#When I saw them for the first time I thought it would just be another ship.

[hot-patootiee]

Another story of people not knowing Steve is bisexual.

Since he asked Eddie to be his boyfriend at a party game night, Eddie took it as a joke and accepted. He made a grand ordeal of it too, jumping on the table and dramatic gestures.

He even declared his true love shall catch him and fell off the table and fell off into Steve who struggled, but did manage to catch him. If Steve fell on the floor doing it, it’s nobody’s business.

Steve is like “omg my first boyfriend!” And since Robin was there, he assumes she knows.

Little does poor Steve know, everyone thought he was joking. Except El because she’s El and Will.

El and Will are both bewildered as to why the boys weren’t being nosy like they expected them too. But, they don’t figure out that nobody else knows either because everyone else is like “Yea, Steve and Eddie are totally Dating”.

El and Will begin to pester Steve because they love him and he’s the first queer relationship they’ve seen. It’s not like anyone else will tell them anything.

Steve absolutely regales them with every date (which Eddie thought were just hang outs) and what a great choice it was to ask Eddie out.

Steve and Eddie get high together one night and Eddie looks so relaxed and cute that he just has to kiss him.

So he does and, of course since Eddie is his boyfriend, Eddie kisses back. They make out that night and curl up together and then fall asleep.

When Steve wakes up, the bed is empty and cold where Eddie was.

He gets up, assuming Eddie just left to get food, but Eddie is pacing in the kitchen.

“Hey, Teddy, What’s wrong?” Steve tries to get close and hug him, but Eddie shrugs him off.

“I can’t do this with you right now. I need some time to think and I think you should leave. I need a break from you.” Eddie tugs at his hair, not nervous, but stressed.

Steve hears ‘break’ and almost starts crying. He sniffles, eyes getting watery, and Steve just lets out a cracked “okay.” Before grabbing his stuff and bolting out of the house.

By the time he gets in the car, he’s in full out tears.

It’s like Nancy all over again! He just knows that Eddie means to break up with him, nobody goes on a ‘break’ other than to soft launch the ‘break up’.

He thought he was such a good boyfriend to Eddie, he went to all his shows, he brought him home cooked meals, and made sure he knew Steve appreciated him. Steve had started listening to metal for him despite his crushing migraines.

Steve barely makes it home through the warping effect of the tears in his eyes.

He calls out of work for the week to mope because Eddie was his first boyfriend and he really saw a future with him.

On the second day, Will overhears Eddie talking about Steve to Robin and how he “couldn’t be around him.” Will immediately puts together Steve’s absence and sudden ‘flu’.

Will runs back to El and they hop on Will’s bike and go to Steve’s.

When they get there, Steve is still red eyed and teary. His pitiful two month relationship was over and he had been crying over losing Eddie.

Will and El immediately harass him into telling them what happened over some ice cream they extracted from the freezer. Steve tactfully leaves out the weed detail, but otherwise sticks to the story.

El is incredibly mad by the end. Stuff has started levitating half an inch and she questions Steve “why would he do that?”

Steve can’t hold it in anymore and just starts crying again.

“I don’t know.” He croaks out.

Will is patting Steve’s back and El is probably planning a murder.

By the time Steve has calmed down, his phone is ringing and it’s the party looking for El and Will. He offers to drive them back, but the kids insist they bike back.

When El comes in, it is evident she has only gotten more enraged over the entire drive home. The second her eyes fall on Eddie, everything starts shaking angrily.

Eddie on the other hand, does not know El very well and is borderline pissing himself at her rage.

Instead of the flying plates and psychic violence, El starts to cry.

“Why would you do that?” El cries out, tears filling her eyes. She begins to sob and Eddie still has no idea what she’s talking about.

“What do you mean?” Eddie looks halfway between trying to calm her and bolting the other direction.

“Why would you do that to Steve? He really likes you!” Her voice cracks and gets strained at some points, it nearly sounds like nails on a chalkboard.

Eddie is completely not ready to discuss his queer make-out sesh with a child in front of the entire party. Luckily, the Wheeler parents were out and not there to hear it.

“He’s your boyfriend! Why would you break up with him like that?” Eddie lets out a soft understanding laugh.

“El, me and Steve aren’t actually dating, that’s just a joke.” Eddie says soothingly.

“He asked you out in-front of everyone! I was there!” El yelled at Eddie, Will finally beginning to approach his angry sister.

“That was a joke!” Eddie laughs out.

“Did Steve know that?” Will finally pipes up and Eddie’s blood goes cold.

“O-of course, he did!” Eddie feebly attempts to justify. His voice was stringy in a way that showed Eddie didn’t believe himself.

Will just shakes his head at Eddie with sad eyes.

“He thinks you guys have been dating for the past 2 months. El and I thought you were dating for the past two months.” Will says slowly, punctuating his every word carefully.

“That’s why he stopped dating, isn’t it?” Robin pipes up, sounding a little hollow at her failure to notice.

Nobody answers her.

Pt 2 if you ask nicely, or meanly I don’t really care.

PART 2 is HERE

[introvertbard]

My main blog is boring. I started out with a work-style "first initial + last name + random numbers," but when I started to see teenagers put their FULL NAMES in their blogs like this is social media, I got worried and switched my username to "introvert bard" because my ass is introverted and a writer/actor.

--

My SECOND writing blog is "Jadevine." When I made it because my first one got taken over by spirituality stuff, I had accumulated 99.5% Filipino urban-fantasy works, so I figured I should name my new writing blog something about Filipino culture. The jadevine's white/scientific name is Strongylodon macrobotrys, and in the Philippines, it's called tayabak. The flowers can be either Really Fucking Blue or Really Fucking Red, and it's great.

--

My FIRST writing blog is now a spirituality blog, and it's Norcalbruja because I am Filipino-American, I live in California, and "bruja" is Spanish for "witch." This may seem like another version of "don't put your real name on non-social media stuff," but California and Hawai'i are the states with the largest Filipino-American populations, so I feel quite safe in anonymity, lol.

In the Philippines, bruja/bruha is commonly an insult for "any woman who is acting up at all," whether you mean that affectionately or not. SORT OF like how English-speakers can use "bitch" to insult someone or to affectionately call their friends, but like many things in Tagalog, this depends heavily on context. When in doubt, assume bruja/bruha is an insult.

But it's also the only word I can find that really fits me. Filipinos have a whole list of healers and spirit-workers based on their specialties, but you can't really swap them out for "bruja/brujo." We got folk healers, diviners, midwives, and black-magic workers, but I'm not any of those because I wasn't taught those practices.

Me and my deceased grandma are the only ones on my mom's side of the family with ANY spiritual powers. (I don't know about my dad's side. There's like forty years of drama, they're on the other side of the country, and they barely talk to my mom.) The way my family treats it, this is not a "tradition" so much as "a thing that crops up sometimes," so it seems like I got the most low-budget X-Gene ever. My mom just called up my aunts and uncles and said, "Hey guess what? Introvertbard thought she saw me one time, BUT she said I was wearing Mom's old clothes! She can see ghosts like Mom did!"

Cue my mom telling my thirteen-year-old self that her family house was by a wartime graveyard. My grandma would routinely see the ghosts of soldiers, lock the kids up in a safe place, and yell at the ghosts to GET OUT OF THE HOUSE RIGHT NOW. People now avoid their old family house because... they keep seeing an old lady who looks suspiciously like my grandma. Nobody who's been sent to maintain/clean it will stay there.

And I'm like "well, this would have been useful to know BEFORE Grandma died." Great job to my mom and nine whole aunts and uncles! I grew up a normal person who likes ghost STORIES and scaring myself in a safe environment (ie, horror movies and "haunted house" attractions), but I'm also afraid of REAL GHOSTS. I must be a VERY suitable person to inherit her grandmother's second-sight.

Hence, I call myself a bruja because I clearly have SOMETHING going on, but I don't know what the fuck to do about it.

USERNAME LORE GIVE IT TO ME NOW YOU ALL

[noirscript]

serpent's claim

Pairing: Yandere Naga x Reader Description: You ran, but Zaeral always caught you. Now his egg rests deep inside, and escape is no longer what you crave. Warning/s: Yandere | Noncon/Dubcon Themes | Oviposition (egg insertion) | Breeding Kink | Forced Captivity | Obsession | Stalking | Predator/Prey Dynamic | Isolation | Escape Attempt | Psychological Manipulation | Forked Tongue (I HAVE TO) Note/s: Commissions are still open! Enjoy this Yandere!Naga. Lemme know what you think about it. btw. I'll try to add the tw tags later. I've been trying to add them but it's not getting added below T^T

Masterlist | Commission | Tip Jar | Dark Roast

The air was always wet down here.

Every breath dragged the scent of moss and something deeper into your lungs—something primal, slick with hunger. You didn’t know how long it had been since you’d seen the sky. Days, maybe. Weeks. It all bled together in this place where time was measured only in how long your heartbeat stayed fast and your skin stayed cold.

You didn’t fall into his territory. You wandered. That was your sin. You thought the shortcut through the canyon would save time. Maybe you didn’t want to go back at all. But now you were here. Now he was here.

You heard him before you ever saw him. A low scrape against stone. A hiss, too long to belong to any animal you knew. It slithered across the air like it was following you, not chasing, not yet, just… watching.

You’d screamed the first time he spoke. A whisper in your ear when you thought you were alone. "You breathe like prey." It echoed. There was no body to pin the voice to. Only dark, endless tunnels, lit by cold, phosphorescent light, where shadows stretched too long.

You ran. Of course you did.

But you learned quickly that you were never fast enough.

You never heard him move. Just the breath on your nape, the lightest brush of scales across your path when you thought he was behind you. The way rocks ahead of you were suddenly slick with moisture. A hunter didn’t need to charge when his prey was already cornered by instinct.

He introduced himself after the second escape.

Zaeral. His name slithered from his lips like a caress, like a chain sliding shut. When he finally showed himself—all of himself—you understood why you had no chance.

His upper half was almost beautiful. Tall, lean, chiseled in the way ancient statues are, timeless and cruel in their perfection. His skin was pale, barely touched by light, with veins like opal beneath the surface. Hair black as pitch hung past his shoulders, framing eyes that glowed faintly with a vertical sliver of gold.

And below the waist—no legs. Only an endless coil of thick, glistening muscle, wrapped in dark scales that shimmered with hints of violet and green, shifting with his breath. His tail could crush boulders. You knew because you saw the bones. He left them there, visible, arranged like a warning. Or maybe an invitation.

He spoke to you like a lover, not a captor.

"You belong down here," he’d murmur, coiling around you as you slept, his body a cage of heat and weight. "You’re so loud, little thing. Every heartbeat calls me closer."

You learned not to scream when he wrapped around you. Not to cry when he pulled you into his nest of damp moss and hollowed stone. It only made him hold you tighter. Only made him hum into your throat with something like joy.

"I adore when you squirm," he’d purr. "It stokes the fire in my belly. And soon, it’ll stoke more."

You never saw another person. You weren’t even sure anymore if the surface existed. When you closed your eyes, all you saw were tunnels, and the glint of his eyes in the dark, and the pressure of coils slowly winding up your legs. You tried to map the labyrinth. You tried to mark your way back.

He always erased them.

"You don’t need a way out. You only need a place inside."

Sometimes, he would leave. Hours, maybe longer. You never knew where. But you always knew when he was coming back. The air changed. Grew heavier. More charged. Like the earth itself tensed with your dread.

He would appear, gliding in with something clutched in his claws. Fruit from underground trees. Pelts that still smelled of blood. Once, a silk scarf stained with perfume—your perfume, long faded. You didn’t ask how he got it. You didn’t want to know.

"You are not the first I’ve chased," he admitted once, curling a length of his tail around your ankle. "But you’re the first to last this long. You burn brighter. You make me ache."

He said things in your ear that no one should say. Things about your body, and his, and how perfectly they’d fit. How your hips were made to take him, no matter the shape he wore. How he could mold himself around you, fill you from any angle. How he wanted to see your belly swell with his spawn. How he dreamed of it.

He wasn’t crude. He was reverent.

Like you were holy. Sacred. A shrine he wanted to desecrate with worship.

You told yourself you hated it. That your tears were from fear. That your trembling was because of the cold, not because of the warmth that bloomed deep, shamefully, when he wrapped his coils around your thighs and purred into your stomach, his tongue flicking lazily against your navel.

“You smell different when you’re scared,” he’d murmur. “But oh… when you’re not scared... that scent drives me to madness.”

He waited. That was the worst part. He was patient. He didn’t force himself. He didn’t need to.

He knew you’d give in.

He’d make you believe it was your choice.

