, the day, but he has to say something for you. "not...the best," he concedes, resting his head on your shoulder.

"do you want to go home soon?" you ask, your hand finding his, tracing random patterns on his skin. the tingles help ground him.

he shrugs. "i don't know."

it's true, as much as he hates it. he doesn't want to leave because it'll end up breaking up the party — it always so happens that the first person to leave is the catalyst for most others to start wrapping things up, unwittingly. he doesn't want to be a party pooper, but at the same time, he's had a long day. it's like he's been aware of every single second he's been awake, and it's exhausting.

"okay," you say simply. "let's stay for a while more. it's not like we're in a rush. and i know how hard you worked today."

dokyeom closes his eyes at that. he knows he's done well, today being one of those days where he's genuinely looking for the end, but hearing it from you makes it much better. "yeah?"

"yeah," you affirm, hand rising to comb gently through his hair again, left open now that he's discarded his beanie. "i love you, kyeom. so much. it's still hard to put it into words sometimes."

he snuggles a bit more into you at that, slightly satisfied when seungkwan chucks a piece of popcorn at him from the bed, telling you both to stop being so cheesy. he feels even better when you throw it back at seungkwan, letting out a triumphant ha! when it hits him on the knee.

he loves you.

there's no bottom to that endless truth. he's somewhat loved you ever since he first saw you, drawn to the way your sense of humour was so close to his, and the somewhat turned into a definitely the more he got to know you.

dokyeom isn't half of anything — he's all of himself, lee seokmin, content with the way he is except for a few gripes here and there, but you complete him in a way he didn't know any person could.

he's not worried about you leaving him — there's no way either of you are letting that happen. it's more about not knowing who he is without you, now that your lives are so intertwined.

"stop," you mumble, your grip on his hair tightening slightly.

"stop what?"

"thinking. about whatever you are. i told you i love you and i'm not going anywhere."

the haze he's in almost clears a bit at that. "how did you— i didn't—"

"you always get so pensive when you're tired, did you know? i should record you some time. it's like there's a philosopher hidden inside you."

pensive? when he's tired?

"i love you normally," he blurts out, scared at the insinuation that he thinks about how much you mean to him only when he's vulnerable like this.

you're not saying anything back, though. you're just smiling at him.

"what," he asks, breaths a bit shallow.

"i know," you press, hand lifting his to show the ring that sits on his fourth finger. "i love you normally, too."

dokyeom lets out a chuckle. he still can't believe it's possible to love someone this much.

"now let me get you home and help you get some sleep, okay?" you ask, punctuating your question with a tug to his chin. "the others will understand."

as if you have to ask him. he'll go wherever you take him, no questions asked.

joshua can see the change in dokyeom's eyes the moment you walk into the room.

the conversation doesn't stop; mingyu and jun are still arguing about how mingyu should stop taking inspiration from jeonghan when it comes to board games and cheating. jeonghan has a proud smile on his face. wonwoo and minghao have zoned out entirely, too busy with their phones to acknowledge the little fight going on. the others are busy eating or ordering more food or arguing about which movie to watch next.

there's just one person missing from the chaos.

dokyeom's sitting on the floor under the window, entirely in his own world, constantly checking his phone and looking at the door, shutting his eyes for a minute before repeating his actions.

joshua would've poked fun at him if he didn't know how tired dokyeom already was today. a particularly tiring day, especially with a comeback practice they'd just gotten back from, and a going seventeen shoot in which dokyeom had been on the losing team. even though he doesn't like to show it, joshua knows dokyeom is somewhat upset over not winning.

but the moment you walk into the room, it's like a switch has been flipped. dokyeom sits up straighter, the neutral expression on his face morphing into a tired but real smile. he holds his hands out to you and pouts when you stop to greet all the other members first, shaking hands with them or giving them a quick side hug.

joshua pulls you close with ease. "thanks for making it here on such short notice."

"are you seriously thanking me for that?"

"i mean...he really needs to see you. today hasn't been his day."

you look over at your husband for a moment. "i could tell. his texts were pretty dry."

"right? now go get your lover boy. he's been moping all evening long."

you wrinkle your nose at the term, just like he expected you to, but you nod and make your way to dokyeom.

joshua turns away when dokyeom gives you a dopey, lovesick grin. he'll let the teasing go for tonight.

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae

[qingyuns]

song 23! midas touch + gojo satoru

boy, if i touch ya, kiss ya, watch out, the gaze that changed in an instant, you see, i got that midas touch —kiss of life

pairing: gojo satoru x reader, wc: 758, pre-relationship, very sweet, gn reader (shorter than gojo bc i assume most of you are), they're both down bad but don't really know it, gojo's infinity automatically perceives reader as a threat because of the potentially emotional vulnerable state they put him in, like getting butterflies in your stomach

part of my 2024 spotify wrapped event click link and request at @serafilms now :p

There's a strange sensation you've come to be familiar with recently. It's the feeling of pressing against something intangibly tangible, a non-solid barrier against your fingertips, against your arm, even against your back. There's no contact, and your touch-sensitive nerves remain inactive, but you can feel the pressure against them. You'd almost think it was some phantom feeling if the evidence wasn't there in front of your eyes.

As your hand reaches up to tap him on the shoulder, you're met with the same sensation again. Your fingers stop about three centimetres above the fabric of his jacket. The invisible barrier prevents you from bringing them closer.

Gojo turns his head to look at you, blue eyes peering over his sunglasses. Your eyes remain fixed on the place where your hand fails to meet his shoulder, mouth twisted in thought.

"What's up?" he prods, a brow raised.

You give a shake of your head as if to say, 'nothing', but your eyes stay fixed on the spot, as you raise your hand and bring it down with a little more force, mimicking a clap on the shoulder. It is the barrier that greets your palm once more.

"Uh, are you-"

"Why don't you ever turn your Infinity off around me?"

He blinks at you, white lashes fluttering against his cheeks. You stare back, unwavering.

"What?" As Gojo turns around to face you, your hand slides off his infinity and falls back to your side.

"You heard me."

He stares down at you, eyes a shock of blue that is barely concealed by the lenses.

"I didn't realise it was always up around you."

He's lying. You know he's lying. He knows you know he's lying. You're getting nowhere with this.

Your lips purse. "Do you see me as a threat to you?"

There's a pause that lasts for a little too long for your liking, before Gojo says, "No."

There it is. "So you do." Your investigation has reached a conclusion.

"I just said I didn't," he retorts.

"You paused."

Gojo says nothing, and you're sure you've found your answer.

But that still doesn't explain much. Gojo is literally Infinitely stronger than you, and you've never once given him any reason to think you want to hurt him.

"It's not that you're a threat," he says finally. You're surprised to note the way he's starting to look a little uncomfortable. "It's just, ugh. I don't know." He doesn't know?

You frown. "Let me touch you."

Gojo looks at you, and you can already sense the smirk that's about to appear, so you intercept it. "Shut up, you know what I mean. Turn your Infinity off."

His smirk drops and he shifts uncomfortably under your gaze. You raise an eyebrow. Gojo Satoru, squirming? Did hell freeze over?

"Fine," he concedes.

You wonder how you're supposed to tell that he's turned it off, but then he says, "Go ahead."

Well, now you're nervous.

Gojo Satoru is the definition of untouchable, in every sense of the word. Should you put your hand on his shoulder like before? Would it be better to go all the way in this experiment and touch his skin? Would that be weird?

"Um, where do I-"

"Here." Gojo puts out his hand in front of him, palm facing upwards. His shoulders seem tense. You're not quite sure why.

You wonder if his hand will be cool to the touch, or warm. Maybe it'll be calloused from all the training and fights, or maybe it'll be smooth. Does he use Infinity on his hands when fighting?

The sensation that follows is totally unfamiliar to you. So this is what it's like. Your fingers graze over his palm, sliding down to wrap around his hand, as your thumb traces the curve of his palm. Your eyes fixate on his hand in fascination, so you fail to notice the way Gojo freezes, his eyes locked on your face.

Oh, he thinks to himself. He finds himself slouching slightly, lanky frame sinking down to try and get a better look at your face. Warning tingles of electricity shoot down his spine, and he feels like his palm is beginning to sweat. He hopes you can't feel it.

Then, you look up. A smile graces your lips.

"Thank you, Satoru. For trusting me."

He feels his stomach flip in a way that's not entirely unpleasant, and he finds himself glad that you begin walking away before you can hear the choked sound that escapes him.

Fuck.

[slasher-fxcker]

Fighting with Michael

Part 2: Making up

A/N: Ugh I am loving all the Michael fics at the moment! Here's part two you guys! enjoy! also feel free to send any requests in.

Warnings: Slight mention of blood but I think thats it

GIF by thepumpkin-queenn

You didn’t know where you were going as you wandered down the street, wiping at the tears that streamed down your face. You were glad it was late and there was no one around to see you in this state. Tonight, had made you question everything, what were you doing with Michael? You had known for a while that you were in love with him, but would you ever really know how he felt? Could Michael even love you back. You felt like a fool, you had heard all the stories about him, about what he’s done.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. You didn’t want to think of him like everyone else did, to you he wasn’t a monster. He was your Michael.

Sitting down on a bench you pulled your jacket closer to you as the cool wind blew down the street. You thought about going home, you didn’t know whether Michael would get angry and come looking for you. Deep down you knew that you weren’t talking about the house when you talked about your home, the realisation like a stab in the heart. Michael was your home, you wanted to be wherever he was.

The tears that you didn’t notice had stopped had once against started flowing down your cheeks at the thought. How could you leave Michael when you loved him so much? He found you at a time in your life where nothing seemed to be going right, he seemed like a blessing in disguise, but now you had a choice to make. You decided it was time to head back to the house and face him. Whatever the outcome was you needed something from him, something to show that you were a permanent thing in his life and not just passing entertainment.

