#and it just makes me feel like everything will be fine

[madamechrissy]

Escort! Satoru- part five

Pairings- Escort Satoru Gojo x shy CEO F! reader

Warnings- mutual pining like a mf, obsessed ass/whipped ass Gojo, mutual pining, lots of yearninggg, kissing (I KNOW YAYYY) dry humping, teasing, fingering, public play, fluffy and cute- there will be a part six! (final) pretty woman vibes 🤭

<<<Part Four

Escort! Satoru finally does it, he asks you on that date, watching the shock in your eyes, the trembling of your lips as you step back, and Satoru feels it then, the hammering of his heart. Is it too late? Should he have reached out again to you after the first night, when you didn't answer? His blue eyes peer at you over those glasses, as the sunlight beats down on your skin, making his cheeks just a little reddened, striking across his pale skin.

Escort! Satoru eases his hands gently off your face, when you swallow nervously - he hurt you so badly that night, the embarrassment of asking him to hold you, dying for a mere kiss on the lips. How could you be so foolish, truly, you had to try to forget him in any way you could, after sleeping with him and knowing he would never be yours, always sharing him, he was just there because of your money and maybe he enjoyed it. But it wasn't more.

Escort! Satoru realizes how much he fucking missed you now, as if some void is filled by your presence, but you lower his hands gently, holding them for a moment. 'I was so...' stupid, you were stupid 'I'm very sorry I asked you for things you never do,' you sigh, looking around, seeing people walk by. 'I should have respected your-' Satoru stops you then, tilting your chin up, your gaze focused on him. 'I should have held you, okay? I'm sorry...' you feel your eyes fill with the tears, as words you've dreamed of are spoken, and they feel just like that- a dream. 'I want a real date, could we?'

Escort! Satoru eyes you when your phone rings, and you look down nervously. 'I have a date tonight, the first in... years' Satoru steps back now, glaring at you. 'With who?' you blink in surprise. 'Why does it matter to you? Do you think after months I wouldn't ever wanna try?' Satoru grips your wrist, thumb brushing against the veins gently, sending shivers down your spine, as he tries to compose himself, he has no right to be so mad, so jealous. 'Fine, then give me a date after' he murmurs, desperate for you, how can he see you and not try? After everything he's been yearning for appears before him, and he knows how badly he fucked up. 'I don't know...' you want to, god you do, but you also know how badly Satoru can hurt you, uniquely. 'Please just, give me a chance to explain myself, to be myself and not...' he trails off, the wind blows gently and a little blossom lands on your hair, which he sweetly brushes away. 'One chance'

Escort! Satoru is furious thinking about anyone touching you, though it's toxic and unrealistic in every aspect. His job was to touch, though he'd throw it all away if you asked, god he would, because he doesn't find joy in any of it. No amount of money fills this emptiness, but he never thought he'd have a chance with you - only to ruin it. 'I'll go out with you this weekend, but you pick the place, and pick me up' you say softly, his heart thuds as he nods eagerly, desperate and pathetic for you - something he's never been until you ruined him with just your energy, your body, that laugh he'd love to have back. Memories of your night fill him then, as he aches to touch you, to know you, to kiss you.

Escort! Satoru plans the date to a tee, but the whole time he's wondering - where are you going, and with who? Would you prefer them over him? Meanwhile you're trying to get through that date, mind wandering, you just tried to open up for the first time since Satoru broke your heart - even if it was your own fault. You try to smile, and enjoy him, a handsome man that surely was perfect on paper, and interested in you. As the night goes on and the drinks pour, you think to yourself, you should try, letting him kiss you at the end of the evening, wondering what you'll feel. It's nice, but it's nothing like just being near Satoru. Frustrated almost to tears, you're laying in bed that night, as the man in your head that you almost pushed down enough, is back front and center.

Escort! Satoru can't stand it, knowing you're on a date, he almost texts you so many times before he caves - 'ready for our date?'- he smirks, hoping your with whoever it was. But you don't answer him for hours, until you finally write him - yes - and that's it, no sweet banter like the two of you had. It's different, had you really already moved on? He trembles as he texts you - 'how was the date?' - and you write - 'it was fine, any jobs tonight? - and that's when he realizes you're mad. The sweetest girl he met is so clearly mad. He hadn't taken a job tonight, and he's cancelled his week, but he gets it clearly. - 'no job tonight, I'm excited to see you' - He's never said that to anyone. You heart the message, emotions catching, excitement but apprehension in equal parts, you just don't know if he's serious, you're so scared to let go again.

Escort! Satoru picks you up that night in his car, some little Maserati sports car that looks like it goes way too fast. You can't act like he's not sexy as fuck as he steps out of it, opening your door and grinning at you, but you try to hold back, smiling with a 'thank you' as you slide in next to him. Satoru's hand craves to press on your thigh, but fuck if he's not nervous, he hasn't had a date since he started this career despite his job being to go on dates, not a real one, not with someone he asked. He's damn near shaking with his nerves, trying to play it off, as he drives through the quiet streets, smiling over at you with a quirk of his lips. 'You look beautiful' his words make you flustered, nervously tugging a bit on the gorgeous dress you're wearing, glittering like the stars in the sky - fuck your very skin itself glitters. 'you're saying it truly this time?'

Escort! Satoru glares now, foot on his break, scowling at you. 'what do you mean truly? you think I didn't mean any of it?' you blink back unexpected tears, looking out the dark tinted window as he drives once more. 'It was your job, that's all, and I told you I took it too far, you shouldn't feel bad that happened. I - ah!' he skids to a stop suddenly, pulling off the side of the road, and unbuckling your seatbelt so fast you can barely register. He's got you on his lap so fast, as cars whirl by, shaking the fucking car and shocking you further, as he handles you like it's nothing. You brace your hands on his chest, so nervous now, hands clenching the black jacket of his tux, breaths faster and faster. 'You are beautiful, I never said that because of a job' he swipes away your tears, lips hovering over yours, as he exhales, breath tickling your lips. 'What are you doing, Satoru?' your whisper is weak, as he drags you even closer, and his eyes dart to your lips. 'What I should have done that night'

Escort! Satoru slams his lips on yours then and there, you feel it like hot, electric shots going through your body when he does, when he's pressing those plush, glossy lips on yours, and you're shattering over him, lost in his kiss. Satoru has never felt anything like it, like finally kissing you, his tongue slipping in your mouth, drinking up your every cry, every gasp, as you roll your hips just right, and he feels the heat he's been dying for against his aching cock. 'Fuck...' his hushed words are met with your little cry, which just has him dragging you down harder, ready to devour every sweet inch of you, but barely being able to drag himself from your lips, gasping as he pulls back, eyes meeting yours, glimmering now. 'Satoru you... kissed me...' you're close to crying now, trembling as he sighs, cupping your pretty face, the one that's haunted him. 'I've wanted to since I first saw you'

Escort! Satoru keeps kissing you, over and over, desperate and messy, you almost cum just from that friction against you, his teeth sinking into your lower lip, as his huge hands press into your skin. 'I need you, fuck I need you sweetheart- god you have no clue' you're easing back, struggling to compose yourself. 'Am I so VIP?' you tease softly, and he feels it then, the soft way you're asking - not judging, but scared. He exhales, resting his head on yours, shaking his head and pulling you down again. 'I'll gladly delete my whole fucking profile, for a chance with you' his words sink in fully. Your cheeks are hot under his gentle touch. 'I just don't... Satoru, you don't have to do this for me. I understand...' He kisses you once more, before your phone rings.

Escort! Satoru glares, and you can't help but giggle. 'Are you jealous?' he just sets his jaw, as you look over and see it, holding the phone with a shaky hand, and he pulls you harder on his cock, having your eyes roll back in your skull. 'Tell him you're on a date' he whispers, gripping you so tight, before easing you to sit back in your seat, kissing you over and over. 'Let's get there, okay?' you're trying to compose yourself, seeing him shift and wince while he drives once more, pouting. 'You enjoying my pain, sweets?' you can't help but giggle again. The date is pretty and serene, the restaraunt on the roof top, swathed in moonlight. Satoru feeds you carefully, the two of you sharing dessert, talking and laughing like the first time he fucking met you - when he knew then, something was so special about you, something he could never pin fully, but he sees it, with how the candle light hits your face, your sweet blush as his hand slips up your thigh.

Escort! Satoru is not happy to learn you've had a kiss, and your amused little smile is quickly lost, when he slips his fingers between your thighs, and you wildly look around, as he smirks at you. 'That's cute, you kissed? did you like that?' he's taunting now, possessive gaze, that you can't get enough of, fuck you want all of him, even though you're scared, so scared to be hurt again. He's pressing his fingers against your panties, which are soaked, watching as your eyes get lidded, hand gripping the thick white cloth, and he slips under then, feeling the heat he'd been dying for, leaning in close. 'Asked you a question, hmm?' you lean closer, hips shifting, jerking as he thumbs your twitchy little clit, making you gush. 'Would you be mad if I liked it, Satoru?' he sighs, slipping two fingers in your slick hole, making you almost moan in the fucking restaurant now. 'You're wet for me, aren't you, all me?' He's curling them now, acting so casual as a waitress refills your wine, and you pray no one hears the squishing noises your juices are making.

Escort! Satoru can't help but suck you off his fingers, right before he makes you cum, and you're throbbing around nothing, wanting. You're clenching your teeth as you watch, as if he's finishing his dessert- and when he tastes you again!? He can barely control himself, eyes dilated while you sink into his tastebuds, ready to finally give you what you want, and need, and deserve, fuck you so good you can't function, and hold and kiss you. Satoru slips his lips on yours in front of the restaurant, and you taste yourself, whining into his lips. Suddenly a girl sees him, a frequent client who'd gotten too obsessed, and walks right up to him, crossing her arms. He eases back in the seat, as you look down shyly, unsure of who she is. 'I'm on a date' his words make your heart flutter now, as she glares. 'ah, so you do kiss? was this some special package, do you know how expensive you are?' you bite back a smile, and Satoru just grins, shaking his head like a little shit. 'It's different, she's my girlfriend.'

Escort! Satoru blushes when you whisper 'your girlfriend, huh?' in his ear moments later, as a very angry client stomps off, and he brushes back your hair, hard body against yours, studying your face. 'Would you... be my girlfriend?'

I need one more part for these two - it'll probably be all sex lolll hope you enjoy this one!

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[hauntedhowlett-writes]

STITCHED TOGETHER

PAIRING: michael “robby” robinavitch x female reader

RATING: explicit

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

SUMMARY:

after accidentally cutting your hand, you seek out your neighbor for help. a favor becomes a friendship and a friendship becomes something more.