You escaped once. Maybe twice. You didn’t count. Each time, the tunnels stretched longer than before. Each time, your body weakened faster. Once, you made it to a crack in the cave wall, and sunlight kissed your face.

And then his tail yanked you back, gentle as a lover’s hand tugging a hesitant partner.

"You tried," he said, brushing your hair back. "That’s why I love you. It means when you finally stop trying, I’ll know it’s real."

You screamed into his chest, and he rocked you like a child.

"I will never let you die here," he promised. "But I will never let you leave."

You didn’t try after that. Not seriously.

You thought you were giving up. But maybe you were just giving in.

You started to listen when he whispered to you. Started to ask questions. Small ones, at first. "Where do you go when you leave?" He’d smile. Never answer.

You started to watch his body move, the way his tail flexed and rolled over itself as he settled beside you. The power in him. The control.

You began to wonder—just wonder—what it would feel like if he really touched you.

He knew. Of course he did.

One night, as you lay in his coils, barely breathing, his voice dropped low.

"I dream of pushing you to your knees," he said, lips grazing your temple. "Of laying you out across my nest and feeling your body arch as I bury myself in you."

Your thighs clenched before you could stop them.

He growled. Low. Deep. It vibrated through your bones.

"You want it now, don’t you?" he asked, not mocking. Just… knowing. "Say it. Say it, and I’ll make it so you never remember the taste of anything but me."

You didn’t speak.

But you didn’t run, either.

And when his hand slid down your stomach, and he pressed his palm over your core, hot and possessive and unbearably firm—you didn’t stop him.

"You’ve already surrendered," Zaeral whispered, his tongue flicking your cheek. "Let me claim you. Let me fill you."

Your breath hitched. Your body burned. You hated him. You hated this.

But your hips lifted into his touch, and your thighs spread just slightly wider.

A hiss of satisfaction spilled from his mouth.

"That’s it. That’s my precious little mate."

The word mate tasted like ash and honey on your tongue.

You whispered his name.

Zaeral.

And he smiled.

TBC.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger @delusionalricebowl @nomi-candies @jsprien213 @kaii-nana33 @saturnalya @yandereaficionado @pinksaiyans @ivantillenthusiast @missybabes

[twst-aceofhearts]

🔆anon

Can you make a story with an oblivious reader who says something like “you’re cute” as an offhand statement? Any character is fine though maybe Azul or Riddle

Terms and Flustered Conditions

𝖆/𝖓: This was really fun to write for a first request teehee :>

~no tw, just flustered zul~

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: azul x oblivious!reader

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘: 1670

taglist: @luxaryllis @thegoldencontracts @waterthatsmoe @oya-oya-okay

Azul prided himself on two things: his contracts and his composure.

Tonight was no exception. He stood behind the counter at the Mostro Lounge, overseeing operations with his usual calculating smile, adjusting his glasses every now and then like he was always in control. Floyd was off somewhere (causing problems, probably), and Jade was handling a VIP table, so that left Azul as the face of service.

You strolled in, humming to yourself, clutching a clipboard of deliveries for the Lounge.

“Hey Azul,” you said cheerfully, barely noticing the low lighting, the faint jazz playing, the dangerous glint in his eyes that usually put most people on edge. “I dropped off the supply list in the back.”

Azul looked up, his smile sharp and professional. “Ah, thank you. Ever the dependable one, I see.”

You leaned your elbow on the counter casually. “Mhm. Also, you’re kinda cute when you’re in work mode. Like, ‘merchant but make it adorable.’ Y’know?”

Azul froze.

The world stopped.

You blinked. “Anyway, I gotta head back to Ramshackle. Later!”

You turned and left before Azul could even start a reaction.

His pen slipped from his hand. Clattered to the floor.

Azul stared at the spot where you had stood, glasses sliding slightly down his nose, mouth slightly open in stunned disbelief.

Jade appeared silently beside him, placing a fresh tray on the counter like nothing had happened.

“…Did I hear that correctly?” he asked smoothly.

Azul didn’t answer. His brain was frantically short-circuiting, replaying the exact cadence of “you’re kinda cute” over and over like a cursed spell.

“Adorable,” Azul muttered, nearly choking. “They called me adorable…”

Jade hummed, far too amused. “How fortunate. Not everyone gets complimented by the oblivious type. Though I wonder… should I warn them what they’ve just unleashed?”

Azul grabbed his handkerchief and tried (in vain) to cool his face down. “Absolutely not. I need time. I need—negotiation tactics, leverage—damage control.”

Jade chuckled quietly. “Or perhaps, a contract offering one ‘free date’ in return for a second compliment?”

Azul choked on air.

Azul had prepared.

He’d reviewed social scripts, coached himself in the mirror, and even had Jade run mock conversations with him using your exact inflection. He would not be flustered again. This time, he’d have the upper hand.

You walked in holding a box of new menu supplies, completely oblivious to the psychological warfare Azul had been conducting in his own head all day.

“Hey, Azul!” you chirped.

He smiled, composed and calculated. “Ah, welcome. Back with another delivery?”

You set the box down. “Yup! That and a couple updated drink cards. Oh, and I got you something.”

You pulled a small bag from your pocket and handed it to him.

He blinked. “What… is this?”

You shrugged. “Saw a little octopus charm at Sam’s shop and thought of you. Kinda looks like a chibi form of you. Cute, right?”

There it was.

That word again.

Azul’s soul momentarily vacated his body.

You were already unzipping the box, oblivious. “Anyway, Sam said it wards off bad business deals or something. You should hang it near the register—ah, this one’s leaking, oops—”

Behind the counter, Azul’s hands twitched. He was gripping the little charm with all the delicacy of someone holding a live bomb. His face? A slow-burning shade of red creeping up from his collar to his ears.

He managed to speak. Just barely.

“…You—you bought me a charm. Because it’s cute.”

“Mhm,” you said, busy sorting menus. “You say ‘customer satisfaction’ like ten times a day, but you forget self-care, y’know? Gotta protect that soft heart of yours.”

You said it like you were discussing the weather.

Azul nearly collapsed.

Jade, ever the specter, appeared at his elbow with a tray of sparkling drinks.

“Azul,” he said with dangerous calm, “your heart rate just spiked. Shall I fetch the emergency potion?”

Azul wheezed, “No—no potions. I’ll recover. I’m fine.”

You peeked up. “Huh? You okay? You look kinda pink.”

Azul gave you a strained smile that looked like it had been stapled onto his face.

“I am perfectly fine,” he said, voice a full octave higher than normal. “In fact, would you—ah—consider signing a contract?”

You blinked. “What kind of contract?”

He fumbled for his notebook. “A-ah, well, hypothetically… one where I provide you with free menu samples, and in return, you… perhaps… say that word again. Just once. As research.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Which word?”

He swallowed. “The one that starts with a c and ends with—”

“Croquette?”

Jade actually turned away to hide a laugh.

Azul buried his burning face in his hand. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

You just tilted your head. “You’re acting weird today. Kinda cute though.”

Azul.exe has stopped responding.

Azul was suffering.

Every time you walked into the Lounge, something happened. A stray compliment, a casual smile, a devastatingly innocent, “You’re so reliable, Azul!”—it was all too much. He was spiraling, and unfortunately for him, the Leech twins had noticed.

Which is why tonight, after closing, he was cornered in the VIP lounge by the two eels.

“So when’s the big confession?” Floyd asked, draped over the couch like a lazy predator. “You gonna tell Shrimpy you’re in looooove, or should I?”

“I am not—!” Azul started, face already heating up. “I am not in love. I simply… appreciate their company.”

Jade sipped his tea. “Mm. You’ve ‘appreciated their company’ so much you rewrote a contract proposal twelve times because they called you cute.”

Floyd grinned wickedly. “Azully’s got a cruuuuush~”

“Stop saying it like that!”

Floyd, naturally, did not. “C’mon, why not just tell them? Be like, ‘Hey, I like your dumb smile and your cute voice and—’”

“I am not calling their voice cute!”

At that moment, the door creaked open.

“Azul? You still in here?” you called. “Sam said I left my notebook, and I figured—”

The scene you walked in on:

Azul frozen mid-sputter, flushed and holding Floyd’s sleeve like he was trying to drag him into a volcano.

Floyd smirking like a shark on its lunch break.

Jade very politely sipping his tea, totally composed.

“…Am I interrupting something?” you asked, confused but amused.

Azul tried to recover. “N-No! Not at all! I—uh—Floyd was just—”

“I was helping Azully confess his feelings,” Floyd said brightly.

Silence.

You blinked. “To who?”

Azul made a strangled noise. “Don’t say it—”

Floyd pointed straight at you. “You.”

Azul immediately went into cardiac arrest.

You tilted your head. “Wait, me? Like, romantically?”

Azul was redder than a boiled shrimp. “I—it’s not—! That is to say—I may have some interest, b-but it’s entirely conditional! Professional! Not—not that you’re unattractive, in fact you’re very attractive, I just—!”

You blinked. “Huh.”

Azul waited for the ground to swallow him whole.

Then you smiled.

“…That’s cute.”

Azul nearly fell over.

Floyd cackled. Jade, still sipping tea, gave you a nod of approval.

You handed Azul your forgotten notebook. “Well, if you ever want to talk about it, I’m around. Don’t stress too much, okay? You’ll wrinkle.”

And then you left.

Azul sat in stunned silence.

“…Did they just compliment me again?”

Jade patted his shoulder. “Yes. Yes, they did.”

Floyd flopped over him. “Ooooh, they’re gonna ruin you.”

Azul, dazed and doomed, just whispered, “I think I want them to.”

For once, the Mostro Lounge was quiet. No crowds, no clatter of dishes, not even Floyd terrorizing a freshman.

You walked in, waving as usual. “Hey, Azul. Got the last invoice from the alchemy club.”

Azul stood behind the counter, perfectly groomed, hands folded neatly, like he’d been waiting. Which, in fact, he had been. For hours.

“Ah,” he said, his voice unusually calm. “Thank you. Actually, before you go… I have something for you as well.”

You paused. “Oh? Is it tea?”

“…Not quite.”

He reached below the counter and pulled out a single scroll, tied with a navy ribbon and sealed with wax bearing his personal sigil.

You blinked. “Did you write me a contract?”

“Yes,” he said, too quickly, then coughed. “I mean—technically. But it’s… different. Please, read the terms.”

You unrolled the scroll.

Contract Proposal Recipient: [Your Name] Terms of Agreement: In exchange for continued emotional support, offhanded compliments, and existing in a manner Azul Ashengrotto finds extremely flustering endearing, the undersigned proposes the following: - One (1) date at a mutually agreed-upon time and place. - One (1) opportunity to confess his genuine romantic intentions without being interrupted by Floyd. - Optional: hand-holding, future compliments, and/or further shared activities of a couple-like nature. Signatories: Azul Ashengrotto (pre-signed) [Blank space left for you]

You stared.

“…You wrote a confession contract.”

Azul looked like he wanted to curl inside his octopus pot and hide until he was eighty. “I thought it might be… efficient.”

You started to laugh—not cruelly, but warmly, delighted.

“This is so you,” you grinned. “You actually drafted a romance agreement.”

Azul cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses in a doomed attempt to look composed. “If you don’t wish to sign, that’s perfectly—”

You picked up the pen and signed your name with a little smiley face and heart at the end.

Azul froze. “Y-You agreed?”

“Of course I did,” you said, handing the contract back. “Honestly, I thought you didn’t like me because you always get weird when I say nice things.”

“That’s because you keep calling me cute,” he muttered, scandalized. “In public. Repeatedly.”

You beamed. “Yeah. I’m gonna keep doing that, by the way.”

He made a soft, strangled noise.

“Anyway,” you said casually, leaning over the counter, “so when’s our date, octoboy?”

Azul’s face went fully red. “…How’s Saturday?”

“Perfect.”

Floyd leaned around the doorway, grinning like a cat with a mouthful of canary. “Ooooooh, Azully’s got a sweetheart~”

Azul sighed dreamily, holding the signed contract to his chest.

“…And they called me octoboy.”

Jade set down a tray, completely deadpan. “Shall I prepare the wedding registry?”

Azul didn’t even argue.

credit to @enchanthings-a for divider

[tqlepatia]

⋮ ⌗┆FA$$HION KILLA .ᐟ ( II )

— OLDER ! RICH ! SEVIKA × MODEL ! MOTHER ! READER ( HCS ) —

౨ৎ - 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒' : " Here it iss !! I writed 2 times and tumblr deleted 😓 but thank God i have a big patience and writed it again, — angst, baby blues implied, and a lot of fluff (･ω･) . ".

𖹭 - Sevika knew she wanted to marry you the second she saw you doing shoots for the bridal collection of Vivienne Westwood, specially on the last dress.