You paused in front of the building, getting the courage to walk through the door. You didn’t know how Michael would react to your little outburst, but you knew it wouldn’t be good. The slow creak of the door seemed to rival the sound of your beating heart as you stepped inside. You immediately noticed the knife still sticking out of the wall where you had been stood only an hour or so ago. But soon enough your eyes glanced around seeing the broken furniture littered all around the room. A table split in half, the vase that was on it smashed on the ground, some sort of splintered wood put through one of the walls.

The creak that you heard above was the only thing that broke you out of your shock. You hesitantly made your way up the stair expecting the same mess that you had just seen, but upstairs seemed surprisingly calm, undisturbed. You made your way to the bedroom to find Michael sitting on the edge of your shared bed.

“Michael,” your voice comes out in a whisper, much shakier than you were hoping. He slowly raises his head and you can make out his eyes in the dim room, there’s a sadness there you don’t think you’ve ever seen from the man. You both seemed to watch each other for an eternity, not sure if you were waiting for him to make some sort of outburst or if you just couldn’t bring yourself to say anything else. Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself to whatever response he would have to your next words. “I love you,” Michael didn’t miss the way your lip slightly quivered as you let out this new revelation.

Michael lowered his head and you froze as the fears you had about him not loving you immediately returned at this action. Before you could panic too much you noticed Michael raise his hand up to his mask and slowly pull it off his head, your heart could’ve beat out of your chest at the anticipation of finally seeing him. You didn’t know which one of you were more surprised by this action, but still you knew better than to react too quickly and possible spook him out of the decision.

Michael kept his head lowered and neither one of you moved for a moment. Soon enough you slowly stepped towards him, the closer you got the more you noticed his white knuckled grip on the mask still clenched tightly in his hand. You lowered yourself onto your knees in front of him taking his hand in your own and getting him to release the mask. You put it down beside you and gently cupped his cheek, every movement was slow and gentle as you tested the waters of what Michael would allow.

You tilted his face to look at you as your voice came out just above a whisper, “I love you Michael.” His eyes darted away and you noticed the uncertainty in his eyes. You couldn’t help but find this situation unbelievable, feared by so many, thought of as a monster, but for you he could be vulnerable, for you he would risk showing some humanity. You brought his attention back to your face as you spoke again, “I love all of you Michael, okay?”

Your thumb stroked his cheek and you watched his eyes close as the tension seemed to slowly leave him and his shoulders dropped from the tense position they held. You knew you shouldn’t push your luck with moments like this, being so rare. But seeing Michael like this, so exposed and vulnerable just for you did things to your heart you had never felt before. You leaned in slowly, giving Michael a chance to pull away if he wished before you gently brushed your lips against his.

He didn’t kiss back but he didn’t push you away, taking this as a sign to continue, you kissed him again. This time with a bit more pressure, it took Michael a minute but he began to reciprocate the kiss. It was a bit too rough, as you expected it to be, and a bit clumsy but the passion that it held made up for any lack of experience. You felt his hand hesitantly grab your waist which surprised you, but you did your best not to make any sudden movements that could spook him.

You placed your hands on his arms and slowly ran them up to his shoulders, he flinched away causing you to look at him questioningly, had you taken it too far? You followed his gaze to where your hand had brushed over a rather large cut on his shoulder. It wasn’t deep but you noticed the blood and dirt all stuck together across the area. You placed another soft kiss to his lips before standing up and grabbing his hand. “Come on, lets get you in the shower.” And for once Michael didn’t argue as he followed you happily to the soon to be very steamy bathroom.

[lyn31]

Accident? 🐱😽

Summary:

When you grows cats ears and tails, how would you think your boyfriend will react?

Notes:

This is a prompt from @chryssikyu I thought it was very cute, it still are but uh I might've gone overboard? Oops? Well hopefully it's still enjoyable ahahaha Pairing: Zayne x Reader/MC

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

It’s just like any other day. You’ve just finished your mission and returned home, standing in your kitchen, grabbing the leftover dinner Zayne made earlier. With food in hand, you hum to yourself as you walk toward the dining table, only to hear Zayne call your name. Then he appears at the door, holding a test tube.

“What is this?” he asks, his face as stoic as ever, but you can see a hint of concern. “Doesn’t look like something you should be bringing home, does it?”

"Ah." A closer look confirms it—you definitely shouldn’t have brought it home. “Where did you find it?” you ask, stretching your hand toward the tube.

Zayne doesn’t hand it over immediately. “In your jacket.” He tilts his head, waiting for an explanation.

“It’s nothing dangerous.”

At that, Zayne lifts an eyebrow.

“I mean, yeah, that shouldn’t have been in my pocket, but I have no idea how it got there.”

“Well, you do have a habit of pocketing anything in your hand.” You can hear the teasing tone in his voice.

You roll your eyes. “I do not!” But his teasing smile makes you pause. “Well… okay, sometimes. But not all the time! Either way, I should get that back to the lab. It’s supposed to help Hunter fight Wanderers, but it’s not quite a success yet.”

Zayne hums, waiting expectantly.

“I heard it’s nothing bad, though. The effect is reversible. The last guy who breathed in the fumes was fine after 24 hours.”

Zayne’s brow furrows. “24 hours? That’s a long effect. What exactly does it do?”

You shrug. “I didn’t hear that part.” You reach out again. “It’s better than most things their research usually—”

Zayne hesitates, his fingers tightening around the test tube before he finally exhales and hands it back to you.

“Alright. I’ll just put it in my pack and secure it properly.”

You take a step forward, but somehow, your foot catches, and— Crash. The glass shatters against the floor. Zayne reacts instantly, grabbing your arm and steadying you, his grip firm. But the damage is done. A faint wisp of blue smoke curls upward, and before you can even think to hold your breath, you inhale. A sharp tickle burns through your nose. Your eyes water. Then— Sneeze. Zayne cups your face, his hands warm and steady. “Are you okay?” You blink against the stinging sensation and rub your nose. “Ugh. All good,” you mutter between sneezes.

Zayne watches closely, scanning for any changes. When you sneeze, his hand steadies you before you even register the movement. “We’re going to the lab, or the hospital.” His voice is firm, but his touch remains gentle, he slowly leads you forward.

“Ah, no, no, I’m fine.” You stop sneezing now and really do feel… normal. “Like I said, it should be fine. Even if something happens, it’ll go away. We don’t need to go.”

Zayne’s brow furrows further. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

But of course, you just shake your head. “No, really, I’ll tell you if I feel anything, alright? Besides, I want to eat.” You give him your best puppy-dog eyes, pleading.

Zayne scans your face, then your whole body, searching for any sign of distress. After a long moment of silence, he finally sighs, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“Alright. Tell me if anything—and I mean anything—feels different, okay? Eat your meal. I’ll clean up.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead before turning to grab cleaning supplies.

With that settled, you return to the kitchen and start eating. After finishing, you wash your plate in the sink. You’re just about to look for Zayne when you feel an itch in your ears. You scratch them absentmindedly as you walk toward the living room. The more you touch them, the thicker and softer they feel beneath your fingers.

Zayne sits at his laptop, fingers tapping against the keys in steady rhythm. The soft glow of the screen casts shadows over his face. When he hears your footsteps, he barely glances up at first. “Do you still feel—” Then he really sees you. His fingers freeze mid-keystroke, his grip tightening around the edge of his laptop before he slowly leans back, his gaze locked on you. His mouth parts slightly, but no words come out, as if his brain is still catching up with what he’s seeing.. “What?” You frown, rubbing your ears again. They still feel itchy, weird. “Something on my face?” Zayne doesn’t answer immediately. He just stares. That’s never a good sign. You grab his phone from the coffee table, flipping it to the front camera as you sit next to him. The moment your reflection comes into view, you freeze.

“Oh shit—” You grimace. Slowly, you reach up, touching your ear, half-expecting them to disappear under your fingers. Your face hasn’t changed much, but your ears… they’re clearly different. They’ve turned into cat ears—white cat ears—starkly contrasting with your dark hair. You look at Zayne. He looks at you, he exhales slowly, measured. “…We’re going to the lab.”

Zayne starts to stand, but you grab his arm and pull him back down.

“No, wait! It’s fine. It’ll change back tomorrow!”

His frown deepens.

“Darling, listen.” His voice is soft as he gently touches your ears, making you shiver. “This is clearly not fine. We’re going back to the lab.”

“No, Zayne, really! I’ll just contact them, and you can ask them too, okay?” You really don’t want to get nagged about this. Handling it over the phone is a compromise. By tomorrow, when the effect wears off, hopefully the nagging will too.

You watch his expression shift—his jaw tightening, fingers tapping against his thigh as he debates whether to just carry you to the car anyway. But after a while, he exhales through his nose and sighs.

“Alright. Call away.”

So you call your colleague, report what happened, and let Zayne ask a million questions to make sure you’re really fine. After an hour, the matter is settled.

“See? All good, right?”

Zayne exhales softly, shaking his head. His face stays neutral, but you catch the subtle ease in his eyes—the quiet relief he won’t admit.

“All good, huh? Just don’t leave my sight, alright? We still don’t know for certain.” He kisses your lips—a quick, chaste kiss—before going back to his laptop, glancing at you briefly before returning to his work.

So, you grab the remote and turn on the TV. Truthfully, for the past hour, you’ve been feeling the same itch—not in your ears this time, but lower. And you have a pretty good idea of what’s happening.

And then you feel it. You flinch as an unfamiliar sensation prickles at the base of your spine. Your fingers twitch, reaching back—only to freeze the moment you feel it. Soft. Fluffy. Moving.

Your breath catches, and you shift in your seat, testing the strange new weight behind you. Zayne immediately notices, his eyes flicking to you before trailing downward. His gaze lingers for a moment, then slowly lifts back to your face.

“Well… they did say the tail would show up, right?” you say, voice uncertain as your fingers hesitantly brush over the unfamiliar appendage.

Zayne lets out a slow breath, his brow furrowing slightly. Without a word, he reaches out, resting one hand on your shoulder and the other over yours, stilling your movements. “Anything else feel weird? Any pain?” His grip is steady, grounding, his gaze locked onto yours as he searches for any sign of discomfort.

