#Totally didn’t stay up to do this on a work night

[twohearts-hs]

Dove & Captain: 1 - Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader Series

Words in Total: 7.5k

Pairings: Dr. Jack Abbot x fem!reader

Synopsis: She's his Dove. The ER nurse who is the definition of chaos, trauma and humour in scrubs. He's her Captain, gruff, emotionally guarded war veteran with a prosthetic leg and completely in love with her. Six years together, a mortgage, four dogs and the ability to conquer anything. This is a story of their life in one day. He is 49, she's 30. This is one day of their life based on the 15 episodes of 'The Pitt'. There will be little imagines of their relationship over the years.

Warnings: Swearing, Age Gap, Trauma, Medical Language/Procedure, Pregnancy, etc.

A/N: This is a complete series of ~60k. I will post a few snapshots of their relationship over the six+ years they've been together.

Hope you enjoy :)

Series Masterlist

-

0700

The bathroom tile was absolutely and utterly freezing against her bare knees, but Y/N did not move. She couldn’t. She couldn’t risk it, but she also, she couldn’t stop. Another wave of nausea crept up her spine and she leaned forward just in time to vomit into the toilet bowl again. Her hands gripped the rim of the toilet with white knuckles, her pulse loud in her ears. She stayed like this, motionless, forehead pressed to the cool porcelain, eyes watering and sweat along her brow.

            She knew now it was not food poisoning or stress. Yesterday, it confirmed it. She was indeed pregnant. Dana made her take a pregnancy test, and it came out clear. Then, they confirmed it with a blood test. Then again, with an ultrasound. Seven weeks along, she was, and she was completely terrified.

            Y/N had endometriosis, a very severe case which at nineteen she was told by doctors that the chance of her getting pregnant is very slim, but the chance of her being able to carry full term was even slimmer. Therefore, when she and Jack got serious, Y/N expressed to him that she was not able to have children,, and he supported her in that. He was older, forty-nine now and she just hit thirty, together for six years. Not married. But common law. Share a mortgage, a credit card and joint bank account as well as, four dogs while he helped raise her brother.

            Very serious, very committed, very much together, but just not legally binding to one another through a marriage contract. Though, they love one another with everything in themselves.

            However, he did not know she was pregnant. She found out yesterday during her day shift. He worked the nights. They have been barely passing one another, barely able to talk with their conflicting schedule. Y/N used to work nights, but she got pulled to day shifts lately due to a nurse leaving on maternity leave.

            She was planning on telling him tonight. He had the day off. His shift ended at seven in the morning, while she started hers at seven. When she got off at seven that evening prior, she had a whole speech prepared to tell him. However, only Dana knew at this moment.

            Y/N took a slow, ragged breath, blinking back tears. Not because she was sad. Not because she was happy. But because she didn’t know how to feel. Never had she thought she’d be able to get pregnant with him. Never had she thought she’d have to talk to Jack about what to do.

            He was forty-nine. He was older. To throw a child into their life would create chaos. She was younger, thirty and it could work. However, both were workaholics. Y/N never thought she’d be able to be a mother, so she never thought this through.

            Tonight. She would talk to him tonight. They would plan, discuss and come up with the solution moving forward. A nurse. A homeowner. A mother to four dogs. In a stable, quiet, loving partnership with a very nice man. A man who understood her more than anyone ever had. They owned dogs, shared a mortgage, grew herbs in the windowsill, argued about laundry and both fought over who would cook in the evenings,as that is one of their shared love languages. It was good. Peaceful. Calm. Lovely.

            However, morning sickness fucking sucks. And this? This was not part of the plan. Especially being told that this could never happen.

            Sleeping in a bed alone last night while Jack worked the evening shift was something she did not like. However, she had to go to work, talk to him and see him for a bit before he went home and she had to keep this a secret. She had twelve hours to work through before they could have a serious talk.

            Glancing at her watch, she groaned again.

            Late. She was utterly, completely and terribly late.

            Rounds were about to start soon. The handover from night shift to day shift was about to happen. Work was about to begin. Yet, Y/N was stuck on the ground of the ensuite, tears flowing down her face and nausea bubbling over.

            Dressed in a pair of sleep shorts and a bra, her hair was matted and bags covered under her eyes.

            She was fucked.

            Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself away from the toilet bowl. Guilty a little bit because she was leaving with a spoiled toilet, and normally she would clean it after puking. However, she was late to work and Robby would have a fit.

-

Jack was at the computer, filing in the last bits of his shift. Writing patient notes, talking to Robby for the handover. However, his eyes furrowed as he glanced at his watch to see that it was just past seven and Y/N was not here yet. Where was she? She was never late. Rather, she was constantly early.

            “Dr. Robinavitch?” a voice came from behind Robby as he leaned against the nurses’ station talking to Jack.

            “Yep,” he replied, turning to the voice.

            “Melissa King. I will be joining you today. I just came from two months at the VA,” Mel told Robby, voice pitched with excitement and a smile.

            “Hey, welcome to the Pitt,” Robby replied, shaking her hand. “This is Dr. Jack Abbot,” Robby introduced, glancing over to Jack, who was focused on the computer in front of him and didn’t glance over to the resident.

            “Nice to meet you,” Mel hummed before looking at Robby again. “I can’t tell you how excited I am to be here today, so…”

            “Talk to me at the end of the day,” Jack muttered, looking over to the resident, voice low and serious.

            Robby glanced at Jack. “Ignore him. He had a rough night,” he stated, “and is having an ongoing existential crisis.”

            Jack stood up, straightening as he looked a them. “Don’t worry, you’ll get there soon enough,” he joked, coldly, face serious. “Robby, have you seen Y/N?” he asked, looking over to his old revival and long time friend. “She’s never late and I haven’t seen her.”

            Robby’s brows drew together in concern. “No, not yet. She’s usually in by now.”

            Jack didn’t respond. Instead, he turned his gaze to the main hallway, like maybe she’d appear if he just stared long enough. But there was nothing – nothing…no rushed footsteps, no half-apologetic smile, no Y/N clutching a coffee cup and calling out something sarcastic to the team. Just a sterile corridor buzzing with too many lights and not enough soul.

            He tapped his fingers against the nurses’ station counter, the way he always did when he was trying not to overthink.

            “Maybe she overslept? Traffic? Maybe one of the dogs got out?” Robby offered casually, but Jack didn’t bite.

            “She doesn’t oversleep when she is supposed to work,” he muttered under his breath. Then, louder. “She never oversleeps. The dogs are trained. They don’t escape.”

            Robby shrugged. “Traffic then? You two are like in the woods. Text her. She’ll be here,” he replied with a smile before patting Jack’s back. “Don’t stress.”

            Jack nodded watching as Robby walked away with Mel, rounding up his interns, residents and med students for rounds. Pulling out his phone, he brought up his messages with Y/N, but she had sent nothing since last night.

            Y/N slammed the door shut to her Bronco with more force then intended, her hair still damp from the world’s fastest shower, pulled into a low messy bun. She hadn’t had time to do her usual minimal makeup, and her scrubs were slightly wrinkled. She felt gross. Heavy. Empty. Swollen. Her bag was slung over one shoulder, and a tangerine stuffed in her pocket that was her makeshift breakfast. She knew Jack would lecture her. However, the nausea was still there.

            Running across the hospital parking lot, her sneakers pounded against the concrete in rhythm. Each step sent a dull ache up her spine, her stomach still uneasy, her head spinning from the sudden movement and lack of food.

            She burst through the staff entrance, making her way through the triage to the back, scanning her badge on each door.

            It was 7:18.

            “Shit,” she hissed to herself, brushing past coworkers as she headed towards the nurses’ station after placing her belongings in a locker. Jack was still there. Robby too. And several new faces which she placed as the new intern, resident and medical students.

            Her gaze met Jack’s, and he raised a brow at her, but she just sent a small smile. He didn’t look angry. But his eyes were sharp, worried. That was worse.

            “As you can see, we have some new faces with us this morning,” Robby began. “Good morning. Good morning. Come on over.”

            Y/N stood behind the station, looking over the new faces. Jack was glancing at her, but she said nothing.

            “Starting with second-year resident, Dr. Melissa King, fresh from the VA,” Robby announced.

            “Everyone calls me Mel,” Mel said with a smile. “I’m so happy to be here.”

            “Trinity Santos, intern,” a new face said, pale skin and dark hair.

            Y/N crossed her arms as she glanced over to Dana who was on the phone. Y/N knew there was an incoming trauma.

            “We’ve got two traumas from the T,” Dana said, holding the phone to her ear. “Five minutes out.”

            “Ok, copy that,” Robby replied. “Actually, this is the most important person that you’re going to meet today. This is Dana. She’s our charge nurse. She is the ringleader of our circus,” he said before looking over to Y/N. “And this here is Y/N. Nurse as well. Nurses are your best friends. As you can see, our house is always packed, and our department is mostly clogged up with boarders. Those are admitted patients waiting for a room upstairs, sometimes for days. Beds are a very precious commodity around here, so please be quick and efficient with your workups. What else?” he paused for a moment to breathe, then nodded. “We treat the sicker patients back here, but please keep your eye on that waiting room. Make sure nobody’s gonna die out there. Your senior residents are Dr. Collins and Dr. Langdon. You report to them, and they report to me. Ok? Great.”

            As the last of the introductions faded into the background, Robby took his team to deal with the incoming trauma.

            Jack noticed she wasn’t listening. Not really. Her arms were crossed, fingers twitching like she was trying to ground herself, eyes glazed over just enough to make him uneasy. That wasn’t like her.

            Before she could slip away to get a shift change from the night shift, Jack reached out, a firm but gentle hand on her elbow. “Kid.”

            She looked up at him, startled.

            “Hi,” she whispered, a small smile gracing her face. “How are you? How was the shift?” she asked, sending him a small smile.

            He stared at her for a minute, whiskey eyes connecting with hers. “Fine. Rough, but fine. We can talk more later about it. Can I talk to you for a minute, though, in private?” he asked, his voice low. Not unkind. Just quieter than usual.

            Y/N hesitated for a moment, then gave a tiny nod, letting him guide her a few feet down the hallway near the med supply room, just out of earshot from others. It was private but not secluded enough to feel like a scene.

            Jack looked over her carefully now that they were face to face. Her skin was pale, tinged with that clammy undertone he only ever saw in patients who hadn’t eaten or had something deeper going on. The bags under her eyes were harsh against her face. No mascara, no usual faint blush or a neat bun. Her hair was tied back like she’d done it blind, and her face looked dry, bitten.

            “You were late. You’re never late,” he said quietly. Not accusatory. Just a fact. His eyes narrowed as he scanned her over. Then he tried to make eye contact with her.

            Y/N glanced down, crossing her arms over her chest. “I know. I’m sorry,” she whispered, shifting uncomfortably. “It won’t happen again.”

            “That’s not you.” He waited for a second, but she was still looking down. “What happened, Dove?”

            They were alone, and the nickname slipped his lips.

            “Nothing. I’m fine,” she replied a little too quickly, shaking her head.

            Jack frowned. “Dove, you don’t look fine,” he replied, trying to get her to look at him. “Look at me.”

            Y/N glanced up to see him, his eyes meeting her and all she could see what the complete care he had for her.

            “I’m just tired. It’s nothing,” she said, brushing her hand through her hair. “I went to bed late. I overslept. Forgot to set an alarm. Stayed up late talking to Beckett.” Beckett was her younger brother, half-brother.

            He tilted his head, raising a brow. Silence happened between them. “Y/N…”

            “Jack, just drop it,” she muttered, voice tight. “I’m here now. That’s what matters, right?”

            He stared at her for a moment, crossing his own arms now. Biceps bulging which usually makes her heart flutter, but she was glancing away. “I know you. You’re hiding something,” he whispered.

            Y/N glanced around. They were always professional at work. People never really questioned their relationship. Him being a trauma attending and her a trauma nurse. But now, with his voice so soft and eyes so concerned, it felt like a crack in their practised armour.

            “Jack,” she started, but the words faltered, her throat tight. “I didn’t sleep well. Ever since I’ve been put on days, it’s just weird sleeping alone when you are doing nights and–“

            “You’re deflecting,” he interrupted. He leaned in a little closer, not touching her, but lowering his voice so that no one would overhear. “Dove, I’m not mad. I just want to know what’s going on. Talk to me.”

            Her eyes flickered again, to the hallway beyond, to where voices were rising and monitors beeped from the trauma bay. She couldn’t do this here. Not now. She felt the weight of the morning crashing down on her all over again. The puke. The nausea. The fact that she was pregnant.

            “We can talk later. I need to work now,” she whispered, looking up to him. “I want to know how your shift went. I’m off at seven. I’ll be home and we can order in, watch one of those serious documentary movies thing you like and talk,” she proposed. Then she took a deep breath. “I’m ok,” she said confidently. “I’m ok,” Y/N said again.   

            Jack didn’t believe her.

            Not because he thought she was lying. But because he knew her. Knew the way her jaw clenched when she was holding back. The way her voice steadied was not out of calm, but control. A nurse who thrived in chaos. A woman who didn’t flinch in a code blue. But here she was – eyes too shiny, hands twitching like she was trying to hold her pieces together.

            Still, he nodded.

            “Alright,” he said quietly. “Later then.”

            She gave him the briefest nod. “I love you,” she whispered.

            He nodded. “I know,” he whispered back. Y/N reached out and squeezed his hand. “It’s ok,” she whispered again, a mantra for herself more than anything. “Go home, sleep, have a shower, think of me in the shower,” she hummed, tone light as she winked, “give the dogs a kiss. Then I’ll be home before you know it.”

            He chuckled lightly as he stared at her. “Did something happen with your brother?” he asked, raising a brow. She shook her head, and he narrowed his eyes. “Did something happen to your mom?” he asked. She shook her head. “Did something happen to you?” he asked, voice low now.

            “Go home, Captain,” she stated, tone sharp. “I’ll see you later.”

            He stared at her for a few more moments. “Have you eaten?” he eventually asked.

            “No. I have a tangerine in my pocket that I grabbed on my way out,” she replied.

            Jack rolled his eyes. “Christ, Y/N,” he whispered. “Let me go buy something from the cafeteria. I don’t want you to be running on nothing,” he muttered before walking off but squeezed her bicep as he left.

            Y/N sighed, watching him leave. She stayed there for a moment before walking back to the nurses’ station. Y/N settled down next to Dana who looked over.

            “You look like hell,” she muttered, chuckling and shaking her head.

            Y/N rolled her eyes and glanced over to her friend. “You sound like Jack,” she muttered as she grabbed a tablet to look over.

            “Jack said that. Doesn’t sound like Jack,” Dana replied.

            Y/N sighed. “More like ‘Dove, you don’t look fine’ is what he said,” Y/N muttered as she looked over the charts. “Give me a shift change.”

            Dana looked over at her, glasses perched on her nose, as she looked at the young nurse. “Have you told him?” she asked, hinting to the little secret she had.

            Y/N groaned. “No. However, he is sniffing out that I’m hiding something.”

            “He needs to know, sweetheart,” Dana replied.

            “I know,” Y/N whispered back. “Spent the morning puking my guts out. That is why I was late.”

Dana clicked her tongue, her voice lowering but still tinged with that no-nonsense edge only a seasoned trauma nurse could carry. “Morning sickness is not your friend, but hey, you get something out of it in the end.”

Y/N looked over as Dana read her tablet. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Y/N whispered. “Don’t know how Jack will react.”

Dana’s eyes met with Y/N’s. “I’ve known you since you were a small, new graduate nurse. Well, met your briefly when you did your last practicum. What I know about you is that you already know what you’re going to do,” Dana replied. “However, Jack needs to know. He’s a lot of things – gruff, grumpy, allergic to small talk – but he loves you. If he finds out you didn’t tell him? Especially over something like this? He’s going to be very hurt.”

Y/N nodded. “I will tell him. Tonight. I won’t keep this from him, but,” Y/N sighed and looked around, “I’m scared.”

Dana reached out and gently touched Y/N’s wrists, grounding her. “Of course you are. You’d be crazy not to be. But you’re not alone, ok? You’re not doing this alone.”

Y/N swallowed thickly and gave her a small nod, eyes glassy. “It’s just…I was told I couldn’t. I couldn’t have kids. Couldn’t get pregnant. Therefore, Jack and I just didn’t care. We just went along with the ride. We didn’t think that I could get pregnant, and here I am. And now it’s like I’m holding a secret I never thought I’d have. Now I have the impossible and it’s terrifying,” she whispered, voice cracking, barely audible now.

Dana squeezed her wrist once before pulling away, sensing how raw Y/N was. “That’s a lot to carry, hon. And you’ve been doing this all alone. Let someone in,” she whispered, giving her a look.

“I let you in,” Y/N replied.

Dana raised a brow. “Let him in. How long have you two been together? Six years or something.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah. No ring though,” Y/N replied, trying to make a joke as she let out a low chuckle. “No, we aren’t planning on getting married.”

Dana rose another brow. “How many dogs do you have?”

“Four. Two rescues, then I have my dachshund from when I was twenty-two and Granny, Jack’s rescue from aeons ago,” Y/N replied, lowly.

Dana nodded. “Four dogs. You bought a house together a year ago. A beautiful house with a big yard. He’s your emergency contact. You go on camping trips with him even though you hate camping. He bought you a car when you were together for what, six months? Because he didn’t want you walking home in the dark. He’s basically like Beckett’s dad. You share everything. You two are serious. Practically married. Talk about everything together. He’s your best friend, your other half, though I would say you’re the better half and you deal with his trauma, and he deals with yours. Tell him. What are you scared of?”

Y/N was silent for a moment and the words were on the tip of her tongue, I haven’t told him the truth.

However, just when she was about to respond Jack appeared in front of them. Coffee in one hand and a wrapped sandwich in the other. His eyes narrowed between the two of them, trying to calculate what was happening.

“Eat, Kid,” he said, placing the sandwich down in front of her. “It’s a breakfast sandwich,” he told her. “And a coffee. Two sugars and a splash of milk.” He didn’t look smug about it, rather just quietly concerned.

Y/N stared at him. “Thank you,” she said. However, the sandwich stayed still.

He stared at her. “Eat.”

“I will,” Y/N whispered. “I just need to get a shift change.”

“Eat while you’re getting a shift change,” he replied. His eyes were bouncing now between Dana and Y/N, sensing the tension, the way Dana was sitting just a little too straight, and how Y/N was avoiding his gaze.

He looked at Dana. “You know something.” Jack raised a brow at Dana. “Tell me what’s happening.”

Dana gave him her best nurse face. Calm, unreadable, efficient, while Y/N said nothing. “Nothing. All good. We’re good. Just girl talk,” she said smoothly, tapping her table. “Thanks for feeding our girl, though. She needs it.”

Jack glanced at Y/n, raising a brow. He lingered for a moment, arms crossing over his chest again. “Girl talk, huh?” he asked, tilting his head.

She forced a smile, pulling up the coffee and bringing it to her lips. “Thanks for the coffee and food,” she whispered, then smirked. “Just girl talk. You hate girl talk. You know Dana,” Y/N said, looking over to the older woman, “probably telling me to eat better and stop dating emotionally unavailable men.”

Jack raised a brow, letting out a scoff. “I’m very emotionally available…now, aren’t I?”

Y/N huffed a small laugh, grateful for the reprieve, even if her hands were shaking slightly around the cup. “You’re evolving. Better than when I first met you.”

He studied her for a moment longer, his eyes narrowing just a better. “Talk to me tonight, ok?”

Y/N nodded. “I will. Just tired.”

He didn’t look convinced. In fact, he looked like he was filing the entire interaction away in that steel-trap brain of his. The secrecy. The whispered tones. The way Dana had looked at Y/N.

Something was going on. And he didn’t like being left in the dark.

“You can tell me everything…anything. You know that, right?”

Her heart clenched. “I know,” she whispered. “And I do. You know too much about me.”

Jack gave a slight nod. “I’ll head out. Dogs are probably plotting a mutiny without me. Especially Delta. Barely a year, but pure chaos.” He sent her a small smile. “Text me if it gets too crazy here or if you get a really good case,” he finished.

Y/N nodded. “I will. Can you give Granny her medicine? I wasn’t able to when I left,” she told him, naming their oldest dog, a female named Alaska, but they call her Granny. She was Jack’s dog when they got together, which he got when he came back from his last tour.

He nodded. “Yeah, I can. Did you feed them?”

“I did. I let them out too before I came. Normal routine. However, Winston didn’t want to move from the bed so can you please let him out again?” she asked, sending him a smile. Winston was Y/N’s wire-haired dachshund, which she got when she was twenty-two after nursing school.

He nodded. “Yeah, can do. I’ll see you later, ok? Text me, ok?” he said, and Y/N nodded, agreeing.

Then Jack was gone, turning to leave, but he glanced back one more time, his brows furrowed, eyes sharp. Watching her like he was solving a puzzle.

As soon as he was gone, Y/N slumped back in her chair, sandwich untouched.

Dana glanced over; brow raised. “He totally knows something is up.”

Y/N groaned. “I know. He’s going to dig until he finds out.”

“Well, let’s make sure he hears it from you and not from putting two and two together.” Dana tapped her temple. “Smart man, that one. Scary smart.”

“I’ll tell him tonight,” Y/N muttered, more to herself than anything else. “Tonight.”

Dana gave her a look. “Promise?”

Y/N nodded, slower this time. “Promise.”

“Good. Let me get you something for the nausea,” Dana replied, getting up. She pointed to the sandwich that Jack bought. “But eat, you’re growing a baby,” she lectured.

“Dana, shush!”

            Dana gave her medication to help with the nausea. They were going over their shift change when Robby appeared. Y/N was munching on the sandwich when Robby called their names.

            “Abbot’s told me that he’s got a pregnant teen coming back today for mifepristone. Let me know when she gets here,” Robby said, looking at the two women.

            “Sure,” Y/N replied.

            “Yep,” Dana stated before turning back to the computer.

            “Bowel obstruction still waiting on surgery consult. What about Garcia? She was just here for the traumas,” Robby rambled of the board.

            “I think she was waiting for her attending to sign off,” Y/N muttered, looking over to Robby.

            Robby and her met eyes. Then he shook his head. “Ok…” he walked towards a computer to file patient charting. “Oh, and one of the med students took a header,” he chuckled. “I parked her in the lounge under the guise of a work comp report. Will one of you go in there, eyeball her, and make sure she’s alright?” Robby asked, glancing over his shoulder to look at the nurses.

            “Last time I checked, I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 178,” Y/N replied, typing on the computer. “I don’t babysit med students.”

