#Look up what foods contain what and make a list of which foods you like contain which thing your body needs

[1969chevycamaro]

Hi, I have been through shit before. GOOD ADVICE OP!!!!

You're physical condition affects your mental condition. If you're tired and exhausted, you'll feel like crap both mentally and physically. You need more energy. The two ways to restore energy are sleep and eat. Eating is a more versatile method, but never underestimate a good sleep.

TLDR: If you feel like shit, eat something healthy and make sure you are hydrated

legit the best advice i can give you: feed your friends

any time someone is in any kind of crisis or upheaval, offer to feed them. tell them they don’t have to choose what it is if they can’t make decisions, just ask about allergies and preferences and tell them you’re just gonna make food happen at their house.

friend having a baby? delivery gift certificate to order food to the hospital after the kid shows up.

someone’s relative passes away? offer to make them dinner.

buddy gets laid off? ask if you can order them lunch.

pal stuck in a depressive episode? offer to drive them to fucking mcdonalds, if that’s what they want.

people in crisis are tired and sad and angry and the last thing most of them are doing is thinking about feeding themselves. so if you have the ability or time or money, providing that is always, always a good move.

legit i do this all the time, and it is 100% always appreciated. i have taught all my friends that when something happens, we feed each other. it makes people feel extremely cared for, and I cannot recommend it enough.

[woniedarlin]

Runaway Bride

Pairing: Jungwon x fem! Reader

Synopsis: You are about to marry Jungwon after having a sweet and dramatic relationship for years. Everyone thinks you two are perfect for each other—two pure souls meant to be together. But as the wedding march starts, you panic and run away, leaving Jungwon, the dramatic groom, chasing after his runaway bride. Another cute disaster, right?

Author's note: This is inspired by a TikTok art video that I saw month ago, and it suited the characters of my previous work. Happy Reading!

Warning: This story contains exaggerated drama and humor. Expect a lot of crying.

Permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n

Sequel of Two of a Kind but can be stand alone!

“I CAN’T MARRY YOU! YOU’RE TOO GOOD FOR ME!” You screamed as you bolted out, the long train of your wedding dress trailing behind you. Tears streamed down your face, but you couldn’t stop running. You had no idea what was happening, but everything felt overwhelming.

Jungwon, in his perfectly tailored groom suit, was running after you.

He didn't know what was happening but wouldn’t let you escape. “WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!” His voice echoed behind you, panicked. He was running fast, but your wedding gown made you surprisingly fast as you sped down the steps. “YOU CAN’T JUST RUN AWAY LIKE THIS!”

You looked back over your shoulder, feeling the weight of your dress pulling you down, but you kept going. “YOU’RE TOO NICE TO ME! YOU’RE TOO PERFECT! I—I can’t keep up!” You shouted breathlessly, trying to shake him off as if it would make everything make sense again.

“I—I—” Jungwon stammered, trying to catch his breath while still chasing after you. He didn’t know why you said this, but he didn’t want to lose you. “What does that even mean?! I’m too nice? Is that a problem?” His voice cracked, his forehead glistening with sweat as he closed the distance between you two. “You’re making no sense!”

‘’AH!’’ You stumbled, nearly tripping on the hem of your dress, but you quickly regained your footing, still running as if your life depended on it. “You always do everything right!” you continued, voice shaky. “You bring me flowers for no reason, you make me laugh when I’m sad, you always know how to make everything better… and I—I can’t keep up with that! I don’t deserve you! You deserve someone perfect, not me!” You gasped for air.

“I CAN BE LESS NICE!” Jungwon cried out as he suddenly threw himself face-down onto the grass. “I’LL RUIN MY HAIR! I’LL—” He popped his head up, dirt smeared on his cheek. He became more desperate. “I-I WON’T COOK YOUR FAVORITE FOODS,” he said, though it pained him.

He reached out to grab your hands, holding them tightly. He continued, “Don’t leave me! I’ll… I’ll learn to be slightly annoying! I’ll forget your birthday! I’ll stop replacing the toilet paper roll! PLEASE MARRY ME!”

You then looked down at him while hiccuping. ‘’You spend many gifts on me! You have too much money!’’

‘’I’LL MAKE MYSELF BROKE THEN!’’

You sobbed loudly, dramatically wiping your cheeks with your veil, which had long since slid crookedly down your face. “NO! I DON’T WANT YOU TO CHANGE!” you screamed, your voice echoing in the open field where you had fled. “THAT’S THE PROBLEM, JUNGWON! YOU’RE TOO NICE, TOO PERFECT, AND IT’S TOO MUCH!” You hiccupped.

Jungwon’s eyes widened, and tears spilled down his cheeks as he reached out to you. “BUT THAT’S WHO I AM!” he cried, his voice cracking. “AND I CAN’T CHANGE THAT, EVEN IF I WANTED TO! PLEASE, DON’T MAKE ME CHANGE BECAUSE I DON’T WANT YOU TO CHANGE EITHER!”

His words pained you as your tears suddenly streamed faster. “I don’t want you to change either!” your voice breaking. “I just—I just feel like I don’t deserve you, Jungwon!”

Jungwon stood abruptly. “And who cares if I think that?! I deserve you! You don’t get to decide how much you mean to me! You don’t get to run away because you think you’re not enough! You are enough for me, do you hear me?! You always have been!”

You let out a loud sob, throwing yourself into his arms. “FINE! I’LL MARRY YOU!” you cried, your voice muffled against his chest as you clung to him. “I’m sorry! I love you!”

Jungwon wrapped his arms around you as tightly as he could. “I love you too,”

You both stood in the middle of the field, crying and clutching each other. Finally, Jungwon pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands. “Let’s go back?” he said softly, though his smile was affectionate.

“Of course,” you sniffled, laughing even as more tears fell.

Jungwon smiled brightly, leaning down to kiss your forehead softly. “Come on, runaway bride,” he said, taking your hand. “Let’s go back and finish what we started. I’ll even carry you so you don’t trip on that dress again.”

Jungwon held your hand tightly as you both made your way back to the church, his other hand gripping your bouquet, which he’d picked up during your dramatic escape. You pushed open the grand doors, and every head in the room turned toward you two. A collective gasp echoed through the crowd as they saw you—tears streaking your faces, your dress a little wrinkled, Jungwon’s hair a mess, and both of you clutching each other.

The officiant is utterly confused, and your family sits with their mouths agape. “What in the world—” someone muttered, but you didn’t hear it over your nervous giggle.

“Sorry!” you chirped. You glanced at Jungwon, who smiled tearfully, his eyes still red. “We, um… just needed a little moment outside. But we’re ready now!”

Jungwon raised his free hand awkwardly in a wave. “Yeah. Sorry for the drama,”

Everyone sighed in relief, though the whispers in the crowd didn’t stop. The officiant hesitated but gave a slight nod. “Very well. Let us continue, then.”

You and Jungwon shuffled back to the altar, hand in hand. As the ceremony began, you glanced at him and caught him staring at you, tears welling in his eyes again. You sniffled, and when the officiant asked you to say your vows, it felt like a dam had broken. “I—I can’t even talk,” you sobbed, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your dress. “I just… I love you so much!”

Jungwon sniffled loudly and covered his face with his hands. “Don’t start crying again! I’ll cry too!” he wailed, but his voice cracked, and his tears spilled.

When the officiant finally said, “You may now kiss the bride,” Jungwon didn’t wait a second. He leaned in, pressing a tear-soaked, clumsy kiss to your lips, and you kissed him back with all the love and happiness in the world. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, though you barely heard it.

You pulled back, still crying, and he grinned at you through his tears. “We made everyone wait, huh?”

You giggled, brushing his hair out of his face. “Worth it,” you whispered before kissing him again,

The world around you is fading into nothing but pure love.

[chocogoldie]

Love Slip

bakugo katsuki x fem!reader

genre: fluff

contains: established relationship, a bit suggestive at one point

short continuation of Nip Slip 18+

It's been a while since the two of you started dating. Approximately three months, two days and forty-three minutes. But who's keeping count?

During your time together, you've come to learn many things about the blond ticking time bomb:

One, he's a very organized and clean guy. He has to-do lists separated into categories in his phones' notepad app, a strict schedule he follows everyday to stay in shape — not that he needs it, but getting to brag about being able to lift you up certainly strokes his ego — and an extremely neat room that stays neat no matter what. He brushes his teeth three times a day, eats healthy meals, has a proper skincare routine and smells of sweet caramel even when he's dripping with sweat coming back from the gym or from an intense training session with your classmates. ln short, his hygiene is top notch.

Two, he's a little bit of a gym freak. Not that you'd ever mind, you even find it hot most of the time, but sometimes he gets provoked by his other gym buddies, mainly Kirishima and Kaminari, to try out all sorts of exercises with you on his back. Push-ups, squats, even yoga poses, literally anything they can think of just to see if it'd work. You've fallen on your ass more than he'd like, or care, to admit. Not because he wasn't strong, no, but because you cannot concentrate on holding onto him for the life of you, always getting distracted by the way his muscles flex and how he grunts from exertion. It's a sight for sore eyes, strands of hair sticking to his forehead while his usually spiky hair dampens and falls down beautifully, framing his face. It reminds you of your first night together, so of course you wouldn't be able to pay attention to anything else. You don't mention how incredibly good he looks in his compression shirts. Yes, he bought multiple after you oggled him up and hinted at loving the way they fit muscly men.

And last but not least, he's clingier than anyone you've ever met which is a stark, and quite frankly adorable, contrast to his sharp appearance. You're working on some assignments? He's bringing you food and making himself comfortable on your bed while putting on a weird dating show on the TV, occasionally checking up on you to remind you to take breaks. You're going for a quick grocery run? He doesn't waste a second to throw on whatever clothes he can find and join you, walking around the store with the shopping cart and imagining you two as a married couple well into your marriage shopping for your little family. You're taking a bath? Scooch over, he's helping you wash your hair and back. You're feeling sad? He's bringing your favorite ice cream and listening to you vent while gently running his hands over your face, back, thighs, arms, anywhere to soothe you. He cradles your face when your sobbing gets louder, pressing his forehead against yours to help ground you into reality, to snap yourself out of your worries by murmuring “I'm here, baby,” or “I got you”. All in all, he's a big softie for you.

He often shows his affection through his actions, but sometimes when the two of you are alone and in the silence of your bedrooms, he pushes his embarrassment aside and spills his heart out. He vents about hero work, about how he doesn't think he's good enough, or rather, nice enough to be a hero, always ending up berating people to hide his true intentions and words. It's something he's always struggled with, but he's been working on it constantly with you, his friends, and in therapy. He tells you everything about what happened during his time in highschool, how the man literally died for a minute, and how much that impacted his life onwards. You listen intently and comfort him through it, crushing him into a tight embrace to remind him you're there for him as well and that you'd do anything to make him happy. He tells you that your presence is enough.

He whispers soft “I love you”'s each night before you two drift off to sleep, letting his hand rest on the small of your back underneath your shirt, needing to feel your skin against his to be able to sleep. The warmth your body provides gets rid of his reoccurring nightmares and allows him to sleep soundly throughout the night with you by his side. And he very quickly realizes he never wants to lose you. Ever.

Because he might've slipped into having a little crush on you, but he willingly chose to fall in love with you.

�� chocogoldie 2024. do not translate, copy, or repost.

a/n: a little smth i came up with while waiting for the poll to finish :3 hope u enjoyed it! not proofread

[kining-the-evil]

120 house md :))

Prompt: “Your hair is so soft…” (the prompt list I’m doing it from)

Warnings: none

An: I did House sisnce you didn’t specify a character. If you wanted someone else feel free to send in a new request

“What’s the point of coming to a doctor if you refuse to take their help?”

You watched as Greg paced in front of you, his cane making a hard thunk everytime it hit the ground. He had been complaining for the past 15 minutes about two parents who were apparently fighting him on every suggestion he made for their son who was sick.

The case had already lasted a week, and after your husband refused to come home three nights in a row you had decided to bring in a freshly made meal and force him to eat. Instead, he completely ignored the warm container of food and instead immediately started complaining about the family. Although, to be fair, you hadn’t really been listening to him. Instead you were taking in his appearance.

He was in the same clothes he’d left the apartment in a few days ago, though the jacket was slung over his desk and the shirt was significantly more wrinkled than it had been when he’d left. His scruff had grown out slightly from missing his weakly shave, and his hair… god his hair. It was all messy and sticking up slightly. You couldn’t help but wish your fingers were running through it.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Nope.” You hummed happily as you ran a hand over your skirt. Your eyes glanced back up to see your husband staring at you, and you motioned for him to come closer. When he did you reached up to tug him down onto the seat with you, and once he was at your hight you ran a hand through his hair. “Your hair is so soft…” you hummed as your fingers ran through it.

Greg looked at you for a moment before sighing and turning in the seat to lay down, his head resting on your lap. You took this as permission and began running your hand through his hair repeatedly, scratching his scalp every so often. Your husband was quiet for a moment before launching back into his complaining like nothing had happened.

After a bit the door to his office was thrown open and the three assistants you’d only ever met once came storming in. “House, we didn’t find anything just like I said we wouldn’t-“ whoever it was cut himself off when he saw yourself and your husband on the couch.

“Human error, check again,” Greg demanded without missing a beat, but none of them moved. Greg held his head up slightly to see them better. “What are you waiting for? An invitation?”

“Who’s that?” A man with some sort of accent asked (you a summed Australian).

“The woman who’s gonna watch you all get fired if you don't go now!” Greg snapped, which seemed to be all they needed as the three were rushed out of the room.

“You didn’t tell them you were married?”

“Why would I? I don’t want to appear human,” he said as he laid his head back down on your lap and you continued to comb through his hair

[mariasont]

Office Sleepover 3 - A.H

a/n: yeehaw this took me way longer than i thought but here she be

i feel like im so ass at writing smut so just bear with me yall

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

part one here! part two here!

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which reader gets put on a hit-list and has to stay in the office (kind of based off when penelope got put on a hit-list by the dirty dozen)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, hungover reader, unwanted attention from some rando, awk as fuck reader, fingering, dirty talk, doing the dirty in the office, definitely illegal, definitely probably caught on cameras

wc: 4.2k

Everything hurt--your stomach churned, your head throbbed, and your eyes burned. You squeezed them shut, feeling your body tense against the stiff fabric of the pull-out couch. Fists curled tightly, you gradually let your eyelids part, casting a slow, sweeping glance around the room, trying to piece together what the hell happened.

Pain hammered around the inside of your head. You desperately needed a hefty dose of Advil--ten at least. As though your mind had materialized them, you rolled over to discover a bottle and a glass of water on the nightstand. You assumed you had JJ to thank, though the certainty of that was as fuzzy as your thoughts. Each effort to reconstruct last night's events was a stab to your already excruciating migraine.

You had all your clothes on, that was a plus considering your notorious history with wine and stripping. Stripping. Your hand slapped over your mouth, a floodgate of recollections bursting through--calling Hotch in a wine-induced haze, flashing your tits, asking him to stay.

You were in full-blown panic mode, the sudden urge to throw up clawing at your throat. The bed was empty, save for yourself, but you vividly remember Hotch laying down with you. This only left two possibilities: he left after you fell asleep or it had been a figment of your imagination. You were desperately hoping it was the latter.

But clearly, the universe had its own plan, because there he was, leaning against the door frame, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a paper bag that, by the smell of it, contained greasy food.

With a throat like sandpaper and sweaty palms, you met your boss's gaze. "Hotch," you croaked, pausing to swallow. "Um, good morning--or is it? My sleep schedule's always off after drinking. It feels bright in here, right? It's also kinda hot, is the AC working?"

You impulsively rose from the bed, a decision you instantly regretted as the room seemed to spin around you in protest.

"Sit down," he commanded, a firmness in his voice that brooked no opposition, and you promptly sat your ass back down, watching him with an expectant look.

You attempted to read his face, but it was a blank slate, making you that much more nervous. He must hate you, you figured, because you certainly hated yourself. Your boss had seen your nipples. A wave of heat washed over you, and you clenched your eyes shut, as if that could make this situation disappear.

"Here," he said, handing you the coffee and the bag, then gesturing to the Advil on the counter. "Take that, and I know you might not feel like eating, but it's necessary. The food and coffee will stabilize your blood sugar levels."

"Right, yeah, course," you nod, accepting the items with shaky hands, holding the cup with a grip that's a little too firm. "Listen, sir, I'm really sorry about last night. I promise I don't usually drink that much. I don't even know how I got that drunk, and I know I acted completely inappropriate towards you. If you need to file a complaint, I understand. Again, I'm just so sorry..."

You wanted to cry, but you held it back, knowing it would only make this whole situation worse. You deliberately avoided his eyes, focusing on anything but him while you absentmindedly toyed with the breakfast sandwich in your hands.

After a moment, he releases a soft sigh, the mattress sinking slightly as he settled beside you, his knee gently knocking yours.

"I'm aware this week's been tough on you. It's, uh, clear you weren't thinking straight, and I'm not about to make a formal issue out of a slip-up."

Your head dipped, as you tried to fend off the rising warmth in your face. "I don't think I can ever look you in the eyes again."

"That feels dramatic," he pointed out, a chuckle in his voice that made you glance his way. "Trust me, it's already forgotten."

That was a lie. He may have lacked Reid's eidetic abilities, but there was no possible, imaginative way that he would forget the image of you topless--it was imprinted in his memory. In fact, it had become the sole focus of his thoughts ever since. He silently thanked the gods that it was a Saturday, and he didn't have any pressing work issues.

"Somehow, that's not very comforting," you replied, a suppressed giggle breaking through as you met his gaze. "So, did you, um, end up staying over?"

Your cheeks glowed with a soft pink, hands unconsciously smoothing over your thighs--a nervous habit of yours he had quickly taken notice of. It emerged involuntarily when you faced tough cases, or when your computer took too long to start up, or even when the elevator made an unexpected noise.

"I did," he admitted, "You shouldn't have been alone."

Your whole body felt like it was on fire, and you were weirdly frustrated that you couldn't recall being the same bed as him, being able to feel his body against yours. You bet he was warm, and soft, and large against you.

"Thank you."

His phone went off. "Hotchner."

Your eyes followed his movements, noting the firm nods, watching as he stood, his expression hardening, jaw tightening, and hand coming to rest on his chin as he faced away from you.

The phone call was brief, and he quickly turned his attention back to you. "We've got a case."

And it was quite the case--three male victims, all in their forties. Each crime scene was close to Quantico, about twenty minutes, sparing the team any extensive travel. Though, after last night, you don't think you would have minded if they had been halfway across the country.

You were really banking on Hotch's ability to keep things professional, knowing full well that if Morgan caught wind of this, you'd be better off dead.

The team was huddled around the briefing table, absorbing Garcia's detailed rundown of the killings--they were violent to say the least--with heads bashed in and over twenty stab wounds per victim. Whoever was doing this was angry.

Hotch eventually split everyone up into tasks—Spencer and Morgan to the crime scenes, JJ and Emily interviewing the families, and Rossi was tasked with convening with the local police force. So, you know who that left at the office? You, Hotch, and Penelope. What a great group.

You avoided both of them, a pattern that had become all too familiar you had realized. Hunched over your desk, you were engrossed in sending Spencer images of your latest research on the town. True to form, he responded--Can you just fax that over to the police station?--because god forbid, he has to read it from his phone.

So, there you were, barely resisting the urge to slam your head into the fax machine. You wouldn't consider yourself technology impaired, but to say you were on friendly terms would be overstating it.

"Need help?"

"Oh, yes, please—," you began, but your voice trailed off as you noticed one of the guys from forensics hovering just a tad too close for comfort.

"They're always a bit stubborn," he noted, barely giving you space to breathe before his shoulder nudged against yours as he fiddled with the device, "just a slight...there we go."

The machine sprang into action, prompting you to step back and acknowledge his help with a nod. "Oh, thanks."

"Not a problem," he assured, stepping closer in the process, his fingers lightly brushing your thigh as he pointed out the correct button. "You see, it's all about timing," he added, his voice low and unnecessarily close, "these things can be so fussy, right?"