𖹭 - "How would you feel about keeping one of those dresses?" You didn't understand until she pulled a ring from her blazer pocket, unmistakably the one that once belonged to Sevika's mom.

𖹭 - When you walked through the aisle, Sevika let herself cry a little in front of people, for the first time in years.

𖹭 - Honeymoon in Italy. You both barely left the room, too busy making love all day and night.

𖹭 -Sevika bought a new property-lush land, a greenhouse, a marble kitchen filled with cookbooks.

𖹭 - You started sleeping in, missing fittings without guilt—You stopped walking for a season, turned down four campaigns, and didn't feel bad about it.

𖹭 - You began documenting your domestic life privately-film photography, garden photos, table settings.

𖹭 - At night, Sevika would read the newspaper while you journaled on the sofa around the left side of the pool, while sometimes looking at the sky full of stars, sometimes she would stop reading a bit to massage your legs.

𖹭 - You started feeling the difference in your body- heavier breasts, longer naps, sudden cravings.

𖹭 - Sevika notice before you did, She held your hand the moment the test turned positive, barely blinking, just whispering "Okay."

𖹭 - Your bump showed faster than expected, and so did the press commentary.

𖹭 - Many brands of luxury trying to get a piece of the cake, tried to surf on the hype of one of the biggest supermodels being pregnant, sending gifts 24/7.

𖹭 - You began being tagged in "before/after" photos on Instagram, which led you to delete the app and all your social media.

𖹭 - She rubs your back when you throw up and kisses your hair even when you smell like ginger, massage your feet, make your breakfast with help of chefs.

𖹭 - She kissed every new stretch, every soft swell. "You're making something holy", " isn't so graceful that you are bringing another life to this world?" she whispered in soft nights.

𖹭 - Time to time, you realise how much your image was built over validation and numbers everywhere; your height, your weight, how many calories you consumed per day, your number of followers, or even how many runaway shows you got to.

𖹭 - You spent most days on the terrace in robes, drinking ginger tea, reading books about motherhood, so did sevika.

𖹭 - She took over the kitchen. The first time she made soup, she FaceTimed her aunt. You sat on the counter and laughed for twenty minutes at the story of Sevika's short childhood.

𖹭 - Your baby came fast. The labour was simple, you felt bad about the mother beside your room that screamed for hours after you finished your labour, and Sevika was there, holding your hand the whole time, crying as you screaming of pain.

𖹭 - She held the baby first. Then she gave them to you like an offering, the little one was identical to Sevika's baby pictures, for a moment, you thought that the photos had materialised inside your womb.

𖹭 - You bled for weeks, and no one told you how lonely it would feel. The world celebrated the baby but forgot the woman who brought her into

𖹭 - You loved your baby. But sometimes, when the crying didn't stop, you had to put her down and sit on the floor, whispering "Please, please, please."

𖹭

- 𖹭 - 𖹭 - You stayed off the runway for five years. Not because you couldn't. But because you refused to miss her first laugh, her first tantrum, her first step, and all these things.

Some nights, you sat outside on the garden steps and asked the stars for forgiveness for not being glowing, grateful, or the best mom that your daughter deserved.

𖹭 - You and Sevika barely fight, but now you're in a bad mood almost all the time due to the lack of sleep and tiredness, you and she started having little fights till... they weren't little anymore. "I gave up My LIFE for this baby, Sevika! And what did you give up? Nothing! So don't tell me what to do with my daughter." After the fight, she kept silent and slept in the living room.

𖹭 - You cried almost all night that day, at midnight you went to see her awake with the strong brightness of the TV illuminating her face, by your expression she already knew that you were feeling guilty for the words so sharp as a knife earlier. "Lie here love, sleep on my lap, then we'll go to the bedroom, okay?"

𖹭 - Sevika posted photos rarely. The back of your baby's head. You're stirring soup. You asleep against her chest. Always faceless, always sacred, like the world doesn't deserve to see you and your baby.

𖹭 - Your child giggles uncontrollably when Sevika blows raspberries on her little and soft belly, and Sevika grows a habit of treating her like royalty. Some days, the little girl even chooses Sevika’s clothes for work.

𖹭 - The photo Sevika took of you sleeping with the baby on your chest became her phone background for a year ( she changed it for a photo when the little girl took her first steps, you looking at her like this 😮 )

𖹭 - The hate comments stopped mattering when you saw your child run to you, arms open, calling you "mama" and climbing into your lap.

𖹭 - Your daughter painted your nails with Sevika one lazy Sunday. She chose pink. Sevika let her paint hers too. The mess stayed on your hands all day.

𖹭 - You caught her once sitting on the nursery floor alone, staring at the toys. You asked what was wrong. She said, "I never had this. Not even close. I didn't know what it looked like until now." You kissed her temple and told her, "Now you're building it. That's the point." She didn't say anything, just pulled you into her lap and held you like she was grateful you ever existed.

𖹭 - When the fashion house begged you back, you almost said no. Until you looked at your daughter and thought, She should see what it looks like when her mother chooses herself, too.

𖹭 - You worked out until your legs shook, counted almonds, cried over a single croissant, habits thay you got when was just a teenager looking to follow your dreams career, and they're back. But you weren't chasing beauty, you were begging to feel like yourself again, before the world carved judgment into your skin. Sevika found you on the bathroom floor once, scale beneath your feet, and said, "No body is worth this war." But you were already deep in it.

𖹭 - You practice your walks again, more than satisfied when you notice that you still remember perfectly how you used to walk, that was already a part of you, was engraved on your brain—in a way you never forget

𖹭 - The first show you did after five years, you cried backstage. Sevika stood behind the curtain, hand on your shoulder. "You never stopped being a goddess," she said.

𖹭 - After the runway, you went straight home. You didn't want the afterparty. You just wanted to kiss your baby's forehead and check if she was fine.

𖹭 -Interviews started pouring in. You declined most. Until one day, you said yes. It was in your garden. Just two chairs, tea, and wind. The interviewer asked, "How are you so calm now?" You said, "Because I stopped needing approval, the only one I need is from my daughter."

𖹭 -You told her about the hate, the body talk, the way motherhood was romanticized and weaponized all at once. You and the interviewer cried. Not because you were broken. But because healing had finally arrived, The clip went viral. Not for drama. For its stillness.

𖹭 - Sevika watched the interview ten times. "You looked like the woman I fell in love with," she said with a big smile kissing your forehead

𖹭 - Every night, Sevika kissed you like it was the first time. Because in your softness, she found her strength, too.

𖹭 - You started hosting dinners with no phones. Just stories, music, and laughter. You read poetry again. You began to write your own.

𖹭 - When storms hit, Sevika insists you all sleep in the same bed. "Just in case," she says. In case of what, you're never sure. But you never fight it. You like the way she tucks the baby between you two, how her arm curls around both of you like you're precious cargo. You fall asleep to the sound of rain and Sevika's breath, like the world could end and you'd still be safe.

౨ৎ - 𝐓aglist ; @prettyinpink69 , @abbysdollie , @marieeeluvsyou , @littlelovelunette , @madzorwhatever , @zvmbitegirl , @salsalsusu , @kataranda.

[prettydaisygirl]

Hi anon that asked for James teaching reader how to play here. First off, I absolutely loved it. Second off, if it's okay, I would like to ask for another if that's not too much.

Can this one be like the morning after that story where it's just the domestic life between the two. I just saw a fanart of Wolfstar brushing their teeth together and I just thought that would be a cute scene between the two.

Obviously if you hate this idea, just ignore me lol

But seriously, I love your writing. You are doing a great job!!

Hello again, nonnie!! I'm so glad you enjoyed the previous one, never worry about sending in too many requests!! This one was really sweet to write, I love soft James. Hope you enjoy, my love <3

streamer!James Potter x fem!superfan!reader and their sweet good "morning" ✿ 1.2k words

cw: NSFW 18+, fem reader, marauders as live-streamers & they all live together, established relationship, oral (f receiving), p in v, James picks reader up, some smut mostly fluff

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

previous part

When you’d planned to come visit James for a few weeks, you had no idea what you were getting into. Outside of having the greatest sex of your life and watching him stream, you’d imagined sightseeing, trying new foods, and visiting all kinds of fun places, somewhere you couldn’t even imagine, maybe.

Except none of that is what’s happening. 

It turns out James is a nightowl. 

You shouldn’t be surprised, given that most nights he streams until the early hours of the morning. You’d gotten up fairly early, not outrageously, around 9:30 am. You watched James sleep for a while, washed your face and got dressed, had a coffee and pastry with Remus, and even went on a walk with Sirius and Peter. Now, it’s almost 1pm and James still isn’t awake. 

You stand at the end of his bed, watching him. You don’t want to wake him, he looks so peaceful. But you also miss him, and you don’t want him to waste the little time you two have together sleeping. 

Gently, you climb back into bed next to him. You lay on your side, face to face with your boyfriend. You’re so close, any movement from you could brush the tip of your nose against his. You can feel the soft pants of his sleeping breath against your face. 

You reach up a hand to cup James’ cheek, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. Leaning forward just a bit, you place a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Jamie…” You whisper softly, another kiss to his face. His eye twitches but he stays asleep. You can’t help but smile, and press a gentle kiss to his bottom lip, sliding a hand into his hair. You whisper his name again, and this time his eyelids flutter open. 

James inhales sharply, registering the feeling of your lips on his and he smiles into the kiss, guiding you onto your back while he slots himself between your hips.

“Good morning,” His voice is deep and raspy from sleep and you find it incredibly sexy. His hands slide behind your back just enough to climb under the fabric of your shirt. 

“Good afternoon,” You correct, your own hands sliding to James’ lower back to press him closer to you. He pulls back from your lips with a pout at your correction and instead focuses his attention on your neck. 

James wastes no time in ridding you of your outfit, and then quickly his own pajamas. His lips trace down the skin of your throat to your chest. His fingers slide between your thighs to catch your slick folds, and he gathers your wetness on his fingers before pressing them into you, curling them and spreading them inside your willing hole. His tongue glides over your nipples, sucking and nipping with enough force to have you trembling beneath him. 

James continues to kiss and lick at your soft skin, making his way down the valley between your breasts, over your abdomen, and between your thighs. You gasp sharply, hands flying to his hair. He hasn’t eaten you out before. 

“Shhh, angel,” James coos, the vibrations of his voice against you making your body jerk. Your swollen nub is aching to be soothed, and James gives it a gentle swirl with his tongue. “I’ve got you, baby.”

James sucks on your clit, his fingers continuing to curl inside you. Your back arches and you can feel James rocking against his bed to get friction as his tongue darts filthily over your sensitive bundles of nerves. You can hear the sounds he’s making, the sounds your body is making, and you tug on his hair harder. The bed creaks a bit as James’ hips continue to rock against the mattress.

You feel James’ hands grip at your ass cheeks, pressing your body as close to his face as he can. His tongue replaces his fingers, sliding over your aching hole before darting inside it, his nose nuzzling at your clit. You cum hard, toes curling as James laps up your wetness, hips moving more urgently against the bed.

Your hands tug at James’ curls, pulling him up to kiss you. You wrap your legs around his hips and James reaches down with one hand to align himself with you. He makes love to you, the both of you not shy with your sounds as he thrusts into you again and again. He gathers you into his arms, lifting you a bit from the bed as he picks up his pace. James loves to pick you up and toss you around, and judging by the look on your face and the sinful sound that slips out of your lips, you enjoy it too. 

His grunts rumble in your ear, and you drag your fingernails down his back. You can feel the way his body shudders a bit, pace becoming more frantic as James’ pleasure grows. He groans your name and tells you he loves you when he comes. 

The two of you cuddle for a short while before you finally wrangle him out of bed and into the shower. He insists on washing your body for you, paying extra attention to your boobs and your ass. He squeezes them, lathering up the soap extra well for you, and he just smiles brightly when you narrow your eyes at him accusingly. 

He lets you comb out his hair. You brush your teeth again even though you don’t really need to just to be near him, sitting on the counter while he stands beside you, one hand holding his toothbrush and the other gripping your thigh. He kisses you again as soon as the both of you have minty breath and you pull away.

“No,” You stop him, and James looks like a scolded puppy, “We have dinner plans with your friends tonight, we don’t want to make them wait.”

“But you’re so pretty…” He argues, voice low and quiet as he drags both palms up your thighs again.

“Jamie.” Your voice comes out as a warning this time and he groans, turning back to his bedroom to find some clothes to wear. You follow him and slide into one of the outfits you packed. 

James quickly gets dressed, admiring you in the mirror as you slide on your shoes. You stop, noticing the look he is giving you.