TAGS/WARNINGS:

no use of y/n, dual pov, mentions of blood/wounds, mentions of domestic/child abuse (a case at the hospital), hurt/comfort, neighbors to lovers, baked goods as a flirting mechanism, explicit sexual content (18+ mdni), vaginal fingering, edging, oral - f receiving, light choking, praise kink, dirty talk, kissing, begging, p in v, multiple positions - missionary and cowgirl, a sprinkle of domesticity

Your hand pulses with pain. The dish towel you’ve wrapped tightly around your palm is now stained with blood. You raise your fist to knock on your neighbor’s door, hoping that he’s home. You don’t know much about Robby, but you know he works long shifts at the ER, always leaving the apartment with a thermos of coffee and coming home late with shadows under his eyes.

There’s no answer to your knock, no sounds of movement from behind the door, and you mumble a curse beneath your breath. You lift the towel from your palm to check the wound, the fabric sticking slightly to your skin and making you wince. It’s still just as deep as it felt and you’re pretty sure you need stitches but—

“Everything okay?”

You look up. Robby is standing at the end of the hall, the door to the stairwell closing behind him. He must have just finished at work since he’s still dressed in a pair of wrinkled scrubs, exhaustion dragging his shoulders down. You suddenly feel very guilty for bothering him.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you reply, aiming for nonchalant. His eyes catch on your hand where you have it cradled close to your body. Something shifts in him, like a switch flips and suddenly he’s not Robby, your neighbor, but Dr. Robby.

“Did you hurt yourself?” He asks, long strides carrying him down the hall. He drops the backpack on his shoulder to the floor, all his attention zeroed in on your hand. “Let me see.”

You hold your hand out. He carefully unwraps the towel.

“It’s fine, really, I was just going to ask if you think I need stitches—“

“You do.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I guess I better—“

“I can do it.”

“No, no, that’s okay, I can just —“ Robby looks up at you, still holding your hand, and you feel your heart lurch at the sharp edge in his eye. The rest of your words fade away.

“Come on, I’ve got a suture kit under the sink,” he says, grabbing his bag and digging his keys from the front pocket. He unlocks the door to his apartment, leaving it open behind him in a clear invitation. After a second of hesitation, you follow him, shutting the door behind you.

Robby’s apartment is a mirror image of yours. Open concept, with the living room blending into a dining area that opens up to the kitchen. There’s not much in the way of decoration, but it’s clearly lived in — a stack of magazines on a low coffee table, a comfortable looking leather couch with a blanket draped over the back, and a small collection of empty coffee cups on the counter by the sink.

“Sorry for the mess,” he says, crouching down to fetch the aforementioned suture kit. “Bring your hand over the sink for me.”

You do as you’re asked, unwrapping the towel and setting it on the counter. Robby washes his hands and dries them with a paper towel before pulling on some blue gloves, his motions steadfast and efficient. He picks up a squeeze bottle with a long, curved tip and holds out a hand for yours.

He squeezes the contents of the bottle over your wound, using it to wash away some of the dried blood. When it’s clean, he sets the bottle down.

“Good news is that you didn’t manage to hit any tendons,” he says. “Bad news is that hand injuries hurt like a bitch.” He picks up a syringe, uncapping it and sticking it into a vial of clear fluid. “Some lidocaine will help while I stitch you up. When it wears off, you’ll need some Tylenol. You got any at your place?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

He sticks the needle into your palm and you resist the urge to flinch. Each time he repositions it, you hold your breath.

“You gotta breathe for me. I know it hurts, but when it kicks in you’ll feel a lot better.”

You take a deep breath, the exhale shaky. Finally, he finishes with the needle. The pain has eased considerably as the anesthetic begins to do its job.

“Have a seat at the table for me,” Robby says, tilting his head toward the dining area. You settle into one of the chairs and he drags another close to you, setting a sterile bag on the table before taking a seat.

Peeling the bag open, he methodically removes the contents. First the blue sheet that he unfolds and lays on the table, followed by the tray of utensils. He pats the sheet and you set your hand, palm up, on it.

“So, you gonna tell me how you did this?” He asks, opening a swab stained with brown liquid that he runs over the edges of your wound.

“You’re going to think I’m an idiot,” you reply, heat rising to your cheeks. The corner of his mouth tilts up in a little smile.

“I’ve seen some stupid stuff. Promise this won’t even phase me.”

You sigh. “I was cutting an avocado.”

“Did you mistake your hand for it instead?”

“Hey!”

“Sorry.” He rips open a small package, pulling out a curved needle with a length of string already attached. “Finish the story.”

“I was holding it and sliced a little too deep. Went straight through the avocado skin and right into mine.”

“I wasn’t too far off. First stitch,” he says, sticking the needle through the edge of the cut. “Good thing I got home when I did.”

“I would have just gone to the ER if you didn’t.”

“Yeah, and you would have been waiting a few hours to get seen.”

“I feel bad. You’re off the clock. I’m sure you had things you wanted to do.”

“Had a hot date with my shower and some pizza rolls. I think they’ll forgive me for being late.”

You laugh and his eyes flick up, watching you for a brief moment before returning to the task at hand. A comfortable silence settles between you and you take the opportunity to really look at Robby.

He’s older than you by a few years if the grey in his beard is anything to go by. His dark hair looks like it’s grown out a bit from a shorter style and is a little messy, like maybe he’s run his fingers through it a few times. There are faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that grow deeper when his lips curl up in a smile. He’s handsome, you’ve thought as much since introducing yourself when you moved in, but up close and hunched over your hand, helping you with a gentle touch, he’s nearly devastating.

“Done,” he announces, reaching for the surgical scissors on the tray and snipping the end of the suture. “These are meant to fall out as the wound heals, so unless you notice any signs of infection, you shouldn’t need any follow up.”

“That was fast,” you say, looking over the neat row of stitches appreciatively.

“Years of practice.” He wraps a roll of gauze around your palm. “Keep the bandage on for at least twenty-four hours. After that, you can take it off but keep the area clean. Don’t soak it in anything. Try not to move your hand too much so they don’t pop. Alternate between Tylenol and Motrin for the pain.”

“I really can’t thank you enough,” you tell him. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I try to be.”

Though he’s trying to make a joke, his tone sounds despondent. He clears his throat and busies himself with cleaning up the table, avoiding your gaze. You decide not to press him for an explanation. He hardly owes you one.

Later, back in your apartment and lying in your bed, you replay every moment of your interaction with Robby. The way he gently held your hand to check the wound, the confidence with which he moved, the sadness in his voice. You decide that you have to repay him for his help and you know just the way to do it.

Robby is half asleep on the couch when there’s a knock at the door. He checks his watch and frowns. It’s just after eight, the sky dark outside the window, and he’d taken an unexpected nap after his shift. His stomach grumbles, the aching hunger he’d felt when falling asleep returning with a vengeance.

He stands and stretches, rubbing the back of his neck as it cracks and shuffling down the hall to open the door. You’re standing across the threshold with a plate in your hands and a bright smile on your face.

“Hey! I hope I’m not bothering you,” you say, smile faltering as you take him in. “Did I just wake you up?”

“Just from a nap,” he replies, willing himself to look less grumpy. Based on the way your smile dips into a frown, he’s probably not doing a great job. “It’s fine, I promise.”

“I brought cookies. As a thank you. For fixing my hand.” You hold the plate out toward him and he takes it. The bottom is warm. “Chocolate chip.”

The scent reaches him and he nearly groans. “Thank you, but I can’t take these.”

“Are you gluten free? Shit, I should have asked before making something.”

“No, I just mean you don’t need to thank me.”

“Of course I do!”

At that moment, his stomach betrays him, audibly announcing his hunger. You raise an eyebrow at him, hands on your hips, and he knows he’s lost this argument.

“Fine. If you’ll come in and eat one, too,” he says. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, turning to head toward his kitchen and hoping you’ll follow. When the door shuts and the soft sound of footsteps grows louder, he fights back a victorious smile.

He sets the plate on the counter and pulls off the aluminum foil on top. A small pile of golden brown chocolate chip cookies sits on the ceramic. You stand on the other side of the island, watching him. He picks one of the cookies up and takes a bite, groaning at how delicious it is.

“Christ, that’s good,” he says, punctuating the compliment with another bite. “You made these?”

“Yep. Even used the good chocolate. The real secret is a sprinkle of fancy sea salt.” You reach across the counter and pluck one of the cookies from the pile for yourself.

“How’s your hand doing?” Robby asks. You hold the hand in question out towards him. It’s been a little over a week and some of the stitches have started to dissolve, two of them still hanging on near the deeper part of your wound. “Looks good.”

“Thanks to a good doctor,” you say. He snorts, the sound self-deprecating even to his own ears. You frown, but don’t try to dig, which is nice. He’s so used to being around people who want him to be an open book when he’d rather sit quietly on a shelf, handling things on his own.

“I need to order dinner.” He turns his back to you, rifling through his junk drawer for the menu of the Chinese place down the street.

“I’ll just—“

“You wanna stay?” He asks, cutting you off. Your eyes go wide with surprise and he begins to internally berate himself when your expression shifts, going soft and warm.

“Sure. What are we ordering?”

It becomes a thing.

The first batch of cookies was a thank you. The second batch was a recipe test. Your excuse for the third batch was that you just made too many and would he want some?

He never turns you away, even if he looks dead on his feet from a long shift. He perks up when he spots the plate in your hands and invites you inside, singing your praises as he tries the recipe of the week. At the rate you’re going through sugar and butter and flour, you’ll need a membership to one of those bulk stores by the end of the month.

Robby doesn’t knock on your door, never seeks you out himself, but he does ask you to stay whenever you stop by. Over dinner, he’ll ask you about your week and listen as you talk about your job or the plans you made with your friends. He doesn’t talk about his own work much, not unless he’s got a funny story to share. You have a feeling he keeps the difficulty of his job close to his chest, shouldering the concern on his own.

That changes on a Friday night.

It’s late, nearly midnight, and you’re reading in bed, a half drunk glass of wine on your nightstand. A sound breaks through your concentration and you pause your reading, listening for it again.

It’s a knock. Soft, so soft you can barely hear it, three taps against your door, followed by silence. You scramble from your bed, nearly tripping on the duvet in the process, and rush down the hall.

When you open the door, Robby is there. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you, and you know without asking that he’s had a tough night. It’s in the set of his shoulders and the tension in his jaw, the way he’s staring at you without really seeing.

“Come inside,” you tell him. He nods and walks past you, pausing in your living room. Compared to his apartment, yours exudes personality. Mismatched furniture and bookshelves full of memories, photographs and art on the walls.

He takes it in while you head to the kitchen, pulling together a sandwich from the contents of your fridge and filling a glass with water. You bring the plate of food and the glass to the living room, placing both on the coffee table and settling yourself on the couch, legs crossed under you. When he doesn’t move, you pat the cushion next to you.

“Eat,” you command.