A subtle nod was your only response, hoping he'd take the hint that you weren't in the mood for small talk. The hangover clung stubbornly, and the whiff of his breath was a cruel taunt against the fragile peace you were maintaining over your stomach.

"So, do you find this kind of tech stuff challenging?" he asked, a little too casually. The question hung awkwardly in the air. You sought to put some distance between you, yet he matched your every move, keeping the space closed. "I mean, I'm pretty good with my hands, not just with machines honestly."

Ew.

You mustered a smile, though you were sure it was more of a grimace. The room felt smaller, the walls inching closer. "I usually manage," you responded, the strain evident in your voice.

He leaned closer, if that was possible, it was like the concept of personal space was foreign to him. "Maybe I can show you a few tricks, help you manage a little better?"

His words were light, but his proximity was anything but, almost suffocating.

Just as you were firmly about to tell him to shove it, a sharp voice beat you to it--probably for the best.

"That won't be necessary."

The forensics guy, whose name you still hadn't gotten, straightened, his smile faltering under the weight of Hotch's piercing, don't fuck with me, stare. A look usually saved for unsubs and incompetent officers, but now it singled out this man.

The same look remained on the poor guy as he directed his words to you, "why don't you join me? We need to go over some case details."

It really wasn't a question.

The man backed up instantly, mumbling something under his breath about just trying to help, but Hotch's glare followed him until he was well out of earshot.

Surprisingly, a similar sharpness was aimed at you as soon as he opened his mouth. "I'd appreciate it if you chose to flirt on your own time, not the Bureau's."

His words landed with the sting of an unexpected slap. You blinked, taken aback. "What? I wasn't--,"

But he didn't allow you time to finish. Instead, he pushed a water bottle in your hands, his eyes scrutinizing your face with such an intensity that you wished the floor would swallow you whole. "Drink. You look pale."

"Gee, thanks," you grumbled, under your breath, more to yourself than him, as he wheeled around and headed briskly for the briefing room.

Your steps lagged slightly behind him, your forehead lined with a thoughtful frown. What was that about? The way he acted--the tightness that had formed around his mouth and the harshness in his words, it was so unlike him, well, at least for it to be directed at you.

The rest of the day unfolded just as you thought it would upon waking--like shit. Hotch kept his distance, his exchanges with you brief and to the point. Every time you tried to grab his attention, hoping to clarify things (why you felt the need you weren't sure), he was already looking else, focused on literally anything but you.

It was painfully evident that he was avoiding any personal conversation with you, a realization that bit deeper than anticipated.

The office slowly emptied, the case binding you and Hotch to the briefing room, the only sounds being the faint gentle tapping of your pen and the occasional snap of your hair tie.

It was late when you finally spoke. "Hotch, this says the victim had fibers under his nails that don't match anything from the suspect's home."

Hotch's gaze snapped up to yours. "Are you saying you think the forensics team missed that?"

You met his eyes squarely, cocking your head to the side at the tone of his voice. "I'm not saying anything. I'm just pointing something out."

He bridged the space between you, his jaw set in a firm line. You could feel the warmth spreading across your cheeks as the distance dwindled.

"I'm just saying I don't want you jumping to conclusions based on underdeveloped theories."

You met his eyes with a glare, your teeth grinding together in the process. "Underdeveloped? Is that how you see my contributions now?"

The space between you had now vanished, your heart racing, finger almost poking into his chest as you spoke.

Hotch settled back against the wall, arms folded across his chest, giving you a pointed look. "I didn't say that," he replied, his voice level, markedly different from your agitated one. "We just can't afford to investigate every insignificant detail."

"Every insignificant detail?" you scoffed, "these are leads, Hotch."

His shoulders lift in an indifferent shrug that made you want to wrap your hands around his throat, and not in the good way. "Maybe. However, we need to be sure before we pursue it."

Drawing in a controlled breath, you fought to stay calm, but he was making it very hard. The sensation was all too reminiscent of college, contending with the overconfident frat boys just to voice your thoughts. That comparison may have been a tad extreme--Hotch was far from being like those insufferable boys, but he was certainly pushing your limits right now.

"I am sure. Why aren't you listening."

"I am listening," he said, but his voice was distant. "I just... I just don't want to get sidetracked, that's all."

"Sidetracked? By what, exactly?"

"I'm just not sure you're all here right now."

You felt your cheeks warming with a tinge of shame, but you pushed back, fists clenched at your sides. "I'm here, Hotch. I'm focused."

"Because last night—,"

"Last night was a mistake, okay? I got it. I already apologized for that. But I'm not irresponsible, my focus is on this case."

A lengthy pause followed, his expression unreadable. "You're certain about that?"

"Yes, I'm certain," you snapped, moving towards him again. "And for the record, JJ said you were okay with us having a few drinks."

"I was," he admitted. "But I didn't think—,"

You didn't let him finish. "What, that I'd get wasted? That I'd do something stupid? I'm sorry I'm not perfect."

"Well, yeah."

"Screw you, Hotch."

You knew that was a mistake the minute his nostrils flared, his chest now a pressing force against yours.

Then, without warning, his lips crashed into yours. A muffled oomph of surprise left you, your hands hanging motionless at first, only to quickly melt, grasping at his jacket, pulling him into you.

It wasn't a gentle kiss, nor was it kind, but it was magic, exceeding anything you could have imagined, setting every fiber of you on fire. His lips pressed against yours with an intensity that drew out a breathy sigh, arousal tingling through you, and your passion rose to meet his, equally hungry, equally desperate.

Your fantasies had never done him justice--kissing him was intoxicating, and now you could feel yourself getting lost in the sensation, realizing it was everything you never dared to hope for.

Drawing back just enough, his hands drew you closer, pressing against the dip of your back, his breath fusing with yours in a dizzying blend, making the air seem scarce.

Against the soft pressure of his lips, you murmured, "I wasn't flirting."

There's a pause as his eyes locked on yours, searching, questioning. Then, his hand settled at the side of your neck. "You better not have been."

Any witty comeback you had dissipated as his lips crashed against yours again, more urgently this time, his hands tracing every contour of your clothed body with an insatiable curiosity.

His grip tightened around your waist, effortlessly lifting you onto the briefing table's cold surface with a resounding thud, his palms then cradling your thighs. Documents and files fluttered beneath you, hopefully they weren't too important. His eyes, dark pools of brown, were meticulously scanning your face.

"You," he breathes out, his voice a low rumble laced with something you couldn't quite place, "have consumed my thoughts since the moment I discovered you on my couch." He inches closer, his breath scorching your cheek as his fingers waltzed a pattern up your thighs. "Do you understand that feeling? The intense frustration?"

You were rendered motionless, frozen in place, scared to even twitch and risk this all being a very realistic wet dream. This was Hotch, your boss, the man defined by his lack of outward emotion. To think that you--of all people--could have an effect on him was an overwhelming concept. The room seemed to tilt on its axis as he gently guided your legs apart, positioning himself between them.

"Y-Yeah, I know," you uttered unevenly, your thoughts scattering as your hands tentatively reached for his collar.

"So, you know what it's like, huh?"

Your nod was subtle, a flustered smile briefly lighting up your expressions.

"And?" he prompts, while his fingers explore the shape of your thighs, squeezing gently.

You squirm under his gaze, the intensity of it making your heart race inside your chest.

"And... it's annoying," you confess, puffing out a breath, trying sound annoyed, but the delicate blush dusting your nose gave you away, you were sure.

"Annoying?" Hotch repeats, his hand tenderly angling your face upward, his smile laced with a taunt. "Is that all?"

You rolled your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "It's distracting," your voice was softer now, desire pooling in your belly as you grasp just how compromising of a position you were in.

"Distracting," he tsked, echoing you once again as he nodded solemnly, pulling your hips into his. Your mouth parted in an 'o' of surprise, your gaze lifting to meet his. "Have I been the subject of your thoughts, then?"

Your head dipped in a nod, your fingers brushing against his firm chest, a soft blush coloring your cheeks. "Maybe a little, in a totally platonic boss-employee type of way."

"Oh yeah?"

You caught your lip between your teeth, considering your next words very carefully. "Well, maybe more than a little, and maybe more than just a boss."

"Oh, wow," his breath was a warm hover over your lips, hanging in the space between you. You ached for the tase of him again, rich with dark expresso and spiced cinnamon. It was a lovely combination. "Sounds serious."

You released a hushed giggle, a light note floating between you as your foreheads met. "It's not like I can help it."

"And why is that?"

"Because," you paused, wetting your lips in anticipation, "you're infuriatingly unforgettable, that's why."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You would."

He was kissing you again. This time a little softer, unhurried, and the whole reason for your argument faded into nothingness. Although if insubordination led to this sweet consequence, it might just become a habit.

His lips traced a path down your throat, prompting your head to tilt back, baring the expanse of your skin to his exploration. Your legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him impossibly close. The world seemed distant, the sensation dreamlike, buoyed by the soft lull of a lust-induced haze.

Reason gave way to impulse; your hands lost in the softness of his hair, your back arching to his hands grasping at your ass, your clothed pussy grinding against his erection.

His hands hesitated, hovering as he reached for your top, his eyes holding yours. "Is this okay?"

You nodded, more eagerly than necessary, but that still wasn't good enough for him.

"I need a verbal yes or no."

Desperation clung to you, a needy sigh escaping you as you squirmed into his touch, his hands halting your restless movements. "Yes, please, Hotch."

"You were so eager to call me Aaron last night. Say it again."

"Aaron, please, I need you to touch me," your voice rang out, imbued with such sweetness making his length constrict against the fabric of his slacks.

His fingers deftly navigated to the hem of your shirt, sliding it over your head with a fluid motion. Your bra was next, its clasp yielding effortlessly to his touch, your tits releasing with a gentle bounce, and he fought back a groan as his large hands enveloped them.

"Every bit as perfect as I remembered," he said, his fingers skillfully pulling and twisting at the nubs as you brought you forehead to meet his, a breathy gasp tumbling from your lips at the contact.

You arched your back into his heads as he let out a soft chuckle, loving the way your body reacting to him. Your eyes held a glazed-over look, lips parted ever so slightly, and you looked up at him expectantly in way that could surely kill him. 

His hands moved slowly down your sides before brushing the sensitive skin under your waist band. You swallowed a gasp, moving your hips into his again, rolling yourself against his stiff erection.

His palms pressed against your hips. "Slow down. Let me take my time with you, yeah?"

You were at his discretion; he could ask you to jump into oncoming traffic right now and you'd probably say yes.

A nod was all you could manage as you fought the urge to move, every muscle tensed, waiting for him to make the first move, but god was it hard. You couldn't really believe this was happening, until the solid press of his thumb against your clit brought the moment into sharp focus. 

"Aaron, god," you gasped, your hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. Your teeth found your bottom lip harshly, trying not to show him just how easily you could come apart right now.

"Is that good, honey?"

Honey. You could practically feel the arousal dripping your thighs as you nodded eagerly.

The pad of his thumb glided between your folds, gathering the slickness to continue his assault against your swollen clit. You buried your face deeper into his suit jacket, attempting to stifle the embarrassing sounds that you couldn't seem to contain. 

A whine of protest filled the space between you as his hand slipped away from your pants. His eyes bore into you as he gathered the strands at the back of your neck, guiding your gaze to yours. 

"None of that. Let me hear you gorgeous."

"Aaron, please, I need your fingers inside me, please."

You were painfully aware of how ridiculous you sounded, knew that if anyone else was in the office right now, you'd be so screwed, fired probably, but as his fingers dipped into your cunt those concerns dissolved quickly.

"Since you asked so nicely."

He was torturing you--his pace aggravatingly slow, working in and out of you as you tried to fight the overwhelming desire to slam your legs shut. It was so much, yet not enough. You ground yourself against his hands as his other hand clamped around your back, keeping you from falling back.

"That's it, baby, fuck yourself on my fingers."

His eyes were dark, pupils dilated, his chest rising and falling in a way that only seemed to spur you on, doing exactly as he ordered. His words felt foreign in your ears, before today you could never imagine him talking like this, so vulgarly. 

"Aaron, I-I need—," you paused, your eyes falling to his pants, more specifically the hardened cock inside them.

"Yeah? Is that what you want?"

"Yes, fuck, please," you gasped as his fingers hit that one spot just right. Your head lolled back as you clutched at his collar, his arm behind you keeping you in place.

"Watch your mouth," he said, and for some reason that was enough to send you right over that never ending ledge, your stomach coiling, heat spreading under your skin, every part of you ached.

"Oh—, Aaron, I-I'm—," you were a blubbering mess, rocking without mercy against his fingers, his thumb brushing against your nub in a way that made you feel like you had met your maker.

"That's it, baby, go ahead."

That was enough for you, your walls clenching around his fingers, back arching into him and you swore for a minute you could see stars. He helped you ride out your high.

You were wholeheartedly convinced; this was heaven. You had died and gone to heaven and the first one to greet you was Hotch, his hands tracing soothing patterns on your bare skin in an attempt to bring you back down to Earth. 

Just as you were about to reach for his pants, determined to feel him inside of you, his phone went off. Of fucking course. He shot you an apologetic look, the sound a wake-up call, pulling you both from the lust-fueled moment. 

He moved back with a couple steps, offering nods and muted words to whoever was calling at 12 am. You were suddenly extremely aware of your appearance--topless and on the briefing table for crying out loud. 

You attempted to stand, your legs betraying you with a wobble that had him instantly clasping your arm firmly, his attention flickering from the phone to the tremors in your stance. You gave him a small in return as if to say I'm fine.

You reached across the table, grabbing your shirt from its discarded state, not bothering with the bra as you dressed quickly. He cleared his throat, causing you to turn, just in time to see his phone disappear into his pocket.

"That was the Stafford police chief, there was another murder," he explained.

"Oh, right, okay, um..." you started, your brain racing into overdrive as you instinctively moved towards the door. "I just need to..."

Your movement was too quick, a dizzying spin that resulted in you tumbling into Hotch's solid frame. His reflexes were immediate, hands clasping onto you once again, preventing you from landing straight into him.

"Whoa, hey, are you okay?" he asked, brows knitting in a frown, "take a second."

"Yeah, um, yeah, I'm good," you managed to get out, even as heat suffused your face. "Just need to get changed, uh, can't imagine either of us want to the team to find me like this."

"Right."

He was still frowning, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss away the harsh lines of his forehead, but you were sure he wouldn't appreciate the gesture. 

You made a beeline for your office, the door's thud barely registering over pulsating rush in your ears. God, you were so screwed.

taglist: @chronicallybubbly @aremuslupinsimp @sky2nd @thisisdaisytrying @ryswritingrecord

[cleolinda]

I wish I had thought of posting this sooner: if you feel like you have to stay because of your pets, those lists do say which shelters are pet friendly. My best friend did run into the problem of a shelter being willing to accept her dog but not her bird (she has found somewhere to stay now). Here are some general tips on how to evacuate with pets:

If you will need to go to a pet friendly shelter during an evacuation, make sure you have the following items ready to go for your pet: a leash and collar, a crate [or carrier for cats or smaller pets], a two-week supply of food and water, your pets’ vaccination records and a current rabies vaccination tag, medications, and written instructions for feeding and administering medication. If your favorite four-legged friend is feline, be sure you bring kitty-litter and an appropriate container, too.

You may not have all of these things (like records) at hand, but as a general rule, try to gather anything your pet uses on a daily basis. I know some of this seems obvious, but sometimes people can just shut down because they get overwhelmed and can’t think through what to do, so they just stay. I wish I’d thought to look this up and post it days ago, but maybe this can help people make some last minute decisions.

If you can’t find a shelter that will take certain animals (I don’t know the restrictions per se), this article about FEMA efforts suggest that even getting a few miles out of the hurricane’s path can be safer. I don’t know the Florida terrain well enough to tell you how to get to higher ground, but even a parking lot miles inland north or south may be safer than your home near the coast. But be careful about getting caught in your car in the storm surge flooding, I don’t want to lead you astray—listen to experts, not me; these are last-ditch ideas we had to spitball yesterday (me on the phone in a different state) when things looked bad.

Anybody who has more info or better ideas for evacuation with pets or last-minute safety, please chime in.

[kaciidubs]

Catnip and Kidnappings

Hi, 🧿 nonnie! This one's been a long time coming, and though it doesn't have much smut, I hope you still enjoy it! ❣ Summary: You just needed to go to the pet store for two things - so why were you suddenly in a car with a man you didn't know? ❣  ❣ Word Count: 2.5k+ ❣ Warnings: Mafia! AU, fluff, meet cute, implied danger, slight humor, cat talk, reader is a bit sassy but so is Minho ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: lightly edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

Two things. You just needed two things from the pet store, then you would be back home with your lovely tabby cat and show you’d been putting off for the better half of two weeks because it just ‘wasn’t the right time’.

So how, you ask, did you manage to find yourself hurriedly escorted away from the storefront of the pet store by a man you’d just met?

Well, you could target the beginning of the end the moment you stepped foot into the pet store, making your way to the cat aisle on instinct with your goal clear in your mind; catnip and premium cat food.

Premium cat food - you wished you could trick your furry child into eating a cheaper form of food, but his picky eater tendencies had set him in his ways ever since your mother decided to spoil him and introduce him to the world of Sheba pate and cuts of various meat and fish flavors; the same woman who claimed she didn’t like cats, yet bought him almost all of his toys.

Huffing out a quiet laugh at her change of heart, you bent to grab a box of the food packs, silently thanking the corporate gods that it was still on sale, before heading deeper into the aisle to grab the second item on your mental list.

You scanned the rack with the box still in your arms, adjusting it slightly every now and then until your eyes landed on the empty spot that usually had the brand of catnip you needed.

“Wonderful…”

“If you’re looking for catnip like that brand, you could go with the one with the red label - they look different because of the companies, but they’re really the same ingredient wise.”

“Oh, really? Thank-” The next word immediately died on your tongue as you turned your head, ready to thank a store worker but, instead, you were met with possibly the handsomest man you’d ever laid your eyes on.

Sharp eyes and a nose that looked like it belonged on a marble sculpture, paired with lips set in a faint frown and the prettiest jawline you’ve ever seen - he was gorgeous.

He seemed to either not notice your brain freeze or blissfully ignore it as he stepped closer to pick up the container before placing it on top of the cat food box in your arms.

“I have three cats and they all like both brands, there isn’t really a difference besides the fact that you don’t have to use as much of this one as the other one, which makes it better considering the price.”

Once his eyes finally met yours, you felt your brain kick back into gear, “O-Oh, okay, thank you so much!”

He hummed out a small sound of acknowledgement, giving you a curt nod and reaching forward to grab a container of his own; his eyes scanning across the small printed words for a moment before he looked to you once more. “Do you need help? Carrying that, I mean.”

“This? No, no, I’ve got it handled.” You adjusted the box once more, the catnip container sliding to the right until you balanced it out quickly, “All good, thanks again, though.”

Before you could embarrass yourself more than you already had, you thanked him once more and shuffled past him and out of the small aisle in record time, mentally cursing whatever line of fate led you down this path.

Placing your items on the conveyor belt, the cashier greeted you as they scanned your items and you typed in your rewards card onto the card reader’s keypad.

“Are you getting this, too?”

“What?” Looking up, you stared at the catnip in their hand with confusion creasing your brow.

“Um-”

“Yes, we are.”

The familiar voice made a chill run down your spine, your head whipping to see the same man from before, the faintest of curves to his otherwise neutral expression alleviating his otherwise stoic demeanor.

Shrugging lightly, the cashier proceeded to scan the second container before announcing the total.

Pressing his black card to the one-tap reader, he seamlessly slid it back into his wallet before stuffing it back into his pocket, “Think of it as a little gift for your cat, they deserve to be treated.”

For being stunned for the second time that day, your recovery was just as fast, “I’ll make sure to let him know a kind stranger cares about his picky habits.”

He huffed out a quiet chuckle, but that was more than enough to inflate your ego and make your heart flutter, quickly taking back your previous curse to thank fate instead.

After grabbing your bag of items, you made your way out of the store with your new companion following suit.