“What?” You say softly, even though you already know what he is going to say.

“I just love you,” He says with a shrug, and your heart skips a beat like it always does.

“I love you too,” You say, standing and holding out a hand for him. “Come on, loverboy. We have to go to dinner.”

James groans again but stands, squeezing your hand as you move toward the door. You reach for the door handle and pause, turning back to him as your hand rests against the metal. James’ eyebrows raise as he sees the mischievous look in your eyes.

“And afterward, you can have me for dessert again.” You say, and James laughs happily, tugging you along out the door. 

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[augustjoy]

But She Loves You.

Based on the following ask: Hi can I request hotch X reader that owns a cat – That’s it, that’s the ask lol! I took this and RAN AWAY with it. I have two cats sooooo this was an easy one.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader Angst/Fluff Word count: 800

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, unspecified age gap (reader is mid/late 20s/Hotch is late 40s), reader is a cat owner, cat’s name is Charlie, Hotch is not an animal person, mention of Haley’s death, mention of Jack, Fem reader, no physical description, reader has hair, some explicit language, I think that’s it – LMK if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Aaron Hotchner was not an animal person. Now…that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like animals, in fact, he loves them, he is basically a dog whisperer. Growing up, Aaron wasn’t allowed to have pets, his father didn’t allow them…and after he was gone, the boys were too old to be begging for a puppy for Christmas.

His desire for a pet never really came around. When he and Haley got together, their focus had been having a child, which didn’t come easy for them. Then, once they had Jack, he became the center of their universe…that and well, Haley didn’t want to take care of a baby and a puppy all while Aaron was away all the time.

Truthfully, Aaron hadn’t even thought of getting a pet, and Jack didn’t ask. Spending time at his aunt’s house with her dog had proven enough to satisfy his need for animal companionship.

--

Aaron met you eight and a half months ago, you’d been reaching for a box of cereal on a shelf just out of your reach, he’d come up behind you and grabbed it for you. You’d thanked him and offered a kind smile, one he couldn’t get out of his head for the next week or so.

He’d been beating himself up over having not asked for your number then and there…so, when he saw you at the grocery store once again two weeks after that first encounter, he’d asked you to dinner.

That night had gone well; Aaron had been a perfect gentleman all evening. He’d gone as far as walking you up to your door and giving you a goodnight kiss, with the promise of a second date.

You relationship had blossomed from there.

--

With Aaron’s busy work life, it took some time before he actually spent time inside your place. When he finally did…he got to meet Charlie.

“So, Charlie can be kind of temperamental, just ignore her. She’ll come to you when she’s ready.” You explained.

“Charlie?” Aaron questioned.

“My cat, silly!” You laughed. “I told you about her. She’s an orange tabby, a total wild child when she wants to be.”

“Right…” Aaron nodded.

“You are so not an animal person.” You let out a chuckle.

“That’s not true! I just…I”

“…Have never had a pet.” You finished for him.

--

Aaron was convinced that your cat was secretly plotting his demise. He claimed she purposely went after him and his things, any chance she got. Scratching his briefcase, chewing on the laces to his dress shoes, sleeping on his head at night, burying her food bowl with his socks…the list went on and on.

You had told Aaron that she was just trying to get used to him being around. She could tell he wasn’t fond of her so she was just responding…it wasn’t anything personal. You could tell he was agitated…especially because Charlie had taken an early liking to Jack.

The first time Jack came over, Charlie snuggled up in his lap, purring. And yet your damn cat would hardly let Aaron near her. Playing this teasing game, where she’d rub against his leg and the second he’d lean down to pet her she’d swat him away or run off.

--

It took months, months of back and forth between Charlie and Aaron before they finally took a liking to one another. The shift had happened slowly. Aaron would be the one to feed her, scratching gently at her head as he set her bowl down.

She’d nudge his arm, begging to be tucked under it while she slept, curling up gently on his chest while the two of you laid out on the couch watching movies. Which is where you were now.

“So have you given it anymore thought?” Aaron asked.

“I don’t know Aaron, you don’t think it’s too soon? And what about Charlie…” You asked.

“Sweetheart, I wouldn’t have asked if I thought it was too soon. And I don’t know, maybe we could rehome her.” Aaron teased, scratching Charlie’s chin.

“Aaron!” You gasped teasingly swatting his chest. To which Charlie moved to nip at your hand. “You’d never rehome her!”

“She’s a little shit babe. Look at her, she’s trying to bite you!” He laughed.

“Because she’s protecting you!”

“Yeah well…” Aaron smirked at you.

“But she loves you! You’d never seriously consider giving her up!” You shot Aaron the biggest frown you could muster.

“No, I’d never give her up…Charlie is too damn sweet.” Aaron continued petting her head while she purred. “We will be sure to set up her cat condo in your reading room at the house sweetheart. She will be the queen of the castle…that is if you ever agree to move in.”

“Okay…yes! We will move in with you!” You smiled, hugging Aaron.

[justarandomweeb]

Yandere LL x Earth Liaison Reader

No beta read we die like fucking men and I swear I'm a dummy in English (not a first language) OH YEAH the characters might be a bit ooc since I haven't finished mtmte

Edit: um chat... this shit was not supposed to be posted um- whoops I guess??? I can't take this shit out um, I thought Tumblr ate this drabble, turns out I accidentaly posted it???

'FUCK FUCK FUCK!' a lone human curse in their head as they crouch walk inside the vents, navigating the never ending maze, watching your steps and sound. You knew those bots have good hearing, but they're not your priority to be worrying. It was Skids and those with him inside the vents, you can hear the heavy bodies thuding and thumping. He knew the ship like the back of his hand, you would say. You could have used your inbuilt digital map over the paper map you crudly and hastily drew, but you knew it would be a matter of time before Perceptor or who over is smart enough hacks into your watch and pings your location.

You wished you would've seen the signs, no...

You wished you had never dreamed of meeting aliens as a child, riding a rocket ship, and fly through space. You wished you never pushed so hard for that silly dream that soon became a nightmare.

Yet, you were blind to it. Ignoring the signs, thinking, 'Oh, it must be a cultural thing' or 'They probably are curious about humans and our culture, most of them haven't met one.' The ones who didn't liked organics in general became more softer, yet possessive as the rest of others. The prisoners coaxed you to free them from their cells, just so they'd 'express' their love. The enemies bribing you to join them, promising you unbroken loyalty and adoration.

Those innocent questions became... intimate and invasive.

Megatron, he didn't want to be near you. You didn't know if it's out of guilt or a still prejudice against the organics. You knew his history, the war, and the devastating impacts he caused. You were willing to give him a chance. You talked to him. At first, it was one-sided, and then he replied back, with small answers, acknowledgments, and comebacks. You'd tease him when you saw a small smirk. He'd deny. You joined his poetry sessions, exchanging poetry to one another, critiquing and praising each other. You'd read him classic human literature, and he'd read you cybertronian literature in those moments it was just you and him. When did it all go wrong...

Ultra Magnus he intimidated you, a big guy with those stern eyes and broad shoulders. Of course, a big man like him would be the goody to shoes, abid to the law like its his only identity. You thought you could never relate to him outside of work, that he and you will never understand one another. You'd talk when the air was empty. You'd tell him about the dumb decisions you've made when you were a kid, stealing gums and candies, sneaking in an abandoned building with friends, attending street racing, laughing at your own idiocy and stupid antics, but you reminisce the bond you had with your friends. Ultra Magnus would criticize your actions, listing all of the laws and rules you've broken. But this time, he just listened, didn't list down your crimes, keeping quiet. You don't know what he was thinking other than the possible charges you'd have if you'd have gotten caught. When did it go wrong...

When you first met Rodimus, he reminded you of a frat boy who was given leadership in a silver plate. Not taking anything seriously, meteor surfing, delaying his reports, not even paying attention half of the time on the meetings. You'd chase him down, trying to get his attention. You've felt like a mother trying to discipline an unruly child, but this child is giant fucking robot leading an expedition in outerspace. That what you'd have thought of him, till you saw his struggles. The guilt of the deaths of crewmates, what he could have done if he did things differently. You'd shoulder his burdens, cradling his helm. You'd look at him eye to eye, telling him not to blame himself that he did what he could. You'd help him out with reports. You'd hold his giant servos that it helped him be grounded on the meetings. You'd laugh at his jokes, bite back with scarastic comebacks. You final smiled at him, when those days where he feels down, you'd let him in your lap again. When did it go wrong...

You've been invited to the movie sessions with the Minicons, sharing your favorite movies and series with them. You'd hang out with Rung, help him build his miniature spacescrafts, sitting quietly with him during the sessions of his patients and letting them hold you. It felt therapeutic for them. You'd help out on medbay reaching through the cracks of patients to close the delicate wires, medics freeting over you after a successful operation. You'd gossip with them and talk about the stupid antics those bots done to be sent to medbay, trying to knock sense on those daredevils.

Your time at Lost Light was up. You wished you've stayed longer, but you definitely missed home. Your family and friends are waiting for your return. You were walking through the corridors to the meeting room to talk about your retirement when you heard yelling from the cracks of the doors.

"Can't we destroy their space bridge? Brainstorm and Perceptor can make it seem it malfunctioned. Even blow it up completely for safe measures. Besides, it's the only space bridge that connects to Earth directly."

"Rodimus please, we can't do this to them."

"Please, Mags, I know you'd don't want them gone too! I can see the way you looked at them Mags, you love them too like I do. We all do here. The crew would help out Mags, I talked to everybody on the comms, so please do it for us."

You can't believe what you're hearing, why won't they let you go home. You turn around to see three mechs, your eyes water over the betrayal. You ran before they can catch you, diving into the vents for refuge. You can hear them telling everybody you ran away, you're scared. You didn't ask for this. You're regretting everything. Maybe you should have stayed at home, be a boring office worker over being chased by crazy giant bots who refuse to let you go home.

You wonder... When Did It Go Wrong.

[kayywaiii]

good person !! ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

{prohero!izuku x neighbor!reader}

summary : after a particularly shitty night and a heroic sleep rescue leaves you keen over a mysteriously kind man, you find him again after a run in with his very not allowed cat.

mood song : carnival - the cardigans (- w - )

words : 3.3k wrds

warnings : light cursing, FLUFF, kissing, tan curly haired izuku agenda, mentions of scars+injury, crushing izuku, light themes of stalking, (not really tho) izuku goes feral for reader, reader has a dog, izuku has a cat, next door romance

authors note: i literally stopped a wip for this bc i just saw the vision like in my near future ... also like i made this cute banner and for what now i had to finish it !! also i was probably riding on the motivation of knowing izuku's the number 4 hero now uh hell yeah

You weren’t making it to class on time tomorrow, you were sure of it. 

God, could their arguing get any louder? Why this late at night? What could it possibly even be about?

Something about rent… and then something else about another girl. Then an entire monologue about heroes and villains… was this guy serious? You stared at your apartment ceiling, two pillows pressed against your ears and a hopeful thought that a lighting strike would just take both of them down ringing through your head. Maybe then you could get a full night's rest, or at the very least, enough for your class tomorrow morning. You promised to yourself that you weren’t normally that violent, just particularly sleepy– and to be fair to them you weren’t a fierce arbiter of the complex rules either. There were three:

No Loud Noises After 10pm Keep Respectful of Complex Property  Absolutely No Pets 

It’s not like you strictly followed all three… you were housing a small dog, Kiwi, even though your landlord made it personally clear that there were no pets allowed. And you tried to get rid of her a few months ago when you first moved in, you really did. But her floppy ears, spots on her cheeks that were reminiscent of freckles, and lightly browned fur had you swooning, and before you even knew it, you were already hiding her toys during inspections. 

So, maybe it felt a little hypocritical to wish death upon the couple on the breezeway outside. Still, you had half a mind to go out there and lecture them until they both worked out whatever grudge they had against each other. A dog was one thing, especially if she never barked, not even once. But these people outside— they did a whole lot of barking. And you almost got up too, clad in your pajamas and all, ready to stumble into the outdoor hallway and curse until your point got across.  But a voice, smooth and decadent interrupted their yelling, so sweet you could practically hear the soft smile he wore. The man coaxed the both of them not only to calm down, but apologize too. And… god, was he making them hug? You were baffled by the sheer volume of the diplomatic people skills this person must have been sporting, you were sure it must be their quirk. Whatever it was it got them quiet enough for you to drift off to sleep, sullen and dreaming about a man that would whisk you away with a smile.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

A shuffling at your window the next morning awoke you, dazed and confused after the best sleep in your life. Something about that guy’s voice just brought you there, damn there hanging off your twin sized bed and drool swept against the inner corner of your mouth. You lifted your head, running a hand over your hair before sliding off your bed to make a quick coffee. You muttered something about a breezy shower and– was the sun shining a little brighter this morning? You swore your copious amounts of house plants looked fuller with life today, your posters of various heroes illuminated and basking in the glory of the bright sun. You swore your small studio looked bigger in a sense, more light as you took out your takeout from the fridge. You stood at your counter, shoveling noodles into your mouth and breathing in this much needed– and much limited– time of peace. 