Robby does as you ask and starts with the water. He drains the glass in a few desperate gulps and you refill it for him while he starts on the sandwich. You turn the TV on to fill the silence, putting on a nature documentary. You watch the show, your attention half on the eating habits of pangolins and half on the man beside you, concern creeping up your spine.

He still hasn’t said anything.

When the plate and glass are both empty, you start to get up to clear them away, but a warm hand on your wrist holds you in place. Your gaze locked with Robby’s, you slowly sit back down. He releases your wrist and you bring your hand up, settling it on the back of his neck and gently tugging him towards you, urging him to lie down. His head is on your lap, pillowed on your bare thighs, and he brings his knees close to his chest to fit the rest of his body on the couch.

You run your hands through his hair, fingernails scratching lightly against his scalp. The tension eases from his body, like a balloon slowly losing air. His eyelids flutter and his lips part on a contented sigh.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask.

“Not really.”

“Because you don’t want to or because you think I wouldn’t want to hear about it?”

He sighs. “You don't want to hear this shit. Trust me.”

“We’re friends, Robby. You can talk to me.”

“Friends, huh?”

“Yeah. Friends,” you reply, despite the sudden dryness of your mouth and the racing of your pulse. He’s quiet for a long moment and you think maybe he still won’t open up but then he takes a deep breath and clears his throat.

“Lost a patient today. A teenager who got between his mom and his piece of shit dad that was wailing on her. The guy pulled a gun on his own son and ran.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He turns, lying more on his back. His eyes are wet with tears that have gathered but refuse to fall. “We did everything we could do. I know that. But I had to look that mom in the eyes that her husband bruised and tell her that her baby was gone.”

There’s nothing you could say to take the pain away, so you don’t. But, you sit through it with him.

Sometimes, that can be enough.

Robby paces the length of his apartment from the door to the kitchen. It’s been a week since that night in your apartment and he can’t get it out of his head.

First he was stuck on the way you took care of him, how you knew what he needed without having to say anything. You were the calm to the storm in his head, the one that raged despite every strong command given to his team in an effort to save the boy’s life that day. He tends to shoulder the responsibility and, subsequently, the guilt on his own but it had been surprisingly helpful to let someone else in, someone who wanted to be there for him without a shared trauma bond. He felt lighter when he returned to his apartment that night.

Over the last couple days, however, the fixation shifted to the way your hands felt on him. The memory of your fingers dragging through his hair, though soothing in the moment, has morphed into something more. It’s no longer a gentle caress in his mind, but a sharp tug while he’s got his face between your thighs, tongue diving deep and desperate.

Despite these thoughts, he’s hesitant to reach out again, especially with these new ideas for how to spend his time with you in his head. But you also hadn’t come over in a week and he worries that maybe you view him differently now that he’s let the wall down a little, he probably should have just—

“Achoo!”

Robby pauses, his attention gripped by the sudden sound that came from the direction of your apartment. He drifts closer to his living room wall.

“Achoo!”

Another sneeze, followed by a pained groan. Are you…sick? Is that why you haven’t come around yet? Before he can overthink it, he’s leaving his apartment and knocking on your door.

When you answer with a blanket held tight around you and a tissue clenched in your hand, he feels a conflicting rush of relief and concern. You sniffle loudly.

“Robby? What are you doing here?”

“I heard you sneeze.” You blink at him, wobbling a bit on the spot. He reaches out to steady you, hands on your shoulders. Gently, he urges you back inside your apartment. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

He leads you to your room, the same as his but infinitely more comfortable. While he furnished his apartment, he didn’t take care to really make it a home, not when he spends so many hours at work. He didn’t see the point. Stepping into your room, it’s the opposite, facets of your personality in every corner.

He sits you down on the edge of the bed. A pile of tissues has taken up residence on your nightstand and he gathers them up while you make a feeble attempt to stop him.

“That’s gross, don’t touch those,” you whine. “I can clean them up.”

“Lie down,” he commands.

“Bossy, bossy.”

Robby hides his smile by leaving the room to throw the tissues in the trash. While in the kitchen, he finds your cabinet of mismatched cups and fills one with water. Rummaging through the pantry, he finds an open box of crackers that he brings back to your room.

“Where’s your medicine?” He asks. You gesture towards the bathroom and he digs through the cabinets until he finds a bottle of Tylenol. He shakes out a few into his palm and brings them back to you. “Take these.”

“If I had a nickel for every time you told me to take Tylenol, I’d have two nickels.”

He laughs as he watches you swallow down the medicine and drink half of the glass of water. He hands you a sleeve of crackers.

“Eat a couple of those so that you don’t end up with an upset stomach.”

When you’ve finished, you set the remaining crackers on your nightstand and wiggle down the bed, bringing your blanket up to your chin. Robby sets a palm on your forehead and you watch him with an expression he can’t name.

“Am I gonna be alright, doc?” You ask. He smiles.

“Yeah, I think you’ll pull through.”

“Will you stay with me?”

Rather than respond, he walks around your bed to the other side and toes off his sneakers. He gets on the bed, staying on top of your blankets as he makes himself comfortable. You turn on your side to look at him.

“Thanks for coming,” you whisper.

“That’s what friends do.”

You wake to a heavy weight around your waist and warmth at your back. At first you’re confused until the memory of asking Robby to stay with you comes into focus. You remember him getting in bed with you, keeping himself on top of the covers while you snuggled underneath to fight off the constant chill your fever brought on.

You turn over slowly, careful not to disturb him. He’s still on top of the covers but he’s curled himself around you, his head nearly on your pillow in an effort to get closer. His chest rises and falls with deep, even breaths and his features are soft with sleep.

The shrill beep of an alarm breaks the silence and Robby wakes with a sharp inhale. You quickly close your eyes, pretending to be asleep as he moves around, presumably trying to get his phone out to shut off the alarm. The noise abruptly cuts off and you hear him let out a deep breath.

He shifts beside you. A palm is pressed to your forehead and his touch lingers for a moment, his fingers tracing your cheek as he pulls away. You fight to keep your breathing slow and even despite the fierce pounding of your heart against your ribs.

Robby gets up from the bed, the mattress creaking as his weight lifts from it. You hear his light footsteps around the room, followed by the quiet click of your door being shut. With him gone, you turn onto your back and stare up at the ceiling.

You know he had to leave, he probably had to get ready for work, but you wish he didn’t. A fantasy plays out in your head, one where he gets to sleep in and you wake up before him, sneaking into the kitchen to make coffee. He wakes up while you’re waiting for it to finish brewing, strong arms wrapping around your waist and his beard tickling your neck when he kisses your neck. The image fades as sleep catches up to your exhausted body, pulling you back into its embrace for the rest of the morning.

“Dr. Robby?”

Robby shakes his head free of his thoughts and looks to his left. Mel’s got a clipboard in her hands and a question in her eyes.

“Are you okay?” She asks in that blunt but empathetic way of hers.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He asks in return. She blinks.

“Oh, uh, it’s just…you seem distracted?”

He is distracted. There’s been a restless fire in his veins ever since he woke up beside you, holding you close. He hasn’t seen you in a couple days now, giving you the space to get over your cold, and it has him growing a bit desperate, though he would never admit as much out loud and especially not to one of the med students.

“Everything is fine, Dr. King. Whatcha got for me?”

Mel launches into a presentation on a twenty-three year old female that was triaged for abdominal pain. Robby listens attentively and joins her at the patient’s bedside as she delivers a diagnosis and describes the treatment plan. One patient turns into…somewhere around thirty, he thinks. He lost count.

Finally, he finishes his shift and heads out into the night. Back in his apartment, he showers, changes his clothes, and brushes his teeth for good measure. He’s rushing through the after work motions, an energy in him that he only feels when he’s making a split second call that could mean life or death in the ER.

Basic needs met, he gets his shoes on and leaves his apartment. Five quick steps have him knocking at your door. His pulse kicks into high gear when he hears your footsteps on the other side.

You open the door and your smile lights up your face when you see him and he knows you’re saying something but his focus is entirely zeroed in on your lips and how he desperately needs to feel them against his. He reaches out, framing your face between his palms. There’s a flash of surprise in your eyes but then he’s kissing you.

Finally.

“Hey! I was just about—“

Your words are cut off by Robby kissing you.

Robby is kissing you.

With his hands on your jaw, he urges you back inside your apartment and kicks the door shut behind him. One large palm moves cradles the back of your head, cushioning the blow when your back hits the wall and he presses his body close to yours, chest to chest and a thigh between your legs.

You’re in sensory overload, overwhelmed by the feel of his broad shoulders beneath your hands, the smell of his shampoo, and the faint taste of mint when his tongue tangles with yours. His hand settles on the side of your neck and you wonder if he can feel the way he makes your heart race beneath his palm.

When he pulls back, he traces a thumb over your lips, open admiration in his gaze. He presses down on your lower lip and you obey the silent command to open up, let him in, give him more. His breath stutters when you close your lips around his thumb and suck. He pulls it free with a lewd pop, dragging his hand down your neck, squeezing lightly at the base of your throat. Before you can react, his touch ventures lower and you gasp when he roughly palms your breast. Your hips flex against his thigh in a bid for friction.

All of a sudden, Robby steps back, taking your hand in his and leading you down the hall to your bedroom.

“Get on the bed,” he says, voice low and rough. You hurry to comply, crawling up the mattress and lying back on the pillows, anticipation and the hungry look on his face making the ache between your thighs nearly unbearable.

He joins you on the bed, on his knees between your legs, and runs his hands over your thighs and beneath the fabric of your shorts. You arch your back when his thumbs dig into the crease of your thigh, so close to where you want him, but not close enough. A whine escapes you.

“What do you want, baby?” He asks.

“Want you to fuck me,” you tell him, lifting your hips.

“Can’t do that yet.”

You frown. “Why not?”

Robby’s fingers curl into the elastic of your shorts, pulling the fabric down. You lift your hips again so that he can pull them off and toss them to the floor, leaving you in your underwear. His hand presses one of your thighs to the mattress, keeping you spread open for him as he drags his thumb over your pussy, starting at the damp spot near your entrance until he reaches your clit.

“You have to cum on my fingers,” he presses down against your clit, “and my mouth first. Think you can do that?”

When you don’t respond to his question, the deep pressure of his thumb is replaced by a light smack of his fingers. You gasp at the sharp contrast in sensation and try to close your legs instinctively, only to be blocked by his body and the firm grip of the hand still on your thigh.

“Answer me,” he demands, removing his hands from you and raising an expectant eyebrow.

“Yes,” you tell him. You’re pretty sure you would do anything this man asks as long as he touches you again. The corner of his mouth tilts up in a smirk.

“Good girl.”

Those two little words are like a bolt of lightning straight to your core and he knows it, his knowing gaze making you feel hot and flustered. He removes your underwear and with the last barrier gone, he drops to his stomach and brings his face mere inches from your soaked pussy.