            Robby turned to look at her. “Jack said you’re hiding something,” he said casually. “What are you hiding, Ace?” Then he raised a brow.

            Y/N glanced at Dana. “My kinky sex life,” Y/N said with a smirk.

            Dana snorted but didn’t miss a beat. “Yup. That’s exactly what she’s hiding. She’s got Jack handcuffed to the bed every other night. You should see the bruises.”

            Y/N chuckled as Robby stared at them for a moment. “I’m kidding!” Y/N expressed. “Maybe on the handcuffing, but not on the kinky sex,” she added with a smirk. “Men with trauma, freakiest in town,” she replied with a smirk and a wink.

            Robby just stared at her. “You deflecting adds to my hypothesis,” Robby muttered. “Abbot knows something’s up. I know some things up. Dana definitely knows what’s up.” Then his eyes landed on her. “You’re not planning on breaking up, right?”

            Y/N’s eyes widened. “No!” she exclaimed. “God, if anyone would leave anyone, it’d be him. I am a whole wagon of problems,” she muttered.

            Robby hummed. “Well, you deflecting is a sign. Secondly, Jack gave me this look this morning like he was ready to gut me with trauma shears, so whatever you’re hiding…he knows you’re hiding it, and he’s two seconds from losing his mind or figuring it out,” Robby muttered as he typed things into the computer. “Intelligent man.”

            Dana hummed. “That’s what I said.”

            Y/N turned in her chair to give them both an unimpressed look. “Do you know how exhausting it is to be this emotionally intelligent and book smart, responsible for lives, and handling interns, med students and residents who know less than me?” she poked.

            Robby glanced over his shoulder and pointed a finger to her. “Deflection.”

            Y/N rolled her eyes.

            “I’m just saying. You were late. In the eight years you’ve been working here, you’ve never been late. You look pale, there are bags under your eyes, you’re quieter than usual, you didn’t jump into this morning’s trauma, and Jack is acting like some keyed his fancy truck.” He glanced at her and he chuckled. “I know…” he whispered, shaking his head. “Jack will either not forgive you or will…” Y/N raised a brow. “You’ve adopted another dog.”

            Y/N stared at him and raised a brow. For a minute, it was silent as eyes were on her. “Yes. How’d you know?” she hummed.

            “Knew it,” Robby muttered before going back to the computer.

            “No. I didn’t adopt another dog,” Y/N said moments later.

            “Delta chewed through the seaming of the couch?” Dana asked, looking over to the nurse. “She’s a menace.”

            “That pup has the soul of a raccoon,” Robby added, clicking through patient charts. “Chaos and cuteness in the same package.”

            “Keeps us on our toes. Never had I ever had to kennel train a dog as she is not worth trusting,” Y/N replied.

            “Anyway,” Dana muttered, changing the subject, “med student is going to miss the arrival of the living dead.”

            Robby glanced over at them again. “How many are we expecting?” he asked, voice serious now.

            “We are getting three, but one died en route. Don’t know who’s luckier, us or them.”

            “What’s open?” Robby asked.

            “14,” Dana replied.

            Y/N got up. “Good luck. I have patients to see,” she muttered, leaving the nurses’ station after Dana gave her a shift change.

-

Y/N was talking to Langdon about a patient, writing down notes as they talked about what she needed to do to care for them, when Robby showed up.

            “Y/N, triathlete, Otis?”

            Y/N glanced up. “He’s stable. Repeat potassium is 6.1. Renal wrote the dialysis order. Tech should be down soon…maybe fifteen minutes,” she told him.

            Robby nodded, looking at her. “Good. Thank you.” Then he glanced over to Langdon. “Language mystery solved yet?”

            Langdon shook his head. “No,” then he sighed before looking up. “Hey, what’s your take on dogs?”

            “In what context?” Robby asked.

            “For kids,” Langdon added.

            “Kids and puppies go together like fish and chips. Man’s best friend, you know?” Robby said, walking around the station to go to one computer.

            “Well, you don’t have a dog.”

            “I don’t have a best friend,” Robby added.

            “What am I?” Langdon hummed.

            “You’re my best resident,” Robby replied. “Big difference.”

            “Yeah, but we’re still friends,” Langdon poked.

            Robby glanced over. “Not if this conversation goes on much longer. Talk to Y/N, she has dogs.”

            Y/N’s head perked up from where she was sitting, looking over to Langdon and Robby. “What?” she asked.

            “You have a dog?” Langdon asked, raising a brow.

            “I have four,” she said with a chuckle.

            “Four?” Langdon gasped, raising a brow. “Four dogs?” he asked again, shocked by her comment.

            “Uh, yeah,” Y/N said with a chuckle.

            “How can you have four dogs?” he asked, raising a brow.

            Y/N glanced around for a moment, then turned slightly in her chair to face Langdon fully, amused. “Easy,” she said. “I don’t have kids. I don’t sleep much. And I live with a man who’s just as much of a softie for strays as I am. We also have a giant piece of land for them to run around and we enjoy being outside.”

            Langdon blinked. “Jack’s a dog guy?”

            Robby snorted but before they could respond, Mel came over asking for Langdon to check in with a four-year-old.

            Y/N continued to type, but she could feel Robby’s eyes on her. “You’re staring,” she stated as she continued to type. “It’s creepy. Stop staring.” Then she glanced at him. Robby said nothing, and Y/N scoffed. “Robby,” she whispered, raising a brow.

            He threw his hands up. “Good work, Ace,” he said with a smile as he went back to work.

-

Y/N was doing her job within the hour, checking on her patients when Otis began to crash. She ran back out to the nurses’ station, catching the eyes of Collins, Robby and Dana.

            “Otis’ BP is crashing. 70 over 50. Still waiting for dialysis,” she announced, nodding to the room that her patient was in.          

            They entered and instantly got to work.

            “How are you doing there, Otis?” Robby asked.

            “Not so good,” he replied.

            A series of beeping was heard from the machine as the patient crashed. Y/N began setting him up.

            “50 litres. Non-rebreather, please,” Robby called out.

            Y/N listened, working alongside them. An ultrasound was done.

            “Fuck,” Y/N muttered, looking over at the ultrasound. “Diastolic collapse of the right atrium and right ventricle,” she muttered before Collins could say anything on the screen.

            “Tamponade from uremic effusion,” Robby muttered.

            “That is why his BP is low?” Santos asked, glancing over to the monitors.

            “Yup, indeed,” Y/N replied. “Too much fluid and pressure around the heart, chambers can’t fill.”

            “Otis, you’ve got some fluid around your heart,” Robby told the patient as Y/N grabbed gloves. “We need to get it off.”

            Y/N lowered the bed, making him flat lying down.

            “25 of Propofol, 10 cc’s of lidocaine with epi, pericardiocentesis tray,” Collins said to Y/N, who nodded.

            “I have to get that from central,” Y/N replied, looking over to Robby.

            “No, no. Just open a central line kit. Dr. Santos takes the head of the bed and bags him if he stops breathing, compressions if we lose the carotid. Prep and drape the subxiphoid, please. 10 cc’s of 1% with,” Robby ordered.

            Y/N nodded, grabbing supplies.

            “Chlorhexidine here.”

            “Injecting lidocaine,” Robby announced before following suite.

            “Pressure down. 60 over 40,” Santos explained.

            Robby grabbed the ultrasound from Collins.

            “Wait, you can’t ultrasound and place,” Collins barked to him.

            “I know, that’s why I’m taking the probe,” Robby replied. “18-gauge thin wall on a 60 cc syringe, please, Dr. Collins. Let’s go,” Robby muttered, looking over to the resident. “You’re going in right over the centre of my probe…” The doctors continued to work as Robby explained the procedure to Collins. Y/N watched.

            Eventually, the patient stabilised.

            However, just before they were stabilised, Y/N ran to the bathroom. Robby watched her cover her mouth and instantly ran out of the trauma room, running across the bay to the bathroom. Dana watched her run as well, dodging co-workers before making her way to the bathroom.

            Opening the door to the bathroom, she kneeled down to the toilet, puking her guts out. Breakfast sandwich and coffee coming back up as she clutched the toilet bowl.  

            The fluorescent lights buzzed softly above her as Y/N stayed crouched, one hand gripping the edge of the toilet, the other holding her hair out of her face as wave after wave of nausea rolled through her.

            The bathroom door opened gently behind her. Soft footsteps. Not rushed. Familiar.

            Dana.

            Without saying a word, Dana stepped in and crouched down beside her, pulling a handful of paper towels, wetting them and placing them gently on Y/N’s back of her neck.

            “Nausea meds didn’t help?” she asked, rubbing her back.

            “Guess not,” Y/N muttered, coughing and wiping her mouth before leaning back against the wall. She took a deep breath, rubbing her eyes.

            “Are you ok?” Dana asked, looking at her.

            “I don’t know,” she whispered back. “I don’t know what set it off, as I was fine.”

            Dana chuckled lowly. “It’s morning sickness, sweetheart, you can’t control when it hits. It’ll be fine. You’ll stop being sick soon at the end of this trimester,” she responded.

            “If this baby stays within me,” Y/N mumbled, not thinking. “If I decide to keep it too.”

            Dana rose a brow. “What does that mean, sweetheart?” she asked, looking at the young nurse.

            Y/N sighed. “It’s not my first time getting pregnant. The other times, I’ve lost it early on,” then she groaned. “I think it’ll be better if I just get an abortion so I can’t go through losing it again.”

            Dana’s expression softened, the sharp edges of her no-nonsense persona melting into something gentler. She reached over and cupped Y/N’s cheek for just a moment, grounding her.

            “Sweetheart,” she said softly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

            Tears began to brew in her ducts as she looked at the older woman, blinking them away, trying to hold herself together. “No one knows. No ex-partner. Not even Jack knows. Not even Beckett,” she whispered. Then she sighed. “I don’t know what will happen or not. I just…maybe it’s for the best to just get this dealt with and never tell him. But what if I do tell him and he gets so excited then I lose it. I don’t want to go through that again,” she continued to ramble. “I don’t want Jack to go through loss again.”

            Dana sat beside her now, fully next to her, knees cracking slightly as she adjusted on the tile floor. “I get it. I do. But this isn’t something you should carry alone. Not this time.”

            “I don’t want to see that look in his eyes,” Y/N whispered. “The quiet heartbreak. I know he would like kids. He says he’s too old, and he’s ok with my endo, but like I see the way he looks at his sister’s kids or like kids in general. Like he’s wondering what it would’ve been like if he hadn’t missed his shot.” She closed her eyes for a moment to breathe.

            Dana was quiet for a moment before she said, “He loves you. Everything about you. Mess, chaos and all. Hope and heartbreak included. He’s your partner. Your other half. Talk to him. He deserves to know…not the decision, but the truth,” she told Y/N. “Go home. We will be fine without you today,” she suggested.

            Y/N scoffed. “That’s the last place I want to be,” she replied.

            “Let me cover for you for the next hour. Go lie down in on-call. I’ll say you’re charting or looking up labs.”

            “Dana,” Y/N tried.

            “Y/N,” Dana cut her off. “You just ran out of a trauma room and vomited into a toilet. You’re not fine. You’re a damn supernova most days with that brilliant brain of yours, but even stars burn out if they don’t rest,” she replied.

            Before Y/N could reply, there was a sharp knock on the bathroom door.

            “Y/N?”

            Robby’s voice. Low. Concerned and filled with love.

            She closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath, silence happening between them.

            “She’s fine, Robby,” Dana called out.

            A pause happened, then Robby replied, “I’m not leaving until I see that with my own eyes, Dana.”

            Dana turned to Y/N. “You ok if I let him in?” she asked.     

            Y/N wiped her eyes quickly with the sleeve of her scrub top. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Might as well. He’ll probably come in–“

            The door opened, and Robby walked in.

            “My point exactly,” Y/N muttered, looking up to see the older male attending.

            His eyes fell on Y/N instantly, crouched on the floor, pale and sweaty, but clearly alive. His concern deepened.

            “Jesus, Y/N,” he whispered, crouching down beside her, not too close, scanning her face like he was memorising it for changes. “Scared the hell out of me.”

            “Sorry,” she whispered. “Just a rough morning.”

            His brows furrowed. “You ran out on a code. That’s not like you,” he muttered. “What’s happening? You sick?”

            Y/N shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”

            “Do you want me to call Jack?” he asked, voice dropping a little bit. A sympathy tone.

            “No,” she said a little too bluntly. “I’m not fucking broken if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m fine. I can work. I just needed to puke. That’s all. I will take an anti-nausea and I’ll be fine. Do not call Jack,” she barked. “Do not even mention this to Jack. I’m not in the mood to deal with this,” she muttered, getting up.

            Robby rose with her, slowly, watching every movement like he expected her to collapse again. “Y/N,” he said, carefully. “I didn’t mean–“

            “I know what you meant,” she snapped, her tone sharp but her body trembling. She leaned against the sink for a moment, catching her breath. “But I don’t need saving.”

            “No one said you did, sweetheart,” Dana replied gently, standing now, smoothing her hands down her scrubs. “We’re just worried.”

            “Well, don’t be. I’ll be right,” Y/N responded as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her reflection betrayed her – pale skin, red-rimmed eyes, hair clinging to her damp forehead. “I’m not your patient. I’m your colleague. I’ll handle it.”

            Robby raised a brow, stepping just a little closer. “If this is just a stomach bug or food poisoning, you’re really overreacting to the offer of help.”

            Y/N glared at him through the mirror. “What are you saying?”

            “I’m saying,” he replied, crossing his arms, and tilting his head, “I’ve known you for far too long. Eight years. You don’t run from a code. You don’t puke in your shift. I have never heard you take a sick day. You don’t bark at people who offer to call your partner unless something is really wrong.”

            Silence.

            Dana cleared her throat. “Robby,” she tried.

            “No, it’s fine,” Y/N interrupted, voice strained. “There is something. But let me deal with it on my own.”

            Robby sighed. “Y/N,” he tried.

            “No. I’ll be right,” Y/N muttered. “I’m ok. I can work. I want to work. Honestly, the next trauma I’m jumping in as I haven’t gotten any blood on my hands yet today.” Robby and Dana slowly nodded. However, they stayed quiet. Y/N turned. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she responded. “Not with you. Or you,” she said, pointing to each of them, “definitely not Jack and definitely not even with myself.”

            “Can you talk to Kiara?” Robby tried, raising a brow.

            “Definitely not her,” Y/N barked. Both of them stayed quiet. “I love you all. I thank you for helping me. I thank you for your care. I thank you for your worry. I just need to deal with this on my own, and Jack will know eventually,” she said, voice softer now. Y/N’s eyes shifted between them. “Do not tell Jack, and if you do, I will make all your lives a personal hell,” she barked before turning to the door and walking out.

            Robby glanced over to Dana once the door clicked shut behind her. “You know what this is, don’t you?” he asked, looking at his nurse.

            Dana crossed her arms and levelled him with a look. “Not my secret to share.”

            Robby sighed, running a hand down his face. “Dana,” he tried.

            Dana snorted. “Do not try to get it out of me?” she warned, shaking her finger. “But she is going through something hard. Something she didn’t think was possible. And the fact that she’s still standing, still showing up, should tell you exactly the kind of woman she is.”

            Robby leaned back against the bathroom wall, arms crossed tightly, staring at the door Y/N had just exited like it might swing back open and explain everything.

            “She said Jack doesn’t even know,” he murmured.

            Dana said nothing.

            “She’s scared,” he added, quieter now. “Not panicked. Not sick. Not spiralling. Just…scared. Jack mentioned something was up with her this morning. He knows something is up.”

            Dana looked over at him, rose a brow.

            “Let me work the problem,” he muttered.

            “She’s not your patient, Michael,” she said sternly.

            He shook his head. “Just hear me out…humour me,” he said, holding his hand up as he began ticking off on his fingers. “Sudden nausea. She was late this morning. No fever. No reported GI outbreak in the hospital. She said she’s not sick. Ran out of trauma. Pale, lightheaded. Avoiding food. And her mood? All over the place.”

            Dana was quiet, arms still crossed.

            Robby held up both hands now. “And don’t even try to say stress, because Y/N thrives under pressure. She doesn’t run. She charges.”

            Silence stretched between them like a wire pulled tight.

            Then, he went softer. “Morning sickness. Hormonal shifts. Emotional volatility.” Robby looked over at Dana now, his voice lower. “She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

            Dana didn’t even flinch. “That’s not mine to confirm or deny,” she replied.

            “But I’m right,” Robby replied.

            “I did not say that,” Dana warned.

            “You didn’t have to,” his voice wasn’t triumphant; it was heavy. Like the realisation carried more weight than he expected. “Excellent doctor, I am,” he hummed with a smile, winking.

            “Don’t tell Jack,” Dana whispered, voice blunt.

            “Lips are sealed,” he replied, giving her a salute before going back to the outside world of the emergency room. “I am correct, aren’t I?”

[himasgod]

ACE X READER

Where neither of you will admit that you are in love with each other

It's inspired by Faye Webster's song But Not Kiss, and I tried to follow that vibe throughout the oneshot, playing it in the background and basing it on the lyrics. Reading it with the song playing might be advisable to get into the vibe <3

It’s raining when he shows up.

Not the soft kind, either. It’s a storm—ugly, loud, relentless.

And yet, there’s Ace on Ramshackle's door, soaking wet, hoodie clinging to him, his sneakers leaving muddy footprints as he steps inside like he’s been here a hundred times before.

He has.

You blink at him, wrapped in a blanket, your hands still holding the warm mug you were nursing before he arrived.

“What the hell, Ace?”

“I forgot my umbrella,” he says, like that explains why he crossed campus in a thunderstorm to get here.

You give him a look. He doesn’t meet your eyes.

You hand him a towel. He dries off in silence, his jaw tight, his shoulders a little more tense than usual.

Something’s wrong. But if you ask, he’ll brush it off. You know how he is.

So instead, you go back to the couch. You leave space. You wait.

He joins you after a moment, quiet as ever, and you both sit there like ghosts in the storm.

“I hate this weather,” he mutters, pulling the towel over his head.

“Then why’d you come?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Then—quietly, almost too quiet—you hear:

“Didn’t wanna be alone tonight.”

Your heart lurches. But you don’t say anything.

Not yet.

Ace shifts closer. Not enough to touch. Just close. Like he’s pulled by something he doesn’t want to name.

You study him through the corner of your eye.

His fingers are clenching the fabric of the towel. His mouth moves like he’s working up the nerve to speak—but he never quite does.

Finally, he says it. Sort of.

“You know I—” He stops. Laughs under his breath.

“Never mind.”

You look at him. But he won’t look at you.

And that’s how you know.

That’s how you know he loves you.

Because Ace Trappola isn’t afraid of most things. He’ll run his mouth at Riddle, prank the teachers, throw himself into chaos without blinking. But when it comes to you?

He’s terrified.

Because if he says it, it’s real. If he says it, it could fall apart.

So instead, he leans back against the couch.

Lets your head fall against his shoulder.

And whispers, so quietly you almost miss it:

“I’m here when you need. I always have been.”

And he stays.

But not kiss. But not say it.

And you don’t make him.

You wake up hours later. The storm has passed. The towel’s still on the floor.

And Ace is still there, arm slung over the back of the couch behind you—not touching, but close.

You don’t wake him. You don’t move.

Because for now, this is what you get.

And it’s not everything. But it’s him.

He’s here again.

Or anothter night, in Ramshackle, the ghosts long asleep. You're tucked under a thin blanket on the ragged couch you pretend isn’t falling apart.

He doesn't knock. He never knocks. Just lets himself in like it's natural. Like it’s his place too.

Ace drops his bag with a careless thud. Kicks off his shoes. And then plops right down beside you like he belongs there.

He does. He doesn’t.

You scoot over, even though you don’t have to. He’s already sprawling across half the cushions, claiming space that should be yours.

You let him. Always let him.

You don’t say anything for a while. Just the soft hum of whatever weird late-night show’s still playing on your flickering TV. His arm brushes yours when he shifts, and your heart does that stupid, traitorous skip.

It always does.

“I got into another fight with Deuce,” he says eventually, voice soft and lazy. “Dude was acting like a total idiot during alchemy. Tried to mix nightshade with lemon juice. Blew the whole table up.”

You laugh a little. Because that’s what you do. You laugh, and you listen, and you let him talk.

Like you’re not holding onto every word like it matters more than anything else.

Your head falls lightly onto his shoulder.

He doesn’t pull away.

He never does.

“I should’ve let him fail,” Ace mutters, more to himself than to you. “But I bailed him out. Again.”

You hum in response, and your eyes slip shut.

The couch is old. The air is cold. But here, in this moment, wrapped in silence and his warmth, it feels like the safest place in the world.

You shift closer. He lets you.

You want to sleep in his arms. But not kiss.

You long for his touch—but don’t miss.

You don’t want to regret any of this.

And maybe that’s why you’ll never ask for more.

You wake up with your head in his lap.

At some point in the night, the TV had turned off on its own. The blanket’s fallen to the floor, but Ace is still there. Still awake.

His fingers are in your hair, like he forgot he was doing it, or like he’s too tired to stop.

Your throat tightens.

You want to ask him if he meant to stay this long. If he meant to touch you like this. If he meant to let you get so close, without ever stepping closer himself.

But you don’t.

Because the truth is, you want this version of him—the one that stays late and touches your hair and tells you things he won’t tell anyone else.

Even if he never means it the way you want him to.

Even if it’s killing you.

You see him in your dreams sometimes.

Not the Ace that teases you in the hallways. Not the Ace that rolls his eyes when you’re too sentimental. Not the Ace that acts like it’s all a game.

In your dreams, he’s different. He reaches for your hand like he’s meant to. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

But you wake up and forget. Because if you remember, it hurts.

You’re meant to be—but not yet. He’s all that you have—but you can’t get.

So you bury it.

You smile through it.

And he keeps showing up.

“Yo, you’ve been quiet,” Ace says one afternoon, kicking at a pebble with his boot as you both sit on the front steps of Ramshackle.

It’s warm. The sun paints his hair copper-red. You can’t look too long or it’ll burn you.

“Just tired,” you lie.

“You always say that.”

You shrug.

“It’s always true.”

He watches you for a second. Long enough that you feel it.

Then he nods, leaning back on his elbows.

“Well, don’t go dying or anything. You’d leave me with Grim, and that’s honestly the cruelest thing you could do.”

You huff out a laugh. “Noted.”

But you don’t say what you want to.

You don’t say "I hope you’re okay too." You don’t say "You’ve been in my head for days." You don’t say "I love you so much it makes my ribs ache."

Because if he’s in a good place, you won’t mess with that.

You never will.

You love him. You know you do.