You shake your head.

After another moment of scrutiny, he gets up. When he returns, he has a blanket. Zayne wraps the blanket around you, his movements careful, deliberate. His fingers brush against your ears, barely lingering before he pulls away. “Anything uncomfortable?” His voice is softer now, but the concern is still there.

You shake your head again.

He kisses the top of your head and heads to the kitchen. A few minutes later, he’s back with a cup of chamomile tea, setting it gently on the table in front of you before returning to his laptop.

You curl up with the tea, taking a sip. It tastes stronger than usual… or maybe your senses are sharper now. You refocus on the TV.

For a while, the sound of the TV and Zayne’s typing fills the room. You scratch your ears gently. It feels nice. Really nice. You remember how good it felt when Zayne did it earlier. You glance at him, still working, but… shouldn’t he be paying more attention to you?

Yes. Yes, he definitely should.

Feeling restless, you inch closer, nuzzling against his side, seeking his comfort.

Zayne glances at you, ruffling your hair, kissing the top of your head. But just as you start to enjoy his touch, he returns to his laptop.

Pouting, you move closer, pressing against his side, but when he doesn't react, you move with more intent—climbing into his lap, settling against him. Zayne exhales lightly, amusement flickering in his eyes as his hands automatically move to steady you. "'And what exactly is this?'" Instead of answering, you nuzzle into his neck, arms draping around him. He hums, rubbing small circles into your back. But then his hands return to his keyboard, and you frown.

Not acceptable.

So you shift, straddling him, tilting his chin up before kissing him—first softly, then trailing down his face, his neck.

“Honey,” His voice is teasing, “I’ll finish this in a bit, then I’ll play with you, alright?”

You shake your head at this, stopping your licking and clinging onto him. You take one of his hands and guide it to your tail. You hear his chuckle, and then he strokes it slowly, heeding your request. The moment his fingers brush your tail, a sharp jolt sparks through you—almost like static electricity. It feels really nice, like an itch finally being scratched.

“Hmm, this does feel like a real cat tail—”

You cut off his words with a sudden purr. The sound vibrates in your throat before you even realize it, and your eyes widen. Wait… did I just…?

His fingers twitch against your tail before going completely still. You feel the way Zayne stiffens when your purring starts—a sharp inhale, his fingers flexing against your hips before gripping tighter. His throat bobs, and for a moment, he doesn’t move, as if he's trying to gather himself.

A slow, teasing sway of your hips earns you a low, involuntary groan, his breath hot against your ear. He doesn't move, but the tension in his body is unmistakable but other than that he still doesn’t move.

“Zayne?” You pull your face from his neck, trying to look at him when suddenly, you’re pushed down onto the couch. Zayne is on top of you, caging you in on both sides.

“This is dangerous, don’t you think?” His voice is much, much lower now, sending a shiver through you.

Now that you can finally see his face, his hazel eyes are more intense, filled with desire that he’s still trying to restrain. The tips of his ears are red. You simply tilt your head at his question, nuzzling against his hand, holding onto it.

You hear him sigh. He touches your cheek, and you automatically lean into him, seeking his touch. So, he tilts your face up, forcing you to look at him.

“Are you aware of what you’re doing?”

“Of course I do?” What a strange question, you think. You’re definitely aware of what you’re doing—it’s not like you’re drunk. So, you keep nuzzling against his touch, holding his gaze.

His gaze flickers, like he’s calculating his choices again. Then, he kisses your forehead gently. Studying your face once more, he asks,

“What do you want, darling?”

His tone is so soft, the same as his expression, making your stomach flip-flop. You take his right hand and place it on your ears.

“Touch me, please,” you say softly, already closing your eyes as his hand makes contact.

And so, he does.

He strokes your ears gently, and you feel blissful—so nice, so relaxing. It feels really good. You find yourself leaning into his touch. He kisses the area just below your right ear, his lips warm against your skin. His hand continues stroking your left ear as he trails slow kisses upward.

You gasp when his lips reach your ear. He licks it, nibbling slightly, and the sensation makes you purr again—something you can’t seem to stop. You squirm beneath him, heat pooling in your stomach.

He chuckles softly against your skin, his warm breath sending more shivers down your spine. His fingers continue caressing your ear, slow and deliberate, as if testing just how much you can take.

“You’re really something else,” he murmurs, his tone laced with amusement and something deeper, something that makes your stomach tighten.

His fingers trail down, brushing along your jaw before tilting your chin up—slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment. His hazel eyes bore into yours, dark and unreadable, as if weighing his next move. You hold his gaze, your breath unsteady, ears twitching under his touch. The corner of his mouth twitches, like he knows exactly what he's doing to you.

“Zayne…” his name leaves your lips in a soft whisper, and that seems to be the last straw.

His breath ghosts over your skin before his lips press against your neck—slow and deliberate. The contrast is dizzying—the heat of his mouth, the teasing stroke of his fingers against your ear. You shiver beneath him, your breath hitching as his lips travel lower, marking a slow, possessive path. Then his fingers trace along your tail, and a warm pulse spreads through your spine, making your toes curl involuntarily. Your breath hitches, the sensation sparking deep in your core.

He notices.

Zayne's grip tightens, his palm gliding along the length of your tail with agonizing slowness. Your thighs instinctively press together, heat coiling low in your stomach. His voice, thick and rough, brushes against your skin. "That sensitive, huh?"

He strokes again, and this time a soft whimper escapes you, followed by another involuntary purr. His breath hitches, forehead pressing against your shoulder as he steadies himself before continuing. His teeth grazing the shell of your ear. His free hand presses against your lower back, keeping you exactly where he wants you, but he’s the one unraveling.

Your purring deepens, vibrating against his chest, and you feel his body tense even more. He lets out a ragged breath, his fingers twitching slightly. For a moment, he just lingers there, letting the sound wash over him.

“You keep making that sound,” his voice is rough, almost strained, “and I won’t be able to stop.”

You nuzzle against his touch again, silently asking for more, your tail curling slightly in his grip.

“Then don’t stop.”

He grunts, his fingers digging into your hips for half a second before he exhales sharply—then suddenly, you're flipped over. Your face is pressed against the couch now, your body pinned beneath him. His weight hovers over you, just enough to remind you how easily he could take control. His breath brushes against your ear as he leans in, voice thick with amusement and something darker.

“So, the kitty wants to play?” His voice is thick with amusement, but his eyes are dark with something else.

His words send a shiver down your spine, but before you can respond, his tongue flicks against your ear, slow and deliberate. His teeth graze the tip before he sucks lightly, making you gasp. One of his hands keeps him propped up so he doesn’t crush you, but the other? It slides back down to your tail, this time gripping, stroking with purpose.

A sharp jolt of pleasure runs through you, your body reacting before you can even process it. You arch against him, pressing your hips back, chasing more of that friction.

A strained chuckle escapes him, his breath hitching for a split second before he recovers. His grip on your tail tightens, his hips pressing forward, drawn to the heat of your movements. “Look at you…” His voice is lower now, rougher. His fingers flex, the pressure teasing, almost testing. “So sensitive here.”

His kisses trail down your neck, lingering, slow. He shifts, brushing your hair aside, exposing more skin. The moment his lips reach the back of your neck, he stills, his breath warm against you. Then, his mouth opens against your skin, tongue tracing slow circles before his teeth sink in just enough to make you squirm.

A deep sound rumbles in his chest at your reaction. He doesn’t stop, tracing a slow, burning path along your tattoo—licking, sucking, biting—as if branding himself into your skin. The sensation is overwhelming, a push and pull between heat and restraint, between teasing and claiming.

Your fingers find his free hand, gripping it tightly, nails digging into his skin as you writhe beneath him. You don’t even realize you’re pressing back against him again, your body moving on instinct. A low, guttural groan leaves his lips when he feels it—when he feels you.

“Impatient,” he murmurs, but his voice is different now—rough, strained, like he’s barely holding himself together. His hold on your tail shifts, fingers pressing in just enough to feel the way you twitch under his touch. He watches closely, taking in every reaction, his breath stalling for half a second before he strokes again, slower this time—almost like he’s testing both your limits and his own.

You catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye—his hazel eyes, dark and heavy-lidded. His breath uneven as he watches you, drinking in every movement, every sound you make. And yet, even now, he’s restraining himself.

“Stop teasing,” you whisper, breathless. “Touch me properly.”

For a moment, he doesn’t move, but you can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tighten, the way his grip on you trembles just slightly. And then, his hand shifts, trailing down from your tail, following the curve of your body, stopping just short of where you need him most.

His lips brush against your ear as his voice drops lower. “You’re making this really hard for me.” His fingers press into your skin, his restraint slipping with every second. “You keep pushing me, and I don’t think you even realize it.”

He exhales sharply, his forehead dropping to your back. His fingers twitch against your waist before curling into a fist, knuckles pressing into the cushion beside you. Then, he shaking his head.

"I need a second," he mutters, his voice strained, like he’s barely keeping himself together.

He stills. The heat between you, thick and all-consuming, is nearly too much to bear. You shift beneath him, silently begging, but instead of giving in, he exhales, slow and controlled.

Then, his lips press against your shoulder—soft, lingering. His fingers, which had been tracing slow, burning lines along your skin, suddenly retreat.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” His voice is low, amused, and maddeningly composed.

You turn your head slightly, trying to catch his expression, but he only smile, his hands settling on your waist in a way that’s possessive yet withholding.

“Maybe I should make you wait a little longer,” he muses, his fingers brushing over your tail in a teasingly light touch that makes you shudder. “See how much you can take.”

Your breath hitches. “Zayne—”

He presses another kiss to your shoulder before shifting back slightly, as if deciding to draw this out just a little more.

His fingers trail lower, gliding down the curve of your back until they brush over the base of your tail. The touch is unhurried, intentional, and when you tense beneath him, he exhales softly—like he’s committing the reaction to memory.