“So… Was that really just a gift for my cat? You don’t have any ulterior motives, do you?” You mused, turning to look at him fully as you stood outside of the storefront.

Shaking his head, he raised his hands in defense, “It’s just a gift - like I said, I have three cats so I know how it can get, better than most. Besides, the picky eater phase is really rough on the pockets at the worst of times.”

“Well, Miso appreciates your generosity.”

“Miso… cute.” He hummed softly, though his true excitement was evident in the small glimmer in his eyes.

“Do I have the honor of knowing your name?” Clocking the possible unintended implication of the question, you quickly backtracked, “Um- Just so Miso knows who he can thank while eating his pate salmon, of course.”

His lips parted to speak but closed twice as fast, his once relaxed smile turning into a firm line as he looked at you - almost enough to look through you, or rather, past you.

As you went to turn your head to gauge for yourself, you were stopped by the warmth of his hand around your wrist, winning your attention for himself like jingling keys in front of a baby.

“Let me bring you home, and I’ll tell you on the way.”

You felt your heart flutter, though you couldn’t ignore the unease creeping up your spine, “I appreciate it, but you really don’t have to-”

“I just want to make sure you make it home safely.” His mouth pressed into a tight lipped smile and his grip tightened ever so slightly, “Trust me.”

Maybe it was the fact that he sounded so sincere, aligning with the image of the kind man you’d seen in the pet shop, or perhaps it was the way his firm gaze flickered with a hint of urgency, but you found yourself nodding softly.

“Okay.”

With that, you were tugged down the sidewalk and around the corner, hurried footsteps falling alongside his long strides in hopes of keeping up.

“Is- Is there something wrong? What’s happening?”

“Everything’s fine.”

You bristled at his nonchalant, clipped tone, falling back on your pace by half a step. “I have a feeling you weren’t lying to me before, so, please, don’t start lying to me now.”

Feeling your resistance, he took a short breath and spoke, “Nothing’s wrong yet, and nothing is happening - I’d rather keep it that way, if you don’t mind.”

“But what did you see?”

“Someone who has no business trying to approach me in public unless they’re looking to start something they have no chance of finishing. I have no desire in getting innocent people caught up in those types of affairs.”

“Those types?” Your eyes widened as you neared a black car - slim, sleek, and a model that you had no chance of owning for yourself on your current pay grade. “Are you-”

“I’m no one.” He shut you down with ease before reaching forward to open the passenger’s side door, “Get in.”

Putting a temporary pin in your conversation, you quickly slid into the car, the faint scent of jasmine mixing with the musk of sandalwood and leather seats filling your nose; watching through the windshield as the black haired man rounded the car before sliding into the driver's seat.

“I don’t think a nobody just casually owns a car like this,” clicking your seatbelt into place and setting your bag on the floor, you shot him a wary glance, “if you’re going to kidnap me, Miso’s going to be royally pissed.”

The car’s engine roared to life, masking his light chuckle but doing next to nothing in hiding the slight uptick of his lips. “I’m not a kidnapper, though I’ll make an exception if Miso’s as cute as you make him out to be.”

With that, he shifted the gear and drove out of the parking lot, using the one-way street to get away from the pet store and the unknown assailant. Buildings and cars passed by in a blur after you told him your address, your hands nonchalantly turning your phone while the silence was placated with the sound of the engine and the radio - though, you had no hope of hearing what the song was from how low the volume was.

Taking a deep breath, you turned toward him, eyes tracing over his unfairly handsome side profile. “So… Is this the part where you tell me who you are?”

“I told you, I’m no one,” he hummed simply, eyes trained on the road ahead.

“And I told you I don’t like liars - you still owe me your name, you remember that, right? Now, since you’re saving me from some unknown evil, you owe me a full introduction.”

He glanced over at you, amused astonishment filling his face, “For someone who’s in the hands of a complete stranger, you make a lot of demands.”

“Think of it as your atonement for giving me two new life experiences in one when I was minding my own business buying catnip.”

You could just barely catch him rolling his eyes, muttering under his breath and hearing the words ‘worse’ and ‘friends’.

“Minho.”

“Minho?”

Minho rocked his head to the side, huffing, “My name is Lee Minho, I have three cats - Soonie, Doongie, and Dori - and I’m a businessman. I like going to that pet store because they donate some of their profit to shelters, and I know about the catnip brands because I have three cats - changing brands is a nightmare whether it’s one cat or several.”

A small smile found its way to your lips at the new information, your mind running wild at the image of this enigma of a man playing with three cats of his own. “Okay… But, when you say businessman, what type of business do you do?”

“The type that prefers to go unmentioned to civilians for their safety.”

“What- Like working for some secret branch of the government? Are you a cult leader? A member of the mafia?” An incredulous giggle bubbled past your lips, though when his demeanor grew colder, your stomach dropped. “You’re… You’re not, right?”

“What’s your name?”

“What?”

The car rolled to a stop at a red light, granting him the grace to look at you, brown eyes locking to yours with a firm stare. “You never told me your name. If you tell me your name, I’ll tell you my job - it’s your repentance for asking me more questions past my introduction. If you don’t want to tell me, then don’t, but I won’t tell you my job.”

Your name for his profession, your safety in exchange for his safety - it was only fair, truly.

Taking a deep breath, your name fell from your lips with a small air of confidence, “You already know about my cat, and my job pays just enough to support his picky eating habits. I like that pet store because they hosted an adoption event that brought Miso into my life, and I’ve been supporting them ever since.”

He made a sound of confirmation before turning his attention back to the road, pressing the gas as the light turned green and continued the journey to your apartment.

His choice of silence was almost enough to have your conscience second guessing your decision, until you noted the way his fingers drummed against the steering wheel; twitching, anxious, compared to the streamlined, firm grip he’d showcased at the beginning of the drive.

Eventually your apartment building came into view, the car slowing to a stop once he reached the front door.

“Well…” Lingering for a moment longer, you looked at him in hopes of seeing him turn to you one final time to honor his end of the agreement, but when he remained staring at the road ahead, you let it go. “I guess this is goodbye - thank you for what you’ve done for me, Lee Minho, I appreciate it.”

As you went to unbuckle your seatbelt, his hand wrapped around your wrist, his touch sending a chill down your spine and stealing your attention just like he did outside of the pet shop.

“I’m part of the mafia,” Minho spoke plainly, his tone emotionless, statement oriented, “the person I saw earlier was someone we’ve done business with before, some low life’s henchman most likely sent to get even, that’s why I wanted to get away like I did. I didn’t want our chance encounter to end with you getting hurt - you did nothing wrong, and I wanted to make sure you would be safe.”

The mafia… You weren’t sure if him being a cult leader would’ve been better or worse than this, but staring into his eyes, you could feel it wasn’t a joke, nor an elaborate cover up.

“What I said before, about not mentioning what I do for the safety of others… I swear to you that you’ll be safe after this - I’ll make it my personal job of making sure nothing happens to you because of this, okay? No lingering ties or deals to be made, you’ll be under our watch until we take care of that stunt they tried to pull.”

His promise eased the first stretch of fear growing within you, though the rest would have to be handled once you had the proper time to process your less than normal morning.

Nodding, you slipped your wrist from his grasp and grabbed your bag, turning to get out of the car until you froze.

“If you’re worried, you don’t have to-”

You leaned across the center console and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, a sign of gratitude, “Thank you, Minho.”

Reaching into your bag, you placed his container of catnip in his hand then quickly left the car - making your way up the flight of stairs to the lobby’s doors,only to turn around to see him patiently waiting for your entrance before slipping your way past the glass doors.

On the elevator ride up to your apartment, you couldn’t help it as your thoughts ran through the events like a film reel, though you weren’t sure if it was to get over the shock of reality, or to commit the image of that man to your memory.

Lee Minho, cat owner and catnip expert.

Lee Minho, morally gray mafia member.

Lee Minho, a man you hoped you would see in the pet store again.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: Tagged lovelies will now be done within the comments of the post due to Tumblr's tagging system being broken, thank you for understanding.

@luminouskalopsia, @zaethefangirl, @chxnb97, @sometimesleeknows, @hyunjinloverrrr, @rhonnie23, @channieswife, @beautyinhypnosis

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[florencesf1blog]

hii

please number 10 from the smut prompt list no.3 with charles, maybe reader went out to the store or something and he is looking for one of his rings that he lost and finds her toys so he waits for her and makes her use them :)

wrong drawer

Charles Leclerc x fem!Reader

In which your boyfriend finds your…other partner.

Words: 908 Warnings: 18+, toys, voyeurism, language, poorly translated french (they do NOT teach you the dirty stuff in school)

Days like these were your favorite. The short period of time your boyfriend wasn’t occupied with training, racing or whatever media duties Ferrari put him up with. Right now, it was just the two of you.

Usually, Charles his romantic ass would try and go all out for you in the short amount of time you had together. But you assured him that a movie night on the couch would suffice.

The keys jingle as you turn the lock of the front door open, stepping foot inside your boyfriends apartment. You had gone out for a small 10 minutes to get some food, the small plastic bag hanging from your arm. You had expected Charles to be waiting for you on the couch, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Charles?” you call out, but you don’t get an answer. You put the bag down on the dining table, walking around the apartment in slight confusion. He wouldn’t have left while you were out. It made no sense.

Turning the handle of your bedroom door, you slowly open it to reveal Charles. You freeze once you notice the state of the scene. The bottom bedside drawer opened up, now no longer containing what it had before. Slowly, your eyes drift up towards Charles. The devious smirk on his face said it all. Once you opened your mouth to speak, he cut you off.

“Qu'est-ce que c'est?” (what is this?) he asks in an almost mocking manner. He knew exactly what he was holding, the sight of your tiny bullet vibrator in his hands making your cheeks flush red.

Do i lie? Tell him it’s something else? Maybe he’d believe me if i said it isn’t mine? ‘I’m holding on to that vibrator for a friend. Ha-ha’

“Mon cœur?” his voice breaks you out of your thought process, eyes drifting back up to meet this. “I use it when you’re gone. Just whenever i miss you and you’re far away and-“

“Show me.” his low, gruff voice stops your word vomit. And when you thought it couldn’t, your cheeks turn an even darker shade of red. “Show you?”

He nods his head simply, as if it is the most common request in the world. Maybe this should weird you out. Be the point where you cross the line. But the thought of him watching you, showing him that even the thought of him could make you feel that way was way more exciting than it should be.

He gets up from the bed, handing you your vibrator. This wasn’t the first time you’d use it, far from it. But all of it still felt new now that you had eyes on you. Slowly, you pull your sweats and panties down. Charles wat he’s your every move, his eyes roaming over your body. You crawl onto the bed, positioning yourself on your back with your legs up. Like a hawk, Charles watches as you slowly inch the toy closer to your center.

“Plus grand, ma belle” (wider) he commands as his hand ticks your ankle. Your legs spread further, giving him the full view of your wet pussy. You could’ve sworn you heard a growl escape him at the sight, making you feel a bit more confident. Letting the toy run through your folds, it comes to life as you press the button. A sigh of pleasure and relief escapes you as the ache between your legs is getting taken care of.

You position the vibrator on your clit, a gentle moan escaping your lips at the friction. Your hips buck upwards at the sensation, chest heaving up and down. It was a new type of pleasure, knowing you were being watched constantly. You circle it around, adding to your please as you put out a soft “Charles” to break the silence.

“Tellement jolie…” (so pretty) he nearly growls at the sight, his hard on stretching through his jeans. “Putain…” (fuck)

Knowing how much this turned him on it encouraged you to put on a show. Legs spreading wider, moans becoming louder and more frequent. You knew exactly what god him every single time.

You inch the vibrator down, slowly letting it into your pussy with a wet noise. A groan escapes as you move it in and out of yourself, your wetness dripping onto the sheets. You feel yourself get closer and closer as you let the vibrator go back up to your clit and switch in between the two. Charles knows the signs. The way your legs would start to tremble, the way your moans would become more frequent and your breathing heavier.

“That’s it bébé, jouis pour moi” (baby, cum for me) he mutters, and as you glance down at him it doesn’t take long before you do. He was basically drooling over you, his eyes so focused on the way your hand pushed the vibrator in and out of you. It was as if he was absolutely mesmerized. And it was enough to send you over the edge, a string of moans and some curses escaping you.

You let yourself ride out your high before putting the toy down, still panting from the overwhelming sensation. Charles stands back up to his full form, undoing the buttons and zipper of his jeans. He pulls them down along with his boxers, freeing his hard on.

“Nous n'en avons pas terminé, mon amour” (we are not done, my love)

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

A/N: got a lot of lando and oscar requests but thought id do a charles one first for some variation. btw i got like 30 requests within 30mins so i have a lot of writing to do. hope u guys enjoyed thise one :)

[diremoone]

tlc, baby | g. satoru

w — periods, mentions of severe cramps, concerned bf ‘toru who doesn’t like seeing his gf in pain, an author who wanted toji to win the poll but is gonna do all the boys anyway bc toji, and the fact that this is too short and crummy omg (don’t write while hungry haha), hopefully toji’s is longer and better :D

[ divider cred @/firefly-graphics ]

5:14 am

The wake up is sudden, abrupt and extremely painful. You know what’s going on, but the second you try and do something about it, you find yourself sinking to the floor beside the bed in misery.

You really don’t want to walk downstairs, that’s gonna be misery. But if you don’t get and remedy this soon, you fear it’s just going to become worse.

It also sucks because your boyfriend isn’t home. You’d really, really like him to be home. But he isn’t. He’s out looking for an elusive Special Grade curse that nearly took out Mei Mei a few weeks ago on behalf of the stupid elders.

You’d curse them more if you didn’t feel like shit.

You burrow your head into the mattress and focus. Gathering up a little bit of energy, you stand and make your way to the kitchen, only to end up sitting down by the cabinets. You groan, knees up close to your chest to try and relieve some of the pain. You’re tempted to bang your head into the cabinets a few times, but the rationality of not adding more pain to the mix won over.

You can barely think straight; one second there’s the thought of running a bath and the next it’s waves of pain. You think about what’s in the fridge, then you’re overwhelmed by the intense need to barf.

“Fuck,” you mutter.

And then a loud voice echoes through the large home from your bedroom.

“Baaaaaabbbeeee!”

You snicker at your boyfriend who teleported into the bedroom that doesn’t have you in it. You hide your laughter behind your hand until another wave of agony rolls over your uterus and up your spine.

Satoru eventually finds you in the kitchen (after looking in the bathroom and under the bed). His smile disappears the second he sees you, but you don’t take notice since your forehead is burrowed into the wood of the cabinet door. He frowns, not liking the expression on your face.

“Baby?”

Satoru crouches and lowers the black mask you’d gotten him for his birthday. His heavenly blue eyes flicker up and down with worry.

“Monthly,” you manage to get out, and he instantly knows what you mean. Your entire body shakes with a shudder, so much so that the giant man is easily lifting you onto his lap to cuddle, his back now the one that presses against the wall of the kitchen.

Satoru is a heater, nothing short of the furnace that you’ve been in need of. One large, hot hand is pressed against your back, the other tucked against your lower abdomen in just the right spot. And the relief you feel makes you literally dizzy.

Your massive boyfriend however, is even more concerned than ever. The amount of stress he’d felt release from your body was nothing short of insane to him. You’d always relax and let go of all your stress in his hold, yes, but the amount of tension to how limp you were in his big arms was borderline upsetting.

You’ve never been this tense, this stressed. How long had you been like this before he was home?

“I’ll be okay,” you speak to him breathlessly. “I just need something for the pain and something to eat.”

Satoru lists off some things in the pantry and fridge, all of which makes your stomach turn and just burrow your head into his shoulder more. It isn’t until he gets to the sweeter side of the food you do have does the nausea fade away.

He reluctantly pulls away and grabs a familiar looking container on top of the fridge with a mischievous smile, one of his hands still holding yours as he stretches his massive 6’3 body across the kitchen to nab the period painkillers you need.

You don’t see him shove them and a small water bottle in his pocket, but you see him wrap his giant hand around the white container right before he fucking lifts you up off of the counter with one fucking arm and carries you back to bed.

But you don’t complain. You’re way too lethargic and fatigued. And why would you anyway?

He places you back on your side of the bed and gently plops the white container on your lap before kicking off his shoes and whips off his jacket so dramatically that you laugh. You scream as he jumps on the bed, almost on top of you. Satoru does nothing but laugh like a lunatic in return while he turns on the TV across from the bed.

Like magnets, you two end up snuggled deep into the big, thick pillows your boyfriend has propped up behind you in an instant. One of his arms is wrapped around you as you nestle into his side. But the fun doesn’t last. Your brows furrow as another wave of searing pain washes over you from your uterus. You groan and dip your nose into his collar, sharply inhaling and shakily exhaling.

“Here’s the magic pills, baby. Take ‘em.” Satoru’s voice is not the same, high-pitched excitable one he normally has. It’s the deep voice, the one he uses when he’s diving into his emotions. It’s the voice that he uses when he’s sharing his love with you in bed, or when he’s simply just loving you and taking care of you. Just like he is now. The tone of his voice is calming, relaxing, reassuring; all of the above makes your brain go fuzzy.

You pop the pill-shaped-relief in and chug it down with water and ‘toru wraps his arm around you, tugging you to him sweetly. He pops open the large white container, revealing all the chocolate chip cookies inside of it.

You laugh. “Oh my god, Satoru! This is what this is?”

“What else could it possibly be?” he jokes.

Not even a few minutes later though, the agony returns. The tearing feeling from your uterus is almost too much, lasting almost all the way through the Disney castle intro and the first couple minutes of Big Hero 6 with your head tucked into your boyfriend’s collar.

Satoru presses a kiss to your head and puts his hands in the same spots from earlier, with just as much tension leaving your body. He exhales silently.

“Go to sleep, baby,” he tells you. “It’s not worth it.”

“Want to…” you mumble, then let out a heavy sigh as heavy cramps roll over you again. “You’ve been gone a week.” You aim for a cookie and eat it in two bites.

Just like the cookies, you’re sweet — too sweet and too good for him, and he swears by it. He presses another kiss to the top of your head and replies, “Spend time with me by getting some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up. And I’ll take care of you tomorrow, too. Whatever my girl wants.”

“…. Sure?”

“Positive.”

“…..Mmmmm’kay.”

Satoru knows you’re still awake and working through the pain even half an hour later. You may not be watching the movie, but you’re still listening, giggling when Fred screams, “CAR!” to Wasabi as the villain tries to kill them.

It’s not too long after that though, he feels your cursed energy finally relax. Your body is clearly slack against his own. He chuckles at feeling a little bit of drool soak through his shirt. You’re in a deep sleep, thank goodness. And he hopes it stays that way. The medicine worked. He wasn’t sure if his eyes could take the sight of your cursed energy bearing that much sufferance much longer before cracking himself.

Satoru closes his own heavenly blue eyes to sleep. Yeah, he’ll definitely be here tomorrow. Taking care of his woman was going to be his first priority. Mission be damned.

”G’night sweets. See you in the morning.”

@vagabond-umlaut — @heresan — @dellalyra — @torusmochi — @nayrring — @out-of-reach22

[omega-e123]

some headcannons i like to use when shadow has a sick s/o

-he knows every medicine in the book due to.his time on the ark, so he goes through a mental checklist of the ones that will help you wvery time you get sick

-he cuddles the shit out of his s/o as long as they are okay with it, he gets worried about losing them when he sees you sick like that.

-shadow when hes not cuddling and comforting you while your sick will cover you in a weighted blanket to simulate the deeling of beibg cuddled.

-shadow also has a tendency to hoord medicine due to his fear of losing you to sickness, so anytjing in the books you could need he probably has two of it.

-shadow will worry if he doesnt start to see improvement in your system in 24hrs after the sickness started. So he will book you a doctors appointment and gently drag your tail there.

-if you have trouble with the taste of medicine, shadow always has a chaser near by somewhere. The hedge will make you take your meds then imediantly have you taking chocolate sryup as a chaser after to help with the taste.

-shadow sees you even more like maria when your sick so hes voice will rarely go above a soft whisper when your sick. Him mimcking his old behavior with maria.