But it’s the kind of love that can’t go anywhere. The kind that lives in the corners of rooms, in shared glances, in his silly jokes that carry too much weight. It’s a love that has no name, no direction, no safety net.

He leans on you when he’s tired.

You patch him up when he gets hurt.

He calls you his “partner-in-crime” and pokes your forehead like he’s never thought about kissing you. And maybe he hasn’t.

Or maybe he has. Maybe he’s just like you.

Too afraid of what would happen if either of you broke the spell.

So you stay here. In this almost. This purgatory. You want to ask. But you don’t.

You want to say it. But you won’t.

Instead—

You reach for his hand one night, quietly, without looking at him.

He doesn’t pull away. He squeezes it once. And for a moment, it’s enough.

You’ll hold onto this.

But not kiss.

[flowercrownsandherondales]

Against the Odds Pt. 17

A happy chapter after having to deal with Snow. Thank you to everyone who commented on my last nights rantings, stg I wasn’t fishing for compliments, I just wanted to see if everyone was still feeling this story lol and I woke up literally crying at everyone’s comments. Ily all so much and I’m so overjoyed everyone seems to like my work!

XVII: I Can See The Light, It Looks Like You

My hand searched for him before my body fully regained consciousness. Eyes closed and frowning when I felt the cold sheets where he should be. 

“Haymitch?” I sleepily called. The room was freezing, dark and unsettling. My bare feet slapped on the tile, stepping over roses and my dress as I made my way over to the wardrobe. 

I wrapped myself in a robe, body melting into the softness. It was unlike anything I had ever dreamed of owning. The simplicities of the Capitol were already sinking their hooks in me. 

My feet led me to the living area, fumbling around in the dark and not totally sure of where I was going. Haymitch hadn’t given me the grand tour before he’d taken me to bed. I wasn’t even sure if this was the apartment he normally stayed in, but I had a good feeling from the way the barcart was stocked it might be. 

I ran a hand on the couch, a velvet fabric any of the tailors in 12 would die to get their hands on. My mind drifted to a conjured image of Haymitch, freshly 17 years old, drinking on this same couch once he bid his first set of tributes goodnight. My sweet boy. What did they do to you?

A cough sounded behind me, causing my shoulders to shake in surprise. I turned, catching Haymitch standing in the doorway, his eyes distant and numb. My feet padded towards him, slow at first before I caught myself moving in a jog, colliding and throwing him back as I wrapped my arms around his neck. 

“What are you doin’ up?” He slurred, voice hot and heavy in my ear. I blinked, catching the curtains that hadn’t started filtering light. I must have only slept for a few hours. 

“Couldn’t find you. Where did you go, and why do you look out of it?” I questioned, pulling back to run a finger below his eye. He shuddered under my touch, eyes falling closed as he let it overtake him. I moved my hand from his face to his hand, dragging him to sit on the couch. He just stared at the wall, a blank look on his face. I tightened my robe, getting up to find him a glass of water. 

I carefully coaxed him to take a drink, hand petting his hair as I raised the glass to his lips. Being in the Capitol, a place where every one of his horrors lived, had to bring this on. He took a small sip, his throat bobbing as he swallowed harshly. 

“Baby, what’s goin’ on? Please talk to me.” I pleaded in a whisper. He winced at the tone, finally looking at me with watery gray eyes. 

“I just got called to meet with President Snow.” I blinked. His voice was buckling, body trembling under my touch. 

“He’s going to make us get married, Y/N. In the Capitol.” I just nodded. I already knew this was coming, even if I didn’t fully understand why Snow was so interested in us. 

“I expected that. It’s alright, Haymitch. I’m not particularly upset by it.” I ducked my head at the last part, suddenly unable to look at him. This isn’t a fairytale Y/N. But god, why am I excited at the thought?

His clammy hands took mine, squeezing tighter than normal. I looked back up at him, his face stark white. I traced faint beads of sweat on his forehead. There’s something else. 

“He’s attempting to diffuse a bomb. This year’s winner… he’s playing with fire. Snow can’t get rid of him until he has another Victor to put eyes on. So he’s going to put eyes on us, heavily. Show the Capitol I’ve been tamed like a dog. Show ‘em that even the mothers of the districts understand that losing their children in the games is for the common good. That they…” he stopped himself, his breathing starting to come out heavy and tight. His grip on my hands got even tighter, bordering on turning my fingers white. 

“That they?” I whispered, eyes pleading with him as he attempted to starve off a panic attack. 

“That they can always just have more children.” 

My view spun. My ears pounded. It felt like he had just stabbed me in the chest, every emotion, every piece of me bleeding onto the fluffy Capitol carpet. 

He’s going to make us have children. 

I swore to myself the minute they put Wiley into my arms that I’d never do it again. My only son. He made me a mother, and when he died I often wondered if I could still call myself that. There wasn’t a word for a childless mother, not like a widow. 

Haymitch was fully panicking at my reaction. His hands had moved from mine to my face, my arms, anywhere he could reach to try and ground me. Apologies tumbled from his lips, sobs starting to wrack his body. 

“I can’t.” I weakly said, breaths coming out just as uneven as his were. His face dropped even more, tugging me into his chest as he sobbed for the both of us. 

Haymitch didn’t understand the gravity of my situation. I’d been taking the carrot root that Astrid had given me, but even then, I wasn’t truly worried about the chance of pregnancy. There was a reason I hadn’t gone to her for it, that she had been the one to slip it over to me. 

Wiley’s birth had been traumatic. I was young, malnourished and deeply depressed. My ma and Astrid’s mother had barely saved me when he was born. I couldn’t completely recall what had happened, body going in and out of life and death. I fell into a deep sleep, not officially meeting my son until a week after his birth. Ma said I had almost bled out, broken a piece of my pelvis, and due to the excessive trauma it was likely I would never carry another child. 

“I can’t, Haymitch. Physically.” I whimpered into his ear. His body stilled, pulling me back with a confused look on his face. 

I took a deep breath before telling him what had happened, his face going to horror and shock with every detail. 

“We’ll worry about it when it comes.” He breathed once I was finished. I knew the unspoken truth of it, if Snow truly needed us to have a child together, he’d find a way to make it happen. The medical advancements at the Capitol were beyond my comprehension. He’d have no qualms about sending me into a surgical room and resetting whatever was wrong with my womb. The thought alone filled me with dread. 

We held onto each other for a minute, attempting to soothe one another with gentle touches and deep breaths. The only thing I could truly be grateful for in this situation was that it was Haymitch, a man who I’d known forever. A man that loved me, even if he never said it outloud. 

My mind wandered to what our wedding would look like. A huge dress made of layers and layers of silk and chiffon. Trembling onstage, eyes we didn’t know watching our every move. Haymitch , stiff in a pressed suit, uncomfortable and pissed off, drunk off his ass. Cesar detailing the whole thing, egging on the crowd to cheer and scream. 

If I was going to marry Haymitch, it was going to be on my terms. 

“I want a handfasting ceremony.” His eyes wide at my whispered confession. 

A new image came to mind, one that was a million times better than what we would be forced into. Standing together in the woods, Burdock reads off vows. I would wear my ma’s cotton dress, maybe let Prim weave flowers into my hair. Haymitch would be in his usual linen shirt, slightly wrinkled and a few buttons popped open. His hair loose, falling in his eyes, unkempt as we were. We would take the rope from Burdock, weaving it around our hands, strengthening the bond we had started in childhood. 

He looked as if he was thinking of the same thing, his frown turning into more of a comfortable smile as his eyes searched for any sign that I was lying. 

He found none. 

“I think we could arrange that.” He said softly, bringing my hand up for a kiss before getting up, slowly kneeling down on one knee in front of me. He reached behind him, searching in his back pocket for what I could only imagine to be a ring. 

He popped open the box, a flashy diamond set in gold sparkling in my eyes. 

“Y/N Y/LN, wanna marry a broken alcoholic?” he joked, the gruff chuckle falling flat. 

I just nodded, allowing him to slip the ring on, pressing a few more kisses to my hand as he did so. The weight of it was finalizing, a chain of diamonds shackling him to me. 

“When’s the wedding scheduled?” I asked, barely able to speak with the knot in my throat. 

“Three weeks. He’s already having Tigris make your dress and my suit.” I just nodded again, hoping it would be as tasteful as the dress she’d made for the interview. 

“When’s our hand fasting?” He asked, leaving what was real completely up to my pace. As if it was a death sentence he was stalling out rather than something I secretly yearned for. 

“As soon as we step off the goddamn train.” I replied. My emotions were fighting themselves. On one hand, the fear of the impending child and extremely invasive wedding was eating away at my insides. On the other hand, the excitement of tying myself to the only man who’d ever fully understood me, who’d accepted me for everything I was and would be, and who kissed me so softly through it all with eyes full of adoration. 

He laughed again, the smile fully breaking out as he got up, pulling me in again to smother my face with kisses. A giggle escaped me, swatting at his chest and attempting to weakly get away. 

We bordered the train the next morning, Effie Trinket banging at the door and yelling something about us being decent before she burst in. Two Avox’s followed her, picking up our clothes and already straightening the room. I attempted to steal the robe I had worn, which made Haymitch laugh. 

“You don’t gotta steal it. It’ll be here when we get back waitin’ for you.” So this was the suite he always used. This would be my home away from home on all of our trips to the Capitol for the rest of our lives. 

Effie dressed me in some ridiculous outfit, comfortable but entirely too much for even a minute spent in District 12. 

Haymitch and I locked ourselves in our room on the train for the entirety of the ride. He’d stolen a platter of finger foods once we boarded, and a bottle of champagne waited by the bed when we entered. We spent the ride wrapped up in eachother, me sitting in his lap as he fed me different treats, watching carefully to see each reaction I gave at easily the best food I’d had in my whole life. 

We stepped off the train and were escorted back to Victor’s Village, Effie promising to be in touch soon with her prep team to go over wedding plans and expectations. Haymitch just shook his head and practically slammed the door on her as she left. 

“I don’t mind her most days, but she’s become overbearing as all hell.” He muttered, going straight to his room to strip off the clothes they put him in. I sighed, allowing him to toss me an old shirt and sweatpants and slipping them on wordlessly. 

“She’s sweet, in a way.” I agreed, grabbing my bag off the table to head to Burdock’s house. I was itching to tell him about our ceremony, wanting to see Prim’s face when we asked her to be a flower girl. 

Haymitch knew where I was headed, giving me a sleepy smile and collapsing on the couch. He almost asked me to say hello to Burdock for him, but thought better of it. 

Burdock took the news as well as I expected. I couldn’t tell him everything, attempting to not indict him or his family for leverage against us. He seemed to understand there was something unspoken, nodding and sighing as he leaned against his sink. 

“Prim will be overjoyed. I can practically hear her now begging Katniss to pick flowers with her for your hair.” I laughed at that. The girls were at school, leaving me, Astrid and Burdock to discuss the hand fasting. 

“Katniss will be excited too, even if she doesn’t show it. She really loves you, Y/N.” Astrid piped up, eyes focused on grinding herbs into some kind of paste. 

“How soon you lookin’ to be a married woman?” He asked, eyebrow raising as he crossed his arms over his chest. I could feel the familiar heat of embarrassment running up my neck. 

“Soon as possible. We’re trying to do it before the ceremony at the Capitol.” He just nodded, a smirk playing on his lips, shooting a knowing look to Astrid. 

“We could do it tomorrow. It’s a weekend, I don’t head over to the mines until late in the night. I’m sure Katniss and Prim could make a clearing in the woods nice and pretty for you.” I couldn’t help the smile breaking out at the thought. 

“Do you need something to wear? I still have my dress, I could add some embroidery on it, won’t take me too long to do.” Astrid asked, looking up at me. I attempted protesting it, saying I had an old dress of my mother’s to wear, more than likely the orange one I wore to the Autumn festival. All the other dresses that had been passed down had moth holes the size of my fist. 

She wouldn’t hear my pleas, instead dragging me to her bedroom and rifling through her drawers to find a dusty rose sundress, sleeves belled and the bodice bunched to mimic what milkmaids used to wear. It was plain, cotton and light. Something that would have cost her a lot from the tailor shop in the market district. 

“You’ll need to wear a shaw over it. I have a cream one you can have.” It wasn’t the dead of winter anymore, but there was still a lingering chill in the air. 

“This is too much, Astrid. You two already do too much for me.” I protested. She smiled at me, pulling me into a hug. 

“You deserve something good, Y/N. We give you what we can because we love you. You’d do the same for us.” I melted into her, a moment of sisterhood I hadn’t felt for a lifetime. 

The day passed by quickly, the morning immediately causing nerves to hit me. Haymitch was still asleep, arms wrapped around me as he lightly snored. His sleep was starting to get better the more I stayed over, the knife he thought I didn’t know about had made its way from his sweatpant pocket to under his pillow. 

I brushed a piece of hair that had fallen in his face away, pressing a kiss to his forehead and untangling myself from him. 

I was finishing my coffee when I heard a knock on the door, Prim and Katniss standing in the doorway, bundles of winter flowers hanging from a basket. Starflowers, snowdrops, winterberries and poinsettias. 

Katniss had Astrid’s dress folded in her basket, the pale pink suddenly making me want to throw up from the anticipation. This was real. I’m marrying Haymitch Abernathy. 

They pulled me towards my house, Prim prattling on about the groom not seeing the bride before the wedding. My hand shook, which Katniss picked up on and grabbed it, a quiet understanding making my nerves melt away. 

The two girls worked in tandem pulling the dress on me, tiny flowers embroidered on the edges of the bust, hem and sleeves. I grinned at Astrid’s work, her steady hand good at both human and fabric stitches. 

Prim had me sit on the bed while she climbed behind me, begging Katniss to braid my hair while she stuck flowers between the gaps. Katniss sighed as if it was the worst chore ever, downplaying the smile on her face. She’d turned on a record, the gentle music being the only sound as they worked better than any prep team the Capitol had ever seen. 

“Oh Y/N! You look just like a princess!” Prim giggled, clapping her hands as I looked myself over in the mirror. Katniss laid the shaw over my shoulders, giving my shoulders a little squeeze and muttering something about me looking nice before she pulled Prim out of the room. 

I slipped on my boots, left alone for a moment to take a deep breath. My eyes caught on the dresser, a wooden toy truck sitting on it, collecting dust. I had bought it from the hob when Wiley was 3, ma scolding me for spending unnecessary money. He’d lit up when I handed it to him, and it hardly left his sight for years after. 

I ran my hand over it, willing tears back. 

I love you baby. I hope you and your daddy won’t be mad at me for this.

The wind blew against my window, rattling the glass. 

Be happy Mama. That’s all we want. 

Prim and Katniss walked with me to the clearing, hands clasped in each of mine. Astrid had put both girls in blue cotton dresses, wool coats blocking out the chill. My eyes caught Burdock standing in the field, his hands behind his back, a smile on his face at the sight of me and his girls. Katniss and Prim let go to stand with their mother, who pulled them to her side. 

Haymitch stood next to Burdock, who no doubt had gone to wake him. I could only imagine how awkward that had been. 

He was exactly as I pictured him. Slightly askew, hair falling in his face, hands in his coat pockets. It took everything in me not to run to him, crush myself to his body. 

His grey eyes followed me as I came closer, drinking me in as he did for the interview. A smile was on his face, though he was trying to hide it. His face was filled with a deep longing, a series of emotions ranging from melancholy to love passing through his eyes. 

He reached out for me again, pulling me the rest of the way towards him. We held hands, Burdock placing a simple rope over them, twisting it around us to tie a knot. 

“I call upon the universe to witness this union. Do you promise to bind your lives together, cherish and honor each other, and walk the sacred path as partners?” Burdock asked, pausing for us to answer. 

“I do.” I said first, eyes filling with tears again as I gazed into Haymitch. He swallowed harshly, almost as if he couldn’t believe I would ever say yes. 

“I do.” He choked out, chest heaving. 

“You are now bound together. Two lives joined by love and trust into one life. I call upon this cord to bind your lives as one for all of your days.” Burdock finished, fully grinning at the both of us as Prim cheered. 

Haymitch leaned forward, hands still bound by twine, capturing my lips in the softest kiss he’d ever given me. 

I kissed back just as sweet, the wind picking up around us as Lenore Dove, Wyatt and Wiley clapped from beyond the grave, grins full of joy on each of their faces as they watched the two people they loved most find a semblance of happiness in the face of utter despair. 

For the moment it was just us in the clearing. Y/N Y/LN and Haymitch Abernathy. 

Haymitch and Y/N Abernathy. 

[bruisedboys]

hallo! i loved your tmr fics and your ones for jacob n saw u were asking for reqs? ^^ was thinking about jacob if he would love back scratches or having his hair played with! like the way he’d melt…. ouagh

anon how did you know I’ve been thinking about exactly this!!!! he is merely a dog of a man

jacob black who’s a total sucker for physical affection!! he likes giving it (all the damn time, whether there are people around or not) but he loves receiving it. especially because it’s you who’s doing it!

he gets home from a long night of patrol and you’re already asleep in his bed — the sight of you makes his chest ache with fondness. he slides in next to you and you stir, “jake?” you mumble, half asleep but no less fond, reaching for him in the dark. jacob hums, “yeah it’s me, babe.” you curl into his side, kiss his shoulder softly and then your hand finds it way to his hair, carding through the strands still damp from his shower, scratching lightly at his scalp with the tip of your nails. you seem to do it without thinking, and that makes it worse, because you’re not even trying and you’ve got jacob’s heart racing. he melts and goes very still so as not to disrupt your affections. you both fall asleep tangled up with one another and with your fingers curled in the hair at the nape of his neck.

he’s sitting in a pack meeting at sam’s and he’s stressed, his patience stretched thin and seconds away from snapping. everyone’s talking over one another, no one can agree on anything, and he’s sick of it, he just wants to go home with you. then you appear behind him, and you must be able to tell he’s grumpy, because you push your hand across his back in what he thinks is a comforting rub, pushing the heel of your hand into his tense muscles. jacob melts and forgets to pay attention, worse when you start scraping gently across the fabric of his t-shirt with the very tips of your nails, scratching slow semi circles into the space between his shoulder blades. he’s pretty sure he passes out, or falls asleep, or something, because he forgets the rest of what happens in the meeting, and doesn’t utter a word for the remainder of it.

he’s sitting in the garage, busy working on his bike while it pours down outside, and you sidle up behind him, hands sliding over his shoulders. at first he thinks you’re just watching what he’s doing, but then you start pushing your hand over the dip between his shoulder and neck, and up into his hair. you might be doing it absentmindedly, but jacob doesn’t think so — you get bored when it rains (which is most of the time), and when you’re bored, you’re trouble. it’s only when you start twirling chunks of his hair around your finger that he gives in and turns around. “did you want something, sweetheart?” he asks, quirking a brow. you smile at him sweet as honey. “no,” you say, but you don’t give up, you just keep touching him until he can’t stop himself from dropping what he’s doing and pulling you into his lap, guiding your hands to his hair again while you giggle, then smothering your laugh with a deep, warm kiss. it turns into a full on makeout session — you get exactly what you wanted, though jacob would be lying if he said he didn’t want it, too.

-

(I am 100% going to be expanding on that last bit because it deserves a proper blurb!! stay tuned hehe)

[storiesofsvu]

Down Bad Ch 1

Joe Velasco x fem!reader x Terry Bruno Warnings: language, alcohol, masturbation, previous smut/sex dreams described, including cock sucking, face sitting, titty fucking, cum play, obvious threesomes and probably something else I'm forgetting about. Dirty talk, flirting, the starting of a sexuality crisis. -We finally here. This will be ch 1, I'll do a masterlist post for the series in a second, where there will be a full blurb and more info. To be added to the taglist, just reply to this post! <3

Joe woke up with one thing on his mind, dealing with his painfully hard cock, distant memories or new found ideas that had come to him in his dreams floating around through his mind. He could vividly picture you on your knees in front of him, drooling around his cock, another flash of pleasure and he was pounding into you from behind, sopping sounds coming from your pussy. Another flash and you were on your back spread wide open for Terry to pound into while Joe stroked himself, watching the other man’s cock disappear into your cunt.

Groaning, he sat up on the side of the bed, picking up his phone to check the time, he was glad he had the day off, but bummed to find it was only ten thirty. There were at least six and a half hours before you were done your shift and he would be able to fuck you, and he certainly wasn’t planning to stop after a mere one round. With a frustrated huff, he pushed off the bed, hand already palming at himself as he walked into the bathroom, jerking himself off in the shower would have to do. It wasn’t like he was limited in fantasy options to choose from, there had been plenty of nights since the first one in the hotel, he would just cycle through them until his cock was spurting cum and he could finally get on with his day.

None of you had really expected it, an impromptu threesome brought on by raucous hotel neighbours, boredom and pent-up energy and frustrations of a long week at a conference. Once the first round was done, the boys had done well on their promise to make sure you barely had a voice by the next morning, dazed head, wobbly legs, thoroughly fucked. The three of you had all expected what happened in Sacramento to stay in Sacramento but it only took two and a half weeks being back in the city before you were out for drinks complaining about how shitty the dating scene was. How it was seemingly impossible to even find a decent hook up, whenever an opportunity presented itself, there was always multiple turn offs. A round of tequila shots and someone was bringing up how it had happened so easily in California, why couldn’t it be that easy here.

Then the question was raised; why not just bring the ease of Sacramento to New York? You all got along, you were all already being incredibly professional about the entire thing, it wasn’t affecting your work or lives negatively. What was some casual sex between coworkers? If anything it would improve workplace moral, the three of you satisfied, destressed and ready to take on the day. Once any qualms were addressed, bills were paid and you were disappearing back to your place to blow off some steam. You laid down the ground rules that night while sharing some post coital pizza and beer, this was an opt out whenever you wanted situation, anyone could pull the pin at any time. Flirting with other people, getting phone numbers, even going on a date or two was totally fine, you weren’t going to hold each other back from finding the potential one. However on the chance that sex was had with someone other than you three, a clean bill of health was mandatory before resuming full activities. It didn’t need to be a menage a trois every time, sometimes someone might just watch, not feeling up to participating (and honestly, sometimes those nights were even hotter), sometimes only two of you were around and that was perfectly fine too.

Terry remembers the night he decided to go straight home from work instead of out for drinks, his phone going off around one in the morning with photos of Joe’s cock pressed between your tits, your stomach painted with his cum, Joe’s face buried between your legs. He practically dragged you out of the bar two nights later, saying that if you wanted to show off so much, you could spend the entire night showing both of them how you liked to touch yourself. He made you work through basically your entire toy collection and when you finally thought you were finished he got you on your knees and they took turns fucking your face until they came down your throat.