"Still so sensitive," he murmurs, his voice quiet, almost thoughtful. His fingertips stroke over the spot again, this time with more intent, savoring the way your body shifts beneath his touch.

You shiver, pressing subtly into the sensation, but before you can move too much, his palm settles at the small of your back, keeping you in place. His other hand glides over your hip, his thumb smoothing slow circles into your skin.

"You wanted this," he says, his voice a deep hum, warm and steady. He leans forward slightly, his chest just barely brushing your back as his hand slides up your spine, fingertips tracing along the dip of it with aching slowness. "And now you're trembling for me."

His grip tightens—not rough, but firm, grounding you beneath him. Then his fingers drift lower, teasing along the inside of your thigh, never quite where you want them. The anticipation pulls tight between you, each second stretching unbearably.

"You always push," he says, his tone quieter now, almost indulgent as he watches you react to him. His fingers continue their slow path upward, lingering at the curve of your hip, never quite giving in. "But the moment I touch you like this…" His thumb skims higher, barely there. "You melt so easily."

His hand moves back to your tail, fingers tracing its base with the same aching slowness. The movement is tender, reverent even, as if he’s savoring every shift and sigh you give him in return. His other hand rests at your lower back, his touch warm, steadying.

He leans down, pressing the lightest kiss just below your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "You’re too easy to spoil like this," he murmurs, amusement lacing his words, though there's something softer beneath it.

Then, with one last slow caress over your tail, he chuckles, low and teasing. "I should keep you like this a little longer."

The words linger between you, a promise, a challenge—one that sends another shiver down your spine. But when he shifts forward again, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck this time, there's no mistaking the warmth in it, the quiet affection woven into his every touch.

Like he has no intention of letting you go just yet.

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

[tumblingxelian]

Chloe Knows:

Apparently game Chloe knows Marinette is Ladybug, so I wrote this:

Summary: Chloé Bourgeois is perhaps the last person Marinette expected to see on her roof after having lost the Miraculous to Felix.

Chloé Bourgeois is also probably the person Marinette least wants to see on her roof.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Chloe knows more than she's ever let on and that complicates things, but it just might end up helping too.

Chloe Knows:

The last thing Marinette expected to deal with right now was Chloe hanging out on her roof, arms folded and tapping her yellow jacket impatiently.

It was also the last thing Marinette wanted to deal with, save maybe finding Hawk Moth waiting for her. & that thought just sent her gut into a tailspin, so Marinette forced open her ceiling hatch and stalked onto the roof.

Chloe zeroed in on her instantly, hissing, "You kept me waiting!"

Marinette barely resisted the urge to grab and shake the blonde, because she had only just finished re-tethering herself after the disaster of losing the Miracle Box.

Still, she had just enough restraint to only force her way into Chloe's space, grounding out, "How did you trick my parents into letting you up here, Chloe?"

The blonde blinked confusedly, "I climbed?" She motioned to a discarded pair of gloves sitting in the rooftop bin. "Why would I talk to your parents about that anyway? This is our business."

Marinette tried very hard to parse that question but she was still trying to process Chloe having scaled her walls!?

"Because they-, I-" No she as not dealing with that right now. "Chloe we don't have business!" Marinette settled on, arms flailing.

"Normally we wouldn't, you made sure of that-"

"Oh I made sure of it?"

"Yes you," Chloe huffed, somehow the one affronted, "When you got me to be terrible for my mother, then made it impossible for me to be good as Queen Bee by taking Pollen. Now you go and lose her & the others? I thought you were at least cunning to pull that scheme off Dupain-Cheng, or are you just lucky!?"

Marinette technically 'heard' what Chloe said, but she didn't have the wherewithal to react to it. Not right now as her whole world felt like it was suddenly unreal and empty and yet crushingly full all at once.

"Hah, haha, what are you t- talking about? Me, take a pollen? I don't know what that is? I don't even like wasps!"

Chloe dragged her hands down her face, screaming into her palms, "You cannot be this thick, no one can, for the- I know you're Ladybug, I've known your Ladybug for ages. Now tell me how you lost the Miraculous!"

"I could never be-"

Chloe stepped forward, counting off on her fingers.

"Rena is Alya, Nino is Carapace, Sabrina the Hound, Max is Pegasus, Kim is monkey guy and Zoe is Vespera, very petty of you, kudos really. Need I list more?"

"I"

"I've seen your Kwami, do I need to grab your damned earrings!?"

Marinette's hands flew to them, and she flung herself back, then started to giggle, maniacally.

"Hahaha, of- of course, this is a nightmare! All a nightmare! I didn't fail, Chloe doesn't know anything, I didn't get tricked by Felix and doom Paris! Hahaha- OW!"

Chloe pulled her hand back and out of pinching distance.

"You're awake Dupain-Cheng & finally answered my question to boot. Felix, ugh!! What, did he pull that stupid 'I'm Adrien' stunt and you just tripped over yourself?"

"Actually-" Tikki cut in gently, drifting out of her bag. "There was no tripping that I recall, & he'd had help this time, as Adrien wished to stay in Paris so it was more believable."

Marinette felt like her throat was closing up as she rasped, "Tikki, why!?"

The Kwami turned to her, big eyes doleful, "I am sorry Marinette, but it was obvious she knew and has evidently known for sometime. I felt you continuing to try and cover this up would only make things worse not better."

"Good thing too, I was about to tackle her and shake you out of that bag-ah!"

Marinette grabbed Chloe, spun her around and trapped her against the nearest wall. Eyes wild and frantic, the command phrase to transform dancing on her lips.

"Where's Hawk Moth? What's your game Chloe!?"

"If this was a game I'd be having fun, also," Chloe brought her hands up, and sharply but lightly 'chopped' her way out of Marinette's grip with the sudden pressure on her elbows and then shot out of grabbing range.

"Uhu, you had your chance to straddle me and passed it up."

Marinette's overtaxed brain wanted to 'scream' at that particular mental image. But Ladybug Brain was taking over and she snapped.

"How long have you known? It can't be that long or Hawk Moth would have found out already. After Penal-Team, no after-"

"Are you kidding? I've known way longer than that," Chloe boasted.

"Then why doesn't Hawk Moth know? Why didn't you just Akumatize and bring him the Miraculous!?" Marinette hissed.

"Because I don't want him to win, obviously!"

"You say you want him to win all the time!"

"I say stupid stuff when I'm angry, sue me!"

"Marinette!" Her parents called, and she could hear them racing up the ladder and nearly tripping over one another in a bid to make it to the rood.

Tikki vanished back into her purse and Marinette stood stock still frozen as her parents clambered out. Her mother hugging her close and her dad stepping between her and Chloe.

"How did you get up here?" Her father groused.

"Marinette, are you OK?" Sabine asked, fretfully.

A million and one excuses flew through Marinette's exhausted brain. Class project, Chat Noir dumped Chloe on her roof, she was Ladybug & Chloe had come to yell at her- No wait, that was the truth!

"What business is it of yours?" Chloe snapped back, evidently not intimidated by her father.

"Because this is our home, and our daughter and you are trespassing." Tom rumbled.

Chloe leaned to the side and looked at Marinette, still in her mothers arms, and then pointedly looked 'past' them.

"That doesn't answer my question, Marinette and I's business is none of yours."

Her mother frowned, "You've never had business with our daughter, just sharp words at best. You have no right to her or anything here."

"Ch- Chloe was just checking up on me, after Monarch's announcement." Marinette rambled, trying to piece the pieces together into something workable that wouldn't send Chloe into a fit.

Both her parents looked stunned and also like they wanted to ask if she was concussed.

Fortunately, Chloe managed to pick up where she'd left off.

"Exactly, we certainly aren't friends, but I felt obliged to check up on someone else I knew Ladybug wouldn't check on."

"What?" Her mothers hug tightened, and her voice actually quivered.

Her father looked between the two sides, seemingly lost for what to do with himself.

The pieces fell into place and Marinette came to the truth, in a sense.

"I was Multi-Mouse, when my science teacher god Akumatized, Ladybug needed someone who was good at multitasking."

"Marinette," Her father rushed forward and pulled her into a hug that knocked the air out of her lungs.

"I... I helped her, I did OK I think."

"You got the Miraculous back so you did your job," Chloe cut in, neither warm nor scathing.

Her mother evidently didn't agree, "It shouldn't have been her job, either of your jobs. You're children!"

"Mum, dad, it's fine, really it's fine!"

Her mother ran a hand through her hair, "I feel like there's something you aren't saying sweetheart."

She glanced at Chloe who was watching the exchange with an inscrutable expression. Some strange mix of confusion and almost starvation like hunger that was honestly painful to perceive.

Marinette licked her lips and pressed on.

"Chloe was right that Ladybug might not check up on me. At least not in a way I could see."

"She's usually such a good hero?" Her father said, sounding despondent.

"It's because I asked her too! I... When I was Multi-Mouse, I used the other Miraculous. A lot. I shouldn't have, but nothing bad happened!" she hastily added, at her parents near frantic looks of worry.

"Ladybug warned me, but I misunderstood and she said even though I was OK this time I shouldn't use magic again for a long time. I was upset, I wanted to help her, I-"

Why was she crying?

"I wanted to be a good hero, but I just screwed up and now," she was sobbing. Gods she was sobbing in her mothers arms.

"There there, my treasure, I am sure you were brilliant, let it out," her mother stroked her hair while her father hovered protectively, one large hand rubbing circles on her back.

Fortunately, Marinette had already cried her heart out once tonight and was too tired for a truly spectacular breakdown.

She managed to half slip her mothers grip, wiping at her eyes. "Thanks, both of you," she glanced at Chloe who was back to not quite staring at them. Her face was a mask of forced, haughty neutrality that looked like it was being kept in place with wires buried beneath her skin.

"Thanks for checking up on me Chloe, and for somehow not telling Hawkmoth our, my, anyone's identities when he had you Akumatized all those times." Because she still needed an answer to that, only the fact Tikki hadn't seemed panicked was keeping her grounded.