-shadow loves to handmake soups for you with the knowledge he has, they may not be perfect but they are a labor of love.

Thats my gush have a nwiceee dwayyy.

Oooh! I love these headcanons! Thank you so much!!

✾ He definitely tries to keep more solid medicine rather than liquid, knowing how awful they taste! Some of them can’t be helped though..

✾ Imagine even after taking the chocolate chaser, a twisted, disgusted look is still plastered on your face. Shadow snorts, “That bad?” before kissing you. You’re not focused on the taste anymore!

✾ The great thing about having Mr. Ultimate Life Form as a partner I s getting all the kisses in the world without worrying about getting him sick.

(:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:★:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

You open the doors to the medicine cabinet. Nono, not the one in the bathroom. Shadow keeps a separate small cabinet in the corner of the bedroom stocked up with every over the counter and left over prescription medicine you’ve ever had.

Hung on the inside of the door is a meticulous list of all the expiration dates. Below that is a little container of directions to most of the medicine. At the very least, the ones that don’t have the directions and ingredients on the bottle. They’re more so for you than him, in case you need something while Shadow isn’t around. Each bottle is organized alphabetically by name and not by the generic name.

Of course he knows what medicine is stocked, which one is for what. All the information about medicine is up to date.

Staring at the two main painkillers for headaches, you couldn’t decide which one to take. Shadow informed you to take a specific one first to see if it helps, but the memory evades you.

You’ve been so deep in thought, you hadn’t noticed that your partner had been calling you to the dinner table to eat. When he walks in the room, he spots your small frame sitting on the floor in front of the cabinet. Shadow’s arms rest crossed over his chest. “What’s wrong?,” he speaks up, effectively startling you. Turning to him, he simply raises a brow, waiting for an answer.

“Stupid headache.. It’s been progressively getting worse. I thought it was cause I wasn’t getting enough water but… Anyway, which one?” You hold up the two containers, the labels facing him.

A finger points to the red bottle, “Acetaminophen. Take one and see if it gets better. If not, use the other. Food is on the table and Acetaminophen is less likely to cause stomach irritation.”

Classic Shadow. Even with that near expressionless face you could tell by the slight tension between his brows and word choice that he’s concerned for your well being. For a brief moment Shadow disappears. In the time that he’s gone you put back the other container in its rightful place. Reappearing, the hedgehog has a glass of water in his hand. Ruby red eyes watch as you pop the pill in your mouth. A hand is outstretched to pass you the glass.

After taking the medicine he hoists you up princess style. “Shadow! Put me down! I can walk on my own! It’s just a headache!,” you protest. To no avail, Shadow hold you tighter as he walks around your shared home. A smile finds its way to his lips as you ‘struggle’, “You’re not putting much of a fight. Besides, I thought you enjoyed getting royal treatment?”

He’s not wrong—

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 8)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated E.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

The illness persists in the weight of your skin over your bones yet the loss of actual muscle and fat that turn you skeletal. Your legs become bow-like and pain radiates just above your hairline. Your vision crackles with scattered flashes of black dots, and you drink like a man lost in the desert. 

Only foods that are red stay down, and even then you only nibble at peppers and plug your nose at the raw meat you stuff in your mouth. You feel the sunlight outside your window when you open it up and stick your hand through, as walking out of your apartment is a chore you can only handle once a week at most. 

Once a homebody, reclusive out of necessity and exhaustion from simple interactions, you now live for Lucifer’s chatter. His presence abates your fever, physically and emotionally. The dependence on him, as sweet as he appears, makes you itch inside. 

Everything is terrible, you tell yourself at least once per day, as the illness persists. 

But if Lucifer is good at anything, it’s providing you with distractions from the ever-present suffering.

—

The sounds you made put the Angelic Choir to shame. 

“Lucifer, don’t say that!”

The King of Hell’s laugh was muffled as he stayed buried in your cunt. The memory of you being so flustered was almost just as sweet. 

He eyed your tightly screwed expression just over your growing belly, and felt gratified at his idea to have you propped up by pillows from head to hips. With the boost, Lucifer could watch you enjoy yourself and remain comfortable. 

Let him feel the springs of your mattress dig into his knees and stomach. They were secondary to the pain of his own hardness straining in his slacks. 

A keen from you, and the feeling of your nails as they raked through his hair and over his scalp, had Lucifer moaning. His eyes rolled back, momentarily blinded by euphoria. 

“Ooh!” 

Eyes snapping open, Lucifer lifted himself from the bed quickly. His tongue slipped out of you, dripping onto the sheets when he was mindless to reeling it back in.

“Why’d you stop?” Your whine between quick pants made him blink.

One eye at a time. 

“I thought I hurt you.” He smiled, sheepishly, once his tongue was back in his mouth. 

His mauve-lids and golden lashes fluttered when you wiped the slick from his chin. There was no missing the color that had returned to your cheeks with all the exertion he was putting you through, and he felt a swell of pride at being able to breathe life back into you. So to speak. 

“Heaven help me.” You said, sarcastically. 

Breathlessly.

The Devil’s hips jerked when your hand rose to grip a fistful of his blond hair. You manually lowered him back between your legs, heedless to the way his entire frame shivered.

— 

‘I think I… I think I’m in love with her.’ Lucifer looked so earnest, meeting the glow of Ozzie’s stare. 

The Sin clucked a tongue in his King’s direction, shaking his head. ‘Well, don’t tell her that. You’re gonna scare her away, man.’ 

—

Lucifer watched you fall apart from just his tongue (its length and width being inhuman notwithstanding). 

You were so beautiful like this. Legs shaking, body spasming, letting go.

‘I love you.’ 

Man’s (alleged) Greatest Enemy could just barely contain himself. 

‘I love you I love you I love you’ 

—

Lucifer brings you another scroll one sunny day, and you find it riddled with names. 

“I’ve been thinking about what to call him or her, so I made a list! …Kinda, sorta during a meeting… whatever, it wasn’t that important!” 

Oh, you could see that. 

“Do you like any of them? Which are your favorites? No! Gimme your top 5!” His jubilation is so innocent, but something inside you hitches. 

“Does it actually matter what I think?” You chuckled. 

“Of course it does!” He cried. “You’re the mo— uh… you’re putting in most of the work!”

The weak save went unchallenged. You were already circling names, likening the process to navigating a minefield as you looked through a long line of names you couldn’t even pronounce or read. 

‘Ehb 

Horus

Azor 

Carlton’

“What about a girl?” Lucifer asked out of the blue. 

Your head cocked to the side as you realized your picks had been relegated to just one side of the endless list. That he’d written down names for boys and for girls struck you as odd. 

 “You think it’ll be a girl?” 

Lucifer looked at you with a curious gaze. “Could be, couldn’t it?”

After a moment, you shrugged. “I guess so…” 

The King’s confusion crinkled around his eyes and caused an uncanny few lines in his otherwise perfect forehead. You flick the pen at him teasingly to wipe the look from his face.

You write a few names down, and watch with a smirk as his frown turns upside down. 

‘Adrienne 

Charlotte

Maleficent’

You ignored the painful thought that this was a pointless endeavor. Naming a dead thing.

—

With eyebrows raised, you sat waiting dutifully, hands clasped over your stomach while he rummaged through the box. 

“Aha!” He pulled out two red objects, one in each hand, and knee’d the chest out of the way to present them to you.

“Surprise!”

Two remarkably crafted stuffed animals were set before you on the couch cushion. 

Goats. 

It took you a second to place them, staring at their intricate appearances — covered in fluffy red fur from head to cloven hoof, with large yellow eyes and tiny red smiles stitched on their stark white muzzles. 

Shiny, metallic-looking horns curled over the curvature of their little heads, tips almost touching the tiny approximations of wings protruding from their backs. You noticed that the little wings were also sticking out of the backs of their tiny tuxedo suits; solid black to further contrast their Luciferean color schemes. 

An uncharacteristically high-pitched squeal escaped you. 

Damn these hormones. You internally chastised yourself while reaching out to finger at the detailed plushies. 

“They’re so cute!” You admired the unbelievable softness of one’s fur, hand overlapping with Lucifer’s as you turned it this way and that. His grin was so wide in your peripheral vision as he soaked up your fawning.

“Aren’t they?!” Lucifer squealed along with you. “They’re twins! But see this one has lighter fur and this one has sharper eyes. I tried to give them little differences so they had some individuality.” 

“Michael and I looked so similar in the Beginning, a ton of people always got us mixed up. Sometimes it was fun, but I got tired of hearing him bitch about it after the first couple centuries.”

A more serene countenance overtook your counterpart, with his line of sight drifting off to the floor beside you. Lost in thought. Or perhaps reminiscing. 

“Michael?” You asked gently. 

“My brother.” Lucifer replied. 

“Ohh, I think I remember… is he a Prince of Hell too?” 

The formerly Divine man frowned. “… No. Not him.”

A shadow fell over you both, distant sadness suffusing the air. You reached for him instantly, only for Lucifer to switch on like a lightbulb and grin manically. 

“Oh well! Who knows, maybe he took Dad’s side just to make sure no one ever confused us for each other ever again!” 

You pulled away. “… right.” 

Lucifer shook his head after a glance in your direction. 

“Um, so, I was thinking…” He began. “Maybe we give one to the baby an-nd… one could stay here… with you…” 

There was no hiding the confusion that crossed your face. 

You ‘tsk’ed. “You wanna deny the baby half this cuteness?” 

In response, Lucifer tittered, still adamant on looking around the room instead of meeting your gaze head on. “Hah, no. I was thinking that, maybe, we could keep one of them here and… and then they could reunite every time the baby and I… or just the baby… visit…”

Slow realization made your already weak constitution roil. 

Perhaps, if you’d been yourself and not the hollow shell of a person you’d become while pregnant, you would’ve been angry. Or upset enough to shout. Maybe you would’ve gotten up and left him there on his lonesome, wordlessly demanding he not entertain that idea ever again. 

Certainly, the You from before this insane, impossible scenario wouldn’t hesitate to react melodramatically. 

You sighed, fiddling with one of the goat’s tails. “Oh Lou…” 

He cringed beneath the weight of your words, laden with a heaviness that harshened his already guilty conscience. 

“Wait, before you say no —” Lucifer felt his mouth running away from him. “Maybe you could think about it and then decide? Maybe after they’re born?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything. I don’t expect anything from you.” 

“You’re expecting me to be its mother.” Your tone broke no room for argument. 

Mauve eyelids drooped as Lucifer looked down in shame. “I — ”

“I wouldn’t make a good mom.” Your statement stopped him in his tracks. 

Frustration simmered in Lucifer, slowly creeping into his expression as you continued, unrelenting. His posture went rigid, hands beginning to clench at his sides.

“It’s not that I don’t care. I probably care too much, actually.” You admitted.

It was true. Regardless of your paranoia and how justified it was or not, the sole basis for why you felt the need to argue in the first place —

(And wasn’t that just pathetic? You had feelings for the Epitome of Evil and had entertained being safe and happy with him) 

— the reality was that you’d been a broken human being before this cosmic impossibility entered your life. 

“I just don’t…” You sighed. “I wouldn’t be a good part of their life if I was in it.” 

Your head whipped up, vision spotting when Lucifer blurted:

“You are the best part of my life.” 

He looked angry. Furious. So much so that the sclera around his irises began to radiate a blood-red. 

“Do you know how hard it is? To leave you? I have to convince myself every single time that you’ll still be here when I return!” Lucifer claimed. “And soon I won’t even be able to do that!” 

“I don’t want to say goodbye forever! I… I l…” 

You shuddered, stiffening in your seat. As soon as he realized, Lucifer’s display was cowed. 

“Fuck, are you alright? I’m not — I don’t know what came over me!”

You shook your head. “No.” 

“It stopped.” You whispered. 

Lucifer’s grip trembled around your wrists. “Stopped?”

His breathless echo of your words drew your eyes up. You saw the storm brewing in his ruby eyes, as even though he waited for you to elaborate, a million thoughts pelting at his brain like hail. 

“The pain stopped.” You said. 

Your hands felt over the bump beneath your breasts, as if you might find the imaginary ‘off’ button and turn it back on.

It was ludicrous to think about, but you immediately wished for the agony that had been crippling you to return if it meant that this baby wasn’t… wasn’t… 

Tears glistened in your eyes. Lucifer drew you to his chest in spite of the fear that was pulling his shoulders taut. 

“Wh-what did you do today? Anything different?” The ex-Angel asked shakily. 

His eyes scanned you up and down, lingering on the little dolls he’d just gifted you. 

“No… n-no, nothing different.” You said. “I was in bed all morning, and th… then Cass was here and we had tea… we went out and walked a little bit outside.” 

“Did you fall?” The King hedged. 

You gasped, eyes widening. Instinctively your arms wrapped around your middle at the foreign feeling emanating from within. 

“Did…! You fell??” He panicked, grabbing onto you like a life raft. “Where? On what?!”

His words drifted away as you were enveloped in the strangest surge of feeling you’d ever experienced. 

You could only just muster up the energy to shake your head. 

Sudden warmth. 

And pressure. 

A tiny flutter, one you’d never felt before. 

You inhaled quickly yet deeply at the feeling of something pressing against your belly-button from the inside. 

It made you grin, hands coming back to grab for Lucifer’s own and to pull them to your stomach. “They’re alive!” 

The man’s jaw went slack, staring sightlessly for just as long as it took to soak up the sudden heat there. The baby took pity on its poor, trembling father and kicked again. 

It was Lucifer’s turn to gasp, looking back and forth between you and the bump with dawning awe. 

“It is!” He laughed, a tad bit hysterically. “It — they are alive!” 

“… And… glowing…”

“You’re glowing!”

*** Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision, @marydragneell, @lafy-taffy, @fandom-imagines1, @loquacious-libra, @glowymxxn, @avadakadabra93, @froggybich, @hamthepan, @ukor02, @adaizel, @boogiemansbitch, @vinillies, @lbcreations-blog, @thesoundresoundsecho, @serenity-loves-red, @alientee

[lavandulawrites]

The Grocery Trip

Yandere Alhaitam x reader

I had a dream about yandere Alhaitam and me going to a grocery store (though in the dream it was in the modern era). I wanted some sort of unhealthy drink powder and he refused to buy it. I just felt like I had to make this scenario into a fic. I am thinking of writing different grocery store scenarios with different yandere genshin men.

Masterlist

Word count: 597

The grocery store was quiet save from the bell which chimed whenever a customer entered. A colourful isle caught your eye. Rows upon rows were filled with colourful items from Fontaine.

You turned to your grey haired companion. “Can we take a look at the new items from Fontaine? Please?”

Alhaitam’s expression unamused. “Fine” his answer followed by a sigh. His hand that were not holding the basket, linked with yours. The gesture was meant to look like a romantic gesture, but you knew he was only trying to make you stick with him.

Upon a closer inspection some of the various Fontainan gods were things you had never heard off. Some were nutritious meals that you only needed to heat up and some were rather unhealthy snacks.

A orange red container with a logo of a smiling strawberry caught your eye. Frizzy Pop. You took a hold of the container and turned it around to read the description. It was some sort of powder you mixed with water to get a sweet and refreshing drink. Just what you needed.

With a smile you turned towards Alhaitam. “Can we get this? It looks really delicious!” you waved the box in front of his face which earned you a scowl.

“Absolutely not” his expression stern.

You rolled your eyes “Why not?”

He grabbed the Frizzy Pop out of your hand and inspected it like it was a the most serious thing. “You can’t even pronounce 85% of these ingredients”

“Ugh come on!” you threw your head back and dramatically sighed. “Why must you be so strict?”

“Call me strict all you want. I just care about your wellbeing. Is that so hard to understand?” Alhaitam crossed his arms. His muscles flexing slightly with annoyance.

You whined and dragged your hand across your face in irritation. “I am my own person. I don’t really need to listen to you!”

“Oh yeah? What would be of you if you didn’t, hmm? Would you perhaps be living on the streets? Oh that’s right… You would” his eyes cold. What he said was true. He had indeed helped you out of a though financial crisis and given you a place to live. In exchange he had kept you under his watchful eyes in the name of love. At least that’s what he so bluntly called it.

“It’s a drink powder Alhaitam. It’s not a big deal! And besides I already follow your recommended nutrition plan”. He had given you a long list of foods you could and could not eat. He had been very strict about it and he made few exceptions. He said it was in your best interest. You did argue with him at first. You hated how he thought he had the right to choose what you ate or not, but after a while you stopped with the arguments. You had noticed how on edge he had been lately and you knew very well that he was extremely close to just look you away in his house.

“It is a big deal. If you actually had any knowledge about nutrition and different ingredients you would know what I mean” he scoffed. His arrogant tone making your eye twitch.

“Now let’s put this back and pay for our things” he put the container back in place.

He squeezed your arm with his bicep in a warning. “ I really do love you, you know?” he pressed a quick kiss on the top of your head. His blue orange eyes filled with love deeper than what you could ever wish to understand.

[leighsartworks216]

Not my fandom, but #15 for Zayne?

Intrusion

Zayne x gn!Reader

Prompt from this list

15 - hugging each other

I didn't intend to actually write these tonight bc I have a lot of downtime in the morning and I Need Sleep, buuuuut this one hit different idk

Warnings: hurt/comfort, caretaking, pre or early relationship, depression, food, hugging, crying

Word Count: 857

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Zayne knocks on the door lightly. It's late. Far later than is normal to be visiting. He'd hate to wake up one of the neighbors and give them a bad impression of you, especially right now.

You'd been practically radio silent all day. He's so accustomed to you sending him emojis and random videos, to have absolutely nothing come in was disconcerting. On top of that, when he messaged you asking if you were okay, it took several hours before you responded.

I'm fine. Just tired, sorry.

Did you stay up late last night?

Yeah, I guess.

Are you feeling well?

Don't worry about me, Zayne. I'm perfectly fine :)

Each insistence only stirred that uncertainty in his gut. You may not want to inconvenience him, but he needs your intrusion on his life. Otherwise, it would be the same, day to day. A cold, dark existence, with a sweet treat the only thing to draw him away from the mundanity.

He knocks again, slightly louder.

The door opens a crack. Your face is obscured in shadow, hidden from the dim light of the hallway, but from what he can tell, you look rough. You don't meet his eyes. You just stare at his tie.

"H-Hey," you draw out, trying to act casual. Maybe he'd believe the act if you weren't hiding. "What brings you here, doc?"

He inhales. Why must you keep insisting on putting barriers between you? "I'm not on duty, at the moment," he reminds you curtly, but his tone softens as he continues. "I wanted to make sure you ate something today, so I got takeout from a restaurant on my list."

You stare at the plastic bag of takeout he holds. He can see the gears turning. The hesitation as you realize the amount of food he's gotten. "Zayne, I-I can't possibly eat that much."

"I ordered some for myself. I haven't had a chance to eat dinner yet." He nods his head slightly toward the door. "May I come in?"

He watches with bated breath as you debate your options. He can see the way your eyes flicker from the bag to him, like you're weighing the pros and cons. You get food, but you have to let him in. From the faint growl of your stomach, it would seem that the choice is made for you.

You slowly open the door.

The apartment is dark, which isn't surprising. Still, Zayne navigates it with no issues. He toes off his shoes and replaces them with the guest house slippers with familiarity. You trail behind as he heads for the kitchen. He adjusts the lights to be set to a dim glow, allowing for enough light that he can see what he's doing without being too harsh on your eyes. Though, now that he can see, he can see the heavy bags under your red-raw eyes.

"Did I wake you?" He keeps his voice purposefully low.

You stand by the doorway, arms crossed, as you watch him bustle about. He retrieves two plates from the cabinet and divides the containers from the bag into what's his and what's yours. As he does so, he removes the lid from one of the containers and slides it over to you. The warm aroma of soup fills the room.

You shake your head. He watches from the corner of his eye as you sidle over, slippers scraping quietly against the tile floor. When you pick up the cup of soup, it feels like a brick has been removed from the wall.

He transfers food to the plates. A healthy serving, to be sure. He tries to keep the amounts relatively similar, but it's clear he's added slightly more to your plate than his own. Once they're ready, he sets your plate in front of your seat - designated as such from the times he's come over in the past - and his plate in front of his seat. Before he sits, he reaches up into the cabinets once again to retrieve some glasses.