Yes, it was safe to say Joe had his fair share of images to pick from as he turned on the water and stepped into the shower. His mind started out on that night, watching how you started off all cocky and confident, putting on a literal show for the two men. You started stripping out of your clothing the second you’d gotten in your door, leaving a trail down the entire hallway, twirling in your lingerie before peeling it from your body.

He let out a groan as he turned his back to the stream of water, letting it wash down his body as he reached for the body lotion, coating his hand, wrapping it around his cock. Squeezing gently Joe began to stroke himself, he could remember just how fucking hot you’d looked sliding dildos in and out of your pussy and his dick twitched in his hand. His eyes shut, letting out a moan at the memories floating through his brain, no matter how cocky you’d started off it was clear by the fourth toy that you were going to be a fucking mess. That was how he felt right now, pent up, unsure if he was going to be able to get through the day, he needed to be buried inside your cunt and he needed it now. He’d never really understood the way girls in his past had begged for his cock, always thinking that it was a version of dirty talk, foreplay, making their partners feel better about themselves to get fucked better. But right now, with the shower water cascading over him and his cock heavy and absolutely throbbing in his hand, he finally got it.

His hand would barely be enough, it wasn’t even comparable to your pussy after he’d eaten you out, puffy, drenched, warm and fitting him like a glove. The way you’d whimper, squeezing around him when he drove into you, deeper and harder with each thrust. He gasped, his free hand suddenly coming up to brace on the shower wall, a new naughty thought coming into his vision. He wanted you on top, wanted to watch you ride him, your tits bouncing as you threw your head back, moaning his name. He picked up the pace he was fucking into his hand, squeezing a little harder with each thrust, pretending he could feel you pussy clenching around him. He wanted you to pin him down, maybe even tie his hands up, have your way with him until he was as messy and begging as you’d been that night, your ankles tied to your bedposts as Terry told you ‘no’ that you still had three more toys to get through before you’d get to touch a cock. They’d been tormenting you extra since toy number five, stripping down and lazily masturbating in front of you. Joe remembered the first tear that broke free from your eye, trailing over your cheek until he caught it with his thumb, wiping it away and taunting you further. He was certain this was his payback for that, he wouldn’t be satisfied until your pussy took him for all he had, until he was sure he couldn’t come even just one more time.

The vision of you getting off on his cock, juices squirting down onto his lap and then leaving him high and dry, cock throbbing while you climbed off the bed with a smirk on your lips came into his mind, a new fantasy to tuck away for later. His hand flexed against the shower wall and he began to pant, thinking of you using that big hot-pink cock to fuck your pretty pussy while he wasn’t allowed to touch himself, watching you come over and over until it was too much to bear and he felt like a teenager, cum spurting from his cock all over his stomach.

“Fuck!” A string of swears left his lips, his body seizing as his orgasm hit, his mouth falling open as he squeezed every last drop from himself, watching it swirl with the water down the drain. “Christ…”

Breathing heavily, he turned back to face the stream, splashing the water across his face, doing a quick once over to wash his body. As he was rinsing the soap from his skin the dream started to come back to him, hands pinning his wrists to the bed, a hand sliding up his torso, settling gently around his neck, squeezing when he asked for more and his eyes started to roll back in his head.

“Shit.” He muttered, his dick already twitching at the foggy images returning to his memories. With a grumble he switched off the water, jumping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around himself. He picked up his phone to check the time, it was barely eleven. Six hours until he could get his hands on you.

If he was going to make it, he had to get his mind off this fucking dream, and he had to be fully focused on something else. Without much of second thought he moved back to the bedroom, yanking on gym clothes and grabbing his air pods, a nice long workout would help burn off all this extra pent up energy, right?

*

Four and a half hours later Joe had spent two hours at the gym, taken a huge detour on the way home on his bike, had another lengthy shower, cooked and ate his lunch and done all his meal prepping for the rest of the week. He dropped down onto the couch, a long sigh escaping his lips as he ran a hand over his face. His eyes flicked between the coffee table, a case file he’d been working on, the book he was currently reading and up to the television, trying to figure out what to do next. He fiddled with his phone, there was only an hour and a half left until you would be punching out and he opened the group chat the three of you had, wondering if it would come off too desperate if he texted to make plans before the metaphorical bell even rang.

Unfortunately, opening that chat was a terrible idea.

He didn’t even have to scroll up to see the bottom of the last picture array exchanged. You’d made second grade detective and Terry had handed over his credit card for a shopping trip as a reward. So there you were, posed in various lingerie sets, the pictures getting more and more provocative as they went on. Lace and leather slowly disappearing, a new toy making an appearance until there was an audio clip of you using one, your whimpers and moans echoing through the phone.

An uncharacteristic whine left his lips as he replayed the audio, his dick twitching in his pants before he threw the phone down. No. If he masturbated again he would want to shower for a third time today and he really didn’t want that. He let out a growl, tossing his phone across the couch so he could walk away from it, the sink was full of dishes, maybe he could drag that out for an hour.

His phone pinged forty-five minutes later and he felt his heart leap into his throat despite the fact that there was a high chance this wasn’t what he wanted. Wandering from the kitchen to retrieve the device, now somehow wedged between the couch cushions he found exactly what he wanted, a text from you.

‘Jfc I hated today. Wanna meet at Boiler Room around eight? Grace talked me into a spin class and I’ll undoubtedly need to shower after that.’

He debated telling you he didn’t give a fuck if you showered, he was just going to get you even sweatier and more exhausted than a spin class could even dream of. That he just wanted you here. Now. Fuck the class, he’d be your workout. Instead he shook his head, while you did enjoy someone else being in control you’d made it clear that was for the bedroom only, you didn’t need some ‘asshat, alpha male who thinks he’s hot shit telling you how to make every decision in your life. That shit was only acceptable in books and even then it was pushing it’. (Your words, not his). So his fingers danced across the keyboard, typing his response out faster than he’d expected.

‘I’ve been bored out of my mind, that sounds perfect.’

*

Joe had been to The Boiler Room a small handful of times before, mainly with you and Terry, it was sandwiched between a Dim Sum restaurant and a taco place that he liked in Lower Manhattan. It was smaller than he remembered, the tiny entrance hall opening directly into one room, high and low top tables scattered throughout, a pool table at the back, crowded with people. His gaze swept to the left, across all the bar seats, quickly finding you at a high top table near the dark window, your head tilting in his direction when you saw him. A knowing grin quickly took over his features and you recognized the dark look in his eyes even from so far away, your body beginning to tingle as he made his way over to you.

“Hey.” You barely had time to greet him before Joe’s arm was around your waist, yanking you off the stool and his lips met yours in a fiery kiss. Your body molded against his, arms wrapping around his shoulders as his tongue sank into your mouth. One of his hands groped at your ass, grinding you against him and you could feel his cock, half hard in his pants. “Well that was one hell of a hello.” You greeted, small smile on your cheeks.

“Baby, I’ve been waiting to see you all fuckin’ day.” He growled into your ear, hand still on your ass while his mouth lingered on your neck.

“Ohohoho…” You chuckled, your hands resting on his hips as the two of you shuffled your feet, Joe now positioned against the table with your back to the rest of the bar, “was pretty boy suffering and all lonely on his day off without us?”

“More like absolutely distracted by the thought of you on your knees.” His mouth moved up your neck, pressing kisses into it, “couldn’t stop thinking about you stuffing that pretty pussy with all those toys when we both know my cock feels so much fuckin’ better.”

“Is that so?” You smirked, your hands sneaking under his t-shirt, nails tickling at his bare skin.

“Want you to ride me baby,” his tongue made a long trail down your neck, teeth nibbling at the crook of your neck before making his way back up, “use me to get off as many times as you’d like.”

“Fuck…” you groaned, “you really are the needy one tonight. Here I was thinking we’d all just have some drinks to blow off some steam.”

“We?” He asked, rolling his hips against you again, relishing in the soft groan that left your lips.

“Yeah.” You murmured, “Terry’s at the pool table.”

Mouth still connected to your neck Joe’s eyes flicked up, looking across the bar where he instantly found the other man. Bruno was finishing up a game, a grin on his lips, a mischievous look in his eye as he talked to his opponent. Their phones were out, and in a flash second Joe realized Terry wasn’t holding his own phone, a moment later the devices were swapped back between the two men. Joe’s teeth sunk into your neck and you whimpered, shivering in his arms. It was then that Terry sensed the attention on him, his gaze shooting up to the show going on across the bar and the moment those blue eyes hit Velasco, the realization was doused over him.

Joe nearly tensed in your arms, the images coming back to him, the dream hadn’t been you riding him, it wasn’t you pinning him down to the bed, and it definitely wasn’t your hand around his neck. The cloudiness of the visions were gone now, the full image of Terry being the one on top of him, telling him how well he was doing was explicitly clear in his mind. It was the other man’s hands stroking his cock; his mouth wrapped around him while he worked him up until he was sure Joe could take his cock. You weren’t the one touching him, you were off to the side using another one of your toys until Terry prompted you to sit on Joe’s face while he got fucked.

His mouth left the crook of your neck, his gaze latched onto Terry’s and the excitement hadn’t left his body at his realization. His dick was still half hard in his pants as more pieces of the dream came back to him and rather than feeling shame, he felt totally enthralled. Terry winked at him from across the bar and his fingers dug into your hips, he was more than well aware you were still there, locked in his arms, he still very much wanted you to be a part of this, his thought process just might need some more work.

“What?” You asked with a small laugh, glancing over your shoulder to catch the moment Terry finally tore his gaze off the two of you and back to the man he was flirting with.

“I think he just got that guy’s number.”

“So?” You raised a brow, “we laid down the ground rules, he’ll play by them.”

“But it’s Bruno.” Joe’s brow furrowed in that oh so adorable way and you laughed softly, your hands squeezing at his side to regain his attention.

“Terry’s bi. He’s gonna hit on whoever he wants.”

“Wait, what?” Joe’s attention was suddenly fully directed at you.

“Bi.” You stated, “bisexual? Like me, like Grace? You’re surrounded by it pretty boy I thought you would’ve picked up on it by now, I mean we are inside a gay bar right now.”

He glanced around, noting the pride flag on the back wall before his eyes came back to your face, “you and Grace, that’s normal though, I mean, girls make out with their friends and experiment all the time.”

“We do a whole lot more than that, and so do boys.” Your hands trailed up his arms, squeezing his shoulders, “both Terry and I have had boyfriends and girlfriends. He likes sucking dick and god do I ever love eating pussy.” You chuckled, “I almost prefer it. And I’ve pegged Terry, he’s super into taking it.”

“Pegged?” Joe’s brow scrunched again and you laughed softly, smoothing your hands down his chest before leaning in so he was the only one to hear your confession.

“It means I’ve put on a strap on, a dildo, and I’ve fucked his ass. And believe me he loves it.” You pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw, “but he’ll only do it when he really trusts his partner.” You were still close enough to Joe, clutched to his frame that you felt his dick twitch at your words, your hand coming to redirect his face to yours, “is that something you think you might be into?” You asked, your head tilted, “experimenting with Terry?”

His hand grasped at your ass, squeezing you tightly to him, “we can definitely talk about it.” His gaze flicked from you to back across the bar, “how did I not know about this?”

“It’s not like Terry goes around announcing it.” You shrugged, “we just never brought it up cause we were under the impression you were straight.”

“So was I.” He muttered, his cheeks heating when Bruno glanced up and caught him staring again. Your hands squeezed at his sides, pulling his attention back to you.

“You get so bored today you ended up on the gay side of Pornhub or something?”

“No.” He laughed, devilish grin returning to his cheeks, “I spent all day thinking about your sweet pussy, princesa.” He groped at your ass again, leaning down to steal a kiss, nipping at your lip, “because I thought the super fucking dirty dream I had was you.”

“Ohhhhh…” you chuckled against his lips, rolling your hips into him, “but now that you’ve seen him, you’re putting it together.”

“Mmhm.” Joe groaned into the kiss, his cock getting harder as your voice got huskier, swirls of lust curling through his brain as he got drunk on them. “But that’s very new…”

“Relax pretty boy.” Your hand slid up his chest, pinching at his nipple and he hissed softly against your mouth, “we’re not going to jump from thinking you were straight to you taking it up the ass, there’s a progression here.”

“What do you propose?” His voice was more strained, he couldn’t help but grind against you, feeling more needy when you let out a whine that told him your panties were already ruined.

“Well, we start by you taking me home, and you relinquishing control.” Your lips landed on the side of his jaw, “I’m in charge tonight, that okay with you?”

“Fuck yes.”

You slowly kissed across his jaw between your words, “yeah? You want me to shove your face into my cunt? Make you eat me out until I come all over your mouth? Pull your hair like you’ve been a brat?” You nipped his earlobe and he groaned again, his eyes fluttering, “want me to ride you, pinning your hands over your head?”

“Want you to edge me.” He finally had the balls to say it, drunk on your dirty words, on the thoughts of experimenting further than he’d thought of prior, “don’t let me come. Just use me.”

“Fuck,” you muttered along a small laugh, kisses trailing down his neck before you finally pulled away, your body shivering at the look in his eyes. “You really wanna be a mess tonight, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I’m down fucking bad baby.” His eyes flicked across the bar lightning fast before turning back to you and your lips curled up into a grin.

“And you want Bruno to watch it all, don’t you?”

Joe had never nodded so fast in his life.

_________________

@km1989 @bulletproof-love-replies @practicalagiick @silversprings-mp3 @adriaanaa2014 @rosaliedepp @irishavengersassemble @spaghettificationandpretzels @bowdre @dreadfulxives18 @ms-downhill @bubbleswrld @gatefleet @amelia-song-pond @witches-unruly-heart @fandom-princess-forevermore @cycat4077 @xoxabs88xox @alwaysachorusgirl @plaidbooks @thatesqcrush @im-just-a-mississippi-girl girl @wandas-wife @katieslotherford @momlifebehard @dondivajade @misscharlielulu @alexxavicry @legit9thlunaticwarrior @daffodil-heart @onmykneesformarvel @silversprings-mp3 @hanbower @practicalagiick @dreadfulxives18 @ms-downhill @alexxavicry @bubbleswrld @gatefleet

[arionaleilani]

1. it’s my 24th birthday today, so my goal of being published by the time i’m 25 is now a one year looming monster, but i never specified what kind of published and am currently looking in various literary magazines that are recommended for writers who have yet to be published, so i’m surprisingly confident that i can make it work? and tbh even if whatever i write isn’t officially published before my 25th birthday, if i have someone in the process of being published then i’ll be happy!! no matter what though, i’m gonna try to be proud of myself for at least giving it my best shot!!

2. i honestly love that my birthday is on the ides of march because the ides of march meme shitposting is only a thing on tumblr but it also being my birthday makes it easier to like. be excited about the ides of march outside of tumblr. like even in person i can be like “it’s my birthday! i’m an ides of march babe (:” and if someone is like oh what’s that? or if they say something along the lines of oh like julius caesar? i can be like yep!! and even if it’s a small thing outside of tumblr it brings me immense enjoyment and amusement being able to bring it up off of tumblr

3. transportation situation has been very rough since june 2023 when i totalled my car, my gap insurance are being assholes and i ended up putting my foot down on the phone with them yesterday which i’m pretty proud of because i am NOT a confrontational person (something i’ve been working on this past year, so seeing some improvement with my ability to hold my ground and not be a pushover yesterday was very cool!!) i was told i’d get a response from them by friday next week no matter what, and if i don’t then friday of next week i will continue to wreak havoc upon them. but my moms car which i’ve been using since my accident broke down yesterday, hopefully it’s fixable but my parents were saying it might be done for, so trying to think of how i’m gonna get to work next week is kind of stressing me out lmao, but for now i’m just gonna focus on enjoying my birthday the best i can because i don’t want to start off being 24 with an overwhelming anxiety for something that won’t be a potential issue until monday. plus i already messaged my boss today to let her know that i’m going to do everything i can to make it work out but just so she’s in the loop and knows of the potential of me not being able to make my morning shifts (one of my coworkers said she’s more than happy to give me a ride for our afternoon shifts which does help relieve some of the stress!) and i told her i’d let her know for sure sunday so that if necessary she can have time to figure out someone to fill in for me in the mornings!

overall: life is weird and i ended being 23 yesterday with a shitty situation but a positive outlook and i am going to enjoy my first day of being 24 no matter what because honestly i fucking earned it. happy friday everyone, i hope it’s a good day for you and me both!

[enfinizatics]

dear americans,

as a polish queer woman and human rights activist, i know exactly how you're feeling right now and what to expect from these elections. i lived through the 2015-2023 regime of pis, a right-wing populist party that divided families in the same way trump did. i’ve experienced the rise of fascism in poland, the influence of far-right parties like konfederacja, and their “santa’s little helpers”—ordo iuris, an ultra-conservative catholic organization (banned in many countries, mind you) that helped enforce a near-total abortion ban and runs anti-queer campaigns in public spaces. i supported the black protests in 2016 as a middle schooler when they first tried to ban abortion. as an adult, i actively participated in the 2020 women’s strike, running from police tear gas daily after they finally passed the ban. i supported friends who faced charges.

i’ve lived through intense homophobia in poland as a queer teen and adult. i survived the first pride march in my hometown, where far-right extremists threw stones and glass at us. i endured the anti-queer propaganda spread by the ruling party in state-owned media. i survived the “rainbow night,” poland’s own stonewall moment in summer 2020, when police arrested around 50 queer activists following the arrest of margo, a nonbinary activist. i survived the "lgbt-free zones," the targeted violence, the slurs from strangers on the street, and the protests i held against queerphobia. it was hard as fuck, but i survived.

but just because i survived, it doesn’t mean others did. many women died because of the abortion ban—marta, justyna, izabela, dorota, joanna, maria, and many others who didn’t survive pis’s draconian anti-abortion laws. milo, kacper, michał, zuzia (she was 12), wiktor, and other queer and trans kids and young adults took their own lives because of the relentless queerphobia.

despite all of this, our experience in poland can serve as a guide now. here are some tips for staying safe and how we, polish queers and women, organized under the regime:

safety first, always. if you know someone who’s had an abortion, no you don’t. if you know someone is trans, no you don’t. if you know people who help with safe abortions, no you don’t—at least not until you know it’s 100% safe to share. if you are queer or have had an abortion, only share this with people you trust fully. most importantly, not everyone has to be an activist just because they’re part of a minority. if it feels unsafe to share that you're queer, trans, etc., then don’t. it doesn’t make you any less queer.

use secure, encrypted messaging like signal for conversations on potentially risky topics, such as queerness, abortion, organizing counter-actions, protests—anything that might be used against you.

stay anonymous online. if you want to research or report something without surveillance, do not use regular internet. get a vpn (mullvad is affordable and reliable), download the tor browser (for both onion and standard links), and if you plan to whistleblow, consider using a riseup email account.

organize and build networks. community is everything now. support each other, foster independence, because your government won’t have your back. set up collectives, grassroots movements. create lists of trusted professionals—lawyers, doctors, etc.—who can offer support.

to lawyers and doctors: please consider pro-bono work. this is what got us through poland’s hardest times. your work will be needed now more than ever.

for protests or risky actions: always write a pro-bono lawyer’s number on your arm with a permanent marker.

get to know the anarchist black cross federation and other resources on safety culture: "Starting an anarchist black cross group: A guide"; Still We Rise - A resource pack for transgender and non-gender conforming people in prison; Safe OUTside the system by the Audre Lorde Project;

for safe abortion info or involvement: get familiar with womenhelpwomen.

stay radical, stay strong, stay informed: The Anarchist Library

if i forgot to (or didn't) include something, don't hesitate to reblog this post with other resources.

[navybrat817]

Late Night Shenanigans

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky searches for Alpine when she gets out one night and finds her curled up with you.

Word Count: Over 1.6k

Warnings: Drunk reader with no filter and Alpine likes her, bit of grumpy!Bucky, humor, attraction, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: @starlightcrystalline sent me this IG video and I had to do something for her. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was going to kill Sam. No, not really. He wasn’t a cold-hearted killer. Just because Sam hadn’t shut the door fast enough didn’t mean it was his fault that Alpine ran out. Accidents happened, and she was lightning fast. It still stunned Bucky and Steve when Sam shouted that she got out because she hadn’t taken off like that before. Super soldier speed hadn’t worked since she was gone by the time Bucky got to the front of his place. 

They split up to look for her, and he didn’t want to wake anyone up since it was late, but he was worried since Alpine had gone past his neighborhood. She was his little buddy, his kindred spirit. He wanted her to be okay. He didn’t want her to get lost or hurt.

“Alpine?” he asked, rounding a corner and looking around. His shoulders dropped when he didn’t spot her. “C’mon, Al.”

He went down another block when he heard an unfamiliar voice in the distance, his body going stiff. “Oh, my GOD. You are seriously the cutest cat EVER.” Was this stranger talking about his cat? “Your fur is as white as snow and so soft. OOH. Is your name Snowball?”

“Snowball?” he muttered, jogging in the direction of your sweet voice. Wait, why did he think your voice was sweet?

“You’re a little purr machine! I just want to take you home and cuddle with you and keep you FOREVER.”

“Oh, no, you fucking don’t,” Bucky snarled, rounding another corner. He didn’t care how sweet you sounded. You were talking about possibly stealing his cat, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.

He sighed in relief when he saw Alpine before his brows furrowed. She was curled up in your lap as you sat in the middle of the sidewalk. He had to blink to be sure his eyes were working correctly. Alpine never took to strangers like that. She liked Steve and Sam, but it still took her time to warm up to them.

Shooting them a text to let them know he found Alpine, he wondered who you were and why she was snuggling with you. 

“Al.” He whistled as he jogged the rest of the way over. Instead of jumping out of your lap like he expected, she curled into you more and purred. Maybe you had some sort of special power that made his cat relax. 

You tilted your head up and Bucky forgot how to breathe for a second. Even under the harsh light of the sidewalk lamp you were beautiful. Fuck, maybe you had some sort of special power over him, too. “Hi!” you said a little too loudly, like you didn’t have a clue how late or quiet it was. Inhaling, he could smell the alcohol on your breath from where he stood. Jesus, were you drunk? “Hooooooooe, my God. You are the hottest man I have ever seen in my life. Just… ” You waved a hand at him. “Holy fucking shit.”

He was thankful that it was either too dark for you to see or you were too drunk to notice the pink in his cheeks. Not to mention, he was in jeans and a black t-shirt. He hardly looked hot. “You’re drunk, but thanks for the compliment,” he stated, reaching out for Alpine who stubbornly stayed put. Seriously, what was her deal? She didn’t know you. He didn’t know you.