Another shuffling at the window just above your bed startled you, setting the takeout box down and climbing on top of the bed built into the nook of your room between the apartment and bathroom wall. A small cat purred at your window, eyes wide and big and brown, brushing its fur at the glass. It meows loudly, putting its paw over the hatch and seemingly gesturing you to open your window. Candles and small potted plants lined the ledge of the window, making it hard for you to find the lock to click it open. When you finally did, the small thing leapt through the opening and straight onto your bed. You scoff, bewildered. You weren’t the only person in the complex breaking the rules, you guessed. 

“Hey there, sweet thing…where's your owner?” You scrunch your eyebrows together, watching the cat hop down from your bed and stretch over your floor like it owned the space it sat. It let out a soft meow, large eyes blinking back at you as it skipped over your furniture and picked at your plants. Then, that voice– rugged and clearly fatigued called out from the open corridors outside. 

“Neko?” He spoke, the sounds of clattering pots and keychains ringing from right outside your apartment door. He swore faintly when a pot shattered on the ground. Swept potting mix scattered under your door at the attempt of a makeshift cleanup, the whoosh of stray dead leaves catching the cat's attention and it scratched at the door.  “Neko, come on– I’ve got work…” 

“Is that you? Are you Neko?” You mumbled, clicking open your door. Reflected green shot across your vision, sun rays passing through his curls and painting your apartment walls like the Sistine Chapel. A light breeze whisked past the green’s hair and led your eyes to his tan, freckled face, one that knocked the thoughts right from your skull. He smelled of vanilla and freshly groomed puppies, like something soft you could just flop into, sleep for a little while. He swore, eyes widening at your sudden appearance, and carding a hand lightly through his tresses. Then he groaned, trying to brush white broken clay shards into his gloved palm. 

“Crap, I’m– I’m so, so sorry… I’ll replace this.” He hurriedly muttered, flicking his head down and furrowing his brows in contained frustration. Your breath left your body, face warming in silent attraction as you cleared your throat and leaned over him to check the damage. Hundreds of tiny bits of argil sat at his feet, littered across the breezeway and towards the edge of the corridor. Bits of thick pieces you’d hand painted sat face up on the concrete, and so did the small bud that had been slowly inching towards the complex ceiling for weeks.

“Don’t… stress about it, ‘s fine. Not your fault I was too lazy to take it inside.” You choke up and force a smile, playing with a pimple on the base of the back of your neck. God, you knew you were jittery, watching him stand to his full height and cup the pieces of pot in his clunky gloves. You were hardly able to force out a coherent sentence, nevermind keep up a steady conversation with your next-door neighbor. 

Here he was, donning his hero armor and flowing yellow cape that he barely tucked under grey sweats. Chunky red shoes and gloves that clanked against his midriff, and the designs on his chest were faded and worn out. “You’re– Deku… aren’t you?” 

“Ah–Izuku,” He gives you a soft smile. “I, uh…  don’t think there’s a need for titles, we’re neighbors.” You dorkily nod, keeping your eyes anywhere but his. His presence felt overpowering, yet friendly, fit for the number four hero who not only rocketed in the ranks, but in popularity too. 

“Oh– well, thank you.” You curse internally, wishing this morning would already end. He chuckles, and that only seems to make it worse for the raging embarrassment seeping deep into your chest. He lets out an exasperated huff, shaking his head and keeping a strict eye on the doors down the hall. “I should be thanking you for sweeping this little one up.” He scoops his cat up from the floor beside you before opening his door and pushing him into the room. “He likes to roam.” A fond grin crosses his face.

“Actually– I wanted to thank you… for last night?” Your eyes bounce back up to his, taking in the way his biceps flex with every indifferent movement. Your neck heated up when his yellow scarf, faded and caked in dirt stains, fluttered behind him in the chilly spring wind. And God, you wished he was still tired and didn’t notice your shameless, obvious– and oh so necessary– ogling of him through his hero costume. “It was you wasn’t it? I– was actually able to get the best sleep.” You gushed, fighting the urge to drop to your knees and thank him raucously until the neighbors filed a complaint. It was just that important to you. Your sleep, that is. 

 He stared at you for a moment, before looking at his shoes in modesty and giving you a weak thumbs up. “It’s… no problem, really. It’s still kind of my job even if I’m off the clock.” He shuffled his feet and looked away, curt wind rushing through your thin sweater and making you shiver like a stray dog. You nodded awkwardly, about to retreat back into your studio when his voice called out again.

“I’ve got another way you could thank me!” He suddenly and practically yelled at you, catching a wrist in his blushing hand before dropping his fingers and clearing his throat.

You paused, eyes widening as you looked back at him. His face was visibly red, eyes darting with a nervousness you’d never seen displayed on a pro hero. You flushed, lashes fluttering and you felt so sick. Were you seriously about to throw up in front of him like this?

“Sorry?” You manage to mumble.

“Would…a date be okay?” He swallowed hard, bringing a calloused, gloved hand to his neck and playing with a curl. Your fingers clenched around the handle of the door, blinking in surprise and pure confusion as he watched you carefully, awaiting an answer. The silence was deafening, save for the soft meow and scratching of Neko at the door and the calm breeze whisking past the both of you in waves. Something about his clear nervousness calmed you, giving you enough courage to nod and say, “That’d– be great.”

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗

Izuku never had great luck with his words, his passionate spiels saved for the nassiest of villains who’d he believed deserved redemption. He just wanted to be a good person, someone that people regarded as a good man, like All Might. With that, his love for saving others always speaks for him, quickly leaving his mouth in perfect and persuasive sentences. With you, however? It was the most challenging thing he’s ever attempted. It'd been months before he finally spoke to you, and he was sure you hardly even knew he lived there due to your clearly starstruck expression. He’d watched you move in, heard you cursing up a storm over university homework, lugging in packages of dog food– which he knew you weren’t supposed to have. And yet still, he only hyped himself up in the expanse of his apartment, opting out of actually getting to the part where he might ask you out.

And so, he only watched you from afar– that was until today, when he’d haphazardly left his bedroom window ajar for his cat to sneak out and hop onto the flower boxes from flat to flat, keen on taking a rest in a particular someone’s bed. And now here you were, Neko languidly stretching at your feet like he hadn’t just ruined Izuku’s life. 

And Jesus did you look pretty, a thin sweater flanking a tank and pj pants hanging low on your hips. That was it, his life was ruined. He had no idea what to say to you, you who now looked at him with what he could only guess was annoyance at his breaking of your pot. And then you gave him a smile, assurance lacing your tone and a familiar excitement prevalent when you spoke again. 

“You’re Deku, aren’t you?” 

That just about killed him. And you were oh so pretty when you spoke– and when you thanked him profusely– that just about killed him too. 

Izuku scoured his brain, unable to flip through carefully picked notes and instead having to remember ounces of dating advice from Kacchan and Kirishima. His palms sweated and he brought them to wipe on his sweatpants. God, he felt like a highschooler again, that same dork who stuttered over every syllable. Kacchan would be confident, wouldn’t he? Loudmouthed, cocky– there was nothing keeping him from what he wanted. Izuku just had to channel all that. And that should be easy, right?

Shit, she’s walking away! He grimaced, feeling bile rise in his throat, catching your wrist, tongue finally betraying his mind’s first thoughts. 

“I’ve– I’ve got another way you could thank me.” He swallowed and allowed himself to meet your gaze, if only for a split moment. 

“...Sorry?” 

“Do you want to go out with me?” He tentatively asked, breach catching in his throat at your stricken expression. Your face was red, eyes widening in either shock or pure amusement. A cold wind passed, a moment passing seemingly even longer than that. And his breath all but left his body when you nodded and spoke, a smile widening on your face. 

“Okay.”

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗

His apartment was quaint, similar layout to yours, save for the bathroom adjacent to his small bed. It was a wonder he could even fit in it, you thought, looking over his height and large arms as he stood at his kitchenette opposite of the door. This setting was a lot more intimate than the first few of your dates a few months ago, your first one being to a nice restaurant, and then a lunch picnic at his agency. He always said he wanted to cook for you, which is why now, a few months into your relationship, he finally felt confident enough to do so.

 The room smelled of sizzling chicken and boiling noodles, the green bouncing from appliance to appliance muttering recipe ingredients to himself. You watched from the small arm chair he’d forced you to take a seat in, a practically offended look on his face when you offered your help.

“Are you kidding me?” He’d gawked. “Sit, I’ll cook for you.” 

So, instead you stared at pictures hung high on his apartment walls, some of his mother and others of his former classmates. Dynamight still wore his signature scowl, even as a teen, and Shoto timidly smiled for the camera. Izuku, clad in his UA uniform beamed bright, messy curls hardly kept like bright, flickering fire catching a swift air. It reminded you of your friends at secondary school, enthusiastic and eager for the world the new heros had promised. And Midoriya’s passion all but reassured you that promise would be kept. 

A short curse came from the man and the sound of glass shattering made your eyes flick up to him, his eyebrows scrunched tightly wound as he tried his best to flick the pain from his hand. You rose, quickly moving to where he was crouched near a broken glass jar and a large gash was present on his palm. Neko stretched atop the counter, eyes slit and a guilty meow coming from him. You sank next to Izuku, looking over his wound and bringing a cloth hanging from the oven to his cut. “Thanks…” He muttered, an embarrassed look in his eyes when they finally flicked up to you, to your sympathetic focus. He had to admit though, you looked really pretty up close like this. 

“Damn Neko.” He chuckled and you followed suit, helping him up and to his bathroom. It was a simple four by four, the mirror decked with motivational sticky notes and inspirational All Might posters. He blushed even more, clearing his throat and coming to a stand in front of the mirror, standing taller over the posters. “Bandages?” You asked, too preoccupied with his palm to tease him about it. “Under the sink.” He answered, voice cracking and eyes widened when you sat him down on the toilet. A comfortable silence washed over you and you as you rushed warm water over the previously used cloth and pressed it to his hand. His hands were warm, soft– apart from the countless scars littering his skin. This one, this one was just another notch added to his countless array. 

“I never pegged you for the rule breaking type, Midoriya.” You raised an eyebrow, giving him a teasing smile and he gave you a soft one back.

You rummaged through his cabinet while he watched in barely contained awe. He held his wrist, now dripping with blood and a swallow bobbing his throat as he nodded. “He’s a stray. It was cold– and it was raining… I couldn’t find it in me to leave him alone.” 

“That… sounds just like you… actually.” You chuckled, running the cloth under the water again and watching the clear liquid turn crimson. 

“What, a hero?” He wore a half-hearted smile, eyes flicking between you and his palm.

“Mm… a good person.”

His heart stuttered in his chest, breath slowing while he watched you press the bandage across his rough skin. He didn’t wince, not because it didn’t sting, but because he couldn’t help but redirect all his senses to you. His chest warmed, spreading throughout and up his throat like a liquid. You were too good and apparently you thought he was too. 

“A good person, hm?” 

“Of course.” You hummed, oblivious to the rising warmth of his cheeks and the goosebumps prickling on his skin. Did you not know how much you affected him? 

And he can’t help but lean down and capture your lips with his, leaving his bandage half lifting in the hurry of his passion. He pressed his hand to your thigh and then under it, effectively lifting you and on to his lap. Izuku tilted his head, delving deeper as you cup his freckled cheeks and giggle a soft, surprised sound. 

“Izu–” 

A strangled groan left his lips at your nickname, a knowing grin smiling into his mouth. You pushed back with just as much fervor, running your fingers over his scalp and sinking them deep into his curls. You whined when he pulled back, pressing chaste pecks to your neck and collarbone and cheek, seemingly drunk off the mere thought of you. His eyes were glazed over, hair tousled from your fingers running through it and he kept pulling you closer like you were about to disappear. He’s clearly timid, shy– but he clumsily presses his lips onto yours like he’d known to do this his entire life. 

It’s only when he hears the smoke detector ringing that he pulls away,  slipping you off his lap. He presses another kiss to your face before going to the kitchen where smoke pillows, lifting off the now burnt food and straight into the detector. He curses once more, fanning away smoke like his life solely depended on it, trying to calm the device before it annoyed the neighbors enough to contact the landlord. He carded a hand through his hair, watching you softly giggle at the entire fiasco. He let out a somewhat dejected sigh, giving you a sloppy grin and sliding across the room to cup your face. 