Arms wrap around him from behind, nearly startling him into dropping the cups. Your head rests against his back. Your hands hold onto each other, as though resting them against him would be the thing to make him pull away.

"Thank you..." you mumble, only just loud enough for him to make out.

He moves like he's trying not to startle a wild animal as he lowers two glasses to the countertop. He sets a hand on your arm, to keep you from letting go, as he turns in your embrace. His arms wrap themselves over your shoulders, around your back, hands flat against you to draw you into his chest. Your hold tightens around him. Your hands fist his work shirt. Your head is tucked securely under his chin.

He says nothing of the way you shudder as your breath catches in your lungs. Nor does he say anything as he feels a wet spot form in his collar.

Instead, he rubs your back in soothing motions. "Please tell me the next time you're hurting," he pleas in a whisper. "Don't shut me out."

---

I'm gonna put my little end note here that I had on AO3 cuz I still feel like gloating:

"I feel the need to gloat about the title because it goes both ways!!! Zayne needs your intrusion on his life because otherwise he'd be no better than Dawnbreaker, but you also need his intrusion on your life to help you through whatever's bringing you down!!! Very proud of this"

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @hawtlineblingz

[jnginlov]

ateez as romantic tropes

⇀ genre fluff, angst, comedy

⇀ style blurbs

⇀ wc listed per member (between 1.1k and 2.2k)

⇀ warnings all readers are gender neutral, listed per member

⇀ reactions from the gc “Yep mhm would def swoon over him yes mhm yep” “BRUH I give you all of your content for free” “I need Yunho to help me obliterate my kitchen cabinets” “Losing my mf mind over him”

note word count variation does not reflect any preference for specific members, some stories just felt like they needed more backstory or had more action

home for the holidays

⇀ pairing hs crush!seonghwa x hs crush!reader

⇀ wc 1.5k

⇀ warnings mentions of food

“seonghwa! come in!” his mother greeted him at the door of his childhood home, ushering him inside quickly before enveloping him in a warm hug.

she bombarded him with questions about his life in seoul, what he’d been eating, how he’d been sleeping, as he removed his shoes. he tried to keep up with all of her fussing as he dragged his suitcase down the hall and into his bedroom but he could barely get out more than a few words before she was moving onto her next thought.

“anyway, your father went out to pick up some tofu so i could make you sundubu-jjigae,” she explains before she’s cut off by the sound of the doorbell and the kitchen timer going off simultaneously.

“i‘ll get the door,” seonghwa volunteers before his mother can say anything else, and pads back to where he had been only moments prior.

he’s not exactly sure what he expected on the other side of the door, especially so late in the evening, but he thinks he might be able to feel every nerve ending on his body alight when he opens the door to find you.

you look both severely different and exactly the same as when he’d last seen you, minus the lack of your high school’s blue uniform. of course you’ve changed your hair, your style seems to have improved as well, but mostly you just look more mature, more you, if that’s possible.

“oh, seonghwa,” you chirp, your surprise evident on your face, “i didn’t know you were back.”

“i didn’t know you were still in town,” he counters, his expression mirroring your own.

you don’t say anything, simply trying to process that the boy you’d had a crush on in high school had become, well, a man. he was considerably more attractive than he had been years ago, if that was even possible, and he almost seemed to hold himself with more confidence even if he was just standing in the middle of the entryway of his childhood home. you try to urge your mind to stay in the present but it can’t help but dig up your old memories of high school seonghwa and all the reasons you should have told him you liked him back then.

when you don’t say anything, seonghwa speaks up, asking, “is there something i can do for you?”

you suddenly are remembering your mission and the tote bag that’s weighing down your shoulder, housing the reason you’ve been coming to his parents house for the past few months.

“right!” you say, taking one of the containers out of your bag and presenting it to seonghwa. “this is for your mom.”

just as you mention her, seonghwa can hear his mom shuffling down the hall behind him, her slippers slapping against the wood floor to announce her coming.

“y/n is that you?” she says once she’s right behind her son. “well don’t make them stand outside,” she scolds seonghwa, gesturing for him to move so that you can step past the threshold.

“hi mrs park,” you greet his mother with a bow, still holding the container in your hands as you trade your outside shoes for the guest slippers.

“you shouldn’t be walking this late by yourself dear,” she scolds gently before heading back to the kitchen, you pittering after her lightly.

for a moment seonghwa stands in shock, doorknob still clutched in his hand and gears turning in his head. since when had you become friends with his mom? and since when did you start knowing which ones were the guest slippers? and since when had he started to miss you?

“and i wanted to get it to you while it was fresh.”

seonghwa joins you both in the kitchen and catches the tail end of your statement, presumably an explanation as to why you’re walking to his house so late.

“it would have been perfectly fine tomorrow,” his mother only replies, removing the lid from the container you’d given her and revealing a loaf of, what looked to be, homemade bread.

“it’s a cinnamon milk bread,” you say and seonghwa turns to see you looking at him. he doesn’t say anything in response and you simply smile, turning back to his mother after just a moment. his mind is still reeling as he watches you, stood casually in the kitchen as though you belong here. you hold none of the awkwardness that normally is present when someone visits another’s home for the first time and some little voice in the back of his mind tells him that it feels domestic. of course, he tries to push that thought away.

“here,” his mother says after she’s transferred the bread into her own container and returned yours, “you should stay for dinner. i’m making sundubu-jjigae.”

you shake your head, a slight look of hesitation on your face and seonghwa assumes that you’ve probably stayed for dinner plenty when he was gone. “that sounds delicious but i should be getting back. i have another loaf cooling on my counter that i need to pack up,” you explain.

“well at least have seonghwa walk you back,” she suggests, and you’re obviously about to decline, based on your body language, when seonghwa insists.

you agree then, not putting up much of a fight once you know his mother isn’t forcing him for her own satisfaction, making your way back out and beginning a steady trek back to your own house.

“how’s seoul?” you ask after a beat, not wanting to walk in awkward silence the entire way.

“it’s nice,” he says simply before adding, “busy.”

you nod in understanding. “i’m sure.”

“how are you?” he asks.

as you turn to look at him again, your eyes crinkling slightly as you grin, he feels like he’s never left his hometown. he’s still sat in his desk at school watching you laugh with your friends across the room during lunch. you would always notice him staring, turning and presenting him the same warm smile you give him now.

he realizes in this moment that he wishes he’d told you, all those years ago, about what his friends always teased him for, about how much he liked you, because now it’s manifested into a gentle ache that seems to pull him back, to that time and to you. he guesses there’s a reason that people say distance makes the heart grow fonder.

you notice the expression on his face, the same one he wore in high school when he was deep in thought. not one that would appear during a test or when studying but one that would show when he was debating with his friends or talking about his future.

“what are you thinking about?” you ask to break the silence, genuine curiosity sparkling behind your eyes.

“hmmm nothing i guess,” he tries to play it off but you give him a suspicious look. “school,” he tries again, being broad about his approach.

“i guess that is the last time we saw each other,” you say and he wonders if you remember it all as clearly as him.

you toss around the idea of admitting what you never had to anyone before and maybe it’s something in the comfort of the night air or just the way seonghwa’s eyes are so focused on you but you decide that if you never say anything now you’ll surely regret it.

“you know,” you continue after another moment of silence, “i had a crush on you in high school.”

seonghwa feels his heart stop for a moment, his entire body consumed by a warmth that’s surely tinged his skin red as he tries to remember how to breath and walk at the same time.

“really?” he huffs, hoping you don’t notice how wobbly his steps have gotten.

“yeah, i don’t know, you were just really sweet and cute,” you elaborate and seonghwa can’t tell if he wants you to stop talking or continue, your voice starting to overlap with his heartbeat in his ears.

he’s so distracted trying to control himself, he almost doesn’t notice when you’ve stopped in front of your house. he certainly doesn’t notice the sly smile that’s stretched across your face, indicating that you’ve clearly observed his reaction to your news.

“how long are you going to be in town?” you ask, fiddling with the strap of your tote bag and urging your heart to stop beating up against your rib cage.

“just two weeks,” he manages to say in between deep breaths to calm his own pulse, eyes wide and lips parted slightly.

“well, let me know if you’re free at any point,” you say, preparing to take the final leap. “we can get coffee or something.”

he nods as you turn to walk toward your door and seonghwa, for the first time, feels his mouth moving before he can stop it.

“what about dinner? tomorrow?”

you turn back, smile beautifully complimenting the blush on your cheeks, and nod.

“see you then.”

foreigner

⇀ pairing white knight!hongjoong x traveler!reader

⇀ wc 1.1k

⇀ warnings implied panic attack/crying in public, street harassment, creepy middle aged guy

note i always find random hangul in fics annoying but for this you don’t need to understand what he’s saying because the whole point is you don’t

of course you would manage to get lost in the biggest city in korea on your first day of your month long trip. you’d planned for almost everything, except, of course, navigating through the intricate seoul subway system. to be fair, your friend joomi had promised to pick you up from the airport before she’d been called in on a work emergency. you had assured her that you could find your way to her apartment on your own but now, as you stood on the wrong side of the platform, watching yet another train, that would have taken you toward your destination, leave, you’re not so sure anymore.

you huff in frustration, the wheels on your suitcase clicking against the tiles as you try to find an empty bench, hoping that you can maybe collect your thoughts before you start to feel the familiar sting of tears behind your eyes. you try not to think of how you might look right now, stale from your flight, sweaty from running between trains, and slightly pathetic from being overwhelmed by something everyone else seems to have mastered.

you quickly abandon your bench search as your phone tells you how long you would have to wait for the next train and you weigh the worth of spending an hour and a half sitting in the stuffy station or dragging your suitcase around the street above, settling on trying to maybe just find a convenience store or some place to grab a coffee.

luckily the area you’re stranded doesn’t seem too crowded, the streets easy to navigate without having to serpentine between people with your month worth of luggage. you find a semi empty convenience store pretty easy enough, paying for a couple snacks, an ice cup, and a drink with ease, conscious of the way the other people in the shop are doing double takes at you, likely due to your suitcase and the duffle on your shoulder.

you’ve never been more grateful to korean convenience stores and their included seating as right now, able to finally take a breath as you sit with your food.

as you try to mind your business, texting joomi to update her about where you are and the predicament you’re in, you can almost feel a burning gaze coming from one of the tables diagonal your own. you try to ignore it, as you did with the gazes earlier, but it feels different, somehow predatory.

“이봐, 너는 어디서 왔니?”

you look up to see a man, probably in his late 50s, starring intensely at you, confirming your suspicions about his watching you.

when you don’t respond, he says something else in korean, something you can’t understand with your limited knowledge of the language, and you try not to panic, but as he stands, seemingly trying to make his way over to you, you feel your heartbeat skyrocketing.

“i don’t-“ you start, gripping your phone tightly as you flounder for what to do.

the man takes another step toward you, saying something else that you can only assume isn’t nice from the way he seems to snarl it and reaching out to grab the handle of your suitcase that you’d placed behind the chair across from you but before he can take hold of your bag it’s being pulled away by a different man, someone who looks to be around your own age.

he addresses the older man with a forced smile, obviously angered at the situation and you try to interpret what is happening before you. you can’t understand a word either man is saying, trying too hard to just process the situation you’re in, but eventually the older man leaves, your savior watching intently to make sure he’s really gone before turning to you.

“you, uh, speak english?” he asks, finally rolling your suitcase back to where you’d originally placed it, although you assume it’s more of a courtesy question as he’d probably heard your unsettled words when trying to address the other man.

you nod, a gentle “yes” escaping you as you try to parse what this new man wants from you.

“are you okay?” he asks gently.

you try to search his eyes for any sense of danger but all you can see is worry.

“i’m fine,” you say with a little more certainty than before.

“good,” he says with a slight sigh, his shoulders visibly relaxing. he looks between you and your suitcase once before speaking up again. “what are you doing here?”

you take a moment to decide whether to tell him or not but you assume if he had wanted to harm you that he wouldn’t have stepped in to help you before, and so you tell him, “i’m waiting for a train, it doesn’t come for another hour.”

he nods in understanding.

“what’s your name?” you feel yourself ask before you register what you’re actually doing.

“ah, my name is hongjoong,” he replies.

all of his words are slow, deliberate, as he speaks to you, a contrast to how quickly he was talking in korean only moments ago.

you try to slow down your own words as you ask, “how do you know english?”

he seems to almost perk up at that, interested to tell you, “oh, i’m learning right now. sorry if my grammar is bad.”

you shake your head quickly, “no, no. you’re fine. i’m just glad i have someone to talk to.”

he hums in understanding before asking, “what is your name?”

you introduce yourself, even spelling out your name for him, before you notice the plastic bag in his hands.

“oh, would you like to,” you trail off, gesturing to the seat across from you in invitation.

he seems hesitant and you almost want to take back your offer before he says, “you are sure?”

you nod with a gentle smile and he mirrors your expression, helping you move your duffle onto the ground beneath your table and taking a seat across from you.

you talk casually with hongjoong for the rest of your wait, letting him give you a list of things you should try to do with your time in seoul.

“isn’t the han river more of a date spot?” you question as he collects both of your trash into his plastic bag.

“you could take your partner,” he says, glancing at you and you know he’s trying to gauge your reaction as his ears tint pink.

“oh!” you quip, your own face blooming with warmth. “uhm no, i don’t have a boyfriend or anything,” you rush to say, flicking your gaze between the table and the floor.

“then, what if we went?” hongjoong practically whispers and your eyes shoot up to his face, his now as red as yours.

boy next door

⇀ paring mechanic!yunho x house flipper!reader

⇀ wc 1.5k

⇀ warnings mentions of food, eating, suggestive, allusions to sex, recent breakup, mentions of a cheating ex, imagining hitting said cheating ex

maybe you should have listened to your friends that told you flipping a house all by yourself was a bit ambitious, but they should have known telling you that would only make you want to do it more. your family might have called you stubborn but you liked to frame it as strong-willed. so here you sat, covered in streaks of paint as you ate your lunch on the floor of a kitchen that was still wholly unusable while the fresh varnish on the living room walls started to dry.

you had yet to buy any furniture, an air mattress your only comfort at night, after selling everything from your apartment in the city. all of it was stained by memories of your ex, moments you’d shared together before he’d told you he’d been seeing someone else behind your back for months.

it’s fine, you could use a change of scenery anyway.

the suburbs were treating you well so far, the neighbor on your right a little old lady, ms. lee, that housed and cared for the feral cats in the area who had given you the most delicious treats she made herself as a house warming gift. you’d expected your other neighbor to be similar, or maybe a little family like most suburbs attracted, but what you had experienced yesterday was far from family friendly.

you’d come back from the hardware store around noon, buckets of paint weighing you down as you made your way up the driveway. you had spotted your neighbor’s garage door open and a shiny, certainly vintage, black car peaking out from inside. however, what you hadn’t noticed when sat in your own car, but were certainly aware of now that you could see inside perfectly, was a man, clad in a black tank top and track pants, leaning into the open hood of the black car.

you weren’t the type that normally stared at people, preferring to mind your business in most public spaces, but how could you not when a man built like a greek god, skin glowing from his efforts, was grunting in frustration as his arms flexed to adjust something in the depths of the vehicle, muscles defined so clearly as he fixed whatever was wrong. you tried not to think about how long it had been since you’d last gotten intimate with anyone, your ex seemingly uninterested every time you had tried to initiate anything for such a long time that you were surely only projecting your frustrations onto the poor man in front of you.

“hey! you must be the new neighbor.”

oh no, how long had you been staring.

“oh! yeah, i just moved in.”

although he had to have noticed you checking him out, he didn’t say anything about your ogling, a warm smile adorning his handsome face instead of the disgusted snarl you were prepared for.

“you’re fixing her up all by yourself?” he asks with a tick of his chin toward your house and you’re guessing he’d talked to ms. lee after she visited you.

“that’s the plan,” you nod with a chuckle, still feeling awkward from having been caught gawking at your new hot neighbor.

“my name’s yunho,” he introduces, cleaning a spot of grease off his hands with a rag before tossing it over his shoulder gently. “i’m not particularly known for my design skills but, if you ever need someone to hammer a nail or lift something heavy, feel free to ring my bell.”

you tried not to think of the double meaning of that last phrase, begging your mind to climb out of the gutter, and assured him you would before trying not to trip over your own feet on the way up to your front door.

and so your lunch break was spent thinking about the hot guy next door and how you could manage to avoid him for the rest of your life in order to steer clear of embarrassing yourself any further. of course, you could never expect for your life to go as planned.

the next week you’ve moved your focus into the kitchen, starting with the god awful cabinets that were certainly installed without a thought to the house’s time period or even functionality. although it was physically strenuous, taking a hammer to the cheap wood of those horrible cabinets was certainly helping you release some of the anger that had been simmering since the breakup. Maybe you should have printed out a picture of your ex’s face and taped it inside.

you were so focused, and making a pretty loud ruckus, that you almost didn’t hear the sound of your doorbell ringing. trying to think of who could possibly be interested in visiting you at 3 pm on a tuesday, you made your way to your front door, leaving your hammer in the kitchen but keeping your gloves on. you would have looked through the peephole of your door to determine if it was worth opening but of course the last owner of the property felt that a peephole wasn’t necessary. although, as you open the door to your neighbor, the hottie not the lady, you’re not sure a peephole would have changed your mind.

he’s in a simple outfit today, just a white t-shirt and dark jeans, but you still have to resist giving him a full glance up and down. his hair is slightly damp and based on the way you can clearly smell his smoky vanilla shampoo you can guess he’s just had a shower.

“hi,” you greet, trying not to think of the way you’re certainly looking and smelling like you’ve been dunked in a pool of your own sweat, your house currently without air conditioning and it being late spring.

“hey,” he says, the same warm smile making a reappearance as he stands on your porch.

he doesn’t say anything else and you almost wonder if maybe the heat is starting to get to you. could this be a dehydration induced hallucination?

“can i help you?” you ask after feeling like you’ve been making enough awkward eye contact, although yunho’s smile hasn’t budged.

“right!” he chirps, as though remembering what he’s doing. “i just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead or anything. i heard a lot of things breaking and some yelling, so just wanted to make sure you’re alive.” he nods, his hair bouncing slightly and for a moment he really looks like a big puppy, eyes expectant and big as he waits for you to say something.

“oh, sorry,” you apologize, not even aware that you had been yelling but to be fair, you had been really sucked into the vision of getting to hit your ex with a hammer and make him as broken as you’d felt. “i was just taking out some anger on the old kitchen cabinets.”

he cocks his head to the side and again you find your mind drawing up another comparison to a puppy. you wonder if anyone’s ever told him that before.

“you’re taking out the cabinets?” he asks, almost seeming worried and you raise a brow.

“yeah,” you say, trying not to sound defensive and hoping he doesn’t have some sort of secret attachment to the fixtures. “they don’t fit the house and they barely functioned before.”

he shakes his head at your clarification and now it’s your own turn to tilt your head in confusion.

“you’re doing that by yourself? i thought i said you could ask for my help with heavy lifting,” he explains his worry and you don’t get a chance to respond before he’s starting to walk back to his house. “i’m gonna grab some gloves and another hammer,” he calls from your yard as you watch him go. “i’ll be right back.”

so you spent the afternoon destroying your kitchen with the neighbor you had vowed to stay away from only a few days before. to your credit, you did try to refuse his help, insisting that you could do it and telling him about the lack of a/c, but of course he stood firm, pointing out that he’d already made the effort to grab his own gloves and tools. maybe you’d met your match in terms of stubbornness.

“thank you,” you’d said with sincerity as you both sat on the floor of your now bare kitchen, open pizza box between you that you were regretting letting him pay for but, again, he had insisted. “there’s gotta be some way i can pay you back,” you said as you took another bite of your slice, eyes looking at the man across from you expectantly.

“well, i can think of one way,” he says, placing his half eaten slice on his plate and brushing off his hands.

you perk up at this, eager to know what you can do to make sure he knows how appreciative you are.