“Annnnd I’ll be sober when I wake up tomorrow, but you’ll still be really hot. That’s totally not fair.” You giggled after a moment and held Alpine up to look at him. “Isn’t he hot? Like a model or a god or something made up in a lab.” You tilted your head. “Or my dreams.”

Bucky frowned, as if he didn’t talk to his cat on a regular basis. He was trying to ignore that you were clearly physically attracted to him. That wasn’t the usual reaction people had when he came around. Not in today’s age at least. His glare didn’t even phase you since you continued to smile at him. “Al’s a cat. She can’t-”

“Meow.”

Your smile turned into something triumphant. “See, she agrees with me,” you said, rubbing your cheek against Alpine’s before you gasped. “Wait, you called her by a name. Do you know her?” Bucky let out a breath, wanting to get back home and get some sleep. He had had a long day. “Yeah, she’s my cat and she got out a bit ago. Could you please give her back so I can go home?”

Your lower lip trembled and he feared you’d burst into tears. He had no clue what to do if you cried. “I’m soooo sorry. I didn’t know she was your cat. I swear.” His eyes widened when you tried to get to your feet, his hands going to your hips to help steady you. He was reluctant to let you go, and he felt like an ass because he probably scared you. “She just came right up to me and I only wanted to pet her for a minute.”

Bucky kept a hand on your hip when Alpine finally moved into his other arm. He felt better, but wouldn’t relax completely until he was at home. “It’s okay. I’m glad she did,” he said honestly. Because Alpine went to you, it made it much easier to find her. “Wait a second.”

“What?” you asked, making him lose his breath again when you looked him in the eyes.

He had to blink a few times and snap himself out of his stupor. What was wrong with him? “Why the hell are you out here by yourself?” he asked, trying to keep his anger in check when he took in your outfit. He was so concerned about Alpine that he didn’t clock right away that you were in a semi-revealing black dress. It was gorgeous, and that kind of look could attract all sorts of attention. Even if you weren’t drunk and all alone, the thought of someone taking advantage of you made his blood boil.

You nodded to the building beside you. “My place is RIGHT there, but it’s soooo sweet that you care about my wellbeing.” 

“Which apartment?” he asked. 

“Okay, you may be really hot and I may be drunk, but I don’t know you, so I’m not telling you my apartment number.” You wrinkled your nose. “That’s how true crimes start.”

He snorted before he could stop himself. At least you were smart enough not to tell him. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re alone out here.”

“My friends and I were celebrating a birthday at the bar a few blocks away and the birthday girl wanted to play drinking games and my luck was terrible tonight since I kept losing, or I guess winning if you count drinking as winning?” you explained, shaking your head. “Anyway, my sober friend dropped me off, but your cat walked over before I could go inside,” you continued, smiling and scratching behind her ears. At least you hadn’t walked home alone. “And it would’ve been rude of me to ignore little Snowball.”

“Her name’s Alpine,” he corrected you, but there was warmth in his tone instead of annoyance.

“My apologies, Queen Alpine.” You booped Bucky on the nose. “And what is your name?”

Bucky blinked and blinked again. He couldn’t believe you just booped him. If Steve and Sam had seen that… “It’s Bucky.”

You didn’t react to his name, simply giving him your name, too. “Do people call you ‘Buck’?” you giggled. “Because Buck rhymes with-”

“I think you should get inside,” he cut you off. “And make sure you drink some water and have some aspirin waiting beside you when you wake up.”

“Awwwwwwwwwww. You really do care about my wellbeing,” You leaned into him, stars in your eyes. “You’re a good man. I can tell.”

Bucky cleared his throat. Why would you think he was a good man? “Well, if Al likes you, you can’t be all bad.”

“I can be bad if you want me to,” you whispered exaggeratedly and winked. “Sorry, I have no filter when I drink.”

“Yeah, I sensed that,” he deadpanned. It was kind of refreshing. “Do you always flirt with strange men like this?” he asked, feeling a surge of jealousy for no reason.

“Just you, stranger,” you answered. He believed you only because you seemed too sweet to lie. “Thanks for being nice and letting me snuggle with your cat.”

You had to be drunk to say he was nice. “I’m a grump.”

You booped his nose again. “Whatever you say, Mr. Grump,” you said, giving Alpine one last pet. “See you later, Alpine.”

The meow Alpine let out sounded so sad it almost broke Bucky’s heart. “It’s late, Al. She needs rest, and so do we.”

“Night night!” you called back, somehow managing to walk in a straight line up the building door. “Sweet dreams!”

“What if Al wants to see you again?” he asked. 

You paused and smiled over your shoulder. “If you want to see me again, I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

As tempting as it was to ask for your number or give him yours, you were drunk. You’d probably forget all about him in the morning. Besides, you might have a boyfriend. So he held Alpine closer and watched you go inside, the corner of his mouth twitching. 

“You gave me a real scare, Al,” he said, walking away as Alpine looked back at the building. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll see her again.”

For Alpine’s sake, he hoped they’d see you again.

And for his own sake, he hoped you were single.

Had to be done, lovelies! When and where will he see you again? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[luveline]

shy!reader and spencer who are in the early days of their relationship and are getting more comfortable with initiating physical affection with each other (especially reader lol) and spencer gets her to open up by playing with her hair / hands, tickling her, cuddling, the like <3

The first time Spencer let his head rest against yours, you were sure you’d die right there and then, half-asleep on the subway, then suddenly away as he’d started talking under his breath, his conversation for you and you alone. You'd flushed full body and forced yourself to stay still, until Spencer had confused your shyness for not wanting his weight against you and pulled away. 

This time you’re ready. This time, he’s working his arm over the top of your shoulders. Not a timid first move on the first date, he’d suffered through that already. Spencer lets his arm slip between your back and the couch as he tugs you toward him, resting his cheek against your temple, two points of skin turning hot as a burner. 

“Okay?” he asks quietly. 

You let yourself relax into it. “I’m fine.” 

“Did you want me to run that bath for you?” 

It’s imperative he doesn’t move. “No, I can do it. I’ll do it later, if that’s okay.” 

It’s Spencer’s bath, but he let you take one the last time you stayed the night, so you’ll work it out. You knew he wasn’t gonna peep on you, knew you were totally safe in his bathroom, but your heart hammered fast as a hummingbird’s whenever the floors creaked —just the idea of being near him when you were unclothed set you aflame. Your skin warms with the memory, a nervousness in your chest and hands that grows uncomfortably warm. 

You don’t move, though. You’re sending him all the wrong messages when you reject him out of timidity, you’re more than aware of it, but the longer he sits there gently holding you, the more the temptation to squirm builds. 

Spencer makes a soft, soft sound as his hand trails up your back, curling around your arm, and meandering a path to your elbow. 

“I got…” —Spencer begins, without any inclination to rush— “…more of that bath soak you liked, the camomile… and honey…”

You love the smell. Sometimes you swear you can smell it in his hair when he presses near you. 

“And a loufa, ‘cos you didn’t have one last time,” he adds. 

“Thank you.” 

“…You’re welcome.” He kisses the side of your head. Then, in a betrayal of his character, he laughs breathlessly, saying, “Sorry, I forgot what I was saying. The loufa– It’s purple. I put it on the towel rack, and I got you a new face towel, too, mine’s too rough for you.” 

“Did you get yourself a new one too?” 

“Yeah.” He taps your cheek, the hand you’d forgotten about drawing a short line to your jaw. “You’re pretty.” 

You drop your chin. 

“You are,” he says. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” Spencer’s hand slides down your neck, a caress that turns to a kind hold. “Can I…” He snorts softly. “You’re solid,” he says, squeezing your neck with enough pressure to wind you, which isn’t much. “You don’t have to get all tense.” 

“I’m trying really hard not to get tense,” you admit. 

“I know. I’m trying to help, but I’m just making it worse.” 

Spencer isn’t making it worse. Or, he wasn’t. “I thought you were gonna kiss me, is the thing.” 

“I was. Then you tensed up and I didn’t think I should.” His easy smile goes funny. “Could I have?” 

“Of course you could’ve,” you mumble, pressing your face into his shoulder before he can decimate the last of your self respect. He laughs —giggles, really, in a burst of sound— and tugs you in. “Not funny.”

He can hear the lie. “No, it’s not funny,” he agrees anyways, laying back and then moving forward, swaying you enough to turn the giggle into a full blown laugh. 

He murmurs something. You mumble back. His fingertips slip over the dip in your back and he’s saying something nice, if a little shy. It’s been nice getting closer to him, seeing the real Spencer, someone who’s hesitant but gentle beyond words. There’s no reason for him to be touching you like this, to talk sweet nothings behind your ear as he lugs you onto his chest, and maybe there’s no reason for you to melt. Butter in the sun, drifting bonelessly into his lap. 

“You smell like tea,” you say quietly. “I love it.” 

“You love it?” he asks, something oddly awed about him as he shifts your head back to look you in the eyes. 

“Mm. It’s nice. And your eyes are so brown… they’re my favourite thing about you.” 

Spencer teases the stripe of skin exposed by your rising t-shirt until you’re shivering again. “Thank you,” he says, letting one close in a wink as he taps your nose with his. “Am I allowed to say what I like about you, or–” You shake your head so violently he immediately stops. “Fine. But only because I want to sit like this for the rest of the night with you.” 

“I still need a shower.” 

“Later,” he says, his lips resting on your chin. “Way, way later, please.” 

[xervn]

melatonin | 2

two-shot | enemies to fuckers sevika x reader

pt. 1

ao3 link

summary: the aftermath.

18+ MDNI | 3.5k words | tags; canon divergence, sevika is a little mean, reader is a brat, angst?, very light sub/dom, vaginal fingering, semi-public sex, porn w/ plot-ish, no use of y/n

i rewrote this so many times, but here we are... mama i made it..

It’s not what you were expecting. It’s not how you saw things moving forward—not at all. 

Anyone would agree that you two shared a passionate night. Sevika fucked the insomnia out of you. 

So how’d she manage to make you hate her more?

When you woke up, Sevika was on her side of the room, adjusting her deep red poncho. She noticed you were awake and went straight to barking orders at you and proceeded with her thousandth attempt to get you to follow her schedule, which never worked.

It was as if last night didn't happen, and it was all a lucid, raunchy dream with deep moans you could still replay in your head. However, you woke up missing more clothes than you remembered taking off, so you knew that wasn't the case.

You decided to pass her crankiness off as stress, since it was a big day and all, but she only seemed crankier after the meeting. 

Don’t be fooled; you aced it. Your negotiating skills have always been top tier, and you’re incredibly personable, especially with good sleep on your side. You were so buddy-buddy with the Bilgewater traders, they invited you to their pub that night for drinks and karaoke. Exactly your style, a fun offer, but you declined. Declined because you were positive Sevika was going to give you congratulatory sex. Wrong. She gave you nothing but pure silence. 

You can hear hints of humor or sarcasm weaved into words, but you can’t hear any of that in silence. Was she mad at you? Jealous of you? Annoyed by you? 

It reminded you of when you first met Sevika, a time when you tried super hard to impress her, but everything you did ticked her off. You were so good at making friends with clients; total strangers, but not Sevika, even after months of trying. It hurt especially more since you had a massive crush—one everyone but her knew about; Ran still teases you about it from time to time. 

When you think back on it, you’re embarrassed. It shouldn’t have taken you a year to finally get on her case about it, but when you did, there was less judgmental silence and more words. Not the nicest words, but at least it created a semblance of balance—honesty that wasn’t outweighed by one-sided affection. But after that meeting, it was like it all reverted to square one. Silence and one-sided affection. 

That triggered you. 

So, what was it that you were expecting? Marriage? A gold medal? 

No, it was something much simpler. Kindness. The smallest amount of chivalry would’ve made you swoon, but she didn’t give you any. She continued to be the dickhead you were used to, and what did you do? 

You continued to be the dickhead she was used to, obviously. Amplified it even. There’s no such thing as being the bigger person in your dictionary. Not for this. If there’s anything you were bigger at, it was being a bigger cunt. If she was going low, you were going lower—and you stuck to it.

-

Days after the trip, you still haven’t talked to Sevika out of solidarity with yourself. Nothing but surface-level words have been exchanged between you two since that day. No witty remarks, no unnecessary teasing, no fruitless arguments. 

To be fair, there’s nothing you want to talk about. You’re too upset and ashamed. At the time, you couldn’t even discard the little dignity you had left to ask her to “help” you one last time because she factory reset you, and you slept like a baby all night. 

That is until now. Sevika’s magic has worn off, and you’re falling back into your regular routine of staying up late and getting wasted so you don’t have to watch the sunrise for a third time in a row. It wouldn’t be such a bother if you weren’t thinking about her every single night. 

Or during the day when someone says her name and the hairs on your arms stick up. Or when she’s a glance away and your body starts to think you're in a sauna. 

It was undeniable; you still have a crush. As obnoxious as the day it blossomed. You hate it. You should be hating her now more than ever, but your heart is fucking you over, and you’re sleep-deprived and pent up on top of it.

You’ve found yourself fantasizing about and craving a woman that has most likely moved on. It’s pathetic, and it shows you have no backbone, meaning it’s only a matter of time before you do something you will regret forever. 

You couldn’t back down, not after your dramatic promise to yourself that you weren’t going to let her play you again. 

Thankfully, fate graced you with an opportunity to redeem yourself. Silco put you on another short trip back to the port city, and he assigned Sevika to accompany you—expecting her to, since he didn’t bother to call her to his office because of how often you work together.

That meant the ball was in your court, so you did something neither you nor Sevika had ever had the guts to do.

You protested. 

Well, you lied. You told him that Sevika didn’t want to work with you anymore and that it’d be better for you to go with someone else. It’s probably not far from the truth anyway, but honestly, you thought he’d give you a speech about life or ask you to tell her to get over it. Maybe even a ‘fuck off,’ but instead he said, “Very well,” and shooed you out of his office. 

So now you’re at a loss because you didn’t think that far ahead. You didn’t really give it much thought at all and figured, realistically, both of you should be happy in the end. You knew it meant you’d see Sevika less, but you managed to convince yourself you were fine with it; that it was for the best.

“It’s probably the best decision I’ve ever made,” you tell Ran, who’s fiddling with the straw in their drink as they listen to you talk. Laughter, drinks clinking, and jukebox music makes for good background noise. “I’m just shocked, y’know? If I knew he’d accept it so quickly, I would’ve asked earlier.” You laugh half-heartedly. 

Ran twirls around the straw in their cup. “Didn’t I tell you it was that easy?”

You freeze. “Yes, but…”

“You still wanted to work with her.” They grin, going in for a sip.

“No! I genuinely thought he’d be against it.." You grumble.

“Right, right… Well, it’s good news then. You should be happy. Maybe we’ll be assigned together.”

Your eyes light up at the possibility. “That’d be great! There’s this pub I wanted to go to, but…“ You trail off when the bar goes incredibly quiet. There are a few whispers here and there, some more frantic than the others.

Loud, heavy footsteps pound against the wooden flooring, and you notice the pace picking up as the sound travels closer to you. 

You’re not allowing yourself to get ambushed at a time like this, so you turn, and, great heavens, there’s Sevika. 

Your chest, down to your stomach, twists uncomfortably. You’re surprised to see her, and she looks irritated to see you. Her face is plain, but there’s still a prominent frown on her lips.. 

“You.” 

You look around, pretending you’re not sure who she targeted that towards. By now, the bar has resumed its chatter, but Ran has moved three seats down. They give you a little finger wave before turning to the bartender. 

You slowly look up at Sevika, pointing to yourself, “Me?” You question jokingly.

“Get up; let’s go.” She gestures for you to start moving.

You laugh sarcastically, turning away from her on your stool. “Fuck off.” 

A large hand lands on your bicep and pulls. You stagger backwards and onto your feet before you fall over. “What the f—? Let go of me!” 

Sevika says nothing and makes her way to the back of the building, forcing you to walk haphazardly through chairs and tables. Your face warms and contorts in embarrassment, given you’re being dragged to who knows where like you’re a misbehaving toddler. 

You begrudgingly follow along, not that you had much of a choice, and she stops in front of a supply closet. 

“Open it.” She commands monotonously.

You don’t know why, but you do it; you open it. You don’t even question it, and you deserve it when she shoves you in there. 

Her mechanical arm whirs as you stumble in, and it makes a short appearance to slam the door behind herself. Then everything turns blurry in a flash, and your back is suddenly hitting the door. 

“What did you do?” She asks through her teeth.

You try to yank your arm free, but she doesn’t budge. “What did I do? Why are you so angry? Can you fucking let me go?!”

“What did you tell Silco?”

Your heart drops, and your expression must’ve shown it because Sevika groans. You interject, “I told him what you couldn’t.”

“And what is that?”

“You don’t want to work with me.”

Sevika looks at the ceiling for strength, shutting her eyes. She takes a deep breath in. “When did I ever say that?” 

“You don’t have to; I can read it off you.” 

Sevika’s eyes suddenly meet yours, and you flinch. “Yeah? What are you reading now?”

You frantically search, and you stutter, “You’re—you’re pissed?”

“Yes, I’m fucking pissed, Einstein. Did I ask you to make decisions for me?” 

God, you have no idea why she’s so mad about it. Your breathing is picking up, and you don’t know if it’s because of conflict or the fact she hasn’t been this close to you in what feels like ages. “No, but you can stop acting like you’ve never wanted to.” 

“Why do you care? If I wanted to, I would.” She states.

“Sure. You must’ve loved working with Jinx then, huh?”

Sevika looks away to sigh loudly. “That’s not the same thing.” 

“Isn’t it? You don’t like me either—“

“What is your problem? Why don’t you just admit that it’s you who doesn’t want to work with me? It’s you who doesn’t like me.” She spits. Her jaw clenches as she calms down. “I’m ‘difficult’ now because of you. I’d like one day—one week—without Silco complaining when I’m doing my best.” She sighs.

Your mind goes blank. “I’m—I didn’t know he’d say that… He seemed okay with it, and I didn’t know you’d be upset.” You utter, completely guilt-ridden.

“I swear—you only think about yourself. Fuck everyone else living, right?”

“What? No, I didn’t…”

“Didn’t think? Do you think?” She exasperates.

It works, and you huff. “I thought you would be jumping for joy. Why aren’t you fucking ecstatic?” You ask angrily.

“Nothing about this is good for me. Or you. Unless you think Dustin can protect you.” She scoffs.

“Dustin? Well… well…” You didn’t think about that. 

You abandon the sentence. “You can be mad, but not this mad. I should be this mad. We did things together. Things you don’t try to forget about, and that’s what you—looked like you did.” You say, correcting yourself because you’ve learned your lesson from assuming things. 

Sevika looks heavily perplexed. “You’re the one who stopped talking to me.”

“No, actually, you are. Not to mention your first words to me the morning after we fucked were, ‘You have twenty minutes.’”

“You had twenty minutes. Did you want a ‘good morning, baby’ first?” She scoffs, shaking her head.

Your stomach does a somersault. “I don’t know.” 

Sevika pauses, making what feels like judgy eye contact with you. “You don’t know?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that you acted like nothing happened and went straight to being bossy.”

“Huh. I thought you liked that.” She replies, and there’s something in the way she said it that makes your legs falter.

“When did I ever—“ The air changed, you notice. “When did I ever like that…?” 

Sevika studies your face for a few seconds. The silence is unnerving. It’s like time slowed, because you have no idea when she’ll speak or what she’ll say. “Somewhere between you moaning my name and cumming on my fingers.” She bluntly states.

You choke on your spit, coughing. There were a million different ways that could’ve gone. Most of them sounded like that, but it still caught you off guard.

“What? You said I forgot about it. I’m trying to jog up my memory,” she teases.

You frown, but it comes off as endearing, so much so it makes Sevika awe. “Don’t you want me to remember? I’m remembering.”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant you acted no different from the day before, and you never, y’know, came to me again after that either.” 

Then regret starts rushing in. You used to curse your friends out when they got back with their shitty situationships. You know what it feels like now. You can’t believe you alluded to sex, let alone wanting it at a time like this, but she did it first, to be fair.

You two stare at each other for several beats. 

“Came to you?” A smile begins to form on Sevika’s lips.

You shake your head, as unconcerned as you can make it. “Shut up. Forget I said anything.“

Her head tilts slightly. She looks you up and down. “I don’t think I will.” 

You exhale loudly, "I'm so serious."

"No, really, tell me what you meant by that. "

"You know exactly what I meant."

She perks an eyebrow at you, and you roll your eyes in response. She huffs out a laugh.

Sevika swivels you around so you’re facing the door, so fast you have to catch yourself with both hands so you don’t face-plant into it. "What are you—!"

Her flesh hand slides across your waist, and then she suddenly jerks you towards her, making you bend over just enough for you to poke out.

In contrast to how she was manhandling you before, she slowly presses herself against your ass but makes sure to hold her place firmly, like she was planning on leaving a print there, rolling her hips into you as if she doesn’t wanna miss a spot. 

Leaning over you, she whispers, “This is what you wanted, right?” So close to your ear, you can feel her words brushing against it. Your whole body shudders, and all your sexual frustration starts to unravel.

You peer back at her with a glare that’s too clouded with lust to be intimidating. “You’re so full of yourself.” 

“You love it,” She replies, so surely, because you haven’t noticed how desperately you’ve been backing into her, chasing the sliver of friction she gave you a moment ago. She drifts her hand towards your front, and between the legs you immediately begin parting for her. "But I could stop..."

"Don't." You interrupt. You don't have to see her to know she's got on an egotistical grin.

Four fingers feel down your covered cunt, then back up, lingering at your clit with purpose. Your thighs threaten to close around Sevika’s hand, and you pathetically whine out her name. 

She hums questioningly, knowing she wasn’t getting an answer from you. She finds the waistband of your pants, shoving her hand underneath, panties and all. The warm heat and slickness of your wetness meet her palm. “You really love it.”

You inhale sharply, placing your forehead against the door. “ I hate you...”

She laughs darkly, and her fingers part meticulously over your folds, massaging your clit between her fingers. “Is that what we’re doing? I 'hate' you too,” she says, “I’ll show you.”

You moan at that, and Sevika harmonizes. You don’t feel an ounce of shame. All your self-respect left when you opened the door. “Please.” 

Sevika's finger presses against your entrance teasingly. It doesn’t take much longer before she slides two fingers in you; her middle and ring, and scissors them in you so you adjust to the size of them properly. You groan, muffling yourself into the back of your hand. The heel of her palm is so close, yet so far from your clit, and you still need it there. 