“I’m– sorry about dinner, love.” He exhales, but can’t help but give you more kisses on your jaw and cheek. He seemingly couldn’t pull away, large hands locked onto you like a wayward lifeline. 

“It’s cool, Zu… let's order takeout, mhm?” 

And Neko yawned, meowing in agreement atop his wooden dresser.

[eden031]

First Meetings

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Pairings: Jack Abbot x intern!f!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Epilogue

A/N: So this will be the last chapter of ‚First meetings‘ and it somehow feels very bitter sweet to post this. I will be making a masterlist soon in which the AO3 Link for the story will also be added. I wanted to thank everyone that followed this story and gave me such wonderful support. More Jack Abbot and Robby fics are in the making, though I might also post other content from time to time. My biggest goal at the moment is to finish the second part of ‚Sweet boy‘ and publish my contribution to the ADAD25 challange! I hope you all have an amazing day and lots of love from me <3

The ED was bustling with life, people running around, calling out to one another. She wasn’t sure what possessed her to agree to join the day shift again, even if it was only for three months, taking over for Collins who was on maternity leave. Looking around she saw a cluster of med students and two interns, a small smile on her lips as she thought about the fact that she had been in the same spot almost six years ago now. The interns, two young men, both tall and broad shouldered, they almost had a certain kind of frat boy way about them. Glancing around she saw Robby standing beside one of the med students, talking to her in a soft tone. Wearing a small smile she approached the senior attending carefully, knowing that he would want to talk to her before the shift started.

“Hey,” Robby spotted her, giving her a gentle smile, “Thanks for stepping up,” he half hugged her as she patted his back.

“Of course, Robby,” she smiled at him, their relationship had become more familiar since she herself was an attending, well it had already changed after she had left the position of an intern and became an actual resident at the Pitt. Robby quickly introduced her to the three med students and two interns, simply explaining to them that she was the junior attending for the day and that she would be taking the place of Dr. Collins for the time the other woman was on maternity leave.

The day started with rounds, then quickly escalated. It felt like she was being dragged from one case to the next and that there was not even one moment when she could take a breath and catch a break. One of the two interns was getting on her nerves with his constant flirting and the comments about her, telling the other intern about what he would like to do to her in the moment he thought she was not listening. It was unnerving to say the least.

Day shift was more grueling than she remembered and the moment she heard the familiar voice of her fiancè it felt like all weight was lifted off her shoulders. She just wanted to walk up to him and pull him into a hug. Turning around she saw him standing beside Robby, talking to the other man in hushed tones.

Putting the IPad down she started walking towards the two attendings, wanting to at least get a quick hug from Jack before she headed home. As she made her way over to the two men a hand caught her arm, turning around she saw the young intern, his eyes glimmering softly in the fluorescent lights of the ED, a smirk on his lips that spoke for too much confidence.

“What can I do for you, Dr. Miller?” she asked, tilting her head to the side, pulling her arm out of his grip. The overconfident smirk only grew as she did so.

“I was wondering about to head home, was wondering if you would like to join me for a coffee?” he grinned at her. For a long moment the only thing she could do was look at him and link slowly. Slowly she reached for the chain around her neck, pulling it out, the engagement ring dangling off it.

“Do you know what that is?” she asked quietly, pointing at the ring, “That is an engagement ring,”

The intern started going red, it was creeping up from his neck towards his face. His overconfident smirk falling from his features as he look at her

“And,” she paused, turning her head slightly to see if Jack was still talking to Robby. He indeed was talking to Robby, arms folded over his chest, head titled downwards slightly as he nodded along with what Robby was saying. “Do you know who that is?” she pointed at Jack, the feeling of triumph slowly growing in her chest.

The intern nodded slowly, “Dr. Abbot,” his voice was a bit squeaky now, like he wanted to vanish into the ground.

“Half correct, Dr. Abbot and my fiancè. So back off,” she spoke calmly. The intern lifted his hands, chuckling like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar and indeed backed off.

“Hm, you know I like it when you get feisty,” a warm hand sneaked around her waist, pulling her in closer to him. A small laugh escaped her as Jack pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek.

“Ready to go home?” he asked softly as she leaned her head on his shoulder. A soft hum escaped her as she nodded.

“Yeah,” she nodded, already excited to curl up in bed with the German shepherd they had gotten together.

“I already went on a run with Dexter and fed him,” Jack spoke softly, “So you just gotta cuddle the bug to sleep now,”

A soft laugh escaped her lips as she pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

“Love you and see you later,” with that she was headed home, knowing that Jack probably had already gotten her dinner.

——————

Tags: @antisocialfiore @fudosl @smileykiddie08 @darksparklesficrecs @tommosgirl06 @rosieposie88 @moonshooter @wowitsafemale @qardasngan @starlightmoon2020 @loonyloomis

[missust3l3vision]

Lost and Found

Description: When Y/ns hiding spot is a little too good, Will goes a bit mental. Good thing she knows how to calm him down.

Rushing down the falls as you heard the faint counting behind you was menacing. As James Mariott continued you finally found the perfect spot. Climbing onto a kitchen counter then opening the cabinets you knew they kept empty you managed to squeeze in.

Nobody else would be able to fit in here so you assumed you were safe. It was too tall for some of the boys and out of the realm of possibility for the others. It was perfect.

Too perfect.

An hour had passed and yet no one could find you. Your boyfriend Will was both impressed and slightly worried. Everyone else was found and yet you were still missing.

"Okay Y/n, You win! You can come out now" James called from the starting point. All his friends and some of the crew around him. And yet, you didn't move.

It wasn't on purpose, Y/n had simply fallen asleep. And so the ext few hours were full of panic and fear. Will had ripped apart every room along with the other guys.

All of them called you, only to find you left your phone in your purse in the original room. This calmed down Will slightly.

"She wouldn't leave her phone if she knew she'd be leaving, so she has to still be here" he told the group, all them nodding before continuing the search.

The cameras have been left behind for a while now. James was more worried about Will. He had been calling your name in the air BnB they rented to play.

"Mate, maybe take five?" Will shook his head, the thought of giving up was no where in his mind. He needed to find you.

Another hour had passed and you finally woke up. Finding yourself in a small dark mystery location. It took you a moment before remembering where you were when you pushed on the door.

Climbing down you walked into the starting room. It was empty, your first thought being that they had just began the search. Going to your purse you root around and grab your phone.

4 missed calls from Will? That's weird. Damn bastard was probably trying to find your spot.

💬 You calling me should be considered cheating mister

Will looked down at the buzz in his hand, not bothering to respond he bolted to the starting room and saw you standing there.

Your hair slightly messy and your cheek pink.

"Where were you!?" Y/n opened her mouth to respond but instead a yawn came tumbling out "Did you fall asleep!?" He asked even louder, by this point many of the others had come in.

"Oh yeah I guess" you said looking up at him. Your voice was slightly deeper as you continued to wake up "who won?" James came in and pointed at you dramatically

"Found you!" He let out a big breath "Okay, I'm going home" he said walking out. He was done and seeing how worked up Will was, he didn't want to stick around.

"This was supposed to be a silly game" Y/n told her boyfriend "Are you okay?" He shook his head. She hugged him. He let out a deep breath.

"I was just I don't know, scared?" He mumbled into the crook of your neck. Will was a lot of things, and emotional was definitely one of them.

You two stood there for what felt like hours but was really only a few minutes. The rest of the crew long gone by the time he let go.

"I'm sorry honey, I won't do that again. I promise" she told him, giving his cheek a small chaste kiss. One he leaned into, his pout had vanished and his smile was creeping back

"So..where'd you hide?" He asked "it was bloody good"

"That's exactly why I'm not telling you" He let out a large sigh. Dramatically flailing his arms above him

"So you do hate me!" Giving him another kiss you two walked away, and back to his car. The drive was a content quiet, the both of them in a silent understanding of each other.

[jude457]

my take on inhun hate sex

listen. this is the inhun dynamic i will die on a hill for: hate sex that stops being hate sex halfway through because inho bites off more than he can chew and both of them have to sit in the wreckage of it.

the setup’s simple: post-games. the world is a mess. guilt is a second skin. and inho, wounded and worn thin, still tries to be the frontman even when the mask is gone. gihun says something cutting, inho says something crueler, and suddenly they’re toe-to-toe, snarling like wolves in too small a cage.

gihun shouts. inho goads. they’re inches apart and vibrating with rage and something too ugly to name—and inho says it. “come on. fuck me like you’ve been wanting to since the second you saw my face.” spits “isn’t that what you want? punish me. hurt me. make it count.”

and gihun—tired, furious—does.

and inho—god, in-ho thinks he’s ready for this. he thinks sex between them is just another war if you strip it down far enough. reasons that he’s had a wife. he’s no virgin.

but he’s never bent over for anyone. never been opened. never let someone in like this.

now gihun—his obsession, his enemy—is inside him, and inho tells himself he should be able to take it. that he should want it. that there’s something filthy and right about being filled by the man he wronged. that this is punishment, yes, but also something close to intimacy. close to feeling.

but it doesn’t feel like that.

it hurts. more than inho thought it would. deeper. raw in a way that turns his stomach, not with desire but with nausea. his body goes tight, not from pleasure, but from shock—like it’s bracing against invasion. like every nerve is sounding the alarm.

inho thought it would feel darkly satisfying. like a wound kissed open. like guilt being fucked out of him. instead, it’s just… wrong. his body isn’t ready. wasn’t prepared. and now it’s failing him. clenching, trembling, burning.

his cock—previously so hard it ached—begins to soften. not from fear. not even from the shame. but because the pain is too sharp. it doesn’t leave room for anything else. and still, inho tries. he tries to want it. tries to make it mean something. he rocks his hips back against gihun’s, grinding into the thick burn of him like it’s some kind of penance. like maybe if he finds the right angle, he’ll hit pleasure through sheer force of will.

but all he finds is sting. and stretch. and that awful tearing burn that spikes higher every time he moves. inho gasps. his thighs shake. his fingers clutch the sheets like they might keep him grounded. he’s not moaning. he’s not panting. he’s gritting his teeth, biting down a sound that’s far too close to a sob.

and with every failed push back, every sharp jolt of pain, that gnawing shame settles deeper. heavy. suffocating. his cock now soft and slick between his legs, untouched, forgotten. his body folded into submission. beneath it all, that cruel voice again: you asked for this, you lit the match—you don’t get to tap out when it hurts.

gihun moves like a man who didn’t want to be there, but had needed to be. like this was the only language they could share now—skin and punishment, slick and silence. each motion rough, unforgiving, hips slamming into flesh like retribution.

and inho didn’t cry out. not at first.

he lies still beneath him, taut as wire, breathing through the pain in short, controlled bursts. gihun took it as defiance—another trick. another wall to tear down.

so he fucked him harder.

like violence. like spite. like he was trying to ruin the man from the inside out. his fingers dug into the sharp wings of inho’s hips, dragging him back onto every thrust like he owed it to him. like gihun could feel every death between them echoing in his body, and this was the only way to make it stop.

then—a sound.

soft. involuntary. a gasped, broken whimper, too fragile to belong to the man gihun had been fucking like a monster.

and everything stopped.

everything went distant. the room. the pain. the weight of gihun behind him, frozen mid-thrust. inho could still feel him there—deep, hot, wrong—but it was just sensation. raw data. nothing processed. nothing lived in.

he kept his face turned to the mattress, eyes unfocused. the sheets smelled like sex and cheap detergent. not clean. too sharp. he didn’t hear gihun’s first words. just the breath stutter. the way his body shifted like it had been punched. the sudden absence of motion.

and then, further away, gihun’s voice again—hoarse, shaking: “fuck—why didn’t you say something?”

a hand touched his lower back. too gently. like the same man who’d slammed into him moments ago was now afraid to make contact. inho blinked. once. slow. his mouth was dry. his throat ached—inho realised he’d been clenching his jaw so tightly his molars hurt.

his body was still open. exposed. emptying. there was blood between his thighs. slick where it shouldn’t be. he didn’t answer right away. couldn’t. his mouth wouldn’t form the shape of words.

gihun’s hands hovered over him now. not holding. just there. the air felt cold. and then, when it came, the words fell out soft, pathetic:

“i thought i could take it.”

inho wasn’t sure he said it aloud. but gihun heard him. he must have. because he made a sound—something wrecked. and then he moved. fast. pulled out. too careful now. too late.

and inho flinched at the loss—not because he missed it, but because the absence made the pain real again. he stayed where he was. shaking. gihun was saying something now—cursing, apologising, pacing maybe, maybe crying—but it was all static.

inho kept his cheek pressed to the bed.

he didn’t reach for comfort. didn’t expect it. he wasn’t sure he deserved to be touched—not gently. he just laid there, quiet, letting the ache settle deep, telling himself this was enough.

this was what he asked for.

and he should be able to live with that.