His breath fans across your heated skin and that’s the only warm up you get before his mouth is on you, his tongue circling your clit and lapping at your entrance. Your hands are drawn to his hair, fingers gripping the short strands. He looks up at you as he sucks your clit between his lips and groans when you pull sharply on his hair in response.

If you thought Robby would finish this quickly to get on to the main event, you were incredibly mistaken. The man between your legs brings you to the brink of release before dragging you back from the edge more times than you can count, to the point where tears gather in the corners of your eyes and you let out a pained groan of frustration.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” He asks, lifting his head but keeping up steady circles of his thumb against your clit. Not fast enough to bring you off, just enough to keep your need simmering at the surface. You glare at him.

“Let me come already,” you say through gritted teeth. He laughs.

“You could try asking nicely. Say please.”

You stare at him, mouth opening and closing around words that won’t form. He brings his mouth back to your abused bundle of nerves, licking with broad circles that have you seeing stars. You’re so close, just a little more—

He starts to pull back. The pressure of his tongue grows lighter. You drop your head to the mattress and one of those trapped tears finally escapes, rolling down your temple. You’ve never begged a man for anything before but there’s a first time for everything.

“Please, please, please,” you gasp. “Robby, please.”

Two fingers press against your entrance and slide inside, the sudden stretch making you gasp. He curls them against your inner walls with each drag of his hand from your body. The pressure and speed of his tongue on your clit increases. Your thighs start to shake as the thread of tension in your core tightens until it finally snaps and you come with a strangled shout of his name.

Robby doesn’t stop touching you. He keeps his fingers buried in your cunt and his mouth busy by gently licking you through the waves of your orgasm. Finally, he sits up. You watch as he takes off his shirt and stands up quickly to remove his shoes and sweatpants. His cock bobs free and your mouth practically waters at the sight of it. Not excessively long but he is thick and if you thought his fingers were a stretch, his cock might just split you in half. A bead of precum has gathered at the slit and you watch him smooth his thumb through it before dragging his fist over his length with a groan.

“Condoms?” He asks.

“Top drawer.”

He grabs a foil packet and tosses it on the bed before crawling over you, settling his body over yours. He kisses you, deep and slow, grinding his hips into yours and dragging his cock through the mess he’s made of you. His lips deliver the taste of you to your tongue, earthy and erotic. You moan into the kiss when he drags against your clit.

Keeping himself balanced with one elbow on the bed beside your head, he uses his free hand to hitch your leg over his hip, opening you wider and bringing you closer. His lips find your neck, lavishing your sensitive skin with kisses and nips of his teeth. You need this man inside of you now.

“Robby, please.”

He nods against your neck, sitting up only long enough to roll the condom down his length before his weight is back on you, pressing you into the mattress. He flexes his hips against you but this time, the thick head of his cock catches against your entrance and he starts to ease inside, achingly slow. His eyes stay fixed to yours as he does.

“You feel so fucking good,” Robby says, face buried against your neck. You clench around him in response and he chokes on a groan. “Don’t do that, I’m trying not to embarrass myself here.”

You do it again for good measure.

He lifts his head, eyes narrowed at you, and pulls his hips back, his cock dragging against the same spot that made you come on his fingers. He thrusts forward with a sharp snap of his hips that punches the air from your lungs.

He sets a pace that has you seeing stars and moaning his name like a prayer. Your orgasm builds, coiling tight in your center, but you’re not ready for the release. You push against Robby’s shoulder and his expression grows concerned, a deep crease forming between his brows as he pulls back, allowing you room to sit up.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks.

“No, no,” you assure him. “I just…can I get on top?”

A boyish grin chases the worry from his face and he flops onto his back in the empty space on the mattress. You laugh as you straddle his hips though it turns into moan when you sink down onto his cock. The angle is deeper and there’s an added friction to your clit with every roll of your hips. Robby’s hands are everywhere, squeezing your ass roughly or pinching a tight nipple between his fingers.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, head pressed back into the pillow, the long line of his neck on display. “Just like that.”

You place your hands on his chest for balance, the dusting of coarse hair tickling your palms. When you lean forward, he meets you in a kiss that’s mostly shared breath. Your pace slows and Robby takes over, his feet planted on the mattress to thrust up into you.

“Come for me,” he says against your lips. “I need it, sweetheart, come on.”

You drop your head against his neck, licking at the sweat damp skin as your orgasm returns, no longer a slow building wave but a tsunami that floods your nerves and leaves you drowning in sensation. Your walls tighten around his cock and he groans, dragging you down onto his lap and holding you there as he pulses inside of you.

Sweat cools on your skin. Your breathing slows. His hands trail up and down your back, the gentle touch and cold air of your room making your skin prickle. You lift your head and press your forehead against his.

“Jesus Christ,” you mumble.

“Just Robby is fine,” he says.

You lift your head so that he can see you roll your eyes before slowly getting up, a satisfying ache in your muscles and between your legs. You go to the bathroom and Robby comes in as you’re washing your hands, tossing the condom in the trash and washing his hands as well.

You return to bed, crawling beneath the blankets. Robby joins you, lying on his back so that you can rest your head on his chest, your eyelids already heavy with exhaustion.

“Will you stay with me?”

“You don’t even have to ask.”

Robby wakes to sunlight and the smell of coffee. He stretches before finally rolling out of bed and finding his sweatpants on the floor, pulling them on to follow the scent of dark roast straight to the kitchen.

He finds you at the counter, your hips swaying to a song that plays at a low volume from a bluetooth speaker on your dining table. A pan sizzles on the stove and you pour the contents of a bowl into it. He steps up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your neck. You turn in his hold and kiss him, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He could get used to mornings like this.

When you turn back around, you pick up a knife and reach for the basket of fruit on the counter, plucking something from the pile.

“I hope that’s not an avocado.”

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or commenting 💕

Masterlists

[lvl1l1]

LaDS men when you get flowers from someone else

pairings: Sylus, Rafayel, Xavier, Caleb, Zayne x F!Reader(separate)

content: jealousy, fluff, caleb and xavier are a teensy bit insane, charlie taking another L

Sylus

You two decided to spend the weekend at your apartment, he obviously wouldn’t be caught dead showing up empty handed.

As you open the door, the first thing you see is a beautifully arranged bouquet of camellias and carnations. The second is the smug grin on your boyfriend’s face, which is wiped right off as soon as he steps into your living room and notices the pathetically small bouquet you had already hosted in a vase.

“Kitten, was your budget for those flowers chump change and a dream? You should’ve known, I’d bring you a little something.”

Once you tell him, that those were a gift from a co-worker for helping him out, his demeanour shifts slightly, unnoticeable to the untrained eye. Luckily, you were the one person who could see right through him.

Not like that mattered, when he went to grab his phone before you could even say anything. You see him tap around a little before raising it to his ear, speaking into the device.

“Yeah, I want them all delivered.”

You look at him with furrowed brows and he finally went back to paying attention to you. A sharp smile makes its way to his face.

“I don’t mind you leaving these, to put it bluntly, sad flowers here. They’ll make all the bouquets i’m getting you stand out even more.”

The unimpressed stare you give him, clearly doesn’t phase him, as he just walks into your bedroom, pulling you along.

“You deserve only the best, the biggest and the grandest. For everything.”

“You’re almost winning me over, Sy. But shouldn’t we wait until those poor florists actually deliver whatever ridiculous amount of flowers you ordered?”

At that, Sylus pulled you closer, nuzzling his face into your hair,

“The flowers will be fine waiting outside of your door. It’ll also be a nice way to send a message to everyone living in this apartment complex. Now, how about a lesson in why you shouldn’t accept flowers from other men?”

You sigh first, suddenly going rigid as a realisation hits you,

“I don’t have enough vases. Or even space for more flowers!”

Being the last thing you mumbled before your bedroom door closed with a ‘click’.

Rafayel

You two were out running some errands together, grabbing art supplies for him, groceries and what-not.

Linkon City was as lively as ever, a melting pot for diverse people. You and Rafayel held hands, pushing through the crowd.

Rafayel was about to pull you into another store, when you’re stopped by a man.

He’s holding a small bouquet of red roses and smiles at you, not looking at Rafayel,

“Hi, miss. We’re giving out free flowers today, these are for you.”

You feel Rafayel squeeze your hand and you know he’s glaring without even looking at him,

“Oh, thank you but I don’t-“

The man practically shoves the flowers into your free hand,

“I insist. Have a good day!”

And with that, he turns and leaves you standing there holding the small bouquet.

A hum leaves your throat, shrugging and leaning in to smell the flowers, before you’re stopped by your boyfriend.

“Why would you accept these ugly flowers? There’s no artistic flair, just basic roses and their stems aren’t even cut evenly! Honestly, It’s like he’s trying to harass my girlfriend by making her look at something so hideous. Besides, you have a rich boyfriend capable of making you a wayyy better bouquet standing right here.”

You narrow your eyes at him, lips curling upwards, leaning closer to him,

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

Rafayel’s eyes widened at that, mouth falling open slightly,

“These are clearly just for a campaign, he’s just working. I wouldn’t have accepted them otherwise, don’t worry.”

Your boyfriend jutted out his lower lip, taking the bouquet out of your hand. He made the flowers go up in flames and before you could react he pulled you towards the nearest flower shop.

“Doesn’t matter. My girlfriend deserves flowers as pretty as her. I’m arranging this bouquet myself and it’ll be the prettiest you’ve ever seen!”

You playfully roll your eyes at his antics but you couldn’t help but appreciate his effort. So, you let him pull you along.

Xavier

It was date night and you and Xavier decided to go to your usual hotpot place. You were waiting outside of your apartment building for him, as he went to grab his wallet that he had forgotten at his place.

You were leaning against the gate, when a familiar voice suddenly called out to you,

“Oh, hey! I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Charlie walked up to you, you flashed him a little smile as you noticed the flowers he was holding.

“Someone brought me these at the bakery today! They look nice, don’t you think?”

You nodded curtly, not wanting to talk to him for too long, knowing Xavier might see.

Not taking the hint, Charlie’s face lit up, an idea flashing through his mind, not having learned anything from your last interaction.

“Hey, why don’t you take them? I don’t really have a place for them anyway.”

Not waiting for your reply, he pushed the bouquet towards you. Hesitantly, you take them,

“I don’t think this is a good idea-“

He waved you off and went to walk inside.

You stared at the flowers, biting your lips, thinking of what to do before Xavier returned.

You knew it was too late once you noticed the streetlights flickering and an ominous presence manifesting behind you.

“Throw them away.”

You quickly straightened your posture, turning around with a teasing smile,

“Hey there, Xav.”

“Throw them away.”

He repeated in a serious tone.

A sigh left you,

“I was planning on doing that anyway. Don’t you think it’d be a waste though?”

Xavier shook his head, a stern expression on his usually neutral face.

“Doesn’t matter, they’re ugly anyway. Besides, who gives away a gift they received? He’s got no shame.”