It was as if she read your mind. Sevika brings her hand closer, and her fingers curl in you as a result. They slowly straighten out, then curl again, straighten out, curl in, and now she’s restlessly fucking her fingers into you while you needily hump into the palm of her big, scarred hand. All that movement makes it messy, but messy feels so good. 

So much heavy breathing and pitchy whines. You’re trying your hardest not to make noise, but all your best attempts are strained and guttural. It drives Sevika insane. They’re better than she remembered. “Stop trying. Let them hear how much you hate me.” She murmurs against you.

You lightly shake your head, refusing to do something so mortifying yet so fucking hot—in theory. Until cold metal fingers appear under your jaw. “C’mon, baby, please?” She coos.

There’s the first crack in your metaphorical dam. Your legs start wobbling. “Fuck—I h—hate you.” You pant out, not entirely because she asked you to; you were a little upset with how well she threw that pet name in there. 

It makes her chuckle. “You said I never ’came to you,’ but I’ll tell you a little secret,” she says, breath staggering from her constant movement, “I came to the thought of your fucked-out face last night,” she confesses. You sob out her name, and she soothes it with a full kiss on your cheek; so unexpected, you can feel your heart lurch forward. “And the day before, and the day before that, and—you get it, yeah? I couldn’t forget you if I tried.”  

You’re getting closer; pussy tensing, and your heart is racing. So much to process in such little time. “… I missed you.” You breathlessly whisper. You missed her tangents, her nagging, and the dumb fucking arguments. You missed her; it was true, and you admitted it to her before you admitted it to yourself.

“Did you?” She asks softly. You can tell she’s really wondering. Her fingers still haven’t slowed down a bit, however.

“Mhmm—shit—wait.” You’re on the brink of undoing, and you don’t know if you can speak any further.

Sevika presses herself closer to you. “Tell me one more time.” She gruffly demands, like it was a need. It may as well be.

Your anticipated orgasm fills up to the brim; your eyes press shut. “I m—I missed you so,” you come; your moans are barely controllable, and your hips are stuttering against her hand, “s—ugh—much, Sev...”

Sevika’s mech hand turns your face towards her, and your heavy eyes momentarily widen when her lips meet yours in a fervent kiss. She removes her fingers from you, and when you cry at the loss, she slides her tongue across yours—that shuts you up real quick. She leaves her hand there, just so you can grind out your orgasm a little longer. 

Sevika stopped letting her brain control her; she wasn't going to let it get in the way of this. She's been dreaming about kissing you since she realized it was an option.

You didn’t know how badly you needed to kiss her. You weren’t sure you’d ever, but with how perfectly her lips feel on yours, this can’t be the last time. You really hope it’s not the last time.

But you pull away. “What is this...?” You ask shakily, trying to catch your breath.

Sevika’s eyes keep flickering to your kiss swollen lips, clearly drunk on them; she doesn’t understand what you’re saying yet. “What’s what?”

“This. What are we doing? Is it just—just sex like you said it was?”

Sevika zones back in, and there’s a lump in her throat. She can’t say she never said that, because she did. She swallows hard, retracting her hand from between your thighs, and gently turns you around so you’re facing her. 

She says your name, “It has never been ‘just sex.’ It would never be that with you.”

You try to assess the validity of that, staring at her doubtingly. “You ignored me the entire day after.” You mention.

Sevika’s face warms up, and she looks to the side. “I got jealous.”

Your brows furrow. “Of what?”

“You were so friendly with those Bilgewater folks, and it pissed me off,” she grumbles. “Then I got frustrated with myself, because I’m the reason you hate me. At the time, it made sense to go back to how it was before,” she exhales sadly, “I’m sorry.”

You awkwardly play with your hands. Sevika frowns, hoping you say something soon. “The reason why I stopped talking to you wasn’t because I hate you; I thought you did, so I... I don't know what to say other than I’m incredibly petty and childish. I’m sorry—and I shouldn’t have said anything to Silco either.” 

“I wouldn’t let you go without me anyways.” She looks so serious when she says that, but you can’t help but giggle. It’s going to take a while for you guys to get through all your apologies properly, but this is a good start.

“I do prefer you, so...” You add, smiling up at her coyly.

She has a grin—the big win kind—and you gravitate towards her for a kiss, wrapping your arms around her shoulders. It’s much gentler and warmer than the first time. You’re sure there’ll be more where that came from. 

—

“Ran, hey.” You take a seat by them, wanting to wrap things up before you go. Quickly too, since Sevika is waiting.

“Hey,” they reply, eyeing you oddly, “I went to check on you earlier; make sure Sevika wasn’t dismembering you or something, but it sounded super scary in there, like you really hated her, so I ran away…” They pretend to cower in fear before sputtering out a laugh.

“Alright then. Goodnight.” You silently get up and start walking out. Ran’s laughter doubles.

[jeo9n]

INSTAGRAM

you’ve been texting jungkook on instagram non stop ever since he opened his account as a joke. but what you didn’t expect was for him to actually text you back.

౨ৎ

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, slow burn, friends to lovers, future smut

warnings: none

wordcount: 2k

you get woken up by your alarm at exactly 6am. like everyday, you open your eyes and the first thing you do is check your phone. catching up with everything that happened while you were asleep. texting your friends back that live in a different time zone than you.

you’re tired but you get out of bed anyway. you have to get ready for work. even if your body is screaming for you to stay in bed.

the first thing you do is make your bed so it prevents from laying back down. you already took a shower yesterday night, which you thank yourself as it saves you time this morning. so all you have to do is brush your teeth and wash your face.

when you’re done with that you make yourself a coffee and start to get dressed. you keep your outfit simple with some baggy jeans and a black long sleeve top because you’d rather be comfortable than fashionable. you always make sure to never leave the house without spraying perfume everywhere on your body. you forgot to but some on one day as you were running late, only noticing when you were already at work and someone might say it’s stupid but you didn’t feel good that day, you didn’t feel like yourself without your sweet perfume. you love to smell good, you love getting compliments on your scent, you love people smelling you before they even see you.

ever since that you never forgot to put perfume on again, but carrying around a travel size bottle of your favorite perfume in your bag just in case.

you pet your cats goodbye one last time before you leave your apartment. you hate leaving them home alone but thankfully they have each other so they are not really "alone" but it still hurts you.

you’re already on the way to the small coffee shop that you work at , as you remember you haven’t texted your boyfriend (jungkook) a good morning text yet. so you pull your phone at your pocket and text him right away. the chat is filled with hundreds of your messages texting him random stuff about how your day was and occasionally sending him some memes and reels you thought were funny.

y/n: good morning jungkoookkk!!

y/n: i’m on my way to work.

y/n: you’re probably asleep but have a good day.

you smile to yourself as you double text him. your not texting him in hopes to get a text back, cause that would be crazy. i mean, that guys is crazy famous of course he’s not going to text me back. you just think it’s funny, although sometimes you think it’s actually kinda weird and you should probably stop, but you never actually do.

as you open the door to your workplace you’re instantly greeted with the delicious smell of coffee, which reminds you, you still have your empty cup of coffee in your hands which you forgot to throw away. your coworker greets you good morning as she looks up from behind the counter.

"good morning. leslie." you greet back as you throw your coffee away. "ugh i really don’t feel like working today." you tell her, while taking of your jacket. she laughs and agrees with you.

"girl, i literally stayed up all night binge watching true crime documentaries." she tells me. "look at my eye bags! i can’t even cover them up with makeup." she says as she lifts up her hand to show me her dark eye bags. "but i guess it’s my own fault. i knew i should’ve turned the tv off after the first episode." she says in frustration and it makes me laugh. i can totally relate to her. you tell yourself one more episode and suddenly the sun comes up and you finished the whole show, wondering where the time went.

happened to me one too many times.

"yea…" you say, tying your apron at you back. "been there, done that." and she smiles softly in response. "should i make you a coffee? cause you really look like you need one." you tell her as you point to your eye bags, mocking her.

she laughs and kicks you jokingly "yes please! make it extra strong."

"will do." you say in a laugh, already on your way to the coffee machine. it’s definitely gonna be a long day for leslie today.

you put the coffee down carefully, not trying to spill the hot coffee all over the counter. "here you go, extra strong for you, your highness. " you bow to her jokingly while laughing like an idiot.

"you’re so stupid." she laughs with you, bringing the coffee up to her lips, trying to take a sip.

you worked a little longer today as usual since it was busy. but you don’t mind. working extra hours means extra money and you would never complain about that.

you take you shoes off and wash your hands as soon as you get home. after that you change into more comfy close just some sweatpants and hoodie and you already feel way better. you walk to your kitchen to feed your cats, who are acting like you leave them out to starve and never feed them. after your done with that you wash your hands again and make yourself something to eat since you only had breakfast today. you decide for pizza today as it doesn’t take long to be ready. you shove it into the oven and while you wait you brows through your phone. you lean against the counter and watch some tiktok’s to make to the time go by faster.

the pizza is done in under 20 times. thankfully. you cannot wait longer or else your stomach is gonna start eating itself. you sit down on your couch with your pizza on your lap. you try to take a bite but it’s still too hot so start browsing through netflix instead to find something to watch while your eating. when you find something your pizza has cooled down already so you start eating.

after your done, you get up and do the dishes right away so you don’t have to worry about it later. after that you decide to take a bath since you haven’t done that in a while and after that hectic day today you really need it.

the warm water hugs your body as you lay down in your bathtub. you feel your body start to relax enjoying the temperature of the water. your eyes are closed as you hear the notification sound from your phone, but you ignore it. you feel so comfortable right now you don’t want to move. so you stay put, enjoying this bath maybe a little too much.

after like twenty minutes you start to get bored and the water has gone cold, so you decide it’s time to get out. you quickly wash your body and get out. you do you skincare and brush your teeth while your body dries, after that you put some vanilla bodylotion on, quickly change into your pyjamas and head to bed, your cats joining you seconds after. one sleeps on top the pillow next to you while the one sleeps between your legs.

you go to grab your phone from your nightstand, checking it one last time before you go to sleep. your just scrolling trough your notifications not thinking anything by it. you stop at one particular notification and your hearts starts to beat faster. sitting straight in your bed, rubbing your eyes to make sure your seeing correctly. you cannot believe what you’re seeing.

jeon jungkook has fucking texted you back.

not only once. he double texted you back.

is this really happening right now?

abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz: woww! how long have you been texting me for ? there are like a thousand messages lol

abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz: i hope you had good day at work! i just woke up.

abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz: i saw your message and there are so many. i felt bad so i texted back. looked like your were talking to yourself haha.

wait. i cannot believes this. am i dreaming?

your hands shake and you’re not sure what to text back. should i even text back? would he text back again?

i take a deep breath. my head is going crazy right now.

after you collected yourself , you text back.

y/n: lol this is awkward.

y/n: i wasn’t thinking you would actually text back.🫣

y/n: i hope my message weren’t bothering you or anything.

you struggle sending the message back cause your hands won’t stop shaking. but can you blame me? the love of my life just texting me back and my stupid ass ignored it because of that stupid bath i took.

i bite on my nails nervously, my heart is beating so fast it might jump out of my chest at any minute.

i wait for an answer back, which is stupid, i know.

just because he texted me back one time doesn’t mean he’s going to do it again.

you know he won’t. but still, you wait.

you wait for like an hour until you realize he’s actually not responding anymore so you decide to go sleep. or try to go to sleep i should say, since your mind won’t stop thinking about what had just happened.

after a while you eventually fall asleep after what felt like hours.

the next morning you get woken up again by your alarm. this time you grab your phone a little faster than usual. scrolling through your notifications with tired but curious eyes.

you eyes widen as you find his notification again.

abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz: haha no, you don’t bother me. i read through your messages last night.

abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz: you’re funny haha.

abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz: judging by the time i usually get the first message from you, i should get a message soon right?

you read the last text and it says sent an hour ago.

okay wait. he texted again? and he thinks i’m funny?

im definitely dreaming because there is no way that this is fucking happening.

your thumbs moves fast as you reply to him.

y/n: no way!!!

y/n: am i dreaming?? please tell me im not

y/n: is this really jungkook?

y/n: no, it can’t be

y/n: is someone playing with me?

someone definitely must be playing with you. because what do you mean jeon jungkook texted me back not one, but twice?

you actually cannot believe it yourself. this is crazy.

you wait a little bit to see if he’ll respond again. but nothing comes so you start getting ready for work.