Chloe swallowed, hands clenching and unclenching before she spoke.

"Yes, well, I might not be Queen Bee or a hero anymore, but ridiculous circumstances demand ridiculous actions. So for tonight I'm a hero and it's the duty of a hero to look out for people. Even one's they hate."

OK, ow.

Chloe pressed on, "As to identities," She shrugged. "If that idiot Hawkmoth, Shadowmoth or whatever he's calling himself had that kind of control he wouldn't have to wait for people to break before getting them under his thumb. Even when I let him in the last few times, I never let him dig deep and I'd just kick him out if he tried to paw at any of my secrets."

Marinette felt like her heart was going to collapse in on itself because, "Even knowing everything you do, you just- I can't- I don't understand you at all Chloe!"

That actually seemed to draw the blonde up short, "That's a surprise, I thought you knew me better than anyone. You're certainly good at," Chloe looked at her parents ten back to Marinette, "Hitting my weak spots when we come to blows."

It felt like there was a lot to unpack there and for the first time in a long time, Marinette knew she'd actually have to spare no small amount of time and thought on Chloe's inner workings.

For now though.

"Even if you 'can' just kick him out."

"You know I can!" Chloe stomped her foot. "You saw me do it when I was Penal-Team!"

"That's my point! Isn't that like willingly helping him!? Other people have to be tricked!"

Chloe scoffed, "Tricked she says, don't over-sell it, it's being angry or sad, or whatever and taking a deal. Besides, does it look like I'm helping? I played soccer for an hour then quit."

"You had a bunch of people trapped in deadly orbs Chloe!"

"So what!? People try to kill me all the time! Ivan tried to smear me on the pavement! Nathanial tried to chop my legs off! Mommy murdered me and no one cared! No one!"

There was a choked edge in that but Chloe pressed on. "Because it's not a big deal, and anyone trying to make it a big deal is just looking for sympathy points, so there." 

She huffed and unfolded her arms, "Anyway you've clearly got people to tend to and I got what I came for. See you at school, Multi-Mouse."

With that she marched across the rooftop to her sky-box. "I'm not climbing the walls again if I don't have to so I'll just leave out the front and avoid the stray dog."

Before she reached the door, Marinette was surprised to see her mother reach out and gently grasp Chloe's shoulder.

"Chloe," She said firmly, as the blonde practically froze up, looking half ready to bolt, or shout. "Thank you for checking up on our daughter, that was a good thing and for whatever it's worth. People should have cared, I'm sorry those who should don't."

There was a moment where Marinette honestly expected Chloe to start crying, to fling herself at her mother and howl and sob. She was sure she saw something glisten in her eyes before Chloe wiped it away, and swallowed.

Her voice was rough as she said, "It's... Thanks, or whatever, doesn't matter. I don't need anyone's help."

"Everyone needs someone, so if your feelings change, don't be afraid to ask, people can surprise you. Especially if you don't break into their house." Her mother said the last part with a sort of forced, hopeful smile.

Chloe nodded, like taking an instruction, a rasped something escaping her lips before she achingly pulled away and climbed down the ladder.

A million and one feelings, questions and terrors still swirled in Marinette's mind but as her father and mother gently guided her down the ladder, intent on hot coco and comfort talk. She knew they'd have to wait. Could wait, until she was rested and ready.

Even still, a part of her would linger on the question of Chloe. What to think, to feel, to do, certainly. But also on the quieter, more uncomfortable thoughts.

Like who someone who felt they had no one would turn to if they were desperate and at the end of their rope.

'& it's not just Chloe either, who does Chat Noir have besides me?'

It was an uncomfortable thought, but one buoyed by a new revelation. No matter how omnipotent Hawk Moth seemed, no matter how all knowing he claimed to be; he was clearly far less than that.

It wasn't much to build on, but it was something, a foot hold from which she could dig in her heels and drag him down from his perch.

Golden hair flashed in her mind again and another thought echoed in her head.

'One good foot hold may be enough to bring down Hawkmoth. So what could it do for someone else?'

Because no matter what she said or had done, Chloe made a choice tonight, and had been making choices for longer than Marinette realized. Not having fallen down the slope but merely standing on the brink.

'But she took a step back tonight, to somewhere I can reach.'

& maybe all Marinette needed was one good foothold to pull Chloe all the way back, perhaps Farther than she'd ever been, or Marinette even realized was possible. 

It was a tender little hope, strange and unsure, but somehow, in Marinette's mind, it felt like solid gold. 

NOTES:

Wrote this is one sitting, then edited it, I hope it reads well XD

I have no plans to continue this, though if someone else wants to take it and run with it please feel free. I kind of envision Marinette re-inviting Chloe to the class group chat as a sort of olive branch and them slowly working through their respective issues.

Also Chloe turning up at Felix's with a tazer and the same martial arts skills that let her fight Mayura to a stand still and possibly, violently reclaiming Doosoo, cos you can pry Jock!Chloe from my cold dead hands!

[hazbinshusk]

A kiss influenced by alcohol or a kiss to the back of the hand prompt with blitzø please🫶

prompt #23: a kiss influenced by alcohol/other substances

Your cab pulls in behind Blitzø’s van, and you pay the driver without tearing your eyes away from the house, the pounding music already far too loud for your sleepy brain. You’d woken to your phone pinging with texts half an hour earlier, and had been more than a little surprised to see Loona’s name on the screen.

Her messages hadn’t held a lot of detail, but it’d still been enough to make you drag yourself out of bed and throw a jacket over the t-shirt and shorts you sleep in. You side-eye the broken pot plant on the curb as you pass, recognizing a few hellhound and imp faces as you enter the party. Someone presses a cup into your hand at some point, and you hold onto it purely because you have no idea where to put it down.

“Blitzø?! Blitzø?! Where are you shithead?!”

You stop as you recognize Loona’s irritated shout, spotting her weaving her way through bodies. “Loona!”

She stops, ears flicking upwards as she hears your voice. She sighs in relief, her shoulders relaxing as she turns her eyes to the ceiling. “Oh, thank fuck you’re here.”

“What’s the matter?” you ask, closing the distance between you. “Your texts weren’t exactly—”

“Blitzø is somewhere here and completely trashed,” she explains. “I just need you to drive us home. After I find him and kick his ass.”

“Fair enough.” you raise a brow in concern, scanning your eyes over the crowds of over-indulging bodies. “D’you want some help tracking him down?”

“Ugh,” Loona groans, rubbing and hand between her eyes. “No… for some reason you seem to actually like my… Blitzø, and he’s so fucking far gone right now… if you could just wait by the van and I’ll get him. You really don’t need to see him like this.”

“Oh.” you grimace, halfway between apologetic and exasperated. You point a finger towards the next room. “Too late.”

Loona turns to follow your gaze, and she growls. Blitzø is wrapped in the arms of another imp, sloppily making out with him. Despite yourself, you feel a small pang of jealousy in your chest, and you quickly shove it down. You can already tell just how drunk Blitzø is, and besides, you had no claim to him.

“Oh, piss on a dick!” the hellhound grabs her father by the collar and forces them apart. “What the fuck are you doing, Blitzø?!”

“This guy!” Blitzø slurs in response, bravado tainted by too much booze.

“It looks like you’re in the middle of a goddamn orgy! Stop!”

You clear your throat awkwardly, jerking your thumb back towards the way you came. “I’ll, uh, I’ll be at the van.”

“Sugar…?” Blitzø sounds confused, like he’s only just realized you were there, and you spare Loona a sympathetic glance before making your way back outside. There’s something about the way Blitzø is carrying himself, in Loona’s tone, that makes you think you shouldn’t be in audience to this particular conversation.

You’re not waiting by the van long before Loona appears with Blitzø thrown over one shoulder, and you catch the keys when she tosses them to you. You unlock the door and hold it open for her, and she drops Blitzø unceremoniously on the passenger seat.

“He okay?”

She shrugs a shoulder, the callousness of her words undermined by the concern in her tone. “Is he ever?”

A small frown touches your lips, and a voice calls out to Loona as she moves to hop into the van. You spot Vortex standing in front of the house, and Loona glances back at you.

“Go say goodbye,” you tell her, closing the door behind Blitzø. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

She smile gratefully, tucking his hair behind her shoulder before she turns and heads towards the other hellhound. You watch them for a moment before you hear Blitzø groan through the window, and you roll your eyes, rounding the van to the driver’s side door.

“Heeeeey…” he slurs as you slide into the seat, flinching as the door closes. He’s laying face down on the seat, his eyes half-closed and a crooked smile on his mouth. “Heeey yoooou…”

You raise an eyebrow, amused despite yourself. “Hey, B. You good?”

“Always,” he says, all drunken bravado, propping his chin up on his hand only for it to slip off, his face meeting the torn seat cushion. “Ow.”

You chuckle, smoothing your hand over his horn. “Uh-huh.”

Blitzø pushes himself up on all fours, leaning towards you unsteadily. His tone is flirtatious, and he blinks out of sync. “Gonna tell me what you’re doin’ here?”

“Loona asked me to take you two home,” you explain patiently.

“Suuuuure,” he sing-songs. “Tryin’ to make sure I’m havin’ a good time?”

“I think you were managing to have one without me,” you say dryly, and Blitzø blinks again before he realizes what you’re talking about.

He snorts, bumping his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuckin’ Dennis…” his breath is warm against your arm, and he almost collapses into your lap. You catch him by the shoulder before he can, holding him steady. “The fuck names their kid fuckin’ Dennis?”

“It’s one of the universe’s biggest myster—”

Your comment is interrupted as Blitzø’s lips meet yours, his breath hot as he moans into the kiss. His tongue presses into your mouth and he pushes the hand holding him up away so he can cup your cheek in his hand. He tastes of Beelzejuice and he leans heavily into you, and whether or not he means to, you’re not sure.

You push him away gently despite the excitement roiling through your stomach, and Blitzø lets you, collapsing against your shoulder. “You’re drunk, B.”