You raised an eyebrow at him,

“Why didn’t you come out earlier, if you were here already?”

He came closer, taking the flowers out of your grasp, not answering. He teleported over to the dumpsters, throwing the flowers in.

“I’ll get you prettier ones. Ones that actually mean something.”

You met him halfway and grabbed his hand,

“Alright. But let’s get going, before we miss our reservation.”

Xavier’s expression finally softened, a small smile making its way to his face as he looked at you.

You two started walking, you started talking to him about your day and he listened, nodding along.

Luckily, you didn’t notice how the entire buildings lights suddenly went out. He was gonna deal with that evil baker later.

Caleb

Caleb just got done cooking, when he finally heard a knock on his door.

You had finally gotten some days off after a gruelling week filled with missions back to back and you were staying with him in Skyhaven.

He was planning on helping you relax the entire time you were going to be with him. He would cook for you, take you wherever you wanted to go and monopolise your attention.

The brunet happily opened the door, immediately greeting you with a hug,

“Pipsqueak, I gave you the key to my place for a reason. You don’t have to knock.”

You giggled at him, walking inside and taking your shoes off with one hand.

That’s when he noticed the flowers you were holding, he cocked his head, not saying anything.

“Oh, a friend of mine gave these to me right before I left! Do you have a vase we could put them in?”

Caleb’s brows furrowed, his eyes darkening slightly.

“What was the occasion? These aren’t even your favourite flowers. Would expect them to be thoughtful, when pulling off a gesture like this.”

You looked at him, amused.

“Caleb, they’re just flowers. From someone who’s just a friend.”

He walked into the living room with you, looking at the bouquet like it personally offended him.

“Well, seems like we’ll have to take the bouquet apart, pipsqueak. Your friend put iris and chrysanthemums together. Vastly different vase life, would be bad if we put them together. Might as well throw them out, honestly. I’ll get you flowers that actually survive together.”

He didn’t miss the scepticism on your face as you put the bouquet on the coffee table. You walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Caleb, honey, you don’t need to let it out on the flowers, they’re innocent. My friend was just trying to be nice but if they bother you, we can throw them away.”

His hands found your waist, as he looked at you with those eyes, resembling a kicked puppy.

“But if you like them…”

You shook your head,

“They’re just flowers. You can just get me some. Or even better, I’ll bring you some next time!”

His face lit up again, pressing your foreheads together,

“You don’t need to bring me flowers, pips. That’s my job! Besides, I actually know which flowers you like, I’d never just carelessly put a bouquet together.”

You looked up at him through your lashes, realising what he was pulling,

“Caleb, you-“

He picked you up and brought you over to the kitchen, putting you down on the counter.

“Too late, you already agreed.”

He winked at you, and you noticed something fly out the window through your peripheral vision.

“Now, let’s eat and after that I’ll take you out shopping. We’ll pick up some flowers on the way.”

Zayne

Zayne was just finishing up the last of his work at the hospital, when he received a text from you,

“ahhh i just saw them, love the flowers zaynie! thank you so much”

He stared at his phone in confusion, trying to think of a response,

“What are you talking about, love?”

You sent him a picture of a bouquet of amaryllis, followed up by a text,

“they’re so pretty! they were just delivered, thank u<3”

His fingers twitched, as he left his office, making his way to his car.

“Leave them on the table. I’ll be home soon.”

With that, he put his phone away and got in his car.

-

You were slightly confused at Zayne’s last text but did as he said.

Once you heard keys turn in the lock, you quickly walked over to the door to welcome your boyfriend.

The door pushed open and your boyfriend walked inside, you noticed his bag wasn’t the only thing he was holding.

He presented you with a bouquet of your favourite flowers, before he even took off his coat.

“…welcome back, dear.”

The confusion in your voice evident, still accepting the flowers gratefully.

Zayne quietly took off his shoes and hung up his coat, pressing a kiss to your temple before walking into the kitchen.

“These flowers…”

He picked them off the table and glanced at them.

“They were delivered, yes? Did a note come with them?”

You went to stand next to him, holding the bouquet he just brought you,

“Nope. I’ll take it, those aren’t from you?”

He let out an affirmative hum,

“What do you say, we gift these to the elderly lady next door? And you find a vase for the ones I got you.”

“Sounds good! Just… who do you think sent these?”

His gaze met yours and his eyes lit up with affection for you.

“I’m not sure but I intent to find out. I can’t just stand by and watch as someone tries to make the woman I love swoon.”

You chuckled at that, switching to holding the bouquet he got you with one hand, caressing his face with your other,

“No one besides you could ever make me swoon, Zayne.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes,

“I know. Still, I won’t let this slide. I want you to be happy over things that are actually from me.”

At that, you press a sweet kiss to his lips. He was just so lovely.

[mirrored-muse]

Hi! Can you do something where the yellowjackets want a day to relax but shauna is shauna 💀

But they notice how she is always trying to be close to reader and is soft on her and all of that, so they beg reader to go and seduce shauna

Reader is like: NO SHES SCARY AND HATES ME

But it happens anyways

Imagine van making sure everything is going fine with the plan by listening outside of shaunas hut 😭

ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ | ꜱ.ꜱ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 959

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪꜱᴛʀᴀᴄᴛ ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ᴛᴏ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴏᴜᴘ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ꜱʜɪᴘᴍᴀɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴀ/ɴ: ʜɪ, ᴛʏꜱᴍ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛɪɴɢ. ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ꜱᴇɴᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ. 🙏🙏 ᴀʟꜱᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ꜰᴀʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇᴅ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ɪᴛ. 😭 ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ, ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ, ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ. <3

Shauna’s on edge again.

You feel it before she even says a word, like a storm rolling in from the trees. Her footsteps are too fast, her voice too clipped, the way she glares at everyone like they’re one breath away from pissing her off. You’re by the fire with Van, Tai, and Mari, trying to enjoy a rare moment of peace, but the tension in the air is thick enough to cut.

“She’s pacing again,” Tai mutters, glancing over her shoulder.

“Maybe she’s just bored,” you offer, not really believing it.

Van snorts. “She’s not bored. She’s stewing.”

“About what?” Mari asks. “We haven’t done anything.”

“Exactly,” Van says. “We’re not doing anything. She hates that.”

You follow their gaze to where Shauna is stalking past the tree line, arms crossed, jaw clenched. She’s been like that all day, snapping at Akilah for burning part of the squirrel meat and muttering to herself when Lottie suggested a group meditation session.

“She’s gonna lose it,” Van says under her breath, eyeing you. “Unless someone distracts her.”

Mari raises a brow. “You volunteering?”

“Hell no.”

Then everyone else turns to look at you.

You blink. “What?”

Tai smirks. “She listens to you.”

“She doesn’t listen. She just… isn’t as mean to me.”

“Exactly,” Van says. “You have the magic touch.”

You shake your head. “Nope. Not doing it.”

“Oh, come on,” Mari says. “Just go in there and flirt a little. She chills out. We get a break.”

“Do you hear yourselves?” you say. “You want me to go flirt with Oshauna bin Laden.”

Van laughs and leans in, shaking her head, “She likes you.”

You freeze, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Come on. You haven’t noticed?” Tai says, kicking a stick into the fire. “She follows you around like a guard dog.”

“She’s always watching you,” Van adds. “And not in the ‘I hate you’ way. In the ‘I’m obsessed with you and I don’t know how to process human emotions’ way.”

Your mouth goes dry. You glance toward Shauna again, now crouched near her hut, sharpening a knife like it personally offended her.

“She’s scary,” you say.

“Yeah,” Van agrees. “But maybe she’d be less scary if she got, you know… a little attention.”

You narrow your eyes. “Are you seriously trying to pimp me out right now?”

“We’re asking you to flirt with a girl who you already know wants you,” Mari says. “Not take a bullet.”

You sigh, rubbing your hands over your face. “Fine. But if she guts me, I’m haunting all of you.”

Van grins and gives you a thumbs-up. “That’s the spirit.”

⸻

You approach her hut slowly like she might lunge at you if you move too fast. Shauna doesn’t look up when you duck past the flap of hide covering the entrance of her hut. She’s crouched over something, knives or bones or both. Her hair’s a little tangled, her brow furrowed in that way that makes her look even more pissed off than she probably is.

You clear your throat. “Hey.”

She glances up, then back down. “What?”

Okay. Off to a great start.

You shift awkwardly. “Just, uh… checking in.”

Shauna snorts. “You sound like Lottie.”

You smile nervously. “That bad, huh?”

She finally looks at you. Really looks. Her eyes soften a fraction.

“What do you want?” she asks, slightly less hostile this time.

You inch closer, trying to sell the whole flirty angle, though it feels like walking a tightrope with a bear below you.

“I don’t know. Everyone’s been a little stir-crazy. Thought maybe you could use some company.”

Shauna stares at you like she’s trying to figure out if you’re making fun of her.

“I’m fine,” she says. “They should stop acting like this is summer camp.”

“You ever think maybe you’re wound a little too tight?”

Her eyes narrow. “Is that why you’re here? They send you in to fix me?”

You’re busted.

You scramble. “No- well, kind of. But also… I don’t know. I just wanted to see you.”

Shauna blinks.

You take a risk and step closer, sitting down across from her. She doesn’t move, just watches you with that unreadable expression.

“I don’t think you need to be “fixed”,” you say quietly.

She raises an eyebrow. “You sure? ‘Cause you look pretty scared right now.”

You bite your lip. “I’m not scared. Just… cautious. You’re intense.”

Shauna leans forward slightly. “You want me to back off?”

“No,” you say, heart pounding. “I want you to stop acting like you don’t care.”

Silence fills the air for a moment.

Shauna’s jaw clenches. Then slowly, she sets the knife down beside her.

“I don’t care about them,” she says. “But you? I don’t know what to do with you.”

You meet her eyes, a small smile on your lips. “You could try kissing me?”

For half a second, she doesn’t move, just stares at you. Then she does, fast, rough, and hungry. Her hand tangles in your shirt, pulling you in, and her mouth crashes against yours like she’s been holding back for weeks. It’s not soft. It’s not gentle.

It’s desperate.

You kiss her back just as hard, fisting the front of her shirt, tugging her closer until you’re both on your knees, pressed against each other.

Outside, leaves crunch. Someone stumbles back from the hut.

You inwardly groan, knowing it’s Van.

You pull back, breathless. Shauna’s eyes are blown wide, her cheeks flushed.

She doesn’t say anything, just tilts her head toward the flap of hide in the doorway.

“Someone’s listening,” she mutters.

You smile. “Should’ve known they’d send a chaperone.”

Shauna smirks. Then she slides her hands under your shirt, gripping your bare hip firmly. Possessive.

“Let her listen.”