“let me take you out to dinner,” he suggests and you’re glad that you’re already sitting or your knees might have buckled and forced you to sit anyway.

opposites attract

⇀ paring hydrophobic!yeosang x lifeguard!reader

⇀ wc 2.2k

⇀ warnings slightly suggestive, he’s not literally hydrophobic he’s just a hater, mention of drowning, drinking alcohol (not you)

yeosang has spent every summer since he could remember avoiding the one place his friends had managed to finally persuade him into visiting, the local water park.

now it’s not that he was deathly afraid of being in the water, in fact his parents told him that he used to love swimming as a toddler, but he just didn’t see the appeal of anything that swimming and pools had to offer. the hot ass sun forcing you to reapply sunscreen every few hours, the screaming children that would make your head pound, the gross water that had surely seen every bodily fluid, and, worst of all, the annoying ass lifeguards that yeosang just knew were judging everyone with their hypercritical stares.

“you need some vitamin d,” wooyoung says, rubbing in the sunscreen he’d just put onto his arms until the cream had become sheer. “you can’t just sit in front of your computer every day.”

yeosang scowls as his best friend passes him the sunscreen, hesitantly squeezing some of it onto his legs.

“especially if you’re trying to get back into dating,” san adds as he removes his shirt, tossing it onto the picnic table the group had claimed.

“who’s dating?” yunho asked as he joined the group, setting his bag down and pushing his sunglasses up to sit on top of his head, ready to apply sunscreen onto his face when yeosang passed the bottle to him.

“yeosang,” wooyoung says as he shoves his flip flops off, leaving them where they lay and stretching his arms above his head.

“you’re dating someone?” yunho questions, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“not yet,” san answers for him just as yeosang opens his mouth and he gives san an annoyed look.

“hey boys!”

suddenly, all three of yeosang’s friends are lighting up as they turn toward the source of the voice unfamiliar to him. each of them perks up as they return the greeting of the stranger, a lifeguard that was headed in the direction of yeosang and his friends.

“y/n!” san calls your name excitedly as you approach, stopping just outside of the shadow from the umbrella attached to the table.

“i didn’t know you were working today,” yunho says, finishing up his sunscreen application as he smiles brightly at you.

yeosang tries not to let his nerves show on his face as his eyes flick between you and his friends, always a little on edge when meeting new people but especially when that new person is particularly attractive. you’re wearing what he assumes is the typical uniform, a pair of short red swim trunks that show off your legs and a tight white tank top that leaves little to the imagination. he tries to resist the urge to let his eyes roam over the skin that’s exposed by your uniform, glowing from the summer sun, and instead he focuses on your face, shaded by the red visor you wear but expression as bright as though you’re channeling the beams from the sky above you. yeosang is tempted to bask in their warmth as your gaze flicks over to him but instead he looks away, trying to look busy as he rummages through his bag for nothing.

“sua called off today,” you explain, “so here i am.” you shrug as you gesture around yourself.

“oh, this is yeosang,” san speaks up with a harsh slap to his friends shoulder and yeosang flinches away from the touch before shoving san’s hand off.

“yeosang, this is y/n,” wooyoung provides, sliding toward you, “our favorite lifeguard.”

at his statement you reach up to pinch at wooyoung’s cheek, giving it a little shake as you let out a coo, “aw. i would say you’re my favorite patrons but i’m not in the habit of lying.” you chuckle lightly as wooyoung swats your hand away from his face with a pout.

“nice to meet you yeosang,” you greet him easily, nodding slightly and he’s thankful you didn’t reach out to shake his hand.

“you too,” he lies, not at all happy to meet someone who chooses to torture themselves out in the heat as a job.

“okay, well i’ve got to continue making my rounds, just wanted to say hi,” you explain as you back away from the group, headed back on the main path next to the pool you’re all closest to. “if you guys are staying for night swim i’m gonna be stationed at the wave pool so feel free to come chat.”

night swim, the only reason yeosang agreed to come. the local park had an adult only, alcohol provided, swim night that they hosted every other week. they would close down the more dangerous parts of the park, like the deep ends of the pools and the giant water slides, and just let people chill out in things like the wave pool and even go on the kiddie slides.

yeosang had agreed for the alcohol and the offer to be able to sit at the edge of the pool while his friends enjoyed trying not to drown as they wrested in the water. unfortunately he was not aware he would be dragged to the park while the sun was still out or when his friends were going to be chatting up the cute lifeguard the whole time, and he is an adult so he can admit you’re cute.

“you good?” yunho asks, noticing yeosang staring after you. the latter hadn’t even noticed he’d been looking straight at your butt as you retreated until his friend snapped him from his thoughts and he hoped he could blame the redness on his cheeks being the summer heat.

“yeah, yeah,” yeosang nodded finally pulling his arm out of his bag as he tried to anticipate what the group was about to pressure him to do.

he really did try to fight to just stay under the umbrella until the sun set but of course wooyoung needed him to go down the slides with him before they closed for the night and yunho had to show him the lazy river before it would be crowded with other drunk people and san demanded to go off the diving boards together before the deep end was off limits. so, because yeosang is a good friend, and his friends were extremely annoying when they whined, he did all of it. he honestly wasn’t as upset about the situation as he thought he might be, even finding himself sometimes enjoying the whole affair, but he would never admit that, he had a reputation to uphold.

lucky for yeosang and his reputation, the afternoon went by quickly and families with their sticky children trickled out as the sun set behind the horizon, initiating the start of night swim. of course as soon as he and his friends had finished their first drink and started sipping on their second yunho was quick to remind them about you over at the wave pool.

“i think i’m just gonna go back to the lazy river,” yeosang said with a jerk of his thumb toward the stack of intertubes behind himself.

“what why?” san asks, slipping his towel back off his shoulders.

“the lazy river is packed,” yunho adds, eyebrows scrunched as he looks over at it before turning to look at the wave pool that’s comparably more deserted.

wooyoung on the other hand has been paying a little too much attention to his best friend, noticing how yeosang’s eyes would flit over to you whenever you passed them during the day, and his lips curl up into the smile he always wears when he’s messing with someone. “i’m sure y/n would love to get to know you,” wooyoung grins, eyebrows wiggling before he sends yeosang a dramatic wink.

san’s mouth quickly forms an o as he realizes what wooyoung is implying and yunho just rolls his eyes at their antics, however neither are helping as wooyoung wraps his fingers around yeosang’s wrist and starts tugging him in the direction of the wave pool.

he can do nothing as he approaches the pool, not really in the mood to make a scene even if he could feel his heart climbing into his throat with every step that led them closer to you.

once the group is in sight you wave, sat on the edge of the pool with a float tube on your lap and feet dangling in the water. both of the lifeguard chairs are occupied and yeosang assumes that, because of the alcohol involved and the shutting down of half the park, lifeguards are double booked at the open areas, another lifeguard sat opposite you on the other side of the wave pool.

you smile brightly as wooyoung drags yeosang toward the edge of the pool, san and yunho shuffling behind. the latter two boys easily step into the water, not too interested in being involved in whatever scheme wooyoung has cooked up. wooyoung however ignores the pool in favor of sidling up right next to you.

you have to crane your neck to look up at the boys and yeosang moves his head to look at the water, feeling like a little kid as wooyoung still hasn’t let go of his wrist and does the talking for him.

“hey,” wooyoung greets you easily. “yeosang’s not a fan of the wave pool. do you mind if he sits with you while we swim?”

it’s not an entire lie, this spot being yeosang’s least favorite in the whole park, but he’s not too interested in sitting next to you in silence while his friends laugh at him. he knows it will be silent because he’s certainly not confident enough to start conversation, plus you have a whole job to do, and he’s certain his friends will be laughing at him because they’ve already noticed his attraction to you.

“sure,” you agree, to a bit of shock from yeosang, and pat the concrete next to you, shifting the tube on your lap so that it’s not in the way.

“great!” wooyoung declares but yeosang certainly doesn’t agree as he gets shoved to the spot you patted and a harsh push on his shoulder encourages him to take a seat. “have fun,” wooyoung adds before he’s scurrying off to join yunho and san.

there’s barely enough time to process that his best friend has abandoned him before you’re speaking up.

“so, not a fan of the wave pool,” you prompt and yeosang spares a glance at you.

you’re still looking over the pool, scanning for any danger or situations to whistle at people about.

“uh yeah,” he answers plainly, placing the cup he’s surprised didn’t spill during wooyoung’s tugging on the ground between you two. “i mean, don’t really like water parks in general so,” he explains with a shrug, venturing to put one of his legs into the edge of the pool, the other still tucked underneath him.

“really?” you ask like you’re actually surprised, like you’ve never actually met someone that didn’t like a water park, but based on your profession he’s sure you probably don’t often run into people who don’t frequent any pool.

he doesn’t answer, just shrugging once more as he watches the way the water ripples whenever he shifts his foot under the water.

“any particular reason?” you ask and yeosang ventures another glance at you, this time making eye contact with him as you’ve turned your head to face him. “i mean you don’t seem to be scared of water or anything,” you say as you gesture toward his leg that hangs off the ledge.

instead of returning to hold your float tube you place the hand you’d used on the concrete, leaning toward yeosang just slightly and he can smell a hint of the sunscreen you’d been reapplying through the day as well as something that he assumes is a cologne or perfume you must of sprayed on during your break. it makes his brain feel a bit fuzzy as you tilt your head at him, waiting for an answer.

“uh, i don’t know.” he can practically hear wooyoung judging his bland response and tries to rack his brain for anything else to say. “just don’t find it interesting i guess.”

you hum in acknowledgment, nodding slowly as you observe yeosang and even though the hot sun went down over an hour ago he feels like he might melt.

“so there’s nothing specific about it you hate?” you pry, taking another quick glance over the pool to make sure no one drowned when you weren’t looking before you return your gaze to the man beside you.

yeosang reaches out for his drink and realizes a moment too late how close your hand is to the cup, his fingers brushing against your warm skin and causing a tingle to shoot up his arm. you don’t mention the contact but yeosang swears he sees the corner of your mouth tick up as he takes a swig of his beverage, placing the cup on the other side of himself once he’s swallowed.

“no secret hate for lifeguards or anything right?” you continue to interrogate him, a teasing tone seeping into your words.

he could mention how he thinks you’re all overbearing and judgemental but he’s not sure that would work in his favor right now considering you don’t seem to actually be all that bad.

“no,” he says with a shake of his head, eyes not leaving your own.

at that your smile seems to grow, eyes holding a sparkle of something yeosang can’t quite read.

“good,” you respond, “because that would make asking you out a lot harder.”

marriage pact

⇀ paring ex best friend!san x heartbroken!reader

⇀ wc 1.1k

⇀ warnings therapy mentions/appointment, previous heartbreak, reader feels a lot of guilt, reader cries, cursing

you wish, with everything in your power, that you could reverse time, or maybe just knock some sense into your 14 year old self, and maybe you technically could, if you only shoved everything back in the shoebox and put it back on the shelf. then it would sit where it had for years before, except instead of dust, it would collect guilt, your guilt, every time you passed and remembered what was in it. your high school diary, a few birthday cards, notes with ink so faded the words were indecipherable, a paper clipped stack of photo booth strips, and one intact copy of the marriage pact you’d made with your best friend choi san, well, your high school best friend. why did you have to find it now, just as you’re reaching the age which you’d either need to be already married or fulfill your half of the contract by saying “i do”?

you think for a moment that you could simply throw out the entire box, but you’re too sentimental for that, it’s why the box had been with you so long in the first place, but now the memories, that should have been happily contained, have come to seep back into your life and the heartbreak taints every single one.

you could throw away just the pact, but your trash stinks enough already and you can practically hear the voice of your therapist telling you how it’s just an opportunity, an excuse, to reach out and maybe mend something that’s been broken for so long.

damn her for being right all the time.

and so you call, hoping his number is still the same or you’ll have wasted all your worrying for nothing. there’s nothing to indicate it’s his voicemail box, the generic computer voice reading out it’s typical prompt, but you might as well. if it’s a wrong number they’ll simply never call you back and you’ll go on with your life, as best you can.

“hey, i’m not sure if this is the right number. i’m trying to reach choi san. i’m-“ you pause for a moment, trying to figure out how to describe yourself. “i’m an old friend,” you settle on. “so, yeah. if you can give me a call back, i just needed,” you pause again. did you need to? maybe you should’ve written a script just in case. “wanted,” you amend, “to talk.” you pause again, wondering how you should end before the line beeps, signaling it’s been ended for you.

at your appointment the next day, your therapist seems proud, even as you try to change the subject, work around your feelings. she manages, as she always does, to steer you back on track, approach your emotions head on, and as she makes you recount the memories, and sensations, attached to the items in the shoebox, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. your first instinct is to silence it and so you do, barely registering the action before you’re sucked back into your session. only after you’ve penciled in your next meeting do you register that you’d sent a call to voicemail.

“hi y/n,” he starts easily and his voice has the hair on the back of your neck rising.

“i’m sorry i missed your call yesterday,” and he sounds genuinely apologetic. “i actually wanted to talk to you too i was just really busy until right now. i’m free for the rest of the day, so if you get a chance call me back. lo-“ your breath hitches at his mistake, forcing you to realize how shallowly you’d been inhaling the entirety of the message. “bye,” he concludes, an emptiness in his tone, before the message ends.

as you sit in your car, still in the parking lot of your therapist’s office, you remember that you had intentionally left out your name when leaving your message and that even after all these years, all this time apart, he can still recognize you by your voice alone, no matter how garbled by phone speaker quality.

you toss around the idea of waiting until you get back to your place to call but you can feel the nerves starting to tangle your stomach and are certain that you’ll have talked yourself out of it by the time you would get there. instead, you call back.

he picks up on the second ring.

“hi.”

he sounds like he’s smiling and you hope that’s a good sign, not an indication that he’s about to laugh at you and tell you to fuck off.

“hi,” you breath in response, probably a little pathetic.

“you wanted to talk?” he supplies and if you could get out of your own head you might pin the statement as sounding a bit teasing, maybe even a hint flirty, but you can barely register anything when everything you’ve wanted to say for the past few years is suddenly all mingling at the front of your consciousness.

“uh yeah,” you confirm plainly, trying to will your mouth to create any other sound.

as if he can sense your distress, just as he always had, san speaks up for you and says the words that had settled on the back of your tongue, “do you remember that pact we made when we were 14?”

in the moment you feel like it’s the right thing to say but as soon as the words are out of your mouth you anticipate the moments you’ll lie awake at night berating yourself for them.

“i love you and i’m sorry i made you hate me.”

you feel like you’re waiting for the storm to finally hit as your words are met with pregnant silence, san’s breath on the other end of the line as clear as if he were sat in your passenger seat, and for a moment you allow yourself to imagine just that.

“i never hated you,” he says with clear exasperation, seemingly surprised. “have you thought i’ve hated you this whole time?”

you nod shakily before remembering that he can’t see you and muttering a broken, “yes.”

“i’m so sorry,” he acknowledges before shushing you gently, and only at the sound of his comfort do you realize that you had started sobbing.

you try to calm yourself, your heavy breaths pacifying into watery hiccups as san eases you back from your sudden emotional release.

“can i tell you something?” san says after a moment and you nod once again before chuckling at yourself and verbally confirming he can.

“i love you too,” he says with an ease that almost makes you jealous. “so can we talk more about that pact?”

love at first sight

⇀ paring clumsy!mingi x er nurse!reader

⇀ wc 1.9k

⇀ warnings lots of eye talk, hospital setting

it was well known in the er that the full moon night shift was bound to be chaotic, something about the energy of the phase making people feel like they’re invincible and leading them to accidents that seemed next to impossible to occur. even if you weren’t superstitious about any of that astrological stuff, you couldn’t ignore the evidence as this night, like every full moon before it, brought you a plethora of patients that each had a problem more severe or strange than the last. you were quickly running out of beds and soon you’d run out of space in the waiting room as you noticed another person entering through the sliding glass doors.

“this is the busiest i’ve ever seen it,” chae, the triage nurse stationed at the front desk says as you move past her to the file folder, ready to grab the next patient to take back. she was new to the emergency department, a sweetheart who’d done all her clinicals in your pediatrics department and therefore had never seen the full moon effect.

“your first full moon,” you note, digging through the file folder to pull out the next one and look at the name. “you’re doing great,” you note with a gentle pat on her shoulder.

she smiles at you appreciatively before turning to address the patient quickly approaching the desk.

you take a glance into the file in your hands. “painful eyes, difficulty seeing. possible hazardous material in eyes,” the intake form reads and you sigh. what does “possible” mean in this situation?

“song mingi,” you call out into the waiting area and a rather tall man, eyes shut tightly, pops up from his seat immediately, another shorter man following suit and reaching out a hand to stabilize the taller as he stumbles. they both make their way to you, the shorter guiding the taller so he doesn’t bump into anyone or anything on his way.

“mingi?” you ask gesturing toward the one who clearly is having eye problems while looking at the other, seemingly fine, man and he only nods.

“i’m his brother, hongjoong,” the shorter one says and they don’t seem to resemble each other very much but you think nothing of it, more interested in treating your patient, who appears to be in quiet a bit of pain, then anything else.

“you can both follow me,” you say, scanning your badge to open the door and moving just slower than you might normally to allow hongjoong to lead mingi.

once you arrive to one of the empty rooms hongjoong guides mingi to sit on the bed, muttering about how stupid he is, before taking a seat himself on one of the plastic chairs off to the side.

you pay no mind to the muffled communication of the men as you place mingi’s folder onto the counter next to the sink and move to start taking his vitals. they both go silent as you wrap the blood pressure cuff around his arm, clipping the pulse oximeter onto his finger as well.

all of his vitals come back normal, only slightly elevated, as expected, because of the stress and pain, and you note them onto his chart.

“so what did you do to your eyes,” you ask as you go to remove the blood pressure cuff.

“uh well,” mingi starts his voice strained with a mix of pain and embarrassment, “i was trying to scare my friend and he was, uh, holding air freshener.”

you resist the urge to roll your eyes as you assume what happened next in his story.

“okay,” you say with a nod, putting the cuff you’d removed back in the basket and taking down notes on his chart. “did you try rinsing your eyes?”

he swallows thickly, his adams apple bobbing, and you let out a silent sigh as you prepare for whatever else must have went wrong.

“we tried,” he says a little shakily, “but the bottle must have had leftover cleaner or something in it.”

of course it did. you hold yourself back from asking how or why and glance at hongjoong who looks as exasperated as you feel, eyes closed and fingers massaging his temples.

“so you don’t know what the cleaner was?” you ask and mingi shakes his head, wincing as he squeezes his eyes tighter.

“can i take a look at your eyes?” you ask as you set down his chart, grabbing the pen light out of your scrub pocket.

“uh sure,” he says but you can hear the hesitation once again.

“okay, i’m going to hold your eye open for a second,” you explain, adjusting the bed so that his eyes are level with your own. “i’m going to shine a light into them just so i can make sure there’s no debris and they’re dilating properly.”

he gulps again and you know that he’s preparing for it to be painful.

“okay,” he says, a little more determined, and you place your fingers on his eyelid, starting with his left eye.

you try to move as quickly as you can, not wanting it to be too painful, but his hurt grunts are still audible as you check both eyes. fortunately, they’re dilating fine and you can’t see any damage or debris.

“they look alright,” you note aloud, slipping the light back in your pocket and writing more on his chart. “let’s just get your eyes properly flushed and some antibiotic drops in there, then we can see how they’re doing.”

mingi’s shoulders relax a little at this and you start to make your way toward the door, heading out to grab the irrigation tubing and kidney dish as well as ask another nurse to prepare the drops you’ll need.

“will he need to stay overnight?” hongjoong asks as you open the door and you turn back to him.

“we’ll want to keep him for at least an hour after we administer the drops to make sure that nothing gets worse but if he’s cleared up by then you’ll be able to go,” you explain and hongjoong nods as you leave.

flushing his eyes takes a moment as he fights to close his eyes a lot during the process, which is understandable, but the eye drops are worse, managing to get his eyes closed right before the solution hits his eyeball no matter how well you manage to hold his eye lids. eventually, with the help of another nurse holding his lids while you administer the drops, you manage to give him the proper dosage and leave him to check on another patient. you promise to return in an hour and instruct both men on how to use the nurse call button in case anything happens before then.