“Yeah…” he groans, but there’s a dazed smile on his face. “Worth it, though. Got to do that.”

You flush, hurriedly fumbling to stick the key in the ignition as Loona opens the passenger side door. She rolls her eye as she sees him leaning so heavily on you, but he waves her away childishly, losing his balance and falling onto your lap.

“For fuck’s sake, Blitzø—”

“It’s fine,” you assure her, starting the car. “At least he’s not trying to drive. Ready to go home?”

She nods, leaning back against the seat with a sigh. “Thanks for coming, Y/N.”

You smile, glancing down at the imp in your lap before you pull away from the curb. Blitzø has curled his hand around your thigh, his face buried stubbornly against your lap.

“Any time.”

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[kalims]

kiss your best friend | scarabia

kiss your best friend and see how they react!

parts. one, two, three, four, five, six, seven

characters. kalim, jamil

includes. gn reader who can be seen as either yuu or another alternative universe

cw. kissing? mutual pining, crack.

jamil viper

probably has the most sane reaction but is also somehow going insane?

I mean yeah, one part of him is going: omg they kissed me! 😵 and the other is like: wtf they kissed me 🤨 he doesn't know if he should be leaping around out of joy or just.. skeptical.

but yeah just assumes that you're being paid for this cause why else would you be doing it?? man does not know how to recognize his self worth fr.

he thinks everything is wrong about it because 1. you're best friends, 2. you’re best friends and they definitely don’t.. kiss each other. (though he wants it to not be wrong it just is.)

like jamil cmon just accept our love and shut up respectfully.

he's kinda cute about it because if you did it out of the blue he's shrinking into his jacket and pulling the hood over his head, tightening it with the use of the lace.

😳 ugh he's so baby girl.

literally does not talk about it ever, and is just waiting for you to. but you notice that his habit of eye contact has decreased rapidly since then.

were you happy that he was being adorably shy or not because he's.. well nevermind you guess that the avoidance of looking at you is also being shy.

JUST CONFESS ALR COWARD 🔪

"why can't you look me in the eyes."

"oh I wonder why." - sarcasm

kalim al asim

does not think anything is wrong about it and maybe during friends he gave you some uhm.. platonic kisses as he called it.

definitely got a lot more touchy compared to before. both of you seem a lot closer than before and it's only in due time where jamil has to be the one to subdue the rumors.

like..

"so you and (name) aren't dating?"

"nope! why does everyone say that?" *kalim looks at u*

*u looking at him with heart eyes and shrugging after*

"I have no idea."

like you guys are almost gaslighting everyone into thinking that you guys aren't dating because there's no way the kiss was a one time thing. loads of people probably saw yall use it as a goodbye or greeting.

maybe you guys just don't have labels?!

kalim is spoiling you a lot already, if you did have a label he probably would have a lot more.

poor jamil has to listen to kalim spout one good thing about you after another then the boy just says: "they're a great friend!" jamil has never wanted to choke kalim so badly.

everyone's just begging you guys to date already because they can't deal with the 'platonic' actions. at this point you're just in denial.

"bye snookums!" kalim

"bye pookie!" you

"SNOOKUMS?!" jamil

"yeah cater taught me!" kalim

oh god there's nicknames now AND YOU GUYS STILL CALL YOURSELVES FRIENDS. who's gonna tell kalim he doesn't do to his other friends the things he does for you.

[thescarletnargacuga]

Time Capsule fic request!

Someone entered the capsule and is in love with Pomni (he actually is a chill and overall nice guy) and later on him and Pomni becoming best friends (maybe he plays the flute and they perform duets a lot)

Caine get jealous but has trouble saying he’s jealous until he overhears the new person confess to Pomni. Caine has now a choice to make…confess to Pomni and whisk her away from this new guy or let Pomni be taken from him.

CHOICE

A TIME CAPSULE SHOWTIME ONESHOT

AU credit @mangotangerinepastry @the-amazing-digital-time-capsule

WARNING: hurt/comfort, jealousy, alcohol, chain smoking

~~~

Pomni danced across the stage, around the flutist she was dueting with. While the flutist stayed mostly in place to maintain control of their breathing, Pomni spun and kicked and swayed. The melodies from their individual instruments flowed together like musical ribbons in the wind. A truly awe inspiring performance.

Caine stood in the shadows just off stage, smiling dreamily at Pomni. The music was almost as beautiful as she was. He did his best to catch as many performances as possible. The focus and poise demonstrated by her was captivating.

The music ended with both performers striking dramatic poses, holding them for the applause. Then, they took their bows and exit stage right. Pomni smiled when she saw Caine.

He had been lightly applauding with a returned smile in his eyes. "Very well done, Pomni." He praised quietly as he walked past her to the stage. He straightened up and threw his hands out, stage voice on. "Wasn't that wonderful, ladies and gentlemen? Let's hear another round of applause for our intrepid orchestral duo!"

Pomni and the flutist had big drinks of water and put away their instruments as Caine introduced the next act. Pomni propped her leg up on a bench and stretched her hamstring. "Ugh, almost gave myself a cramp on that last spin. I don't know why I can't just play. I shouldn't have to dance around like a monkey."

The flutist shrugged. "Audiences demanded it. You know how it is." He locked up his flute case. "Hey, uh, since we're waiting for Gangle to finish, I was wondering if I could talk to you about something." He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously.

Pomni put her leg down and straightened her jacket. "Sure. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, can we..." The flutist looked around. "Speak privately?" He gestured further backstage where they wouldn't be seen by anyone that came through the staff door.

"Okay..?" Pomni followed him to the secluded corner. She anxiously swung her arms at her side. "So, what's up?"

The flutist took a deep breath. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you..."

Pomni froze, eyes widening a little. Oh no.

Caine exited the stage as Gangle entered in a flourish to give her performance. "Jagoffs." He muttered under his breath. The audience deadpan stares always bore into his skin when he did the announcements. He could feel their judging eyes and disdain for those they saw as beneath them. They sickened him.

Looking around he didn't see Pomni, but her violin was still backstage. She wouldn't have left without it. He heard quiet voices coming from the back, barely over the music from Gangle's performance. He walked over with intent to investigate, but paused when he heard the flutist.

"...I enjoy being your friend, and I hope to stay as such even if you say no, but I wanted to tell you that lately I've been feeling- or rather hoping, that we could...be more than that?" The flutist nervously fidgeted in place, struggling to maintain eye contact.

Pomni cringed. Not from the confession, but from how awkward she felt dealing with this kind of conversation. "Oh....um....heh....."

"It's just, I think you're really cool and smart and- and pretty. You're the most amazing woman I've ever met." The flutist was blushing, grateful for the low light. "There are not a lot of options for dates, but maybe we could go for a walk in the botanical gardens? Later today, maybe?"

Caine's mind could barely process what was happening. This wasn't happening. It couldn't. The way Pomni looks and talks to him led him to believe....was he seeing something that was never there?

Pomni gulped. "Listen, I really like you. You're a good performer and an even better friend. You're fun to be around."

Caine heard enough. He couldn't stand listening to another word. Of course it had been wishful thinking. She was interested in someone less broken. Who could blame her? He stormed out the staff door, slamming it hard.

Pomni jumped at the sudden sound and looked around the crates that hid her and the flutist. There had only been one other person around the stage. "Caine?"

~~~

"Fun to be around. That's what she said!" Caine moped as he downed his drink, sitting at Kinger's bar after hours. "I'm fun! Certainly leaps and bounds beyond someone with a flute shoved up their nose every day!"

"Mmhm." Kinger nodded as he idly polished a glass. "And you overheard their whole conversation?"

"No! I wasn't going to stick around and listen to her fawn over him!" Caine tossed his cigarette butt into the ashtray and immediately lit up another. "I don't care if she likes someone else-"

Kinger looked up from his glass, deadpan expression in his eyes.

"Shut up." Caine pointed at him. "I just wish she wouldn't lead ME on while she was at it!"

"What makes you say that? Pomni's a nice girl, I doubt she'd intentionally-"

"THAT'S JUST IT! She's not! Her feminine whiles are too much for me. The way she talks, the way she smiles, hell- even the way she stands while talking to me at any given time, about any given subject, screams interest." Caine finished his drink and tapped the glass on the bar for a refill.

Kinger obliged. "Caine, you're being ridiculous. I've seen the way you two interact. I doubt she's interested in the other guy. You should've stuck about for the but that was obviously coming."

Caine grumbled and drank. "I was kidding myself ever thinking she'd..." He trailed off, holding his head in his hand.

Kinger almost rolled his eyes. "When you're done having your pity party, go talk to her. You care about her don't you?"

Caine didn't answer, his frown only deepened.

Kinger sighed. "Look, whatever choice she made, that's her choice. You must respect that."

".....I do. But I can still be sad about it."

"Fair enough." Kinger could sympathize with heartbreak better than most.

~

Caine's condition did not improve over the coming days. In fact, it worsened. He avoided Pomni at every turn, and spent his off hours drunk off his ass at Kinger's bar and chain smoking like a chimney.

"Filler....up...." Caine slurred, pushing his glass towards Kinger. His head laid on the bar, a half burned cigarette between his teeth.

Kinger took the glass. "I'm cutting you off."

Caine gave a pathetic whine. "Not now...I've almost forgotten how much I....how much I...." Tears spilled out from his teeth.

Kinger wiped down his bar. "If you would just talk to her-"

"I CAN'T!!" Caine spat out his cigarette, scattering ashes. "She won't- she'll just-"

"Stop making assumptions." Kinger said sternly, cleaning up the ashes with some annoyance. "Have you really forgotten the Anniversary Ball already? The way you two danced was like nothing I saw before. And, come on, the bush incident is rather infamous." He chuckled.

"....the....what?" Caine lifted his head slightly. It's dense structure makes his neck droop. "Bush..?"

"Wow, you must be really far gone to not remember the bush. How disheveled and covered in dirt you two were? You're lucky all the guests were too drunk to care."