[kxsagi]

not sure if youve done something like this before or if its too suggestive but maybe the reader is a little nervous to be intimate because she’s inexperienced or has never had a bf before? with isagi or anyone tbh

“𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲”

a/n: header image had everything to do with this post

definitely suggestive! 

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, kaiser michael, ness alexis, karasu tabito, yukimiya kenyu

isagi yoichi

he immediately notices you're nervous and his tone softens right away. 

he’s super patient, like, won’t even kiss you unless you give the tiniest nod of approval. 

“we don’t have to rush anything, okay? i just like being near you.” 

isagi would totally ask you what you're comfortable with, hands twitching a little at his sides because he also gets flustered when it’s serious. 

if you mention that you’ve never had a boyfriend before, he gets wide-eyed and a little red. 

“then… i’ll make sure your first is really good. not just like… that! i mean, like, relationship stuff!!” he panics and waves his hands around. 

he’s such a sweetie though, will always check in with you and hype you up like, “you’re perfect, you know that?” 

itoshi rin

stoic exterior but the moment you say you’re nervous or new to this, he blinks. 

“... that’s fine.” he says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s not a big deal at all. 

but inside? heart doing backflips because you trust him enough to say that. 

he’ll adjust instantly, pulls away a little, gives you space, his touches turn featherlight. 

he won’t tease. instead, he mumbles a quiet, “you can take your time with me.” 

might shyly lace your fingers together and just stay like that for a while. 

he respects your boundaries to a T, but lowkey gets a little possessive like, “you’ve never had a boyfriend before? then i’ll be the only one.” (he’s dead serious btw.)

nagi seishiro

when you admit you���ve never had a boyfriend, he tilts his head like, “huh… really?” 

not because he thinks it’s weird, but because he genuinely can’t believe someone as cute as you hasn’t had one before. 

he goes, “guess i’m your first then. sounds kinda nice,” with a lazy grin. 

he’s surprisingly gentle. like he’ll curl his arm around you when you’re nervous and go, “you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna, okay?” 

nagi’s love language becomes being near you – long hugs, head resting on your shoulder, casual hand holding. 

if you flinch or hesitate, he pauses and mumbles, “sorry… too fast?” 

then just flops next to you and opens a game. “wanna watch me play instead?” it’s his way of saying he’s happy just being with you. 

mikage reo

reo is so smooth but the moment you confess you're inexperienced, his face softens completely. 

“oh… hey, that’s totally okay. i’ll take care of you,” he says with the gentlest smile. 

he's a natural flirt, but he dials it back for you. goes from flirty to full-on boyfriend mode. 

“you don’t have to impress me, y’know. i already like you just the way you are.” 

if you’re nervous about kissing, he literally whispers “can i kiss you?” like it’s sacred. 

he spoils you with reassurance: “you’re doing great,” “you’re cute when you’re shy,” “i feel lucky to be your first.” 

will not shut up about how honored he is to be your first boyfriend. texts you “first bf privileges 😛” as a joke but is lowkey whipped. 

itoshi sae

he raises an eyebrow when you tell him, like, “never had a boyfriend? huh.” 

then gets this smug, slow smirk. “guess you’ve got good taste now.” 

but then he sees how genuinely anxious you look and his tone shifts immediately. 

“hey. it’s okay. i’m not going to rush you. ever.” 

he’s really good at reading your body language. if you tense even a little, he backs off with zero complaints. 

instead of being touchy, he becomes comforting, like letting you wear his hoodie, brushing hair behind your ear, soft glances. 

if you ever cry or feel embarrassed, he’ll literally hold you and mumble into your ear: “don’t be ashamed of that. i’ll go slow. you don’t have to be perfect with me. just be you.”

shidou ryusei

when you say you’ve never had a boyfriend, he blinks. 

“you’re tellin’ me no one’s ever hit that?” cue your face going red. 

he laughs when you get flustered, but his tone changes quick once he realizes you're actually nervous. 

“okay, okay, sorry. i’ll behave. promise.” 

he genuinely tries to dial it down, even if it kills him to not be all over you. 

surprisingly good at physical comfort. throws an arm around you lazily and lets you hide your face in his hoodie. 

whispers stuff like, “you’re cute when you’re shy,” and then immediately goes, “wait, sorry, was that too much?” 

lowkey proud to be your first. wanted to ruin everyone else’s chances from the start. 

kaiser michael

“you’ve never had a boyfriend?” he says with that signature smirk, but something soft flickers in his eyes. 

he gets cocky for a second: “figures. you’ve got high standards.” 

but then his expression shifts, and he actually looks… serious. 

“i won’t mess this up,” he says, more to himself than you. 

kaiser can sense hesitation in a heartbeat. he reads you like a book (well he does read psychology books). 

instead of teasing, he leans in and says, “tell me what makes you comfortable. i’m listening.” 

runs a hand down your arm slowly, like he’s testing the waters, and waits for your reaction. 

terrifyingly good at making you feel like the only girl in the world, but also shockingly gentle when it counts. 

ness alexis

he freezes the moment you confess you're nervous about intimacy. 

“oh… oh no, did i do something wrong? i didn’t mean to rush anything!” 

poor baby panics a bit, apologizing and waving his hands around. 

once you explain, he calms down and becomes the sweetest boy ever. 

“thank you for trusting me with that,” he says with a pink blush on his cheeks. 

he’s super respectful and extra careful after that, asks before everything, even hand-holding. 

will write you little notes like “you make my heart beat really fast” and leave them in your bag. 

he's just so honored to be your first that he treats the relationship like it’s the most precious thing ever (because to him, it is). 

karasu tabito

“wait… seriously?” he raises a brow, not mocking, just surprised. 

then he leans back with a teasing grin: “guess that means i get to corrupt you, huh?” 

you smack his arm, and he laughs, but quickly softens when he sees you're actually nervous. 

“hey… i’m kidding. mostly.” he nudges your shoulder. “you don’t gotta prove anything to me.” 

he’s smooth, but chill. sits with you on the floor, back-to-back, talking about random things until you’re comfortable. 

if you get shy, he shifts into “calm big brother best friend energy” mode and jokes around to make you laugh. 

but then he’ll randomly drop a line like, “y’know, it’s kinda cute being your first. i’ll make it worth it.” 

yukimiya kenyu

his first instinct is to reassure you. 

“thank you for telling me. i’ll make sure to be extra mindful of how you feel.” 

he’s the kind of guy to ask permission before leaning in or even brushing your hair behind your ear. 

yukimiya is elegant with his words: “i don’t want to rush something so important. you deserve tenderness, not pressure.” 

the type to take your hand gently and rest it over his heart so you can feel how fast it’s beating, too. 

absolutely adores the fact he gets to be your first, but never brags about it. 

just smiles to himself like he’s memorizing the moment, tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear and murmurs, “you’re doing so well. i hope you know how beautiful you are.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[abbotsanatomy]

hello!! i love ur writing you’re feeding my abbot addiction <33 could you write a fic with a depressed reader, maybe she had a hard case that hit close to home that ended badly and is really lingering for her, and jack noticed because she’s been more withdrawn and distant for the past few days and he tries to get her to talk about it and she says shes fine then blah blah fast forward shes on yhe roof crying after working a double :) sorry im a fiend for hurt comfort

⨳ PROTECTING THE HIVE

pairing: jack abbot x chief resident!reader warnings: (20-ish year) age gap, resident/attending relationship, workplace romance, depictions of depression, mentions of suicidal ideation, kinda medical malpractice (lol), panic attack, allusions to child abuse. author's note: i had no idea what to name this, so here's my attempt at being funny... (also keep the compliments coming, they're feeding my ego <33 mwah)

You used to love your bed. It used to be a huge source of comfort. And sleep. Sleep is a special commodity when you work night shifts at a trauma center.

Now, you hate it. Because whenever you aren't working, you're just lying there. Not even asleep, just staring at the ceiling. Half of the time, you want to get up and be with your hot, older boyfriend.

The other half of the time, your mind is just pulling out the most horrendous memories possible, making you relive them, and wish you were dead. There's a bottle of pills on your nightstand you know would do the trick. You won't let yourself.

People rely on you. Jack relies on you. You save lives every day; you just wish you didn't have to lose so many along the way.

The only place you can escape your own thoughts is the ER. So, you throw yourself into your work. You work twice as hard, for twice as long.

Of course, Jack notices. He can see the most imperceptible changes in your demeanor, so this major shift doesn't exactly fly under his radar.

Be that as it may, you won't tell him any of it. He's a natural worrier. He hovers and he worries. That's just who he is. You're doing him a huge favor, really.

Besides, out of all the things your coping mechanism could be, it's saving lives. Who wouldn't support that?

So, you work yourself to the bone guilt-free. You take on double shifts with a few extra hours sprinkled on top. It's more than tiring, but it also means that when you get home and you're in bed, you pass out. You don't lay there for hours thinking about the kid who died in your ER two weeks ago.

You're careful about it, too. You change your scrubs and chug a cup of that terrible break room coffee before Jack comes in for the night shift.

Tonight's another one of those long, grueling, self-inflicted shifts. You've got a Red Bull in one hand, and a patient's bloodwork in the other. You've assessed labs like this one a million times, but the numbers aren't making any sense right now. Parker passes by you with a quick tap on your shoulder to bring your attention to her.

“Hey, you want me to count you in for the rock climbing thing this Sunday?” she asks, opening up one of the ER computers, “It was fun last time, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say slowly.

You're not too sure you can come up with a viable excuse right now, so you'll just have to cancel later. It was really fun, it just sounds like too much effort right now.

She walks away with a nod, when one of the nurses calls for her. When you start feeling surrounded in the middle of the ER hallway, you make your way to the break room. It feels even more stuffy, somehow.

You grip the papers in your hands tighter. The throbbing in your head that hasn't really left for the past two weeks has become unbearable now.

Noises are too loud. Everyone's too close. You need to get out, now.

Everything in your hand gets abandoned on the break room counter. You make your way as swiftly as possible past the patient’s rooms. A hand gently grips your arm, before you can pull the emergency exit open.

“Are you alright?”

Jack's low cadence coupled with his steady touch on your arm make you want to burst out into tears right then and there.

“I'm fine. I just—” your voice cracks.

“I need a minute,” you tell him, willing your voice to be as firm as you can manage. You can't even pull your gaze up from the floor. It isn't clear if he's buying it or not.

He lets go of your arm, and you can finally run up the hospital's stairs to the rooftop. You're completely out of breath, and still wildly overstimulated by the time you get there.

You pull the roof's metal door open. The moment the cold December air hits your face, it calms your panic down. But it brings with it a wave of sadness that can't be quelled or distracted away. You let yourself feel it.

You're out of control, now. Hands shaking, limbs completely wracked by these huge, full-body sobs. You steady yourself with your arms on one of the roof's AC units, when the memories start flooding your mind.