“he’s kind of cute,” chae, now munching on a granola bar as she takes her break behind the nurse’s station, says as you approach. “in like a himbo way,” she elaborates when you raise a brow at her, only shrugging as she take another bite.

you shake your head in slight disappointment. “he’s my patient,” you say. “i’m not really focused on how attractive he is.”

“so you agree he’s attractive,” chae chimes, peeking up for a moment before you roll your eyes.

“i’m not doing this with you again,” is your only response, moving past her to continue with your work.

an hour later you knock gently on the door of mingi’s room before entering to find hongjoong still in the plastic chair, phone in hand as he scrolls, and mingi asleep on the bed, the heartbeat monitor beeping quietly. you take that as a good sign.

“hello,” you greet hongjoong before you move toward the bed, preparing to wake your patient.

hongjoong greets you in return, tucking his phone away so he can pay attention to what you’re doing.

you take a brief glance at the heartbeat and oxygen monitor, noticing that his vitals are normal before taping mingi on the shoulder with enough force to jostle him awake. he grunts slightly before stretching, eyes scrunching up for a moment before they blink open.

“good morning,” you say with a teasing grin and mingi turns to face you.

suddenly the beeping of the monitor that had been steady and slow before is increasing rapidly and your head whips to look at it with surprise.

“you don’t have a heart condition do you?” you ask with concern, brows furrowing as you turn back to look at mingi once again.

his face and ears are bright red and his eyes go wide before he sits up with a start. “uh no, i don’t,” he rushes out, his words shaky as he lowers his gaze to his hands that now sit in his lap, messing with the clip on his pointer finger as though he wants to remove it.

“is everything okay?” you ask with genuine concern. “what’s wrong?”

mingi clears his throat and keeps his gaze firmly focused on his hands as he answers, “nothing. i just- you’re really cute.”

“oh my god,” you hear hongjoong huff in disbelief before his face drops into his hand, eyes covered in what you can only assume is embarrassment.

now it’s your turn to blush, a heat creeping onto your cheeks as you try to calm your own heart.

“oh,” you breathe, trying to collect your thoughts and remain professional. “thank you,” you say quickly before you hurry to take the clip off his finger, ignoring the heat of his skin against your own as your hand brushes his own.

“how are your eyes?” you ask, your own gaze moving about the room sheepishly.

“good,” he chirps, voice cracking slightly.

“good,” you mirror with a sharp nod. “i’m, uh, going to write you a prescription for antibiotic drops and just use those twice a day for the next two weeks,” you say, returning to business. “just come back if they get worse.”

mingi nods, still not looking at you and you clear your throat.

“thank you,” hongjoong says for mingi, and you nod in response.

you leave as quickly as you can, eager to be rid of the weird energy that had been created in the room. luckily your shift is close to over and one of the other nurse practitioners catches the way you’re acting a bit weird as you file the prescription, telling you to go home early and she’ll cover for you. you fight for a moment before finally giving in and deciding to make a quick stop at the 24-hour convenience store on the way home.

“oh!” a familiar voice snaps you out of your thoughts about which late night snack to pick and you turn quickly to see none other than song mingi standing before you, a look of surprise on his face as he looks at you.

“hi,” you squeak, just as surprised.

you feel your blush from earlier returning and turn back to face the shelf you’d been browsing.

“i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable before,” mingi says, keeping his distance but not looking away from you.

you shake your head and glance at him for a moment. “oh no,” you reassure, “i just wasn’t prepared.” you let out a slightly nervous laugh.

mingi hums thoughtfully and nods slowly, taking an experimental step toward you.

“could i ask you something?” he requests and you turn to face him fully.

“sure,” you reply with a gentle shrug.

“let me know if i’m overstepping,” he begins, eyes flicking from yours to the shelf of snacks and back, “but could i get your number?”

enemies to lovers

⇀ paring chef!wooyoung x host!reader

⇀ wc 2.1k

⇀ warnings wooyoung is mean, discussion of food and eating, mentions of bullying in high school

so maybe your job wasn’t the worst, and most of your coworkers were pretty manageable, but wooyoung, he’s what made it unbearable at times. you’d already asked your manager to be scheduled for when he wasn’t, but he’d explained that you were the best one up front and he was the best in the kitchen, so of course you’re both going to be scheduled during the restaurant’s busiest times. “plus maybe it will force you two to work out whatever’s wrong.”

what your manager didn’t account for was that there was no working out what was wrong, considering it had been nothing that you were aware of. wooyoung had simply looked at you on your first day and decided he hated you. could you have asked why? of course, but you’re not sure he would have told you because to every question you asked him he would simply huff and roll his eyes, telling you to ask someone else.

his little act had quickly gotten on your nerves and so you were fast to return his disdain, deciding that his uncalled for behavior was enough of a reason to hate him.

“you know, if you just talked to him you could make everyone’s lives just a little bit easier,” soonha, you’re favorite waitress, says as she unties her apron and makes sure all her pens are organized in the pockets before placing it in her locker.

she’d been listening to you complain about everything wooyoung had done during your shift that had pissed you off, from as small as walking in a minute late to the way he’d complained about you blocking his path when you were eating a snack in an empty corner of the kitchen, a spot you’d chosen because it was specifically out of the way. of course the worst had been when he’d sided with a patron that was lying about their wait time, almost getting you in trouble with the manager on duty before you actually showed her the patron’s check-in timer.

“he’s the one with the problem,” you scoff, pushing your arms through the sleeves of your jacket. “he should be the one talking to me. you know he didn’t even apologize today.”

soonha only rolls her eyes, shutting her locker before a look of surprise takes over her features and she’s whipping around to you.

“oh my gosh, i totally forgot i told kay that i would restock her citruses,” the waitress says, pulling out what you can assume is a list from the bartender, kay, of the number of lemons, limes, and oranges that needed to be brought up to the bar.

“hey let me do that,” you say, grabbing the slip of paper from her hand.

“are you sure?” she says, although the way she glances at the back door tells you that she’s not too attached to the task.

“of course,” you reassure. “you’ve got the baby at home, go,” you encourage her and she’s basically running out the back door.

“they’re just in cold storage,” she reminds you quickly as the door shuts behind her and you chuckle with a gentle shake of your head in amusement.

the task is easy enough, grabbing a small empty cardboard box from the deserted kitchen as you make your way to the walk-in refrigerator, noticing that the kitchen staff all appear to have left for the night and thanking whatever higher power was watching over you for not making you the last person in the restaurant with wooyoung.

it’s been a while since you’d actually been inside cold storage, your job description not calling for it unless you were being an extra hand for bartending, although that was something that most of your staff asked the waiters for. this mostly meant that you couldn’t remember if it was normal for the door to click like that when it closed behind you. obviously that didn’t matter much anyway and so you just continue with the task at hand, searching for wherever kitchen staff had put citruses when they were rearranging.

as you’re reaching above your head to grab a handful of lemons to place in your trusty cardboard box the door to cold storage is suddenly cracking open, nearly causing you to have a heart attack as you’d believed you were the last person in the building. to your dismay, in walks the last person you’d probably ever want to see, possibly even over some robber interested in making off with your cold stock, wooyoung. he takes a moment before he registers that it’s you and the familiar scowl takes over his features, adjusting the large box in his arms.

you try to appear unaffected by his presence, taking a breath to calm your racing heart at the shock from a moment ago and turning back to counting your lemons. you sigh as you realize he must have been in dry storage when you passed through the kitchen and curse yourself for getting your hopes up about this task being easy.

the door makes that same click as it closes behind him but you don’t hear wooyoung react, moving to the shelf right behind you and standing with his back only inches from your own. the box he’s holding makes a soft thump as it hits the ground and you clearly hear the tape ripping off the top. from what you can tell he seems to be placing whatever was in the box into the crate on the shelf behind you and you’re trying so hard not to pay attention to him as you continue your own job.

soon enough your little box is filled with the correct number of fruits, you even double checked your counting, and you turn to leave the fridge as wooyoung starts to breakdown his now empty box. however, you don’t get very far, the door not budging when you place pressure against the handle.

you let out a huff as you place your box down and grab the handle with both hands. when the door still doesn’t move you lean your shoulder against it, trying to use your body weight to leverage the thing open.

“what are you doing?”

you feel your skin prickle at his voice, obviously annoyed with whatever antics he thinks you’re up to now, and you turn around as slowly as you can manage, face blank.

“the door is stuck,” you explain and wooyoung’s face scrunches up in response before he’s moving toward you.

“move,” he demands and you slide off to the side before he can place his hand on your shoulder to move you himself.

of course he’d taken off his chef coat, leaving him in just his white undershirt and black slacks, and you resist the urge to watch his arms as he gives a harsh push to the door. unfortunately for the both of you, his shoving is just as successful as yours was and you roll your eyes at him.

“what the fuck did you do?” he says, turning to you with anger painting his features.

if you didn’t hate him you might have found him slightly attractive now, gaze dark and sharp as he looked right through you, but he had some vendetta against you and therefore you had one against him.

“me?” you say in disbelief. “why do you think i had something to do with this?”

he scoffs and it’s probably a sound you would be able to identify in your sleep at this point, having heard it so often.

“you always do,” he mutters and you don’t know what to say in response, opting instead to just roll your eyes once more and chalking it up to whatever mystery grudge he’s holding against you.

“whatever, i’ll just call-“ you cut yourself off as you dig your hands into your jacket pockets and realize that your phone is still sat inside of your open locker in the break room. “never mind,” you mumble as you pull your hands from your pockets and decide to just take a seat on the chilly floor.

“right,” wooyoung says looking down at you with one eyebrow raised before he’s pulling his own phone from his pocket.

you’re barely listening as he speaks with whoever he calls, only picking out a few words here and there as you start to realize the predicament you’re in. of all the people to be trapped with.

“mingyu should be here in half an hour or so,” wooyoung tells you before he joins you on the floor, sitting across from you. “he told us not to kill each other in the meantime.”

you just flick your eyes up to him, your expression passive, before you go back to counting the floor tiles.

you’re not sure you’ll survive until help arrives, the first minute going by in a silence that feels like it’s crawling along your skin, threatening to eat you whole. by the second minute you’ve counted all the tiles on the floor that you can see five times and have moved onto counting the crates behind wooyoung. maybe you can go through and count the things in the crates next.

“what are you doing?”

you’re tempted not to answer him but you have a feeling he’ll ask again and the only thing worse than loosing count once is loosing count twice.

“counting,” you say plainly, starting with the crates again, however, you don’t even get close to where you’d left off last time when he speaks again.

“well, stop,” he says and you make sure he sees your look of confusion and annoyance. “you’re making me paranoid,” he elaborates and you just huff, turning you head so that he’s no longer in your line of sight.

“why do you hate me?”

you immediately don’t want to hear the answer and you whip your head back to him, worry on your features as you prepare to take it back.

except you don’t take it back, his face painted with bewilderment causing you to pause. he looks as though he can’t understand why you would ask, as though the answer was written on his forehead and you should simply be able to read it.

“are you trying to tell me you don’t remember?” he asks, and it’s the first time you can recall him being genuine with you.

you shake your head with a similar look of confusion.

“high school,” he supplies as though it will jog your memory.

the only problem is that it doesn’t, you didn’t go to high school with wooyoung, in fact you didn’t go to high school with anyone you work with, because you only moved to the area after graduating.

“wooyoung,” you start as you watch his features begin to soften, “the first time i met you was here, on my first day.”

he shakes his head with force, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“you were in that group, with miri, that always laughed at me,” he continues in disbelief, continuing to ramble about this group of bullies, and you feel your heart sink.

“wooyoung,” you repeat to catch his attention and he silenced himself. “i didn’t go to high school with you.”

you watch as his shoulders, which had lifted with every word that had come out of his mouth only moments ago, drop back down and he pales, eyes wide as he really sees you for the first time.

“i’m sorry,” he says, his eyes filled with regret as he remembers every little thing he’s done to make your life at work a living hell for as long as you’ve worked here. “i’m so, so sorry.”

“honestly,” you begin, processing everything that’s happened within the last few minutes, “if i thought someone i worked with was my high school bully, i would probably do the same things you did,” you say with a chuckle and you can see a blush start to tint wooyoung’s cheeks.

there’s a moment of quiet, one that feels like the polar opposite of the silence you sat in before, and you feel like you can clearly see the gears turning inside of wooyoung’s mind.

“did you eat dinner?” he asks finally, looking at you expectantly.

you just shake your head and watch as a bashful grin makes its way onto his face.

“can we start over?” he suggests. “i can make us something,” he adds, not oblivious to the way the other chefs had bribed you with food in the past. “after mingyu saves us, of course.”

right on cue you can hear someone puttering around in the kitchen, heading your way.

“sure,” you nod gently, a soft grin on your face, as wooyoung stands, offering his hand to you.

brother’s best friend

⇀ paring soccer player!jongho x sports photographer!reader

⇀ wc 1.8k

⇀ warnings cat-calling, jongho punches somebody, cursing, implications of harassment

you’d had a crush on your older brother’s best friend, jongho, for as long as you could remember, a secret that you’d kept to yourself just as long. unfortunately, within the last few years it had gotten much more difficult to hide this little fact, partly due to the fact that you’d managed to become best friends with probably the worst secret keeper on your college campus but, mostly because you were forced by your job to interact with him more than ever.

you were one of the student sports photographers on campus, assigned to photograph the men’s soccer team in the fall, a team which jongho and your brother were apart of. that was how they met in middle school, your brother the school’s goalie while jongho played midfield, and you hadn’t known peace since. of course you loved being able to pursue your passion and get paid for it, but with each game that you had to attend it was becoming more and more difficult to focus on your job.

jongho had grown a lot during the summer before his freshman year, the training for the team intense but rewarding, and suddenly you weren’t the only one with a more than platonic interest in the boy. by sophomore year, he was a star player, attracting the attention of those who weren’t even interested in soccer, or any sport for that matter. people would start to come to games just to see jongho sweaty and focused. now, as you and jongho began your junior years, your brother a senior, your jealousy was starting to peak.

“don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same if it wasn’t your job,” billie, your best friend and roommate, said as you threw another dirty look to the group of girls that had been shouting jongho’s name every five seconds.

you’d been complaining to her about all the attention on jongho, openly admitting your jealousy as she’d managed to pry the information of your crush out of you last year.

“i wouldn’t scream his name and distract him from his game,” you bite, bringing the viewfinder back up to your eye and following the ball as someone on the opposing team threw it back into play.

your job required you to attend every soccer game, and the occasional practice, to get shots for the campus newspaper and website. billie had started to tag along as your assistant at the beginning of this semester, claiming to just be happy to hang out with you even if she wasn’t getting paid, totally not because she had a crush on your brother or anything.

“right,” billie says with a nod, adjusting the strap of your camera bag on her shoulder, “because you can get his attention without all the drama.”

your best friend had gotten some weird idea in her head that jongho was secretly in love with you, an idea that had prompted her to dig into your feelings for jongho in the first place. you tried not to listen, not wanting to let her feed any sort of delusion that you and jongho were somehow possible.

“you know, when you said you would be my assistant, i thought you meant like helping me, not being annoying,” you say sarcastically, snapping a few pictures as your attacking midfielder managed to get control of the ball.

“maybe you’re being annoying,” billie pouts in response. “i’m just saying what i see.”

you resist the urge to roll your eyes, trying to focus on who has the ball and what moments to capture.

“am i not an objective party?” she asks and you have no idea where she’s heading with this argument. “you’ve known him for years and so you’re set that he doesn’t see you that way. i’m a fresh set of eyes to tell you the truth!”

you scoff at her. “you said yourself i’ve known him for years, wouldn’t that mean i know him better? so i know that he’s not interested?” you argue, players surrounding the ball and crowding your lens.

“you’re biased,” she says with a sense of finality and you pull your camera away from your face, deciding to glance through some of the pictures you’d just taken to see if you needed to adjust any of your settings. the lighting had changed a bit since the beginning of the game.

“yeah,” you agree after a moment, “and you’re a hopeless romantic.”

you turn and trek around down the field, looking for a new angle. you hear billie running after you, your camera bag bouncing against her hip gently and you remind yourself to at least buy her dinner after this as thanks for following you around for 90 minutes.

just as you both reach the other side of the field, the referee is blowing a whistle to signal the start of halftime and you sigh, glad to already be on the side of the field where the players benches are. you weren’t required to get pictures of players on the bench or any of the team huddled, but you liked to. they made good shots to advertise the team pride and allowed everyone to have professional pictures, even if they didn’t play in that game.

“hey y/n, hey billie,” you brother says as he passes you both, jogging toward the bench to grab his water and take a rest.

billie lights up and waves as he passes, you only roll your eyes, following after your brother to get closer to the bench.

“make sure you get my left, it’s my best side,” one of the players, hojin, says jokingly as you snap a wide shot of all the players sat on the bench.

you chuckle lightly, enjoying your banter with the players, as you continue to get a few more wide angles.

“what’s your name sexy?” you hear someone call behind you and turn to see one of the players of the opposing team looking right at you.

you don’t say anything for a moment, kind of shocked that anyone on the opposing team was talking to you as that had never happened before. you recognized him as their center midfielder, opposite jongho for a majority of the game.

“none of you business!” billie calls back for you, linking her arm with your own and pulling you closer to your team.

the guy doesn’t seem all that discouraged at first, sending you a wink before his eyes flick to something, or someone, behind you and his face drops.

you turn around just in time to see your brother sitting back on the bench, features sharp, and jongho turning to look at their coach, anger clear on his face.

you try not to think anything of it, knowing that your brother and jongho were naturally very protective, as billie tugs on your arm that’s still linked with hers.

“c’mon,” she says, “don’t forget to get your huddle shot.”

you try to return to business as normal once the game resumes, making sure to get a few key pictures that are always a hit for article features, but you’ve started to let your camera drift centerfield, toward jongho. except unlike other times this has happened it’s not simply because you’re being distracted by how handsome he looks. he’s started getting a bit aggressive with the player opposite him, the one that had called to you during halftime, and you watch through your lens as the player says something to jongho. whatever he said must have really upset jongho because just as you’re pulling away from the viewfinder he reels back and sends his fist right into the other guy’s face.

you feel your blood run cold as you watch the whole interaction unfold, a ref blowing the whistle sharply as he runs to centerfield. your brother, who had been on the bench, bolts for jongho, other players from both teams moving in to break up whatever is happening. somehow the other player manages to remain standing after the hit, stumbling back a bit, and jongho takes a few steps forward with a raised fist before your brother gets to him and pulls him back.

“what the actual fuck is wrong with you?” you hear your brother saying as he drags jongho toward the bench.

you hand billie your camera, telling her you’ve got enough for today and that she can just mess around with it before you stomp toward the bench yourself. your best friend sends you a slightly concerned, if not sympathetic, look as you leave but does as you say.

“are you crazy?” you say once you get to where jongho is sat, your brother popping a disposable ice pack and placing it onto his hand.

“if you’re here to lecture me i don’t need it,” jongho grunts. “i already know it was a bad idea.”

you scoff in disbelief as your eyebrows shoot up. “a bad idea? it was unbelievably stupid! what in the world would posses you to do something like that?”

jongho looks up at you for a moment, eyes blank, before looking at your brother who’s stood next to you, looking at his best friend expectantly.

“well?” you brother says, crossing his arms.

“some people should just keep their mouth shut,” jongho says looking down at his hand that’s covered by the ice pack and you scoff again, crossing your own arms.

“jongho,” you say sternly and he looks up at you again, eyes almost pleading for you not to press further. “i know you. this is not you.”

he shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant, before saying, “maybe it is.”

you sigh, sitting down next to jongho and placing a hand gently on top of his forearm.

“no it’s not,” you insist, much softer as you rub your thumb along his arm soothingly.

your own palm tingles at the sensation of his skin against yours but you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

jongho looks at your hand on him for a moment before glancing up at your face. after a moment he turns to where your brother is still standing and ticks his head in some sort of signal that has your brother patting jongho’s shoulder once before leaving you both.