(who wants a fic?)

[writeriguess]

Umm wow?? So you’re just gonna come out and say you’re ‘tired’ of writing for Katsuki?? Are you serious right now?? Do you even realize how RUDE that sounds to the people who literally followed you BECAUSE of your Katsuki x Reader fics??? Like... no offense but if you’re that tired maybe you shouldn’t have made them so good in the first place 🙄

It’s actually so selfish?? Like we literally hype you up, reblog your stuff, leave comments, ASK for Katsuki and now you’re acting like it’s a burden?? You’re acting like we’re annoying for wanting more?? Girl you’re the one who made him perfect, you’re the reason we’re obsessed and now you’re blaming us for it??? That’s messed up.

You’re acting like you owe us nothing when without us your fics would get like 2 likes. You wouldn’t even be relevant. It’s honestly really disappointing to see you switch up like this. You got popular off Katsuki and now you’re throwing a tantrum and acting like a victim because people want you to keep going?? That’s so fake.

Sorry but if you're tired of Katsuki then maybe we’re tired of YOU.

I really wasn’t going to say anything. I’ve been quietly blocking messages like this for the past two weeks — literally dozens of them, varying in length but all with the same tone: entitled, angry, and genuinely mean. I told myself it would die down if I just let it pass. I didn’t want to engage, I didn’t want to draw attention to it, and I definitely didn’t want to make drama out of something that might just be a handful of people taking things too far.

But then I got this one — and it’s not even the worst, but it’s the perfect example of what I’ve been dealing with behind the scenes. So I’m going to use it to make something clear:

I said I was tired. That’s it. I said I was tired of writing only Katsuki x Reader content because at the time, he made up three-quarters of my inbox. I wanted variety. I wanted to explore other characters I love and stories that haven’t been told a hundred times. I didn’t say I hated him, I didn’t say I was never going to write for him again — I said I wanted balance. I asked for space.

And the answer from parts of this fandom was to send me things like this.

You know what that feels like? It feels like I’m not a person anymore. I’m just a content machine — a vending machine for comfort fic, and if I don’t produce exactly what certain people want, I get spit on. I’m told I’m selfish, rude, irrelevant, ungrateful — for daring to say I’m tired. Not bad at writing. Not done forever. Just tired.

I know this isn’t everyone. I know I have amazing readers who leave kind comments, who enjoy everything I write, Katsuki or not. But the thing is — when this kind of thing floods your inbox every time you log in, it drowns everything else out. It wears you down. It makes you scared to post, scared to speak, scared to say the wrong thing because someone might twist it into a personal betrayal.

One of my close friends warned me before I even started this blog: “MHA is one of the most toxic fandoms out there. Be careful.” I didn’t listen. I loved the characters. I loved the community I thought I saw. But if I had known it would be like this — if I had known that asking for breathing room would be met with hate — I wouldn’t have started writing for this fandom at all. And right now, I don’t know if I want to keep going.

If you’ve ever treated a writer, artist, or creator like this — please know you’re not just giving “honest feedback.” You’re pushing real people to burn out. And when they finally step away, you’re the reason why.

I need to take a step back and decide where I go from here. If I keep writing Katsuki, it’s going to be because I want to, not because people yell at me until I break. If that’s not good enough for you, go find another blog to harass. This isn’t the place.

To those of you who have been kind, patient, and supportive — thank you. You have no idea how much that means right now.

[mysteriousxgirls]

Liyana wasn’t angry. Not really. Anger would’ve been easier—cleaner, sharper. But this? This was something messier, heavier. Frustration knotted in her chest like a tightly wound thread, twisting with every breath. She didn’t understand how he could think she was lying—why he’d think she’d ever make something like this up. She had no reason to. No motive, no gain. Only the truth she had clung to all those years, believing it had just gone unheard. She was already walking away, heart beating too loud in her ears, when she felt it—his hand closing around her arm. Her breath hitched sharply in her throat, chest freezing mid-inhale. His touch wasn’t rough, but it pulled her back—physically, emotionally. Closer to him. Closer to the thing she’d been trying to escape since she stepped out of that booth. She turned to face him, heart pounding now for a different reason. Her eyes searched his, saw the storm in them. And then he spoke, voice low, almost hoarse. No blame. Just disbelief. Hurt, tangled in every word.

Her own voice broke before she could fully control it. “You’re saying I’m lying?” she asked, staring at him like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “That I didn’t pour my heart into those letters just for you to never receive them?” The words tore out of her, shaky and raw. She’d written to him in the quiet moments between auditions and exhaustion, on trains, in tiny apartments, under dim lights with trembling hands. She’d bled into those pages, thinking of him, needing him to know she hadn’t forgotten. That he still mattered. Back then, she had no one. No manager, her parents still living in Medellin. She had no time, no structure—just hope. That was when Ryan came into the picture. He was her friend at first and when things got overwhelming, she’d trusted him to help. She had asked him to send the letters. She remembered the way she’d handed them over, one after another, sealed and scribbled with her heart in every word.

But what if... what if they never made it to Diego? Her breath caught in her throat. Her voice dropped to a whisper, more to herself than to him. “Fuck… I—I think Ryan never sent them.” The thought staggered her. A part of her wanted to deny it, to push it away and keep believing in something better. But another part, the quiet, honest part that always knew when something was wrong, couldn’t find another explanation. Would Ryan really do that? Would he be that cruel? Or careless? Her gaze lifted to meet Diego’s, and all she saw was hurt. Not just his—but hers, mirrored back at her. “Diego…” she said, softly, stepping closer. Her hand reached for his cheek, thumb brushing lightly against skin that had once felt like home. A single tear escaped down her face, cutting a path she didn’t bother to wipe away. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” For the letters. For the lost time. For trusting the wrong person. For ever leaving. For everything.

Diego didn’t move at first. He sat there, eyes fixed on the swinging door, the hum of the pizza place bleeding back in. Warm sunlight slanted through the windows, catching the edge of the table where the crumpled bills sat—too much money, left behind like punctuation at the end of something irrevocable. He dragged in a breath, sharp and unsteady, and then pushed himself up. The booth creaked beneath the sudden motion, but he barely noticed. Tension had shifted in his chest—no longer the heat of frustration, but something colder. A question without an answer.

Out on the street, the afternoon unfolded bright and unbothered. A breeze carried the scent of warm bread and diesel fumes, mingling with the tang of fried cheese from the food cart at the corner. “Liyana,” came the call—low, rough around the edges. A few long strides brought him closer. Fingers closed gently around her arm—just to reach. Her skin was warm, tense beneath his hand. He pulled her body towards him, cutting off the space she was retreating into. In the sunlight, her eyes looked darker, guarded. For a moment, he didn’t speak. “You didn’t write to me,” he said, quieter now—voice stripped down to something real. “I waited, Liyana. Every damn week, I checked. Nothing.” No accusation, just confusion softened with hurt. A crack he hadn’t let show until now. Eyes searched hers, brow knit—not in anger, but in disbelief, maybe even guilt. The noise of the city carried on around them, loud and indifferent. But between them, a silence hung heavy, waiting.

[silkpagess]

Una Notte a Roma - Part I

Hi! This is my very first fanfic, so I’m a little nervous but super excited to share it with you. Thank you for reading it and I hope you enjoy this little Roman adventure as much as I enjoyed writing it 💫 (pls pls pls reblog if you liked it :)

Summary: Y/N’s just trying to enjoy her time in Rome—wine, karaoke, and maybe a little chaos. She definitely doesn’t expect to cross paths with Harry Styles at a random bar. He’s low-key, charming, and way too handsome for her peace of mind. What starts as one flirty, unexpected night turns into something neither of them saw coming. It’s messy, magnetic, and totally unforgettable—because when in Rome… right?

word count: 2k

It’s just another night in Rome, nothing too special, right?

The air outside felt like the remnants of the day, warm but with a breeze that pulled at your clothes, urging you to breathe deeply, to live in the moment. Y/N had been in Italy for just a few weeks, enough to know where the good gelato spots were, but not enough to feel entirely comfortable speaking Italian without second-guessing every word. She’d signed up for the exchange program on a whim, a last-minute decision, and now she was here, surrounded by cobblestones and ancient history, living on a schedule that barely made sense.

The bar she walked into was small, tucked between two old buildings in the heart of Rome, the neon lights flickering above the door, promising both danger and excitement. It was the kind of place where tourists and locals collided, unpredictable, but always interesting. Her friends were already sitting at a table near the back, laughing and talking in a mix of Italian and English, trying to decide who was going to be the first to grab the microphone when the karaoke started. Y/N didn’t really feel like singing tonight, but she could already tell they’d drag her into it anyway. It was just what they did.

She didn’t notice him at first, not really. Harry was sitting at the bar with a group of friends, quietly observing the room as if he were trying to blend into the background. He didn’t want to stand out, not tonight. The last thing he wanted was to be recognized, so he’d come to this bar, hoping that people would be too caught up in their own lives to notice him. But as she passed him on her way to the table, something shifted. He couldn’t help but notice her, how her laugh rang out in the chaos of the bar, how her dark hair bounced with every step, how the look on her face was one of carefree confidence. There was something magnetic about her, something that drew his attention and held it even as he tried to look away.

He couldn’t explain it, but there was something about her presence that felt... familiar. Not in the sense of "I’ve seen her before," but more like she was the kind of person you were always meant to meet. And when their eyes met briefly, the world seemed to slow down, just for a second. A moment that didn’t mean much to anyone else but meant everything to him.

She didn’t acknowledge him at all. She was too busy catching up with her friends, laughing, exchanging stories, her eyes sparkling with the kind of joy that only came when you were in a foreign place, away from home, doing something you’d never thought you’d do.

But Harry couldn’t stop looking at her.

⸻

The night dragged on with the usual chaos of a karaoke bar, people singing off-key, others trying too hard to impress, and some just there for the drinks and atmosphere. But as the first notes of Queen’s "Don’t Stop Me Now" blared through the speakers, Y/N jumped out of her seat like she was born for this moment. She had no shame, no hesitation. She was the kind of person who lived in the moment, the kind who threw herself into things without looking back. Her friends followed suit, their energy contagious, and soon, the entire bar was swept up in the beat.

Y/N wasn’t just singing, she was dancing, pulling people into the circle with her, encouraging everyone to join in. Her body moved with a kind of reckless abandon, like she was the only one in the world who mattered, like this moment, right now, was all there was. Harry’s eyes never left her, and neither did the grin that slowly spread across his face. She was a whirlwind of energy, laughter, and life.

The bartender, a grizzled older man with a thick accent, glanced over at Harry and his friends, raising an eyebrow. “What a character, huh?” he muttered under his breath, his lips curling into a smile.

“Yeah," Harry replied, his voice quiet but amused. "A character."

⸻

When the song ended, the energy in the room didn’t dip, it only grew stronger. People were still clapping, laughing, and shouting as Y/N made her way back to the bar, her cheeks flushed from the dance, her breath still coming in short bursts from the exertion. She walked past Harry again, close enough for him to catch the scent of her perfume—a soft, floral scent that seemed to hang in the air long after she’d moved on.

He didn’t know what possessed him, but he couldn’t let it go. He stood up and walked towards her, his steps deliberate, each one bringing him closer to the girl who had somehow captured his attention without even trying.

"Hey," he said when he reached her. His voice was low, but it carried an ease to it. “You’ve got some serious skills on that mic."

Y/N glanced up at him, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to place him, then shrugged. “I’ve been practicing my rockstar moves for years.” She shot him a grin, the kind that told him she wasn’t taking him too seriously. She was fun, she was playful, and he could already tell she had a sharp wit. “But thanks, I guess.”

Harry laughed, leaning casually against the bar. “I’m Harry, by the way. I know this might sound weird, but you kind of just... owned that performance.”

Her eyes flicked to his, and for the first time, she seemed to really register who he was. Not just some random guy in a bar, but the Harry Styles, or at least, that was what he thought she was thinking.

But all she said was, “Well, I’m Y/N, and if you’re expecting me to serenade you, you’ve got the wrong idea. I only do public performances for my friends.”

There was a challenge in her voice, a spark in her eyes, and Harry found himself leaning in, intrigued by this girl who seemed to have no interest in fame or recognition, who was just... herself.

“I wasn’t expecting anything,” he replied with a grin. “But I wouldn’t mind hearing more.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Well, you’ll have to catch me on a better night, Harry.”

“I think tonight’s pretty great,” he said, his smile widening.