The kid you killed, he'd come in a week before. He had bruises all over, cuts where he wasn't supposed to. You passed the information onto someone on the day shift, so they can tell the department social worker. The next day you came back, he was gone.

A week later, he was dying in your arms. His blood literally staining your hands is a memory you'll never be able to erase. You spiral, his first and last visit to the ER flashing in your mind with equal consequence.

The footsteps growing closer barely register to your ears over your wailing. The moment Jack pulls you close, a hand on your jaw to bring your eyes to his, you instinctively pull away. He's insistent, though. He was trying to give you space, but look where that's gotten you.

“Hey, hey,” he says firmly, to grab your attention.

You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head. He quickly realizes he can't get you to understand anything he says, not right now. So he does the next best thing.

He holds you. Really tight. So tight you can only smell his cologne and that sterile hospital scent that lingers on him for hours after a shift. It reminds you of home. You see him almost every day, but you miss him. He somehow always knows exactly what you need.

It takes a good ten minutes for you to stop crying in his arms. He's happy to be there, just glad you're slowly calming down. When your breathing evens out, and your eyes have dried out, you look up at him.

Where you think there should be disappointment, maybe even hatred, there's only admiration. If you’d actually picked up a scalpel and killed someone, he wouldn't even flinch, you think.

His gaze alone is making this a lot easier, “Better?”

You nod. Your eyes feel heavy, like you might just sleep here in his arms.

“It's the oxytocin,” he jokes.

“Yeah. I know,” you chuckle.

His scrub top looks incredibly comfortable. For the first time in weeks, you wish you were just in bed. You could lay on his chest and have the best sleep you've had in too many nights to count. The best you can get right now is resting your forehead on the black fabric. That's exactly what you do.

Jack lets a few seconds go back before speaking up.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I...” you take a deep breath.

I killed him. The words die on your tongue. You can't say them.

Jack must notice this is causing you distress, so he runs his fingers through your hair. He kisses the top of your head to calm you down.

“We don't have to, right now,” he whispers, “Not ever, even. But you do need to talk about it to someone.”

You nod in agreement, against his shirt. Your coping mechanisms are so not working.

“When was the last time you ate?”

You blank, “I don't...I don't know.”

“Sleep?” he asks.

You shake your head.

“Alright. You're done.”

He pulls your head up with a hand on each cheek, “Clock out. Go home. Have some food, and I'll be there in a few hours.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

You both walk to the emergency exit. In the stairwell, you turn to him, your eyes still glistening.

“Hey, um. I'm not fine, Jack,” you admit.

“I know that,” he tells you. “But you will be. I'll make sure of it.”

You believe him.

[esnuppi]

the amount of times I’ve gone to the comments of any post (for any platform not just tumblr) hoping to have a discussion or ask a question and was met with blind hostility is astounding. it makes me genuinely not want to contribute anything outside of lurking online because people will be so entitled and rude for no reason. and if they’re not being outright mean they treat everything like a joke they have to get in on so suddenly you’re just a spectacle rather than a person

its pretty clear a lot of it is because people feel comfortable saying shit online they would never say to a stranger irl, and some of what i’ve noticed when people get called out for it is they think that everyone else is doing it so its fine for them. people will even act hostile because they assume the person asking a question is doing so in bad faith, which is really sad to me that someone’s first instinct is to assume everyone is being malicious on purpose

We've all gotten just a bit too comfortable being jerks to strangers on the internet I think

[spaceyaemonds]

god i love this premise, it’s so hilarious that Jack would wind up with a young baby mama. It’d be fun to think of this as pre-canon. So she can kinda fit in the whole first season, like a super young mom coming in to treat a burn or something with a little kid, she’s being seen by a resident whose like so unaware and then boom, Jack walks in and the gossip/stares start. I think Jack can’t really ignore what it looks like but would be annoyed by the stares but ultimately wouldn’t care. And she would just be like *shrugs* “he’s super hot”

Also I am eagerly waiting on the hilarious interaction of Jack telling Robby and Dana. “What’s worse than knocking up your one night stand?” “Um, she’s 23.” “Jesus Christ”

Or maybe when they go out they keep calling Jack grandpa. Or just the heavy looks when they see this very young milf smile around Jack. Just the heavy stares from Robby and Dana as they watch this young family grow lol.

I also think they could have this really cute but kinda dysfunctional family dynamic. Yes they have a healthy coparenting relationship. Dad is teaching the kid survival skills and taking him on camping excursions where they test said survival skills. Yes Mom is chill as hell, and spills tea about the crazy office dynamics while she crafts with her kid. And lowkey loves being a hot mom. Like yes mom and dad sometimes smash because they have needs and it’s just less mess and complication when they have this somewhat dysfunctional FWB situation, that has potential to blossom into something bigger.

Anyways I love this mini series it’s serious feeding me, that man is so fine with the salt and pepper hair. I can’t wait to read more.

hi friend!!! i am so so glad you have been enjoying this mini series!!!! i have loved sharing it with everyone here!! omg same, i am so obsessed with him he makes me SICKKK!

ahh!! i have a lot to say on this so answering under the cut!!

it is very funny to imagine jack getting off of shift on the day and hours into the day reader shows up in the ed with their (fat, because i love fat babies) baby, maybe two years old. baby slipped and bumped their head, and she doesn’t want to bother jack so she takes baby alone. she somehow misses robby and dana, ends up with whitaker, of all people. maybe perlah or princess notice baby abbot’s name on the board, immediately tell dana, who makes a quick call to jack. whitaker goes to check over the baby, and jack immediately jerks the door open, “get the hell away from my kid.” and whitaker just looks between reader, the baby, and jack, on the verge of throwing up. santos and mel are right outside when they hear everything and immediately are all 😮👀

dana and robby’s reactions are as expected. dana is majorly side eyeing, and robby is just like “jesus christ! twenty-three?!?!” and jack doesn’t even really try to defend himself. standing there like a puppy getting scolded lol.

i like to think that reader very often gets hit on, guys closer in age to her walking up to her when she’s with jack and baby abbot at the park, asking if her dad can keep an eye on the baby and maybe they can grab dinner. it always makes her laugh, and infuriates jack, has him mumbling all kinds of stuff like “sure, dad can watch baby.” because he understands that she’s a beautiful girl, but he can’t deny the jealousy he feels when people hit on her in front of him.

jack loves nothing more than spending time with his baby. more often than not, after a hard shift, he finds his way to her house, just asking to take a peek at baby but ends up sleeping on the floor next to the crib. and more often than not, he spends his nights off there, ending up in readers bed. he isn’t interested in seeing anyone else, and she can’t imagine dating when there’s so much tension and longing between her and jack.

i think it takes some time, but they do eventually end up together. they’ve lowkey just been together, though, just not official. jack never felt the need to try to put a label on it because he’s worried about “forcing” her into something she doesn’t want. he knows how he feels, and though is never 100% on how exactly she feels, he knows there’s something there. i also don’t think they ever really officially date. i like to imagine jack maybe just slips a ring on her finger one night, and they get married not long after!

[divinesangel]

— 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 [𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝]

pm me for an affordable, in-depth personal reading!

— 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞!

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏

they won’t always say they’re jealous out loud. not at first. it’ll show in small ways. like a sudden shift in their energy, their tone getting a little sharper, or them going quiet for just a second too long. their eyes will give them away before their mouth ever does. they’ll look at you like they’re trying to figure something out, like they’re watching too closely.

they’ll try to act unbothered at first. play it cool. brush it off like it’s nothing. but underneath, they’ll be thinking a lot. overthinking, honestly. wondering if they have to compete for your attention, even if you’ve given them no reason to feel that way. because when they care, they care deeply. and jealousy, for them, comes from that same place. it’s not about control. it’s about fear. fear of losing something they’re scared to admit matters that much.

they might get more affectionate. clingier in a subtle way. reaching for your hand more, showing up where you are, giving compliments that feel extra specific, as if they’re reminding you that they know you better than anyone else. and they do. they just get scared sometimes. especially if they see you shining or connecting with others in a way that makes them feel replaceable.

sometimes, they’ll get defensive. tease you a little too hard. make sarcastic comments that feel light on the surface but have heat underneath. and if they really feel pushed, they might pull back completely. not because they’re done. but because they’re hurt. they’d rather retreat than admit they’re jealous. pride gets in the way. they don’t want to seem weak.

but once they feel safe again. once you look them in the eyes and show them there’s no threat, no competition, no one else taking up the space they want to hold. they soften. they open back up. maybe even admit it. “i was jealous,” they’ll say, half embarrassed, half honest. and it’ll mean something when they do. because they don’t share that part of themselves with just anyone.

when they’re jealous, it’s messy in a quiet way. not explosive. not toxic. just very human. they want to be your favorite person, and when they feel like they’re not, it rattles them. but if you love them right. if you show up, reassure, and keep things honest. they learn to manage it. and they’ll love you even more for making them feel chosen. again and again.

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐

when your soulmate gets jealous, it’s not loud or obvious. they don’t yell, they don’t accuse, and they don’t start fights. instead, it shows up quietly. at first, they’ll act like everything is fine, maybe even go out of their way to seem extra calm or cheerful. they might smile the same way, say all the right things, but there’s something just a little off. something in their eyes, in the way they pause before answering, in the way they seem distracted when they usually give you their full attention.

they’re proud. they don’t want to be the kind of person who gets jealous. they might even feel silly for it. so they try to hide it, to bury the feeling under politeness and jokes and “it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” they’re the kind of person who overthinks when they’re hurt. they’ll replay a conversation again and again in their head, wondering if they misunderstood, wondering if they’re being too sensitive. they don’t want to lose you, and that fear — no matter how small — makes them hesitate.

so instead of telling you right away, they pull back just a little. maybe they take longer to text you back. maybe they stop calling as often. maybe they stop asking so many questions about your day. not because they don’t care — but because they care too much, and they’re scared of what the answers might be. they’re trying to protect themselves from getting hurt.

and yet, at the same time, they’re still watching. still noticing. they catch every smile you give someone else, every time you talk about someone new, every inside joke they’re not part of. and it stings. not in a possessive way, but in that quiet ache of “i hope i’m enough.” they start to question things they never used to question. is this just a phase? are you drifting away? are they imagining it? they don’t want to ask, because they’re afraid the answer might confirm their worst fear.

but jealousy doesn’t mean they don’t trust you. it means they love you deeply, and that love feels a little fragile sometimes. it means you matter so much that the idea of losing your attention, your affection, your warmth — it shakes them. and when it gets too much, when holding it in feels heavier than letting it out, they’ll come to you. quietly, cautiously, with soft eyes and hesitant words. they’ll probably start with “this might sound dumb but…” or “i know it’s probably nothing…” because they’re not trying to start a fight. they’re just trying to be honest. they’re trying to say, “i care. i noticed. and it made me feel small for a second.”

and what they really want — what their heart is hoping for — is not an apology, not a promise, not even an explanation. they just want you to see them. to notice that they’re hurting. to hold space for their vulnerability. to say, even in a small way, “i’m not going anywhere. you still matter most.”

when they’re jealous, they don’t need drama or attention. they need tenderness. reassurance. a gentle hand, a kind word, a look that says, “you don’t have to worry. i’m still here.” because behind their quiet distance is someone who loves you more than they know how to say. someone who is learning, little by little, that love is safe here. and that they don’t have to hide their heart to keep it from breaking.