how am i going get through work today, when all i can think about is him. you think to yourself.

~~~~

i hope you enjoy this chapter because im definitely excited about this fanficton ahhh

[pathologicalreid]

falling flat | s.r.

in which you call Spencer for help with a flat tire, and he comes to help with your car troubles - and then some

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: allusions to the reaper, car trouble, blood, tetanus vaccine, kindergarten teacher!reader, flirting, protective!spencer, takes place following 5x22 "the internet is forever", hastily edited word count: 1.87k a/n: rahhhh an old prompt from may 2024 that ended up working for a margovember request rahhh.

The absolute last place you wanted to be was on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere Virginia, with a flat tire. You weren’t entirely helpless until your tire jack broke, sending metal flying everywhere and cutting your hand open.

You slumped down next to your car, pulling your phone from your pocket before calling the first people you could think of. Every single one of them ended up going to voicemail. Some of them didn’t even let it get past the first ring before declining your call—traitors.

With your thumb hovering over the call button, you thought of Spencer. He had a PhD in engineering, but you weren’t entirely sure that would come in handy in this instance. It was late, almost midnight, and you weren’t even sure he’d answer.

At this point, what choice did you have?

As the phone rang, part of you hoped he wouldn’t answer. When he asked you about it the next time you saw him, you’d wave it off as a butt dial and he’d be none the wiser.

“Hello,” he said through the phone, leaving your plans quashed.

This was awkward, you had been on four dates with the guy over the span of two months, and now you were calling him in the middle of the night. “This isn’t a booty call,” You blurted, cringing inwardly and banging your head back on the passenger door of your car.

Spencer laughed lightly, “I didn’t think it was, what’s going on?”

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” You asked, his job had a lot of long hours, and you didn’t want to bother him if he was catching up on sleep. If he was even home, “Wait, where are you?”

There was a rustling on his end of the call, “No, I wasn’t asleep, I’m at work. We just got off of a case.”

You let out a sigh of relief, at least you weren’t being a total nuisance. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you. I just… my tire blew out on the highway and my jack broke and no one else is answering their phone,” you told him, verging on rambling.

“You’re kind of cutting out, where are you?” He asked, he sounded concerned, and if there was a moment where you weren’t sure you still had feelings for him, it was fleeting.

Looking to either side of you for a mile marker, you stood up, looking at the ground so you didn’t step on any metal, “I don’t really know. There aren’t any signs, I’m somewhere on 28, I think?”

Spencer cleared his throat, “Do you have your location on your phone?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I have enough service to check it,” you said, all you could see were trees.

You could hear him talking to someone, holding the receiver away from his mouth, “That’s fine, I’ll have someone look, just stay on the phone.”

It would seem that dating someone in the FBI does have its perks, “Oh, cool.” You overheard Spencer explaining your situation to someone, hearing the other person in the room say something about Reid’s girlfriend and you couldn’t help but smile. The two of you were very unofficially official.

“Hey, I’ll be there in half an hour,” An elevator dinged in the background. “Is that alright?”

You hummed, leaning your hip against the front of your car. “I mean, I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

Another ding of the elevator, “Will you do me a favor?”

In exchange for this? You’d do just about anything within the realm of legality, “Name it.”

“Get in your car and lock the doors,” he responded. “Turn your hazards on because right now you’re a sitting duck. If someone doesn’t see your car, they could hit you.”

As a favor, he was asking you to make sure you’re safe, “Okay, I’m getting in now, should I leave the car running?”

You heard the sound of a car lock disengaging through the phone, “As long as the cooling system on your car is in good shape, it shouldn’t be a problem to leave it running while you wait. Just remember what I told you about the hazards.”

Nodding despite the fact that he can’t see you, you got in the car, turning the key in the ignition before pushing the button for your hazard lights, “Okay, I’m in the car.”

“I can’t drive and be on the phone at the same time, but I’ll be there soon. Don’t unlock the doors for anyone except for me,” he told you, and you thanked him for his help before hanging up and settling yourself in your driver’s seat.

You pulled the hoodie you kept stashed in your car over your head, your school mascot—a panther—proudly displayed in the front, and made sure your car doors were locked. If you said you weren’t a little unnerved, you’d be lying to yourself.

Spencer had a worrisome job; it was something you were aware of before he ever asked you on that first date. It became alarmingly obvious to you when he revealed that he’d been shot a few months prior, which was an appropriate second-date conversation with an FBI agent. It made sense to you that he’d be concerned about you, in your idle car, on the side of the road, but you wondered if there was a case that he was thinking of. Someone with a flat tire who had met an untimely demise.

Shuddering, you turned up the heat in your car, flipping through radio stations until someone knocked on your window. You jumped at the noise, hitting your head against the roof of the car before looking outside to see Spencer. Sighing in relief, you unlocked your car door, and he opened it for you, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Is your head alright?”

You peered up at him, casually leaning over your car door. “You cut your hair,” you observed. You’d seen him just last week, where his hair still touched his shoulders, and now it was considerably shorter.

Self-consciously, he reached up a hand and thumbed one of the tendrils, “Yeah, it just got too long—and heavy.”

Resisting the urge to ruffle his hair, your head bobbed, “I like it. Did you do it yourself?”

“You can tell?” He asked, following you around the back of your car to your busted tire. Spencer sets his tire jack down before looking back at you, putting his hands on his hips.

Grinning at him, you shrugged, “I teach kindergarten, I’m basically a professional at noticing DIY haircuts.”

On a towel that you had previously set out, the two of you sat along the side of your car, and you tried to ignore the fact that Spencer still had his weapon holstered. It made sense, he’d come straight from work, but you wondered if there was a reason he didn’t leave it in his car. “Where’s your lug wrench?”

“I can change it myself,” you insisted, “I just needed a different car jack.” You gestured to the pieces of yours that were now all over the side of the road.

Alarm flashed on Spencer’s face, “Nothing fell on you, right?”

You shook your head, “No, just a cut from the metal.”

Holding out your hand, you let Spencer take a look at the cut on your palm. “When was your last tetanus shot?”

Blinking rapidly, you frowned at him, “Uh, when I was in college?”

“That might need stitches,” he responded, letting you take your hand back. “I’ll change your tire, I don’t want you using that hand for anything,” he informed you, pushing the hydraulic jack beneath your car.

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach as you watched him take your old tire off, muttering under his breath about how your old jack was practically an artifact, seeing how it literally fell apart under pressure. “How was your case?” You asked softly, fully aware that you were likely opening a can of worms by asking about work.

Spencer’s movements faltered slightly at your question, “It’s closed. We were in Boise,” he answered tactfully, leaving out any case details and cluing you into the fact that he didn’t want to talk about it. “What are you doing out here?”

You sighed, leaning back on your hands and watching him work, “I had a meeting with the other schools in our conference. It’s annual, and this year they happened to pick the school furthest away from mine.”

“Well, I suppose it worked out well that your tire blew out so close to me, then,” Spencer said, swapping out the busted tire for the donut and looking over at you. There was something nervous in his eyes, and you didn’t know if it was related to work or you.

Humming, you tried to watch the tire rather than just watching him, “Is there something bothering you?”

He was tightening the lug nuts on the spare tire, “Are you driving home after this?”

You furrowed your brows, “Yeah, where else could I be going?”

“It’s almost a two-hour drive to your place from here,” he reminded you, his tone laced with concern. “You won’t get home until almost one in the morning,” the displeasure in his voice was plain, but you don’t have anywhere else to go. “Plus, you really shouldn’t travel that far on a spare tire, they’re not made to travel far distances.”

Crossing your arms in front of your stomach, you let your shoulders slump forward, “So, what do you suggest I do? Get a hotel?”

Spencer mumbled something inaudibly, trying to finish tightening the bolts on the tire before sighing, “You can stay with me,” he blushes, a swipe of pink across his cheeks.

Your lips parted in surprise, “Uh, I don’t… I’m not…” you faltered. Utterly failing to come up with a good enough reason to tell him no, “I don’t want you to feel inclined. This isn’t what I was looking for when I called you for help.”

He let the car down, staying quiet while the two of you cleaned up, and Spencer swatted your hand away when you tried to pick things up. “So, you can come back to my place tonight. My work-issued first-aid kit has your name all over it,” he told you, eyes flickering down to the cut on your hand.

“Okay,” you breathed, unable to conjure a reason to refuse his hospitality.

He was grinning at you, hair just barely brushing his eyebrows, “So tomorrow, maybe we can get coffee and drop your car off to get a new tire?”

You smiled back at him, “That sounds great, date number five.”

“You know where you’re going, right?”

“Yeah,” you’d been to his place once to pick him up, “Hey, Spence?”

He turned around, fishing his car keys from his pocket. He looked ready to respond to you, but you pressed your lips to his before he had a chance to speak.

You kissed him softly, whispering against his mouth, “Thank you for coming.”

He chuckled lightly, gently resting a hand on your waist, “Thank you for calling.” 

[rafes-slut]

could you write one where the reader is a total pillow princess. idk maybe they’re going to bed or something but rafe gets horny so she tells him to make it quick. he just pounds her into the mattress

Pillow princess

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Female Reader

Warnings: Pure smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, manhandling, pillow princess dynamic, dom!Rafe, degradation, possessiveness, overstimulation, breeding kink (mention), creampie, spanking, choking (light), fingering, filthy language, hair pulling, slight dub-con vibes (only because you're lazy/tired and he's relentless), semi-public moaning risk, heavy praise/degradation mix, bed shaking, marking/biting. 18+ ONLY.

You were dead tired. The kind of lazy that sinks into your bones, making your limbs feel heavy and your mind float somewhere between awake and asleep. All you wanted was to slip into the sheets, curl into Rafe’s chest, and knock out for the night.

Rafe had other plans.

You didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened as he stood at the edge of the bed, bare chest rising with each slow breath. The smirk on his face was dangerous—he knew exactly what you were trying to do when you tucked yourself under the covers, burying your face into the pillow with a soft yawn.

“Nah, don’t even try that sleepy shit,” he growled, yanking the blanket off of you in one swift motion, leaving you exposed in your thin tank top and panties. His large hand gripped your ankle, dragging you back to the edge of the bed like you were weightless.

“Rafe…” you whined, your voice already breathy, lazy. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah? Too fucking tired to take this dick?” he muttered, kneeling on the bed between your spread legs, hand sliding up your thigh with a slow, threatening grip. “That’s fine. You don’t gotta do a damn thing. Lay there, princess. I’ll handle all the work.”

You shivered at the promise, biting your lip as he tugged your panties down your legs, tossing them somewhere over his shoulder. His eyes stayed glued to your heat, already glistening just from his tone alone.

“You’re so fucking wet for me and you’re claiming you’re too tired?” he scoffed, dragging his fingers through your folds, coating them in your slick. “You’re such a dirty little pillow princess, you know that?”

You whimpered, squirming a little, but he pinned your hips down with one hand, fingers sliding through your slit before plunging two deep inside you without warning.

“Fuck—Rafe,” you gasped, arching off the bed as his fingers curled and pumped hard, hitting that spot that made your legs tremble.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Lay the fuck down and let me take what’s mine.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond. He yanked his boxers down, cock already throbbing, veiny and thick, tip flushed with need. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wide open for him, and you could feel him dragging the tip through your folds, teasing your entrance.

Then he slammed into you in one brutal thrust.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, fuckin’ heaven every time,” he groaned, head tipping back, hips immediately slamming into yours without mercy. The bed creaked under his weight, his pace relentless, rough, like he was punishing you for being lazy.

Your hands fisted the sheets, moans spilling out, but Rafe wasn’t satisfied. He leaned down, wrapping one hand around your throat, applying the slightest pressure, just enough to make your breath hitch.

“You wanted to lay there and do nothing, right?” he panted against your ear, his hips pounding into you, balls slapping your ass with each thrust. “Just let me fuck you stupid? That what you wanted, baby?”

You nodded, barely able to form words, eyes rolling back as he drove deeper, faster. He grabbed one of your legs, throwing it over his shoulder for a deeper angle, the new position making you cry out.

“Fucking take it. Be a good little pillow princess for me.”

His free hand gripped your breast, squeezing hard before his teeth sank into your shoulder, marking you, claiming you. His rhythm never faltered, hips slamming against yours so hard the headboard banged the wall.

“Shit, listen to you,” he growled, his hand slipping down to rub your clit in tight circles. “You say you’re tired but your pussy’s sucking me in like a fucking whore.”

You screamed, body shaking, pleasure building fast, and he knew it. He could feel you clenching around him, your slick coating his cock as he fucked you into the mattress like an animal.

“Gonna cum? Yeah? Cum on this dick, sweetheart. Make a mess on me. I wanna feel you fucking gush.”

You shattered, back arching off the bed, walls squeezing him so tight he nearly lost it. He fucked you through it, never slowing, his own release building.

“Fuck—fuck—gonna fill this pussy. Take it. Take all my cum like the good little fuck toy you are.”

His hips stuttered, cock buried deep, tip kissing your cervix as he spilled inside you, groaning low and dirty in your ear, grinding into you to milk every drop.

You lay there, boneless, gasping for air, thighs shaking. Rafe smirked above you, leaning down to kiss your neck, his cock still twitching inside you.

“Lazy bitch,” he muttered, pulling out and watching his cum leak out of you. “Guess I’ll just have to fuck it back in later.”

[ihangelic]

KISS CULTURE ꒱ m.jaehyun

synopsis. after his xmas date doesn’t go to plan, you’re now taking care of a sick and clingy jaehyun that’s determined to get you under the mistletoe despite everything. (alternatively: jaehyun’s sick, horny, and very persuasive.)

pair. jaehyun x afab!reader

genre. smut but also lots of fluff, small attempts at humor

warnings. established relationship, jae’s endearingly annoying, no pronouns used for reader, petnames (baby, ‘princess’ used twice), switch vibes? (not sure but it’s hot), making out, reader wears knee-high socks & jae really likes them, kitchen sex, oral (reader receiving), hardly mentioned exhibitionism? (you fuck in front of a window but nobody can see), jae licks your thighs lol, creampie, aftercare

wc. 4.7k

note. #thighmanjaehyun (>u<) please consider reblogging if you like this! it helps spread an author’s work and gives us motivation to write more. <3

copyright of @/ihangelic

it’s 7:30 in the evening. by this time jaehyun thought he’d have your hand in his and your cup of hot coco in the other, walking while looking at the christmas lights and displays— probably stopping every so often when a cute little shop catches your eye. and then jaehyun would take the opportunity to ‘coolly’ pick up whatever you’re admiring right after you set it down, insisting on buying it for you.

well, he certainly isn’t looking very cool right now and neither does he feel it— because you have him lying down in your bed, wrapped in 3 layers of blankets despite him sincerely trying to tell you he’s not even cold.

“i knew there was a possibility we’d end up in bed together by the end of the night, but i didn’t think you’d be the one to make the first move.” jaehyun jokes, signature puppy smile and laugh suddenly disappearing when a cough distorts his features.

“oh my gosh, baby. just shut up and lay down.”

you nag like a worried mother as you try to make jaehyun lay against the angled pillows you’ve tentatively arranged— rather than sitting up on your headboard like he currently is.

“wow, so desperate. not even gonna do a little foreplay before you get in my pants?”

“jaehyun!”

he giggles, all maniacal and cute like usual, making it all the way through without coughing this time.

“see that!” your boyfriend points out the small triumph, sitting up again right after you finally got him to lay in the right position. you don’t withhold your sigh of disapproval.

“i don’t even feel that bad! it’s just a little migraine and drainage. i can still take you out, baby.”

“no. going outside will probably just make you worse. we’re staying in and i’m taking care of you.” you insist.

jaehyun pouts, looking up at you with boba eyes that beg for you to just let him take you on the date he came over to execute. his cute little face almost convinces you if it weren’t for his ‘shining’ eyes that eventually drip from how watery they are, realizing it’s from irritation.

“i’ll go get you some tissues.” you say with concern, standing up immediately as the first tear streaks down his cheek. jaehyun groans and his cheeks burn in embarrassment, cringing at his failed attempt to ‘woo’ you into having his way while rubbing at the moisture with his sleeve.

you return quickly with a box of tissues cradled against your body, a bottle of medicine and cup of water in either of your hands.

“nooooo!” jaehyun childishly whines, flopping his head against your pillows and splaying his arms for extra dramatics. you’re not sure if the reaction is because he’s anticipating the gross taste of the medicine or if he sees taking the liquid as admitting defeat; that yes, he is in fact sick— and that means taking you out for a date is totally out of the question.

“yunie, come on. be good and take your medicine.”

he responds with a sigh, but otherwise gives in without any fight, surprising even himself with a sudden wave of weakness. (and…okay, maybe he isn’t feeling at his best right now.) so he begrudgingly lets you play nurse, defiant wiggling against the sheets coming to a stop— but it isn’t without a grumpy pout on his face as he refuses to look at you.

(you can't help but find his avoidant eyes and immature act a little cute.)

“good boy.” you say without thinking, focusing on opening the childproof lid of the medicine bottle.

but your boyfriend definitely notices the little pet name, his heart jumping as his eyes flick to your face for just a second before he remembers he’s supposed to be pouting, looking back down to his hands resting over his blanket covered chest.

unbeknownst to your boyfriend's inner struggle, you pour the thick purple liquid inside the cap until it reaches the measuring line, sitting the bottle down and slowly bringing the medicine to jaehyun’s mouth. he responds exactly how you thought he would— which isn’t well.

jerking his head to the side to escape the cursed purple sludge that the bottle’s wrapper swears is flavored ‘bursting berry blast’ (whatever the fuck that means? jaehyun doesn’t want his berries to burst nor blast), he simultaneously grabs your wrist that holds the cap.

you’re not annoyed— honestly you’re still pretty endeared by your crybaby of a boyfriend. but you do actually want him to take the medicine. he needs it. so you try to put your foot down, sighing a little more roughly before speaking.

“baby, please don’t make this difficult. i think you’ll survive one swig.”

“i hate that stuff, y/n! it makes me gag!”

you poorly resist laughing at how ridiculous jaehyun looks as he desperately tries to puppy-dog eye his way out of the situation again, in the back of your mind wondering how often you’ve let him have his way for him to repeatedly try this trick on you.

“tough it out, princess.”

“God, you’re so mean to meeee!” he whines and squirms, abruptly stopping with a gasp as you can tell an idea has struck him.

“wait, i know!”

“what?” you ask suspiciously, having this funny feeling that his idea probably doesn’t involve him actually taking the medicine and has everything to do with distracting you.

jaehyun’s bright expression turns into a proud smirk as he lifts a brow while looking at you. “kiss me and then i’ll take the medicine.”

(…well, you were partially right— kinda.)

“take the medicine and then i’ll kiss you.”

and jaehyun (ever the beggar and evidently not the chooser of tonight) agrees. “fine. but pour it down my mouth quickly so i can take this nasty shit like a shot.”

you smile smugly at getting your difficult boyfriend to agree and jaehyun is forced to see your stupidly cocky (yet undeniably pretty) face as one of your hands grasps his tilted chin to make sure he stays in place. leaning closer until your chest to chest (which must excite jaehyun a little, because you swear you hear and feel his breathing pick up at the press of your breasts against his pecs, hand moving to rest on the small of your back), you raise the cap to his lips and he obediently opens them (thank God). doing as he asked, you pour the liquid quickly into his mouth. jaehyun swallows it with a grimace, gagging immediately after.

“quick, kiss me!” he cries as though your lips on his will take the bad taste away.

you pull yourself out of his hold before he can force one on you— jaehyun’s squeezed shut eyes opening wide while he watches with clear betrayal as you get up from the bed to put some extra distance between the two of you.

“you…lied to me?” the boy asks, and you’re shocked at how much guilt strikes your heart when he speaks in such a soft, surprisingly heartbroken sounding tone.

“i’ll still kiss you. i just didn’t say when i’d do it.”

despite trying to say it gently, jaehyun’s eyes still sadly sink to the floor, a pout yet again forming on his lips as he turns on his side and lays down against the pillows. you wait for him to whine and complain so you’ll know he’s back to normal and not legitimately sad— but he doesn’t.

walking forward to the side of the bed he’s occupying, you kneel down, his sad little squished face revealed to you. “baby..when you get better i promise to give you all the kisses you want. you wouldn’t want to get me sick too, would you? then i wouldn’t be able to take care of you.”

“i really don’t think i’m sick though. it just feels like bad allergies.” jaehyun softly rebuttals, shiny eyes looking at your soft gaze adorably. (and at that moment you really do wish you could kiss him.)

combing your nails through his hair as you speak, jaehyun’s eyes flutter shut at the soothing sensations before blinking them slowly open again.

“can’t risk it.” you whisper. “i’m sorry, baby.”

“it’s okay.” he reassures you, moved by your genuine apology. “i was just really looking forward to this evening. while we walked around looking at lights, i wanted to buy you hot coco and stuff from the shops. n’ after i wanted to take you to the pavilion at the square.”

you coo, heart fluttering at how romantic jaehyun can be. “aw, that’s a really good date idea, baby. i bet they have the pavilion decorated all pretty for the holidays.”

“yeah, they do. there’s even mistletoe hung on the ceiling. wanted to kiss you under it while surrounded by all the pretty lights…”

you pause, cheeks warming at his soft confession as giddiness fills your heart. goosebumps cover your arms despite feeling very warm.

you press a kiss against his forehead, unable to help it. jaehyun’s tiny frown turns into a soft smile instead.

“i love you. fuck, you’re the sweetest. don’t talk like we can’t do that anymore just because you’re sick right now. the moment you’re healthy again you better take me on that date.”

jaehyun giggles softly, even when a small cough interrupts it— there’s still a smile on his face.

“you got it, princess. i love you too.”

you wake up in the morning to the soft smell of eucalyptus, the scent left over from the vaporizer you turned on for the night in hopes it would help jaehyun’s drainage.

normally you’d feel the comforting weight of jaehyun’s arms around you, but you don’t. confused, you turn over to see the spot next to you empty. rising from the bed with the intention of finding your missing boyfriend, the moment your feet hit the cold hardwood floors you’re pausing the search to put some high socks on before immediately going back to your pursuit. (it doesn’t take long to find him, being that your apartment isn’t the biggest.) you somewhat groggily walk through the hallway and end up in the kitchen— where you see jaehyun standing over the stove, sizzling something in a pan.

“morning, beautiful!” he smiles, all chipper and completely awake. “do you want an egg over your rice?”

“…aren’t you still sick?” you ask, morning voice apparent— and jaehyun notices it, judging by the teasing little spark in his eyes, but he doesn’t act on it as he responds to you.

“nope, i feel great! all back to normal. i told you it was just allergies, baby.”

“well, i’m glad i was wrong.” you smile, walking closer to wrap your arms around his middle and rest your head on his back. “and yes, i’d like an egg with my rice please.”

“i gotchu, baby. while i finish our breakfast why don’t you go brush your teeth? i recall being promised ‘all the kisses i want’, but i can smell your morning breath from here.”

you gasp with offense and softly slap your hand on jaehyun’s back, the boy laughing as he looks down at your playfully annoyed expression.

“mean!” you whine, failing to conceal your smile.

“i’m just trying to get back at you for last night.” jaehyun defends, apologizes tacked on after to make sure you know he’s genuinely kidding— but regardless you do descend to the bathroom to wash your face, brush your teeth, and rangle with your bed head— not bothering to change out of your cozy pajamas.

you and jaehyun eat his yummy breakfast at your small dining table, the room lit up by the light reflecting off the snow-covered ground outside, shining through your frost framed windows.

after tag teaming the dishes, you’re finishing washing the last plate when you realize jaehyun has left your side.

“jae?” you murmur, setting down the white porcelain and turning your head, only to see your boyfriend absolutely cheesing it up with a sprig of mistletoe between his fingers, holding it above his own head like an adorable idiot.

“oh my God,” you giggle, fondly shaking your head as you abandon the sink and fully turn to face him. “where did you even get that?”

“i may or may not have snuck out early this morning to buy it…” he admits in an almost sheepish tone before quickly covering it up with a ‘flirty’ (endearingly goofy) raise of his brow. “now kiss me! it’s going against culture to not!”

“what culture?” you ask in an incredulous yet obviously amused tone. despite acting difficult, you slowly inch closer and closer to jaehyun.

“chr- christmas culture? saint nick’s? fuck if i know, just kiss me!”

“are you sure you’re not still sick? you sound pretty delirious to me.”

“i’m not!” jaehyun whines dramatically.

you’re unable to control your teasing, even as your feet are about toe to toe with him. “really? i swear your eyes still look a little watery.”

“because, y/n! i’m about to cry if you don’t fucking ki—“

granting him sudden mercy, you wrap your arms around his neck and plant your lips on his.

kissing jaehyun is always amazing, but in this moment it really hits different. the air is warm with the thermostat set high, but your skin remains slightly chilled, creating a heat between the meeting of your mouths. it sends a pleasurable tingle throughout your whole body— and so do jaehyun’s hands, which must have dropped the mistletoe, because they’re roaming all across your back and squeezing appreciatively at your waist and hips.

you’re not sure who’s fault it is for the way things take a turn, the sweet kiss becoming desperate and hungry. maybe it’s the slight chill driving you to want more warmth— the way your nipples remain hard against the rough fabric of your button up pajama shirt, even as jaehyun’s warm hands slip beneath the material to cup your breasts.

all you’re sure of is that you really want to keep kissing jaehyun— but with less clothes.

he must have the same desire because he’s backing you up without breaking the kiss until your back meets the counter, lifting you up and setting you down on it. you wordlessly spread your legs so jaehyun can stand between them, the man humming appreciatively before he eagerly leans into your lips again. his hands work blindly to unbutton your shirt— and judging by the sudden brush of air against your chest bone, he’s doing a good job at it.

when jaehyun parts from your lips to trail his kisses across your jaw and down your neck, a string of spit connects you before shortly breaking. you moan as jaehyun sucks a mark onto the soft part of your neck; the area he knows is your weak spot; that gets you wet and desperate for him every time— while he gently pushes your opened shirt off and lets it slowly fall down your shoulders.

“mmm, jaehyunie. more.” you shudder, your boyfriend responding by grazing his teeth over the sensitive skin of your throat, causing your thighs to tremble with want as you whimper and fist your hands into the material of his shirt.

“look who’s whining now.” jaehyun smirks, his voice taking that deep tone that’s so different from the higher pitched voice he usually speaks with. it sparks a fire in your belly, and suddenly all you want is for him to keep kindling it.

“pleease, yunie. touch me more.”

“okay, baby.” he whispers, leaning down to give one of your nipples a quick peck, leaving it glistening.

jaehyun takes one step back to pull his own shirt over his head, your eyes immediately dropping down to his toned stomach— and then even lower, to his hardened length that’s tenting in the confines of his pants. you’re about to express disappointment that he hasn’t removed them yet, but the words die on your tongue when his hands go to your own waistband.

he takes his sweet time, teasing you by slowly pulling them down. when the peek of your white socks are revealed, starting just below your knees— jaehyun’s trek pauses, eyes zeroing in on the sliver of fabric showing.

“jaehyun?” you ask faintly, the words floating in the air like a snowflake that’s about to dissolve. still, it breaks jaehyun somewhat out of his reverie, previously slow pace gone as he impatiently tugs your pants completely off and drops them carelessly to the floor.

“what are these?” he questions breathlessly, both hands holding your calves tenderly.