“you asked if i was crazy,” jongho starts, turning to meet your slightly confused gaze. “i am crazy,” he says with a humorless laugh, “crazy for you.”

your thumb stops it’s movements as you freeze, wondering if you’re hearing him right.

“i couldn’t let him get away with what he was saying about you,” jongho explains. “i just snapped.”

you close your eyes, shaking your head like you’re trying to get rid of the thoughts clouding your judgement, before you ask, “can we go back to the part where you’re crazy?”

he chuckles again and you open your eyes to see a soft smile on his face.

“i’ve had the biggest, most embarrassing crush on you for years y/n,” he says, a blush dusting his cheeks.

your own lips curl into a smile as you reply, “that’s impossible because i’ve had the biggest, most embarrassing crush on you for years jongho.”

↼ ateez masterlist

note hope you enjoyed and these couples may be making a reappearance at some point in the future (also if you genuinely want to know the hangul just translates to “hey, where are you from”)

feedback always appreciated

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 21: "The Sound of Your Voice"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.7k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut [Comfort now exists in this series!!]

a/n: It has be SO LONG since this series got a much needed update!! But here we are with yet another little bittersweet installment. Though I'm working on a happier next part already tentatively titled "Declarations and Desire." And hopefully the tags at the bottom of the post worked, tumblr was giving me issues with the tag list for a few days. Feedback is always appreciated!

Lowering yourself down onto your couch, your eyes focused on the show you'd thrown on to watch while you ate, you felt your tired body relax into the cushions. Adjusting the plate of food in your lap, you made yourself comfortable for the evening. 

You'd had a meeting at work which had run late with your boss tonight and that was the reason behind you sitting down to eat takeout for dinner at almost seven tonight. You were tired and ready to just relax for the evening, looking forward to the phone call later that you’d come to expect from Matt just before you went to bed. It was usually when he’d return from his night out as Daredevil, giving the three hour time difference between you both at least one positive advantage because it meant that you could go to bed at a reasonable hour and still know he’d gotten back home safe.

You’d be lying if you said it hadn’t been difficult trying to navigate your new relationship with Matt ever since you’d come back from your brief visit to Hell’s Kitchen a month ago, though. The pair of you still talked everyday, whether it was via phone calls or texts periodically throughout the day. Matt had even begun leaving you sweet voicemails some mornings when he first got to work, knowing that shortly afterwards you’d be waking up on the other side of the country getting to hear his voice first thing. It always managed to make you smile starting off your day with one of those messages from him, and you’d quickly come to realize just how incredibly sweet and thoughtful he really was every time he left one. Which unfortunately also made you only miss him just that much more, desperate to be able to wake up beside him and hear him say all those things straight to you instead of over a voice message.

You’d also quickly come to realize that Karen had been right. You’d found yourself regretting not taking the opportunity to be more physically intimate with Matt while you’d been in New York and had the chance. You found yourself frequently thinking about Matt in sexual scenarios more often than not since you’d returned to L.A., which often resulted in you being quite sexually frustrated most of the time. His outright flirting with you over the phone hadn’t helped, either. Sometimes once you’d finished a phone call with him before bed, you’d found yourself needing a few minutes with your vibrator just to ease the ache he’d–sometimes intentionally–created between your legs. And often as you’d gotten off, you’d wondered if he was back in his own apartment in New York taking care of himself, too. And that thought only equally further frustrated you and turned you on more every time.

Without a doubt in your mind, when Matt came to visit you in Los Angeles in a matter of weeks, you were certainly not taking sex off of the table. Especially now that you both were officially a couple and with how many years you’d both been waiting for and wanting the other. Because who knew how soon you’d have another opportunity to see him again afterwards for that chance? You’d certainly spent enough years trying to imagine what it would be like to sleep with him, and you were without a doubt tired of only imagining it.

You also knew you wanted to tell him how you felt when you finally got the chance to see him in a few weeks. Of course the word ‘love’ had been mentioned between you both quite a few months ago when you'd first discovered your feelings had been reciprocated for each other, but neither of you had ever actually said it to the other since. Many times you'd found yourself biting your tongue when you were on the phone with Matt, struggling to not blurt it out to him. Often you found yourself overcome with the urge to tell him those three words at the end of a phone call, or to call him up after hearing one of his morning voicemails just so he knew exactly how you truly felt without a question of a doubt after the years of misunderstandings. But it was something you wanted to say to him in person when the moment felt right, not something you wanted to blurt out when he was too far for you to hold in your arms. Though you were dying to finally say it to his face after all these years, and you were even more anxious to hear him hopefully say it back to you in return.

As you were halfway through eating your sandwich wrap, your attention focused on the mindless show you’d thrown on, you heard your phone begin to loudly ring from across your apartment. Chewing the bite of food you'd just taken, you glanced over your shoulder towards your kitchen where you’d left your phone on the countertop once you’d gotten home. Curiously you eyed the device and its lit screen from a distance, wondering who would be calling you right now. Normally Matt didn’t call for another couple of hours; it should have been far too early for it to have been him. But then the fear that something might be wrong hit you and you quickly swallowed down the bite of food, feeling a little sick to your stomach at the thought. Especially with you being too far away to do anything to help.

Leaning forward, you set your plate down onto your coffee table and rose to your feet. You quickly made your way towards your kitchen, your phone still ringing loudly from its place on the countertop as nerves swirled in your stomach, mixing with your dinner. When you were near enough to your phone to see the name displayed on the screen, you were surprised to see it was in fact Matt calling you. Brows furrowing at the sight of his name, you felt worry and concern further fill you as your hand darted out, picking the phone up in a rush before frantically sliding the button over to answer the call.

“Matt?” you asked, feeling slightly panicked. “Is everything alright? Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“What?” he asked, sounding confused. “Yeah, of course everything is okay, sweetheart. Why would you think something was wrong?”

You sighed in relief, the tension easing from your shoulders as you leaned back against the counter behind you. You didn’t even know what you’d do if he’d called because he was bleeding out in his apartment right now.

“Because it's a bit early for your usual phone call,” you pointed out. “Normally you’re out later than this so you call me later. I just figured something was wrong.”

“Ahh, I see,” he answered. “I’m sorry to have scared you, sweetheart. I didn’t think calling you early would have you thinking something was wrong. But I actually wasn’t planning to go out tonight, which was why I figured I’d call sooner.”

“Not going out as Daredevil?” you questioned curiously. “Because you have too much work to deal with?”

Matt laughed, the sound sweet and soothing as it came through the line. You couldn’t help but relax even more at the sound of it, a smile sliding onto your own face as your racing heart began to slow. You longed to hear him laugh in person again, to be able to actually see the way his eyes lit up when he did.

“If that was the case,” he began, “calling you would be a far bigger distraction than just running out as Daredevil for a bit tonight.”

That usual warmth you felt whenever you spoke to Matt soon flooded you, your body sinking down into one of the nearby breakfast bar stools behind you at your counter. Your dinner and the show you’d been watching were quickly forgotten in the other room as you focused on your conversation and the sound of his voice instead.

“How am I the bigger distraction?” you asked him.

“Well for starters, if there isn’t any crime, there’s no need for Daredevil,” Matt explained. “So if the city is quiet, which it thankfully is tonight, there isn’t much need for me and therefore there’s nothing for me to do. But you on the other hand are always there for me to call. And most importantly, sweetheart,” he continued, his voice dropping to that sultry register he often used to flirt with you over the phone–the one he somehow knew had an effect on you, “I could sit and listen to you on the other line doing literally anything, even just snoring, until the sun came up. Whereas eventually I have to come back home and be Matt Murdock again when I go out in the suit. Therefore you’re the bigger distraction to me.” He paused briefly before adding, “But no, that’s not the reason I'm staying in tonight, either.”

You crossed your legs in your chair, curiously noting the sudden shift in his tone. He almost sounded…sad? Like something was bothering him. You’d certainly known Matt long enough to know when he sounded off, even over a phone.

“Sounds like something is wrong, though,” you gently pointed out. “What’s on your mind, Matty? Did something happen?”

Matt expelled a long, drawn out sigh over the line. The noise had your lips curving into a frown, especially with how exhausted he had already sounded when you’d first answered. You wished you were there with him in his apartment now, wished you could pull him into a hug because it sounded like he needed one. You'd happily sit there and hold him, comforting him as long as he needed it.

In that moment you found yourself missing the way you’d always had such easy access to each other in college; all you’d had to do back then was walk over to his residence hall and take the elevator up to his dorm. If you wanted to stay up all night talking and drinking, you really could have just skipped a class in the morning. Things had certainly been much simpler back then in some ways more than they were now, though you definitely didn’t miss the heartache you had always carried around not knowing Matt had been within your reach in more than one way that entire time.

“Nothing really,” he told you, his voice sounding a little dejected and worn. “It was just a really difficult week this week and I was having a…bad day, I suppose. I just missed the sound of your voice, if I’m being honest.”

You felt the ghost of a smile cross your lips at his words. You knew that feeling all too well. Truthfully you felt it every single day when you thought about him, but even more on the days that were long and draining. Days like today.

“I’m always just a phone call away, Matty,” you assured him. “But I miss you, too. I’ve been missing you more than usual lately myself.”

“Little less than three weeks and I’ll be right there with you, sweetheart,” he reminded you softly.

There was a smile in his voice, you could hear it in the way it had coated each and every word of his. Matt was not alone in counting down the days until you could pick him up from the airport and have him all to yourself in L.A. for a little while. You’d already been trying to plan things out, wondering what he might enjoy doing with you the most while he was here.

“I’m excited to show you around out here,” you told him, a small smile making its way back onto your lips. “Take you away from that cold New York winter for a bit. Maybe I can bring you to a beach out here, one not filled with tourists. My coworker showed me a good place shortly after I moved here.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, a brightness returning to his voice already. “I’ve never been to the ocean before. Or a beach.”

“I know,” you told him. “Figured it might be a fun experience. Or at least…I’m hoping it is for you, considering your, you know, heightened senses.”

“Anything I get to do with you while I’m out there will be amazing, sweetheart,” he assured you. “I'm just going to be happy to be with you again. It's already been far too long.”

You ducked your head, your nails nervously toying with the hem of your cotton shorts you’d thrown on after work. He always knew the right thing to say to you, but you could also hear the truth to his words. Honestly you felt the same. You’d easily be content to never leave your apartment for a single minute over the few days he’d be staying with you. If you could curl up with him on your couch for the entire duration of his visit, you’d be blissfully happy.

“Plus,” he continued, his coy tone breaking through your thoughts, “a beach date most likely means you’d be in a swimsuit, right?”

Heat began to creep up your neck and into your cheeks. You’d certainly thought about the implication of a beach date meaning Matt would most likely be shirtless and splayed out on a towel with you, cuddling under the warm California sun. Giving you ample opportunity to appreciate his body and the muscles that his clothing always hinted at, something you’d never once been able to do before as his friend.

“I mean, yes,” you answered softly. “But what does that matter, exactly?”

“Ohh trust me, sweetheart,” Matt began with a deep, amused chuckle, “there’s plenty of ways for me to appreciate you partially dressed on a beach. Where my eyes might fail me, my hands certainly won’t.”

Your cheeks began to flame at the thought of what he might mean by that, your eyes slowly closing. Once more you found yourself mentally kicking yourself for not sleeping with Matt when you’d had the chance last month. Because once again you were beginning to feel that all too familiar dull ache between your legs that was begging to be relieved by him and him alone. 

Clearing your throat, you tried to change the topic before you found yourself too worked up. Something you weren’t entirely sure wasn't intentional even now.

“So what exactly was on the agenda for you tonight then?” you asked him. “If you weren't going out?”

“Ahh, well,” he began, sounding a little sheepish, “truthfully I was just going over some documents and counting down the minutes until I could realistically call you after work. But I eventually caved because I couldn’t make myself wait any longer.”

You sighed, spinning around in the breakfast bar stool towards your counter. Leaning forward, you rested your chin in your hand. “Why couldn't you have gotten the ability to fly with those heightened senses of yours, too?” you joked. “Or like, the ability to teleport? Then you could just show up here whenever you want.” 

Matt laughed lightly over the line and you closed your eyes, trying to pretend he was here sitting beside you. You would’ve given anything for that. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't exactly get a choice in what those chemicals did to me as a kid,” he joked back. “Nor could I have foreseen the usefulness of that for a long distance relationship in the future.”

“I know, I know,” you murmured. “I just wish you weren't so far. I miss you.”

“Me too, sweetheart,” he whispered back, the mirth disappearing from his voice. 

A silence fell over the line, the only sound being Matt’s quiet and even breaths. Those three words once more rose to the surface in your mind, dancing on the tip of your tongue. You wanted so badly to just say them already as you sat there, but you knew now wasn't the right time. Thumbnail slipping between your teeth, you began to half-heartedly chew it as you fought to shove the urge to tell Matt how you felt about him back down. That ache in your chest returned as you did, reminding you that even though you finally had Matt, you didn’t have him how you’d always wanted him. Not exactly. Not yet.

“So how’s work been for you this week?” he asked, voice breaking through your thoughts.

“Eh,” you said, shrugging a shoulder. “Busy, even though nothing much exciting is happening at the office. Still certainly a lot less stressful than your week sounded with that big trial you were dealing with.”

A sigh slipped out of your lips as you continued to distractedly chew your thumbnail. If only you had a way to leave L.A. and realistically move back to Hell’s Kitchen. If only things could be different between you two now that you were finally together. If only you could just decide that you wanted to stop by his apartment and then just go there. Like how things used to be back in college.

“Something on your mind?” Matt asked.

“Not really,” you answered. “Was sort of just…missing how it was easier for us to get together back when we were at Columbia. All those Saturday nights I could just show up with a pack of beer at your guys’ dorm and lose track of time. Go grab breakfast together at the dining hall the next morning with you two while we were all still hungover.”

Matt laughed lightly on the other end of the line. “If only I wouldn’t have been an idiot and just told you how I felt, maybe we wouldn’t have wasted so much time. And maybe you wouldn’t be…”

His voice trailed off, his thought left hanging unfinished over the line. Though you knew what he’d been about to say without him having to say it. Maybe if he’d told you how he felt, you might not have been so far away in L.A. right now. If you’d known how he felt, you might never have left in the first place.

But there was no way to change the past now.

“Hey, do you remember that one night at the bar?” you asked Matt, sitting up straighter in the stool as a memory came back to you. “Back at Columbia, when you called me a female version of Foggy?”

Matt groaned loudly over the line, a grin growing wide over your lips at the sound of it. You could just picture him throwing his head back as he sat on his couch, remembering that moment from all those years ago. 

“Yes, I remember,” he told you. “Though I don’t think I’d thought about that night in a long time. That was the real reason why you left crying that night though, wasn’t it? Because I’d called you a female Foggy?”

“Yeah,” you answered. “Definitely not the thing you want to hear your crush tell you. That you’re basically the equivalent of their best friend.”

“Shit,” Matt cursed, laughing a little. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t truly know just how hurtful that comment was. I hadn’t meant it to be. But what has you bringing that up?”

You shrugged, aware he couldn’t see the gesture. Slipping your nail out from between your teeth, you began to trace the patterns in the quartz of your countertop.

“I’ve always wondered why you’d said that,” you confessed. 

“Because I’m an idiot, clearly,” Matt replied, causing you to giggle. “But honestly I’d meant it as a compliment. And I think when I’d picked up on how awful you’d felt thinking you weren’t good enough for Fog at the time–because that’s who I’d suspected you might be talking about–I was hoping it would help your situation. As much as I didn’t want to see you two together, in that moment it pained me to feel how bad you were hurting sitting there next to me. I was hoping that if you’d possibly meant Fog, that the comment would get him to see just how much you both had in common.” Matt exhaled a deep breath, pausing for a moment. “Though it was…clearly a stupid comment to make at the time. And it killed me to know how much it upset you that night after the fact. I’d never meant to make you feel like that.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, finger still tracing the stone of your counter, “I know.”

“Suppose I wasn’t always as smooth as I thought I was back then,” he muttered.

“As long as you don’t feel that way about me now,” you teased back. “I’m certainly hoping you view me a little differently than a female Foggy.”

“Oh trust me,” Matt said, his voice dropping back down to that sultry tone, the one now raising the hair along your forearms as it rumbled right into your ear, “there’s only one of you that I’d like to crawl into bed with and do all sorts of things to, and it’s certainly not Foggy.”

You felt the heat not just creeping back into your cheeks at his words, but now flooding your entire body and sending your blood rushing south. Raising your hand from the cold stone, you pressed the back of it against your burning cheek. Tongue slipping out, you nervously wet your lips.

“Well maybe in a few more weeks you can finally do a few of those things,” you shyly whispered back.

Matt made a pleased noise in his throat, the sound only causing your thighs to press together on the stool. Swallowing hard, your eyelids dropped closed. You could feel your pulse beginning to race, your heart pounding hard in your chest.

“I was certainly planning on it, sweetheart,” he whispered back. “Now you’re only making me look forward to my visit even more.”

“You’re not the only one,” you replied. “I uh, don’t exactly want to waste anymore time when it comes to that.”

“I think we’ve already wasted enough time,” Matt agreed.

And just like that, you knew tonight would inevitably be another night spent with your vibrator when this call finally ended. But you knew you’d be lying in your bed wishing you had Matt between your legs instead, and that only made you more desperate to somehow find your way back to Hell’s Kitchen and back to him.

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[uncharismatic-fauna]

Come Have a Bite with the Vampire Bat!

Desmodus rotundus, better known as the common vampire bat, is a species of leaf-nosed bat native to Central and South America, as well as parts of the Caribbean. They are found primarily in tropical forests, particularly rainforests, but can also roam into scrubland and agricultural areas. Common vampire bats roost in hollow trees, caves, and abandoned buildings, making them a common sight in or near urban areas.

As their name implies, the common vampire bat feeds exclusively on blood, particularly those of mammals. In the wild they will feed on large animals like tapirs, but they more frequently go after domesticated animals like cattle, goats, and horses. However, when ideal prey is lacking they will also feed off lizards, turtles, snakes, toads, and crocodiles. Like most bats, D. rotundus uses echolocation to find prey. Then, special heat sensors in the nose help it to detect blood vessels close to the skin; it then bites open a small flap of the skin and drinks its fill. Its saliva contains both painkillers and anticoagulents, so victims seldom notice their host until after it has fed. Predators of D. rotundus include owls, hawks, and eagles.

Common vampire bats live in colonies of about 100 individuals, although colonies consisting of up to 1,000 individuals have been recorded. Within these colonies, males and females roost separately; females cluster in groups of 8-20, while males roost individually and guard territories against other males. However, D. rotundus is highly social, and males and females will both groom members of the same and opposite sex. This grooming can even extend to homosexual behaviours like genital licking, which is thought to reinforce hierarchies and strengthen social bonds.

D. rotundus can breed year-round, but females only raise one pup per year. Males typically mate with females in or near their defended territories. Afterwards, females carry their pregnancy for about 7 months before giving birth to a single pup. These young feed on their mother's milk for their first month; during this time, other adult females will often provide the mother with excess blood as she cannot hunt for herself. Once the pup is weaned they begin recieving blood from their mothers, and at four months they begin accompanying her on hunts. At about five months they are fully independent; females will remain in their mother's roost while males will leave to establish their own territories. Young become fully mature at about a year old, and adults may live to 12 years in the wild.

The common vampire bat is relatively plain looking, as far as bats go. They are generally gray or brown, with darker fur over their backs and dark brown or black membranes along their wings. The nose has a distinct triangle shape, which houses special heat-sensing organs. Likewise, the ears are large and triangular, used for echolocation. Adults are rather small, about 9 cm (3.5 in) long with an average wingspan of 18 cm (7 in) and a weight of 25–40 grams (2 oz).

Conservation status: The IUCN lists D. rotundus as Least Concern. In fact, populations of the common vampire bat are increasing due to the abundance of livestock as a food source.

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Photos

Jose Gabriel Martinez Fonseca

Sheri & Brock Fenton

Nicolas Reusens