Caine's bloodshot eyes widened. "You-"

"Oh yeah, we noticed. Plus, Gangle told us all about how she found you. I applaud you, really, gutsy move to do that at an event as important as the anniversary ball."

Caine didn't know how to respond. His memory was fogged by the intense alcohol consumption, but he could just make out the vision of having Pomni beneath him. Her pulling him closer by his tie. His heart racing.

"That was....I don't know what..." Caine grew frustrated and closed his teeth. He held his head in his hands, unsure if he was about to cry again or throw up. The volatile mix of nicotine and alcohol in his system wasn't helping.

Kinger shook his head. "You should really-"

"Meh, meh, meh. I'm Kinger and I know everything about women." Caine childishly mocked. "Just stop. I'm not here for advice. I'm here to pretend I can't feel how much everything hurts."

"I was just going to tell you to look to your right." Kinger nodded to the side.

Caine looked, seeing Pomni sitting on the barstool next to him. "GAH!" His heavy head flew back and dragged his drunk body backwards off his stool. He laid on the floor, dizzy.

"Had enough to not run away this time?" Pomni stared.

Kinger served Pomni a Roy Rogers with a maraschino cherry on top. "Sorry about him, Pomni. He's having an...episode."

Pomni smirked. "Thank you. I'll handle him." She sipped her drink.

Caine rolled over, slowly getting to his knees and even more slowly climbing the bar to get back on his stool. He was hardly capable of coherent thought, let alone fast movements at this point. He thought for a second to summon BUBLE's teleport, he certainly wouldn't have felt it, but the way she looked at him was enough to convince him to stay. He'd missed those eyes.

"You've been avoiding me." Pomni's smirk faltered.

"You've noticed." Caine rubbed his bloodshot eyes.

"Didn't take much. You're not as subtle as you think you are."

Caine felt the hit to his ego all the way in his chest.

Kinger was struggling not to laugh as he cleaned glasses.

Caine dragged his hands down his face. "....why are you here?"

"You overhead me talking to the flutist, didn't you?"

"...yes." Caine eventually admitted.

"Did you hear me turn him down?"

"N- huh??" Caine's head did not like him looking at her so suddenly.

Pomni sipped her drink. "Yeah, I wasn't interested. We're still friends. He's a good guy, but my romantic intrigue lies elsewhere."

"You like someone else..?" Caine couldn't process her words. Too many thoughts were happening at once.

Pomni smiled. "Oh yeah. He's tall, handsome, runs a circus. You might know him?"

Caine stared. One eye blinked before the other. "....I run the circus."

Pomni's drink came out her nose, and Kinger couldn't hold back anymore. Both of them broke into fits of laughter. Kinger pounded his fist on the bar. Pomni coughed and held the cocktail napkin to her face.

Caine was taken aback. "What's so funny?"

"You- HA! You actual dumbass!" Kinger was crying with laughter.

Pomni wiped her face and coughed the rest of her soda out of her wind pipe. Her nose burned. "Caine," She giggled. "Of course it's you. I'm telling you: I like YOU. Honestly, I thought you already knew that."

"But, I haven't done anything. I haven't made the move yet."

Pomni gave him a sympathetic smile. "Times have changed. You don't have to make the first move. Though, if you insist, I'm waiting." She leans against the bar, giving him an inviting look.

Caine sits up, ramrod straight, and looks at Kinger. "Uhhh-"

Kinger put his six hands up, still half laughing. "Don't look at me. You're on your own with this." He wiped up the mess Pomni made and turned his back.

Caine swallowed hard. He wasn't sober enough for this. "Pomni, I... I'm sorry. I was- I AM such an idiot."

"Good start." Kinger said from the sink.

"I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU WEREN'T HELPING!!" Caine snapped.

Kinger's shoulders shook as he chuckled.

"Go on, Caine. I'm listening." Pomni put her hand on his.

Caine could feel his heart hammering, his head swimming. "I can only ask for a chance. Will you allow me...to take you...on a date?"

Pomni grabbed his disheveled shirt and pulled him in to kiss the side of his lower jaw. "Yes."

Caine was stunned. "I love you." He drunkenly drolls out.

"Slow down, tiger." Pomni laughs.

[a-maru-writesback]

(Inspired by random videos on insta and the Caleb trailer obvs :3)

It was morning and he was coming home from an exhausting flight; tired and smelling like absolute dog shit, he set his bag on the “here live two pipsqueaks” carpet as he reached for his keys - the small apple chain met his fingers -, he smiled at the frowning little fruit, a gift from his girlfriend who had tried calling him every day - 50 missed calls, he remembered, laughing. He had expected to find her somewhere in the study with some fantasy book or in the living room all cozy with her laptop on the square arm of the sofa - reading or writing something for work. What he did not expect was to find her very giggly form hanging upside down from the stairs. Her hair falling as a cascade - and as her eyes met his, a twinkle of mischief crossed them “Welcome home - hiccup - my very own super-perfect-strong-boyfriend!” A very confused Caleb approached her carefully, his eye picking up a shiny object in the corner - two glass bottles of alcohol - rolling side to side, empty.

His eyes were observing her, squinting. ‘Naughty girl’, he thought as he amusingly fought her limbs to unhook her legs from the space between the bannisters. She was laughing and dodging as she could from his grasp.

“Pipsqueak!” His tone was stern - a similar tone to the one his superiors used on him - and suddenly she ressembled a wounded bunny, stopping completely her struggle; and his heart melted slightly -, but he needed to get her out of that position, or the stubborn girl would be feeling even worse than just the regular hangover.

On his arms, she finally seemed to calm down, playing with the straps of his jacket and staring at no particular part of him - her wandering eyes would settle on his side burn; now shorter than she remembered - his jawline sharp and masculine; and she guessed it was just part of his new self, the serious-pilot-Caleb. He had told her he was eyeing a promotion, and she was left thinking that perhaps she did not want things to change - like ever.

“C-Caleb” she sounded low as mouse, “I can walk, you know”. He lowered his head and smiled at her frown, “can you, though? I just found you hanging like a bat... maybe you would be better off flying in caves, pipsqueak.” he said, and she playfully scrunched her nose at him.

She was sitting on the fluffy toilet cover now, head spinning and index hooked in his belt loop, trying to steady herself. “Caleb-I...” she swallowed the feeling of nausea, “I don’t feel so good...”

He gave her a glass of water, “see... told you”

She slowly drank, trying not to focus on the dancing spots and swirling tiles. With a squint, she finished the drink and handed the glass back to him, “ugh”

His hands rubbed her arms, warming up her skin, “should I just put you on a leash, so you don’t go around causing chaos?”

She laughed as a hiccup hit her, “I’m not a dog, Caleb... or a bat...you giant!”

She felt much better now, being able to stand by herself, “I feel disgusting” she croaked, as she felt her own breath.

He sighed and asked her to sit again, “but I’m much better now!”

She tried to walk out of the bathroom, but he was quicker - grabbing her wrist and pulling her gently -, and the way her feet nearly missed a step told him all he needed to know - she was not okay to go on her own, even if the distance was small from the bathroom to their bedroom, “sit there and accept your punishment... or do you prefer the leash?” His pink-lavender eyes were full of playfulness.

“Ugh, okay, okay. Go ahead.” She shooed him with a lazy motion.

He had the brush and the toothpaste ready, as he faced her, “open up”, he said in a high-pitch; and she did as told. The girl looked away, trying to escape his eyes - for some reason, this type of proximity surprised her. They had been intimate before, obviously, and he had looked inside her eyes if not more intensely than this; but maybe it was a side effect of the alcohol. Something in the attention he was giving her made her heart flutter.

He smiled at her flushed state.

As he slowly massaged her teeth, he noticed her eyes begin to droop, “just a bit more”.

“Zis ‘s show shtoopit” he barked a laugh at her attempt of speaking with her mouth full of the foamy substance, “well, next time, ask yourself, would Caleb do that? Then you won’t get into these situations.” He still held her chin.

She groaned loudly, “if I asked what would Caleb do, I’d end up abandoning you for a whole month!”

And suddenly she covered her mouth, the minty toothpaste still lingering.

He eyed her, with an unfamiliar tiredness to his eyes. “Done.”

She could feel the weight of her limbs - and Caleb seemed to pick it up as well.

All it took was a small sniff from his girl for him to kneel and hold her face gently in his big hands again, “I’m sorry, baby. I know I should’ve called; sent a letter; I don’t know... sent smoke signals”, he sighed, “but it’s just been...well, it’s been hell over there and I haven’t really had downtime.”

She grabbed his sleeve, her eyes filled with tears that were about to spill, “’m sorry, my Colonel”.

He laughed softly, “hey, not yet... but I wouldn’t complain if you called me so when the time comes...”

Her fingers were still hanging on the leather, “I shouldn’t have drank... it’s just I kept seeing those documentaries of wives that lost they husbands in the military; and I kinda lost it...” she said with a slight nasal voice, followed by a broken laughter.

Husband.

He took her hand in his, “I won’t disappear; or die on you, ever”.

She hugged his neck with force and brashness, “you promise?”

“I promise” his fingers were on the back of her head, feeling the familiar texture of her locks - he had missed her so.

Then, his head recoiled, searching her eyes, “pipsqueak, who would I be without you?” But his voice did not carry that teasing tone no longer; and he brushed her cheek with his thumb, “let’s go to bed”.

He hooked his arms under her and carried his girl to the bedroom where both lied down on the mattress; hugging her, he began to share her drowsiness. It had been a long flight to Linkon City, and he could feel his mind shutting off.

Then, he noticed the sniffing on his side, “baby, what’s up? Are you feeling ok?”

She sniffed harder and said in a croaked voice, “yeah, I mean, not really... ugh”

“Come on” he poked her shoulder and offered her a tired smile, “remember our pact?”

She nodded with teary eyes, “we tell each other everything”

“That’s right!” he petted her hair twice and continued, “can you tell me what’s going through that head of yours?”