“my..socks?” you answer, but your tone sounds like it’s a question— confused as to why your boyfriend seems to like the clothing item so much. they’re just plain, no little bow or detail to them at all. “my friend bought them for me.”

“i like them.” jaehyun confirms, one finger slipping beneath the band of one sock to pull it back and snap it against your skin. an airy gasp escapes your lips at the sensation, feeling your clit pulse between you legs.

“you look so sexy in them, baby.”

“y— yeah?”

“yeah.” he says, a little throaty as he bites his lip, eyes roaming from your calves; thighs; to your pantie covered core. he pulls you by the crook of your knees until you're at the edge of the counter, his hot breath puffing between your legs. “but i think they’d look even better framing my head while i eat you out.”

your heart thrums in surprise as jaehyun pulls your panties to the side and immediately attaches his mouth to your wet pussy, groaning at your taste that coats his tongue as he swipes it through your folds.

nudging at your thighs, you understand his signal as you move your legs to rest on his shoulders. you do think it looks sexy; your legs working as a frame— not because of you, but because of your boyfriend’s face stuffed in your pussy while his usually puppy-like eyes now stare up at you wolfish and hungry. you’re glued to his gaze, unable to look away as your mouth drops open with a moan, jaehyun flicking over your clit with his tongue. the action resounds with a wet sound that has your cheeks burning and toes curling with pleasure as you lean back against your hands.

“please, jaehyunie. please, please.” you beg, mind dwindling into too much of a mess for you to even decipher what it is you’re asking for. but of course your boy seems to understand, slipping a single digit into your wanting cunt.

jaehyun easily pushes in knuckle deep, your eager pussy practically sucking him in— so he adds a second finger and looks back up just in time to see your eyes roll back.

“ah, that’s what princess needed, isn’t it? pussy needs filled up?”

your brain short circuits for a moment before you nod your head, opening your previously squeezed shut eyes to look at him. the second you do, he rewards you with his mouth back on you again, licking and sucking at your clit and folds, moving his head up and down with his enthusiasm. his fingers pump and curl inside your cunt expertly, finding yourself losing control of your reactions and coming closer to release.

jaehyun feels your legs trembling before you’re suddenly hooking your ankles and clenching your thighs around his head, the man moaning in ecstasy as the squishy flesh of your thighs press against his cheeks and create a dizzying pressure on his skull.

his fingers plunge deeper inside of you as his lips stay wrapped around your clit, determined to have you gushing in his mouth— and you do, falling apart with only a wanton whine to warn him as your back arches and eyes close in pleasure.

jaehyun practically growls when he watches your lewd expression as you cum in his mouth; how your hips start to grind against his tongue and fingers as you ride out your high. your skin is now burning hot beneath his fingertips; hair unstyled and a sexy sort of mess as it got disheveled amongst your pleasure; the white light shining through your windows like a halo above your head. (jaehyun’s sure he’s never seen something so beautiful.)

you’re panting when you finally come down, chest heaving and eyes half-lidded as jaehyun licks at his lips, savoring your taste as he stands to his feet.

“still got it in you, baby?” he asks as he looks at you with dark eyes, hand groping himself over his pants.

your pussy yet again clenches with need at the dirty display.

“yes, yunie. want your cock in me.”

at your words, jaehyun pulls his drooling dick out, yanking his pants and underwear down just enough so his balls are free. you slip your panties and socks off (causing jaehyun to curse under his breath at the arousing sight) before getting down from the counter, instead turning around to bend over it. it’s only then that you notice how your windows have the blinds raised up, leaving the two of you completely exposed.

“shit, jae! you just ate me out with the blinds open!”

“yup. and now i’m about to fuck you with the blinds open.”

you lightly flinch when jaehyun slaps his cock against your cunt, smothering it in your juices despite how he’s already lubed up enough by his own slick. despite your muttered words of embarrassment for him to shut the blinds, your back arches as you present yourself to him, causing jaehyun to smirk from behind you.

“nasty little thing, talking like you don’t want to be seen when i can literally see you clenching for it.”

(realistically, you’re on a high floor and the windows are foggy from the temperature difference outside. no one should be able to see you two. but still, the idea excites you and has your pussy pulsing tightly as jaehyun slowly pushes inside.)

“fff— fuck, oh,”

“that’s it.” jaehyun hisses between his own clenched teeth as he looks down, watching how your cunt sucks him in so eagerly— how it molds perfectly around his cock. his sexy voice does nothing to help your quivering and sensitive insides; how your skin almost tingles with arousal. you only lose more control as jaehyun makes his first deep thrust, falling forward onto the counter as your breasts press against the cold marble.

“shit— please!” you choke, but there’s no need to beg as jaehyun sets the pace.

his fingers find home in the softness of your flesh at the bend of your thigh, holding you in place as his balls slap against you with momentum.

you’ve lost all shame, crying out in pleasure as his hard cock invades your insides, cupping your own tits with your hands to play with your peaked nipples. you can hear jaehyun’s pants behind you— which are turning more moaned and broken by the second.

turning your head to see your gorgeous boyfriend, your eyes lock, and it’s evidently your turn to see his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“fucking shit— fuck! baby, you..you look so g—“ he’s unable to even finish his sentence when you clench tighter around him, cutting himself off with a groan as you’re already reacting to his praise before he’s fully said it. “i— i’m..g— gonna cum if you keep doing that. oh my God.”

“do it, jae.” you croon breathlessly, but jaehyun swears it’s like a siren’s call, sinking him further into delirium. “be a good boy n’ cum in me.”

you watch and listen as your boyfriend lets out another string of expletives, fingers tightening around your hips as he snaps into you even deeper— harder. your mouth hangs open in a silent whine as one of your hands keep working at your bud, moving the other down to swirl around your clit. jaehyun’s cock pulses inside you and you feel the electricity in the air; a band of energy pulling so taught it has to snap.

“give it to me, yunie! please!”

and the band breaks— you and jaehyun’s throaty sounds echo in your apartment as he floods your pussy with his cum, your own release dripping down your thighs. your legs tremble yet you still push back against his cock, getting slower and slower until he has to pull out from sensitivity.

you stay in your bent over position, too tired to move but also appreciating the cold of the counter as you lean down and press your cheek against it. you can barely see jaehyun from the angle before he drops to his knees, slightly trembling hands holding onto your thighs. you lift your head, thinking his knees have given out and about to start asking if he’s alright when you feel a stripe being licked up the inner part of your leg.

“jae?”

“just lemme clean you up, baby.” his hot breath puffs against your skin.

you lightly gasp as you feel his hair and nose brushing between your thighs, tongue so close to your heat as he licks up your juices until it’s all gone— and all that remains is a light trail of his glistening saliva from his tentative care.

after tucking himself back inside his pants and grimacing at how dirty he feels, he helps you off the counter and into his arms as you lean against his chest, still finding your strength.

“we need to clean up.” jaehyun whispers reverently, his hand brushing little shapes and swirls into your spine, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“m’ too weak.” you hardly mutter, letting your eyes fall shut.

“baby…did you forget you’re butt-ass-naked in the kitchen right now?”

your eyes snap open. “oh shit.”

“yeah. but don’t worry about it.” jaehyun says, stopping you with a gentle hand when you try to reach down for your clothes that were previously dropped to the floor. “we’ll take a shower together, hm? i’ll help you.”

another tender kiss to your forehead, a little bit of coaxing— and then you give in, letting yourself be led in jaehyun’s arms to the bathroom.

after showering, more kisses, and getting dressed; your energy has returned— and so has jaehyun’s.

“can i take you on the date now!” he exclaims, practically bouncing off the walls in excitement.

“baby, it’s not evening yet. we won’t even be able to see the christmas lights when the sun’s out.” you reason, and luckily that doesn’t dampen jaehyun’s spirit.

“oh, right! well— then we should marathon some christmas movies while we wait!”

your smile is so big you have to bite your lip to try and contain it, as always finding jaehyun’s usual enthusiasm absolutely heart striking and infectious. you nod your head ‘yes’ and he’s already taking your hand to walk you out of the bedroom and into the living area, rambling on about snacking on popcorn; popping some cookies in the oven; and asking if you have eggnog.

but all his words come to a halt when you sneeze behind him, and it’s like you could hear a pin drop or a snowflake fall.

turning his head and looking at you with eyes so wide they look like they’re about to pop out of his skull, jaehyun’s voice shakes. “please, for saint nick’s fucking sake— please do not tell me you feel sick.”

you hold it in for as long as you can, trying to play the act well and appear as though you’re just as afraid and shocked as him— before you can’t do it anymore, bursting into a fit of laughter as you grab onto your boyfriend’s arm while doubling over.

“i’m just kidding, i’m kidding!”

“oooh, real funny, y/n.” jaehyun responds, rolling his eyes despite the fond smile on his lips. “keep going like this and you’re gonna be on my naughty list.”

“oh?” you smirk, giggles somewhat dying down as you raise a playful brow to your boyfriend. “and what happens if i get on the naughty list?”

“want me to show you?” he challenges, the spark in his eyes mirroring your own, promising mischief.

you never really know how a day’s going to go when you’re with jaehyun, he’s always full of surprises. but one thing you are rather sure of is that this boy is going to make all your christmas wishes come true.

taglist. @zynz0 <3

note. again, plz don’t just like but reblog! thanks for reading <3 i might write another ‘version’ of this fic about the date jaehyun describes wanting to take reader on! all fluff! but i might do a different member, not sure. if you have a preferred member lmk.

[moonstruckme]

would you write a part two to whimsy!reader totally knowing remus’ secret? i feel like r would be so sweet and casual about it that remus would cry

Thanks for requesting!

cw: post-moon werewolf Remus, mention of blood and wounds (no description)

poly!marauders x whimsical!reader ♡ 1.4k words

The boys usually send you away this time of month. They try to be subtle about it, encouraging you to go visit your family or sleep over at a friend’s house, but you’re not one to let the full moon pass you by without notice. It didn’t take long for the pattern to reveal itself. 

Still, you don’t argue when James gifts you tickets for you and a friend to see a band you like out of town. You know they’re all most comfortable doing things the way they always have, and you worry that letting slip what you know would do more harm than good; Remus would be anxious and upset, and the other boys would only be doing more damage control than they’re used to with you around. So, you let the full moon pass you by without complaint. 

The next day, however, when you know James and Sirius will have gone to work and left Remus to rest and heal, you sneak into your apartment. 

The fact of Remus’ ailing is immediately obvious; the boys’ things are strewn all over the place, evidence of James’ and Sirius’ running about without Remus to pick up after them. There’s a pot of half-eaten stew that’s been left to cool and congeal on the stove, an abandoned roll of bandages on the coffee table, and the entire apartment smells like disinfectant and heartache. 

When you find Remus in the bedroom, your heart aches, too. He’s sleeping, but even in rest his face is pinched with discomfort, and there are several bandages visible above where the bedsheets rest halfway up his torso. It’s about what you expected, but it still makes your eyes burn. 

You try to let him sleep as long as possible, working with the environment first. You open a few windows to get out the smell and let in the new day, clean the common spaces, start your lavender incense burning in the bedroom. You’re brewing tea when Remus pads into the kitchen, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

“Oh.” He startles to see you. “You’re back.” 

You’re startled, too. “Hi, I’m sorry,” you say, hurrying over to the windows to shut them. “Did I wake you? Is it too cold in here?” 

“No.” Remus looks wary, watching you flit about the living room like he’s not sure he’s actually woken up. “It’s nice. When did you get home?” 

“Just this morning. I didn’t see the sense in staying another night, and anyway I wanted to be with you.” You make your way back around the room to him, taking his jaw gently in your hand. His skin is warm to the touch. “How are you feeling, lovely?” 

You feel more than see Remus’ face tighten. “I’m alright. How are you?” 

You let him go, giving him a small smile. “Better now that I’m back with you, thanks for asking.” You go back to the stove to stir your pot. “If you’re warm, you don’t need to keep that blanket on for me. I’ve already seen the bandages.” 

You hear his quiet intake of breath, and then a few moments later the sound of the blanket dropping to the floor. 

“Are you in the mood for some tea?” you ask without turning around. “If you want to get back in bed, I could bring it to you there. I don’t imagine standing is very kind to your legs right now.” 

You’ve been reading up on wolf versus human anatomy. If Remus’ transformations work the way you think they do, the bones in his heels and legs would have to either break or otherwise shorten and elongate to create the legs a wolf needs; you can’t imagine it’s a painless process, or that he’s not still feeling the effects of it now, so soon after the moon.

For a dense handful of moments, Remus lingers on the edge of the kitchen. But soon you hear his footsteps, heavier than usual in a way that makes your stomach hurt, go back towards the bedroom. You finish making his tea and bring it to him with a few pieces of his chocolate. 

He’s sitting up at the edge of the bed, propped up on pillows and watching the smoke curl up from your incense with a haunted look in his eyes. 

“Hi,” you say softly. He accepts the tea and chocolate with a quiet thanks. “Do you think it might help things if I opened the curtains? Some sunlight might be good for you.” 

Remus hums his assent. Everything becomes crisper once you let the light in. Remus’ dark circles and the blood visible through his bandages, but also the healthy flush to his cheeks and the strength of his body beneath the dressings. 

“What is this?” Remus asks you, sipping his tea. 

“Bay leaves. It’s for pain relief. It helps more if you put it directly on the wounds, but I didn’t think you’d want to mess with your dressings any more.” 

He nods. Sighs. “Come here, dove. Come sit.” 

You’re eager to comply. You round the bed to avoid crawling over him, settling against the pillows beside your boyfriend with your shoulder touching his. A support, if he needs it. 

“What’s the incense for?” he asks. 

“It’s lavender. It’s also good for pain, but I thought it might help you sleep as well.” 

Remus nods again. He turns to you, his eyes some mixture of distressed and resigned. “Why are you doing all of this?” he asks. “Why did you come home?” 

“Remus,” you say gently, “we don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.” 

His brows hook in the middle, a small crumbling. “But you know already.” 

You cradle his face in your hand. Your voice is soft. “Yeah.” 

You pull Remus towards your chest when he starts weeping. He dampens your shirt while you comb your fingers through the hair at his nape, saying nothing. Steam wafts up from his tea until it doesn’t, but that’s okay; you’ll make him another cup when he’s ready. 

James and Sirius are surprised to find you when they come home. 

“Angel—” 

“Shh.” You cover one of Remus’ ears with your hand, his head in your lap. “He’s hardly slept all day.” 

James lowers his voice, setting his bag down on the floor. “When did you get here?” 

“This morning.” 

“But you were supposed to be away until tomorrow afternoon.” Sirius climbs up onto the bed. His expression goes tender as he looks down upon Remus’ sleeping face, and the kiss he presses to your lips is gentle.

You card your hand through Remus’ hair. “I didn’t want to be away from him,” you admit softly. “I understand why you want to do things without me on the night it happens, but I’d like to help before and afterwards at least.” 

Sirius’ brow pinches, his eyes narrowing cautiously. 

“When what happens?” James asks you. 

You speak softly, not wanting the words to potentially agitate Remus in his sleep. “The transformation.” 

There’s a thick pause. 

“Who told you?” Sirius asks. 

“No one had to tell me.” 

There’s a quiet chuckle from the end of the bed. James kicks his shoes off, crawling up the covers to meet you. “I told you she knew.” He gives you a kiss, soft and syrupy sweet. “Thanks for looking after him for us, sweetheart.” 

Remus grunts, coming awake. “James,” he groans. “Your knee is on my leg.” 

“Oh. Sorry, love.” James moves, then bends down to give Remus a kiss of his own. “Did our angel take good care of you today?” 

“Better than this.” 

“That’s the moon talking,” Sirius says flippantly, though the hand he uses to rub Remus’ shoulder is exceedingly gentle. “That’s something you’ll learn as we go along, gorgeous. He loves us, really.” 

You feel your brows pinch. “I thought he was as nice as always today.” 

“Wonder why,” Remus mutters, but the look he gives Sirius is teasing. 

James gives Remus another kiss, standing. “I’ll get you some of your soup.” 

“Oh, I…” You give him a sheepish look. “I washed that down the sink. It got left out, the meat was bad. There’s tea on the stove that should help him heal faster, though, if you want to get some of that.” 

James and Sirius stare at you. 

“Seems like we should’ve brought you in on this a lot sooner,” Sirius says after a moment. 

You shrug. Remus mumbles something that sounds like agreement.

[kitkat13001]

₊˚⊹♡⭒˚.⋆ 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚗𝚘𝚠 ?

i try to be the chill girl but honestly i’m not knee deep in the passenger seat (and you’re eating me out) two weeks and your mom invites me (to her long beach house) if its casual, is it casual now?

⤷ katsuki bakugou x reader

⤷ fem-leaning reader (“girl” used twice, no other pronouns), friends w benefits-ish to lovers, reader is bad at feelings, brief mention (1) of underage drinking, heavily implied reader and bakugou are sleeping together but nothing explicit, lyrics and title from chappell roan’s “casual,” this is long (~2k words)

for three months it’s been like this. three months of sneaking around and shared glances and private smiles and near-silent laughter at one in the morning. 

it started one night towards the end of winter, just before the beginnings of spring. 

you had just finished up a big practical exam and the class had come in first. you’d worked your asses off and it had been totally worth it. everyone felt like they were walking on air that night, and you’d all decided to get together for a late dinner in the dorms to celebrate. 

you remember it clearly. the valentines decorations were still up in the lounge. you’d ordered pizza to supplement sato’s delicious noodle arrangement and bakugou’s yakitori, and stayed up well past curfew talking and eating and laughing. it was one of the best nights of your life. 

you’d gone to the bathroom, but when you came back to the lounge everyone had already gone up to bed. 

“guess the party’s over,” you’d mumbled to yourself with a little laugh of disbelief. 

“oi!” had come a voice from the kitchen. “who’s out there?!”

“guess,” you’d called out teasingly, leaning against the doorframe. 

bakugou wore his trademark scowl, same as ever. he was standing over the sink, hands covered in suds amidst a pile of dishes. 

“hmph. the hell you doing up, dumbass? figured you’d gone to bed after you disappeared on us.”

“hm. three years and you think you’d come up with a better nickname,” you laughed. “i told denki i was going to the bathroom. something in those noodles did a number on me.”

he had scoffed, seemingly irritated by your overshare. you didn’t care. you were never one to withhold anything and he knew that. 

“whatever. everyone’s asleep already anyway.”

“what are you doing up, kacchan?”

he’d scowled at that, but said nothing. he had long since given up trying to dissuade you from using the nickname. he nodded to the pile of dishes in the sink before him. 

“damn extras left a mess. said we’d pick up in the morning but i can’t sleep with this fuckin’ mess.”

you had laughed at that. he fixed you with a withering glare. 

“what’s so fuckin’ funny?”

“what a mouth,” you snickered. “you never change, do you, kacchan?”

he’d scoffed, scrubbing agitatedly at a plate. “i change plenty.”

you just laughed again. you guessed he was right, because three years ago he never would’ve been caught dead up this late. 

“you gonna help me with this or what?” he demanded, gesturing to the mess of the kitchen. 

you’d shrugged, figuring it would’ve been cruel to leave him to face this alone. 

“i guess so. you wash, i dry?”

he replied with a soft grunt of affirmation. 

it was peaceful that night, standing shoulder to shoulder with bakugou as he handed off soaked dishes for you to wipe down. you took comfort in the warm brush of his hands against yours. 

and the fateful moment that led to all of this?

he’d fumbled a dish, the mug slipping from his soap-slicked grip. you had gone to catch it, reaching over at the exact same time he did. 

you remember the brief pain of your heads colliding and bakugou’s proceeding shout. 

you had grabbed his shoulders for support, and you remember being surprised by how warm he was. it’s not like you’d never touched him before, but the number of times you’d ever been this close to him was minuscule. 

he might’ve been mad, probably about to open his mouth to berate you about how he’d “had it!” and that you “should’ve left it” or something. but he stopped cold, eyes wide at just how close you were. barely an inch between your noses. you could smell the spices on him from when he’d been cooking earlier. 

you don’t know what led you to say it. maybe it was the late hour or the obscene amount of food you’d eaten or the wine cooler you’d allowed yourself to drink after mina had brought them out. 

“can i kiss you?”

you think bakugou might’ve been more surprised by that than if you’d socked him in the face. 

you don’t know why he did, but he had nodded. he thought about it for a second—just one, not too long—and then given the slightest incline of his head. and you did it. 

you kissed him. 

it wasn’t your first kiss. if it was his, you couldn’t tell. he was soft, responsive to your movements but still sure of himself when he kissed you back. 

he tasted vaguely of spices. 

you don’t know how long you stayed like that. you don’t know at what point his hands moved from the sink to your cheeks or when he’d backed you against the counter. 

you just know that when he’d asked if you wanted to go up to his room, you nodded with flushed cheeks and a breathless smile. 

and that’s how it’s been for three months. you’d never addressed it, never put a name to what you had. you’d never questioned it or taken it for granted. bakugou is the kind of person you can follow blindly into any situation and know you’re going to come out okay. and you’ve never been someone who needed a reason to be around people you like. 

tonight’s not much different. it’s quiet, a cool breeze in the air from the open window. the nights are getting warmer as spring sets in, so the breeze feels good on your skin. 

you lay back on bakugou’s bed, breathing in the smell of his ocean breeze laundry detergent and the faint scent of the almost-blooming cherry blossoms just outside.

he didn’t used to let you stay over. he’d walk you back to your dorm once everyone was asleep, grumble a goodnight and disappear back down the hall. but after a while, he stopped mentioning how late it was getting. he’d just toss over and fall asleep, his arm still resting across your body next to him. 

“what’re ya sighing for?” bakugou huffs, reaching over you to plug his phone into the charging outlet. 

“i’m not sighing,” you reply, frowning up at the ceiling. 

“and now you’re pouting.”

you huff back at him, propping yourself up on your elbows. “i am not pouting. i’m eighteen years old, i don��t pout.”

katsuki raises his eyebrows in challenge. “you want me to get you a mirror?”

you roll your eyes and toss a pillow at him. he catches it just the way you expect him to, right in front of his face. you strike quicker than he can move it, smacking the front with a palm. you laugh at his startled growl, falling back on the bed as he throws the pillow back your way. 

you smile innocently up at him, clutching the pillow to your chest and relish in the scowl he casts at you and the way his hair is tousled from the scuffle. 

“brat,” he scoffs, knocking his leg against yours. “c’mon, it’s late. i wanna sleep.”

he waits until you’ve crawled in beside him to turn out the lights. 

you stare out into the dark for a while, but sleep doesn’t come. 

“katsuki?” 

his responding groan in muffled into the pillow. you prop yourself up to turn and look at him. 

“can i ask you something?” 

you see his scarlet eyes open in the dark and glance up at you with a furrowed brow. 

he huffs as he rolls over to face you. “i guess.”

now you’re nervous. god, why did you have to bring it up?

“i don’t want to sound stupid or anything, but i…” you pause, trying to figure out how to phrase it. “what are we? i mean, like…to each other?”

it’s both a relief and an immense amount of anxiety finally getting the words out. “it’s been eating at me for a while now—and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to—but i figured i’d die if i didn’t at least ask.”

katsuki’s looking right at you, but for once you can’t read his eyes or expression. the silence is stretching and your stomach turns with unease. you keep talking, and even though you know you’re rambling, your mouth is like a runaway train. 

“i mean, to my knowledge at least, you don’t sleep around, right? we don’t see other people. and you’re not…you’re not completely detached when we’re together—at least i hope you aren’t. you don’t act like it anyways. so it seems like it’s more than a physical thing?”

god, why can’t you stop talking? it’s more to yourself than katsuki at this point anyway. 

“and we’re friends. we’ve been friends for such a long time now. it’s not like i’m some random girl you picked up off the street.”

he scoffs quietly and you glance over at him. his expression is pinched, but otherwise unreadable. “tch. i wouldn’t do that.”

“exactly,” you agree, trying to keep your voice even as you fidget with your hands. your voice is quiet and you hang your head a little, unable to face his deep eyes. “i…know you care about me. so i guess that’s why i’m asking what this is to you.” you start rambling again before the silence gets too long. “are we just friends who mess around sometimes? is it that you’re not ready for a relationship…or maybe you do want a relationship but just not with me?”

“do you want a relationship?” he asks. 

“i…i don’t know. maybe, if that’s what you wanted.”

“what do you want?”

“i mean, we don’t have to put a label on anything if you don’t want to. unless you do want to, then i guess we could do that too.” the options are flooding your brain, mouth going off without filter. 

“what do you want?” katsuki asks again, red eyes boring into yours in the dark. 

you shrink back, feeling small under his unwavering gaze. “i…i don’t know.”

he scoffs. “liar.”

your heart sinks a little. 

“what do you mean?”

“you know what i mean,” he replies, and you can hear the frustration in his voice. “you’re not the ‘whatever you want’ girl. you never have been.”

you know he’s right, but that doesn’t make it less painful to hear. normally that kind of tenacity is what people strive for, what people admire. but the way katsuki says it…he makes it sound like a bad thing. like you’re selfish. 

“so tell me,” he insists, face mere inches from yours. “why don’t you care what we are?”

“because i care about you,” you whisper, almost against your will. “and i want you to be happy, so i’ll take you in whatever capacity i can get you.”

he looks almost surprised at that, then slightly exasperated like you’ve missed his entire point. he exhales sharply, sitting back against the headboard. 

“before i answer you, lemme ask you something myself first.”

“okay,” you breathe. 

“why the sudden need to know?”

“huh?”

“you said this shit’s been eating at you for a while now. how come? what’s got you feeling all contemplative all of a sudden?”

it takes a minute to gather your thoughts, much less the courage to speak. you hadn’t been expecting him to turn this on you. 

“well…we’re graduating in a few weeks, and i guess i just…i don’t want to never see you again. i don’t want this to end. and i…” you pause, taking a shaky breath, then shrug. “i don’t want to lose you, kacchan.”

he’s staring now in what you can only describe as disbelief. your stomach stirs uneasily as you sit in silence for a moment. 

“you don’t want to lose me,” he repeats, like its the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “that’s it?”

“yes, that’s it,” you reply, suddenly defensive. you cross your arms, feeling incredibly self-conscious now. 

“and you think i’m what, just gonna up and leave you? don’t you give a fuck about us?” he demands. 

“i didn’t know there was an ‘us’!” you cry. “i didn’t know it meant anything to you.”

“of course it fuckin’ meant something!” katsuki shoots back, on the verge of a shout. 

“i stayed with you the entire time you had the flu in second year. i let you come with me to the gym. we did our work studies together. i make you food when you’re stupid and don’t eat, i let you come in my room whenever you want and sleep in my fuckin’ bed when you have a bad dream.”

you sit there for a moment, absorbing it all. it’s true, all of it. 

“i don’t do that shit for just anyone,” he adds, grumbling. and he’s right. he doesn’t. “so don’t you for one minute think that you don’t mean anything to me. why else would i be spending all this damn time with you?”

“i don’t know,” you hum, crawling over to him. “maybe you did it cause all our other friends were getting together and you felt left out.”

“when have i ever done something just because some other fuckin’ extra did too?”

“never,” you giggle, leaning against him until you’ve fallen into his lap.

“exactly. so what does that tell you?”

“that…you’re very brave and independent?”

he groans loudly, rolling his eyes. “you’re fuckin’ impossible.”

“you love it,” you beam up at him. your stomach flutters with something warmer now as he reaches down and brings you up to meet his lips. it’s a deep kiss, leaving no room for anything but him and you and saying everything that you never said up until now. 

“yeah, so what if i do?” he murmurs when he pulls away, still close enough that his lips brush yours when he speaks. 

“tell me,” you say, smile and voice soft as you push his spiky bangs away from his face. his cheeks are warm under your hands. “tell me for real this time.”

his ruby eyes are deep and sincere when he says it. 

“i love you.”

it’s all you ever needed to hear.

nothing like the pressure of finals to get you locked in on a fic. i’ve been sitting on this for a while and i finally got inspired to finish it. i really enjoyed the reader/bakugou dynamic here. hope you like!