She didn’t answer immediately, taking a moment to look him over—really look at him, her eyes scanning him with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “You’re one of those people who likes to keep a low profile, aren’t you?” she said, the corner of her lips curling up just slightly.

“Something like that,” he replied, shifting slightly. “And you?”

She snorted, a playful sound that caught him off guard. “I’m not trying to keep a low profile. I just... don’t care what people think.”

Harry chuckled, his gaze softening. “I think I can respect that.”

Y/N leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “Good. Because if you ever want a proper performance, you’ll have to catch me when I’m not surrounded by my loud, obnoxious friends.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Harry said, his voice low, teasing. "But for tonight, I’m more than happy to just watch."

And for the rest of the night, that’s exactly what he did, watched as she danced, sang, and lived in a way that made everything around her fade into the background.

It wasn’t just her energy or her confidence that captivated him. It was the fact that she didn’t need anyone else’s approval, that she could exist in the world as herself, unapologetically, without a care.

And Harry realized, as he watched her go back to her friends, laughing and shouting, that he hadn’t felt this intrigued by anyone in a long time.

Maybe it wasn’t just about the performance after all. Maybe it was about the person. 

And maybe, just maybe, it was about time for him to stop watching from the sidelines.

⸻

The night wore on in a haze of laughter and neon lights, the kind of night that didn’t feel real until the morning after. Harry stayed close, never quite hovering but always within reach. Occasionally, Y/N’s eyes would find his across the room, once during a particularly ridiculous rendition of “Livin’ on a Prayer,” another when she was taking a sip of her drink and caught him smiling at her like he’d never seen anything quite like her before.

And for the first time in a long time, she let herself enjoy being seen.

It wasn’t until her friends began gathering their things that Y/N realized how late it had gotten. The bar had thinned out, and the cool Roman night pressed in through the open door, carrying the scent of the Tiber and distant music from another street. Her cheeks hurt from smiling, her voice was hoarse from singing, and her feet ached in the best way.

She stepped outside with her friends, the group spilling into the quiet street like kids leaving a school dance. Some were headed to a club, others were calling cabs or figuring out the late-night bus schedule. Y/N pulled her phone out to check the time just as a voice called from behind.

“Hey, Y/N.”

She turned, expecting one of her friends—but it was Harry, hands in his jacket pockets, hair a bit tousled by the breeze.

“You walking back?” he asked.

“Yeah, I live just a few blocks that way.”

“I’ll walk you,” he said simply.

She hesitated for half a second, then nodded. “Alright.”

They walked side by side down a narrow street lit by antique lamps, the stones underfoot uneven and slippery in places. It was quiet now, the noise of the bar a distant echo, replaced by the soft hum of the city at rest.

“You always like this?” Harry asked after a stretch of silence.

Y/N glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“You know… fearless. Like nothing can touch you.”

She laughed under her breath. “That’s just a good performance. Truth is, I barely know what I’m doing most of the time. I’m constantly second-guessing everything.”

He looked at her, a flicker of surprise in his expression. “You hide it well.”

“That’s the trick,” she replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Fake it until you start to believe it yourself.”

Harry smiled. “That’s fair. But still… it suits you. That boldness. That energy.”

Y/N tilted her head, a little amused, a little unsure. “Are you always this poetic, or is it just the Italian air?”

He laughed. “Maybe a bit of both.”

They reached her street, a quiet stretch flanked by old apartment buildings with wooden shutters and ivy crawling up the sides. Alice paused at her door, turning to face him.

“Well, this is me,” she said softly.

Harry nodded, but he didn’t step back. “You’ve made tonight feel... different. Good different.”

She looked at him for a long second. “You’re not bad company yourself.”

There was a pause—a charged moment where neither of them moved, where the possibilities of the night hovered between them like a held breath.

“Would it be too much if I asked to see you again?” he asked, his voice quiet.

Y/N smiled slowly, her eyes meeting his. “You already have. But if you’re asking if you can be part of the next performance...”

He leaned in, the space between them narrowing. “Only if you promise I won’t have to sing.”

She chuckled. “No promises.”

And then, before either of them could talk themselves out of it, she leaned in and kissed him. Soft and brief, more like a question than a statement—but it was enough to make Harry forget every reason he’d had for hiding that night.

When she pulled away, she said, “Good night, Harry,” and disappeared behind the heavy wooden door.

He stood there for a moment, lips still tingling, heart beating in a rhythm he hadn’t felt in years.

Rome had a way of sneaking up on you.

And so did she.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

The Soldier and the Nurse

John Walker x fem!reader

warning : kissing, hurt/comfort, hand-holding, blood and wounds, mutual feelings, tiny emotional, no use of Y/n

Summary : He was a soldier who, even as a hero, always tried to protect everyone with his shield. Even the best soldier gets hurt, though, and John finds himself in the infirmary of the tower, once again with a nurse he had visited many times before. This time, however, it seems different, because when concern meets amusement, two hearts finally find each other.

info: Finally, a John Walker one-shot! I knew I wanted something lighthearted. John is just perfect, and I hope you enjoy reading it ;)

masterlist

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

Whenever there was danger, he was always there, always on the front line, doing everything he could to protect civilians and his comrades. Whether it meant killing or getting shot himself, John Walker saved many lives in his lifetime because that was his job.

A soldier since he could think, he wanted to help people and do good, because all he ever did was follow orders and complete missions.

Since he was first hit by a bullet, he had learned two things: the pain was only brief, and he had survived.

Even after he received the shield with the star and tried to be a good successor, he always wanted to help. What this led to was another injury, a broken arm, the loss of his shield, betrayal by the system that had built him up, and his wife leaving him with their young son.

For a moment, John Walker seemed to have lost everything, and all the injuries he had suffered seemed nothing compared to the pain of disappointment and failure.

However, the pain he took out on his targets during Valentina's missions was only a temporary solution.

John carried out his missions precisely and quickly, trying to relieve as much of the stress and hopelessness he had accumulated as possible.

The truth was that, until the moment before the Thunderbolt, he would just go back to his apartment, look around, hate himself, hate the system, and simply wish that someone was by his side.

He wanted someone by his side, he wanted to have a partner again, someone he loved who would really tell him that he was needed... but it wouldn't take that long.

After the Thunderbolts had formed, they all faced a threat greater than anything else and had almost remained in the Void forever, he had found a place. A home in the Tower of Aveners, but above all, he had found it alongside his friends.

The kind nurse who worked with a team to treat the team's injuries, a young woman who saved people not on the front lines but in the infirmary.

A woman who, when John saw her for the first time after the rescue in New York, it wasn't the adrenaline in his body that made him pause.

How can she see so much suffering and injury and still have such a warm heart? the blond thought as he took off his shield and sat on the stretcher, waiting for her to take care of him.

She had a gentle, reassuring smile on her lips, handed out bandages, gave instructions, and took care of even the smallest civilians with a caution that resembled that of a saint.

Until she turned to him and paused when she saw the metal spike in his chest “Mr. Walker, this needs to be treated immediately,” she said hurriedly, and he couldn't help but smile.

The serum had made him more stable and resilient than a normal person, but seeing how much she cared made him smile.

“Just call me John. Don't worry, I'm not going to die that quickly,” he said, trying to reassure her and raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture.

She took his hands and put them back down, because despite everything, he was still a human being who was losing more blood with every movement, and she set about treating him.

During the whole time they exchanged glances, John tried to talk about his missions or ask her how she was feeling until she finished with a relieved sigh and dropped the metal into a bowl.

“You're my hero, John, but you're still vulnerable. Please be careful next time” she said, giving him a grateful look as he got up from the stretcher and saluted her with a smile, waving goodbye.

That was the first meeting between the soldier and the nurse, but it wouldn't be the last, because after a few months, everything had returned to normal.

The Thunderbolts had established themselves as a real team, had moved into the tower, which was almost completely restored, and the infirmary, with the team under her leadership, had also settled in.

During these months, John visited her again and again, his nurse, what began with simple conversations continued with small gifts from his missions and a few attempts at a meal together.

It was more or less an open secret that they had feelings for each other, that whenever the soldier's blue eyes turned to her, he was enchanted, and that her gaze attracted him and warmth burned on her cheeks whenever she saw him training.

It seemed as if they both wanted each other, but neither knew quite how to make the first move, until the day she got the call and an agitated Yelena shouted, “Get the station ready, Walker's been hit, multiple shots!” the blonde sent over the data that the technical equipment had recorded.

If it had been anyone else, she would have remained calm and responded professionally, but when she heard Walker and saw John's vital signs continuing to decline, watching him get worse with every passing moment, her heart sank, the fear and panic overwhelmed her, and she clung to the table for a moment.

Would all the time she had spent with John be for nothing? In a moment of determination, she rushed through the ward, alerted her team, and turned on the equipment.

These were the emergencies she had trained for. But now, when it came to John, as she prepared everything, she knew that her heart, torn between love and concern, must not influence her talent.

She would talk him down, she had to save him because she didn't want to lose the man she had fallen in love with. Waiting anxiously on the upper floor and landing pad of the jet for it to land, the harsh wind blew around the group.

The cold up here was secondary to the wind, the others in the team were secondary to Walker. He came between Alexei and Bucky, who were holding the injured man.

Even from a distance, she could see the dark blood staining his suit. “Get him on the stretcher, I want to start the operation immediately before his wounds close!” dhe called out and gave her friends a grateful look.

Now it was up to her and the team to save the hero who had saved them and the lives of all of New York.

It only took a few minutes for them to find themselves in the tower's operating room. Normally, such a wound would be fatal, but it could be treated quickly. But with John and his serum, every moment that passed, his body began to heal itself.

This was actually fatal in the case of gunshot wounds, because once the bullet entered the skin, it would become infected and then the damaged body would have to be cut open again.

Come on, John, please, don't do this to me, she thought as she had to cut the skin open again to find the third bullet. It had almost damaged his rib; if it had been just a few centimeters further in, but when she held the small metal object between the forceps and set it aside.

Exhaling quickly when she realized he had made it, they began to sew up the wound and he just needed rest, but the trembling of her hands and the tears in her eyes as soon as she sat down at his side in the hospital room were only her fear for his life.

The team had already been here, all relieved that he would pull through, but also visibly shaken that Walker had been so badly hurt.

“He threw himself in front of me, his shield protected Bucky even though he knew it would hit him full force” Ava said, blinking away her tears as she pulled the dark-haired woman into an embrace and the team hugged each other, it was Bob who brought Walker an extra blanket so he wouldn't get cold while he slept.

They were all more than friends, they were a family who looked out for each other, and Walker was the shield that protected them all, just like he had done this time.

It took another hour before she saw any movement from the older man. He moved his hand and let out a painful sound as he opened his eyes dazedly. “John!” she cried, and her hand instinctively went to his, despite everything he had been through, he still had that protective warmth.

He was still there, and his “It's me...how did it go? Is everyone okay?” brought her to tears, and the tears she had been holding back ran down her cheeks.

Despite everything, he had deliberately thrown himself in front of Ava, risking his life once again, and now his first thought was of everyone else but himself.

Her weak nod reassured her, and the tension left him as if he was now allowing himself to fully feel his injuries. His friends were okay, and that was the main thing. Yet the room was still filled with the sound of her emotions.

She felt his other hand stroking her head, reassuring and caring, even though it should have been the other way around. “Hey, sweetheart, it's okay, I'm fine. I'm here with you, okay?” he tried to calm her down, placing his hand under her chin and bringing her to look at him.

Her tear-stained eyes looked into his blue ones, her concern meeting his unfathomable amusement “You're just as beautiful as you were when you first patched me up,” he said, and the smile on his lips made her smile.

As she wiped away her tears and was simply relieved to have him back, to have John with her, she felt him place his hand on her cheek. “I love you, John” the words escaped her lips and she felt his lips on hers.

He pulled her toward him, held her close, and she finally felt him kiss her, finally feeling the love that had been blossoming between them for so long.

She felt his smile, how his hand held hers tightly as they parted, and the relief and joy between them was palpable. “I thought I'd never hear that. I love you too,” John admitted, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it.

Finally able to kiss the woman he had fallen in love with all those months before, and knowing that this meant saving his friends as well as winning her love, he gladly took the risk of getting shot again.

John pulled her gently toward him, she held on to him, snuggled up to her lobe, and pulled Bob's blanket tighter around them both as they fell asleep, exhausted but completely content, holding each other, knowing that the soldier had finally found love in the nurse.

That the two protectors and saviors had finally found each other and confessed their love for one another.

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

@neska223 , @bribrisposts , @brisselfshipping , @redlightgreenlight01 , @marleywrites , @addi-florida , @peopleeater , @lilbit32, @marvelnerd18