She looked up for a few seconds, “It’s just that... do you think I’m a good hunter?”

He looked at her with a puzzled expression, his full brows joined, “huh? Where did that come from, baby?”

He remembered a time back at school as he crossed the long hall - he had stopped to watch her presentation on “The Career of my Dreams” -, when she had told the entire class she would be a hunter one day, with a proud smile; and the other kids laughed at her, telling her how could someone like her make it into the tough and prestigious organization? Every year, hundreds of candidates left the gates of the examination site with defeated spirits - never to come back; well, most of them at least. She would always try, though, being a stubborn pipsqueak. It had been the third time, when she turned to him and screamed through the call, ‘I got in!’. It was the same type of expression, the same doubt of her own skills...

“If you weren’t, do you think you’d still be working with them?” He said.

She could see his logic, and yet something in her head still told her she wasn’t good enough, as her numbers had not gone up for a few months now - and she had denied an invitation from Tara for a party because the alcohol made her head go to places she did not want to go; and Caleb wasn’t home, and the documentaries...

“Come here”, he opened his arms; and she moved inside them, getting cozy in his warmth. From here, she could feel his heartbeats, and a tranquility washed over her - she would always wonder how could he soothe her with just a hug.

“You’re incredible, baby”, she said, with her eyes half-closing.

“Heh, if I couldn’t comfort my girlfriend, what kind of shitty boyfriend would I be?”

But she was already asleep as he said that; and he smiled amused, “hmm, sleep comes so easy to you, huh?” But then he remembered the nights she spent holding his hands, breathing hard, and released a breath, relieved “that’s good, baby”. He would gladly lend his chest if it meant she would sleep like that every night. The shower would have to wait until this sleepyhead was up and running with her usual morning energy.

(Sweet Boyfriend!Caleb owns my heart)

(Also, I'm back at EN VA bc I'm tired of reading subtitles)

[psychosith]

Echo

cal kestis x reader

summary: despite being close for years, you and cal go your separate ways after a particularly harsh argument. cal doesn’t see or hear of you for a long time, but stumbles across an old jacket of yours that reveals something to him

warnings: angsttttt, yelling/arguing, injuries, death, perhaps ooc!mean cal

a/n: i’m so sorry to the reqs sitting in my drafts ive had no motivation😭 specifically to the person who requested modern!anakin @ a halloween party it’s a little late for that now i feel like…. but anyways y’all might not know this but i’m obsessed w our boy cal and UGH. this prompt from @fallen-vic just struck me right and i had to get writing right away

the last four months had been a blur.

one second you were stripping an old star destroyer on bracca with cal, and the next he was fighting an imperial inquisitor while you cowered away in the corner. then you had boarded a ship with a lanky woman and abrasive latero. they had taken you to a planet hidden from the empire, a place where you thought you and cal could live safely. you couldn’t have been more wrong.

cal returned from the temple on bogano that first day talking about restoring the jedi order and a holocron? from there, it was all downhill. back and forth between kashyyyk, zeffo, and dathomir, all the while cal was forced to face strong enemies that left him on the brink of death every day. and you were tasked with patching him up at the end of every mission.

too many times have you entered his rooms while he was preparing to leave again and begged him to stay. it was always the same answer- i’ll be back before you know it. he couldn’t know, though, the feelings you harbored for him. he couldn’t understand how it pained you physically to watch him leave and come back beaten and bruised. but you stayed, because you loved him, and because you believed he wanted you with him.

it was all too much for you today. it seemed insane; they were planning to infiltrate the fortress inquisitorius and retrieve the holocron. you had stopped on a small planet to stock up on supplies before the big mission, and you were in your usual position: pleading with cal.

“cal, please,” you begged, tears welling up in your eyes. “this is just- it’s too dangerous cal! i mean, an imperial fort, for fucks sake! cal, if you didn’t come back from this… i don’t know-“

he cut you off with a reassuring hand on your arm. “y/n, i’ll be alright. i’ll have cere with me, and i’m stronger than ever. trust me.”

“you say that every time, you know. and every time, without fail, you come back closer to death than i’ve ever seen you. cal, we’ve found you passed out in the mud on kashyyyk. we’ve found you slumped against a generator on zeffo with a blaster wound in your stomach. no one will be there to find you if things go wrong this time, cal.” you say numbly, vaguely aware that there’s nothing you can say to make him stay.

“you’re being dramatic.” he says plainly. “you have no reason to be worried. i always come back, y/n. this time will be no different. you need to calm down.”

you groan in frustration, at his naïveté. “no, cal! you don’t understand… how much it hurts to watch you go. and who knows where you would be without me to put your pieces back together.”

you hear him scoff and look down at your hands as tears finally fall down your cheeks. you can tell he’s stressed by the tension in his shoulders.

“without you? y/n, i don’t need you to do this.” his words hurt, but you try to tell yourself the mission is getting to his head, that he doesn’t mean what he’s saying.

“y/n,” he says, waving a hand in front of your face, “did you hear me? i. don’t. need. you. if you’re so worried about me, maybe you should just leave. then i wouldn’t be bothering you so much.” he stood up angrily and marched off.

was he being honest? did he really want you to leave? all these years you had told yourself that he needed you with him, but maybe you had been mistaken.

you didn’t give yourself time to think. cere and greez had both made it clear that your presence on the mantis was unnecessary, and now that cal had said the same you had to go. you only packed the bare essentials: a canister of water, a couple weeks of rations, and a thick jacket for cold nights. you left through the front entrance without a word to anyone. cal simply watched you go.

a year later - cal's pov

there was no use in trying to hide it, it had been a hard year for cal. a year made much harder by your absence. he had tried to tell himself that you leaving was your decision, that it wasn't his fault. but as he played the argument over in his mind he found himself regretting everything he'd said. cal had been nervous, scared even, of the upcoming mission in the fortress. he'd let trilla and the empire get in his head, and it had cost him everything.

even after he'd retrieved the holocron - and ultimately destroyed it - he never searched for you. he didn't know why. the urge had struck him many times, but he never knew where to begin looking or what he would say to get you back.

it hurt even now, as cal lay in his bunk on the mantis weeping silently to himself. the mantis was empty, the engine humming softly as it flew through hyperspace. all the lights were out and cal's pillow was damp with tears. he hesitantly rose from his bed, staggering to the navigation panel in a sleep-deprived stupor. his cheeks are stained and his hair is tousled as he falls back into the pilot's chair, and he plugs the coordinates to a forgotten outer rim planet into the navigation system.

cal was exhausted, hungry, and mentally drained, but he managed to make it back to his bunk before he passed out.

. . .

something in the cockpit beeped quite loudly, waking cal from his sleep and alerting him that they were nearing their destination. the royal blue color of nez peron was pleasing to the eye, but brought back painful memories for cal. this was where they had made their last supply run before heading toward the fortress. this was the last place he saw the love of his life.

landing the mantis was the easy part; finding you, not so much. cal started in the sparse cities, scanning cantinas and shops, asking about a y/n l/n at every apartment complex and inn. he began to lose hope as he neared the edge of the latest city. just then he remembered you talking absentmindedly as he worked on his lightsaber, saying how it was your dream to live in the forest and live off the lands. it sounded crazy at the time, but now it made sense.

with a newfound passion, cal began searching the forests and plains for you. each dead end made him want to find you more and more, but there were no signs of life anywhere he looked.

one day, he was scanning the ground for any human tracks when a piece of fabric caught his eye. it was dusty, black, and oddly familiar. there were pieces of the same fabric just a little further up the trail he was following. up ahead, cal could just make out the shape of your thick winter coat on the ground.

his steps picked up into a light jog as he neared the jacket. as he examined it closer, he saw a dark stain had dried down on the stomach, and when he bent over to pick it up he was flooded with a powerful force echo.

_______

you had misjudged how hard life in the wild would be. the coat you wore did almost nothing to keep you warm, the water you brought only lasted for a few days, and the rations you thought would last had gone bad within the month. you were cold and hungry, and had only a pairing knife to ward off any threats in the forest. this would be a crucial mistake.

it was a particularly cold day and you were resting against a tree when you heard the crunch of leaves and the distinct mechanical whirring of an electrostaff. raiders. well, just one this time. it was a difficult feat, but you managed to ward off the raider not without sustaining many injuries. you had garnered a deep wound in your thigh and a large gash in your shoulder, luckily most of your vital organs were intact.

you hardly had time to catch your breath before a large mammal had sprung up from a ditch and pinned you to the ground. you screamed and struggled for your knife. your wounds had impaired your fighting skills, and you didn’t last long before the predator had beaten you into the floor. it was so, so cold. you must have lost your jacket at some point. you supposed the animal had lost interest, as it wandered off back into the trees, leaving you in a pool of your own blood.

the sun set behind the trees and you were still laying there, unable to move, slowly succumbing to the cold embrace of death. you could form only one coherent thought in your adrenaline crazed mind, and thus it became your last word.

“cal”

_______

the memory was like a knife to the heart for cal. he was helpless as he watched you draw your last breath, only to utter his name before closing your eyes for the final time. it finally dawned on him.

you were dead.

cal fell to his knees beside your tattered coat, a broken cry escaping his lips. it was all his fault. if’s and should’ves ran circles around his mind, but he understood the depth of this. you were gone, stolen from this world far to soon. cal mourned. he sobbed into his hands for hours on end, cursing you for leaving, cursing cere and greez for letting you leave, and cursing himself for letting his love for you blind him. of course he needed you. he always would. but he couldn’t have you any more.

his mind was blurry as he frantically followed the path he was on, searching for your body. he tripped and stumbled down a leaf covered hill, where he saw you. you were exactly as you were in the force echo, but your cheeks were hollow and your skin was sickly green. you had been dead for a long time. cal ran to your body, crying your name. he hoisted you into his arms and wept into your dirty hair.

“i love you” he muttered softly, hoping that perhaps you could hear the words he was to cowardly to speak when you were alive.

a/n 2: BYE the ending is so rushed. sorry.