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑

they’ll try to keep it together on the outside. they won’t always say what they’re feeling. instead, they’ll pull back just a little, like they’re trying to hide what’s bothering them. they’ll overthink it, replaying the moment in their head. they’ll feel this storm of emotion — insecurity, protectiveness, fear of losing you — but they’ll try to keep it controlled. they might go quiet, seem more serious, act a bit colder than usual. they’ll retreat a bit, like they’re trying to get themselves under control before speaking.

jealousy hits them hard, not because they don’t trust you, but because they care so much it scares them. you’re someone they feel deeply for. and that depth comes with fear — fear of not being enough, of losing what they love. it’s not that they want to control you. it’s just that when they care, they care fully. and they’ve likely been hurt before. their past might make them wary, guarded. they may try to act like they’re above those emotions, like they’re stronger than that — but inside, it eats at them.

when they’re jealous, they’ll be more observant. they’ll notice everything. who you talk to. how long. the tone in your voice. they won’t say it out loud, but their body will — a clenched jaw, arms crossed, that slight shift in their energy. they’ll want to know they’re still the one you want. and when they feel threatened, they’ll battle with themselves: do they say something or stay quiet and seem strong?

but even with all that, the truth is: they don’t want to hurt you or start a fight. they’ll try to work through it internally first. they’ll think about whether it’s their own insecurities talking. but if it gets too heavy, they’ll eventually open up — and when they do, it’ll be honest and raw. they’ll tell you they just didn’t know where they stood, or that they got scared. because jealousy, for them, is really just a fear of losing something they’ve finally found.

you’ll also notice that when they’re jealous, there’s a strong desire to prove something. to reclaim space in your heart. they’ll show up more — not with anger, but with intention. they’ll remind you of your bond, of what you share. maybe through affection, maybe through effort, maybe through a little possessiveness that’s more protective than toxic. they’ll want to make sure you still see them, still choose them.

they’re someone who feels big emotions in quiet ways. someone who leads with strength but underneath just wants to be loved deeply and not left behind. jealousy won’t turn them cruel — it’ll make them ache. but with time, trust, and reassurance, they’ll learn that love doesn’t have to come with fear. and you’ll see the light come back in them, softer, more secure — because when they feel safe, they shine.

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 !

hi! it’s daphne here.

i’m currently offering personal readings for €7 and soulmate readings for €14 so don’t hesitate to send me a private message if you’re interested!

thank you for being here!

[lila-lou]

✨All over again - 2/4✨

Summary: After a crash leaves Dean with permanent memory loss, you’re nothing but a stranger to him now. Years of love, gone in an instant. But the hardest part isn’t that he forgot you, it’s that he doesn’t want to remember.

-requested-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst

Word Count: 4132

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

As the evening rolled in, the bunker was eerily quiet.

You were still in your room—your own room now. The hours had passed in a blur, but you hadn't moved much. The weight of everything sat heavy on your chest, exhaustion pressing down on you, but sleep never came. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw him. The way he had pulled off his ring, the way he had looked at you like you were nothing more than a stranger.

The love of your life—your husband—was gone. And he wasn’t coming back.

Meanwhile, Dean had buried himself in the garage, his hands occupied with Baby’s engine, like fixing something would make this easier. He hadn’t come back inside since he left the library, and Sam knew exactly why.

Dean was running.

Not that it surprised him. Dean had always run from things he couldn’t fix.

Sam sighed as he set the table, a familiar routine after years of traveling, of making whatever meal they could pull together feel like something normal. But tonight, it wasn’t normal. Nothing was.

He grabbed his phone, scrolling through the contacts, considering calling Cas, maybe even Jody, but he knew the truth: no one could fix this. Not even an angel.

With a deep breath, he stepped into the hall and called out, “Dinner’s ready”.

He didn’t expect you to respond. And you didn’t. You probably hadn’t eaten all day, but he doubted you cared.

Dean, though—Dean had to show up eventually. Sam knew his brother too well. He could avoid emotions, but he wouldn’t avoid food.

Sure enough, after a few minutes, he heard the heavy footsteps from the garage. Dean appeared in the doorway, wiping grease from his hands onto an old rag, his expression unreadable.

Sam leaned against the table, arms crossed. “She’s not coming out”.

Dean didn’t react right away, just tossed the rag onto the counter. “Figured”.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You’re really not gonna talk to her?”.

Dean huffed out a breath, shaking his head. “Talk to her about what, Sam?”.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe about how she’s been locked in her room all day after you broke her damn heart?”.

Dean’s jaw tightened, his shoulders going rigid. “What do you want me to do?”, he muttered, voice quieter now. “I already told her the truth”.

Sam let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, you sure did”. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Dean’s wedding ring, holding it up between them.

Dean’s eyes flickered to the small piece of silver, and for a moment—just a second—something passed over his face. But then it was gone.

“Thought you’d wanna keep this”, Sam said, voice sharp.

Dean didn’t take it. Instead, he just shook his head. “It doesn’t mean anything anymore”.

Sam clenched his jaw, his fingers curling around the ring. “Bullshit”, he snapped. “It meant everything to you”.

Dean met his gaze, something flickering in his expression—guilt, frustration, something else even Sam couldn’t read. But then he just exhaled. “It’s over, Sam”. His voice was quieter this time, but it still cut deep.

Sam swallowed back the anger bubbling in his chest, before he slipped the ring into his pocket. “Fine”, he muttered. “But at least pretend you give a damn and sit down for dinner”.

Dean hesitated for a second, but then—like clockwork—he sat down, grabbing a plate like this was just another night. Like everything hadn’t just fallen apart.

The next morning came too soon, dragging in the dull ache of reality with it.

You barely slept. When you did, it was restless—filled with fleeting memories that felt more like ghosts, teasing you with what once was. The warmth of Dean’s body beside you, the sound of his laugh, the way he used to nudge you awake with a kiss to your shoulder.

Now, the only thing that greeted you was an empty room, a cold bed, and the harsh truth of being alone.

A soft knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Sam.

“Come on”, he called through the door, voice softer than usual. “Breakfast. Then we’re heading to a case”.

A case.

For the past few days, everything had been about Dean. His memory loss, his detachment, the way he had slowly pushed you away until he finally put the last nail in the coffin. But now, things were moving forward—just like that. As if nothing had happened.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and pushed yourself upright, feeling the weight of exhaustion in your limbs. You could hear Sam’s footsteps fading down the hall, giving you space, but the message was clear.

The world wasn’t going to stop for this. So, neither could you.

With a deep breath, you pulled on a hoodie and ran a hand through your hair, barely glancing at your reflection before stepping out into the hallway. The bunker felt colder than usual—though maybe that was just in your head.

When you reached the kitchen, Sam was already at the table, nursing a cup of coffee, scanning something on his laptop. Dean sat across from him, shoveling food into his mouth like nothing was wrong. Like he hadn’t shattered everything between you the day before.

You hesitated in the doorway, your stomach twisting. Dean didn’t even look up when you entered. Didn’t acknowledge you at all. And that fucking hurt. More than it should have.

Sam glanced at you, offering a small nod before sliding a plate toward the empty seat beside him.

You sat down, keeping your eyes on your food, even though you weren’t hungry.

The silence stretched on.

“So”, Sam finally said, filling the dead air. “Looks like we got a case up in Nebraska. Couple of disappearances near some abandoned farmland. Sounds like a possible wraith or maybe a revenant”.

You nodded numbly, barely listening.

Dean swallowed his last bite and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “How soon can we head out?”.

Sam eyed him, then flicked his gaze to you. “Soon as we’re ready”.

It wasn’t an invitation. It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a reminder. You were still a hunter. You still had a job to do.

Dean finally glanced at you then—just for a second. But there was no warmth, no hesitation. Just a silent, unreadable look before he pushed back from the table and stood. “I’ll get my stuff”. And just like that, he was gone again.

You stared at the empty space where he had been, fingers tightening around the edge of your plate.

You weren’t sure what hurt worse—losing him completely, or having him right in front of you, but feeling like he was already gone.

The drive to Nebraska was long, and the air inside the Impala was thick with silence.

Dean drove, eyes locked on the road, his expression unreadable. Sam sat in the passenger seat, occasionally glancing back at you, as if checking to make sure you were still breathing.

You were in the back. Where you hadn’t sat in years. It felt unnatural, wrong. This was the seat you used to claim only when you were teasing Dean, stealing his cassette tapes, kicking your feet up on the upholstery just to get a rise out of him.

Now, you sat there because it was the only place left for you.

The space between you and Dean wasn’t just physical. It was something deeper, something that felt impossible to close. And the worst part? He seemed fine with it. Like he didn’t even notice.

Sam cleared his throat, shifting slightly in his seat. “So, uh, I checked out the reports again before we left. Witnesses say they saw a figure near the last house that got hit. Human-shaped, but… off”.

Dean hummed in acknowledgment, keeping his eyes on the road. “Off how?”.

Sam clicked on his phone, pulling up his notes. “One guy said it moved too fast. Another said the eyes looked weird—like they reflected light, kind of like an animal”.

Dean nodded. “Wraith or skinwalker, then”.

“Yeah, maybe”.

Silence fell again.

You rested your head against the cool window, watching the scenery blur by. Normally, on these long drives, Dean would reach over and squeeze your knee. You used to play games—counting how many crappy motels you passed, arguing over which diner in which town had the best pie.

Now, you were just there. Existing. Nothing more.

“(Y/N)”, Sam’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You blinked, glancing up to see him looking at you in the mirror. “What do you think?”.

You realized then that you hadn’t been listening. “Uh… yeah. Sounds like a wraith”, you said quickly, pretending to know what they had just been talking about.

Dean didn’t react.

Sam, of course, noticed. His brow furrowed slightly, but he let it go. “Alright. We’ll check the victim’s houses first, see if we can track where it’s hiding”.

You nodded, then went back to staring out the window.

The rest of the drive continued in that suffocating quiet, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the occasional flip of Dean’s turn signal.

When you finally pulled into town, Dean parked outside a small diner—classic, predictable. “Food first”, he muttered, killing the engine.

Sam got out without question, stretching his legs, but you hesitated for a second before following. Sam fell into step beside you, keeping his voice low. “You don’t have to do this, you know”.

You swallowed hard. “Do what?”.

“Pretend like this is normal”.

You let out a quiet breath, forcing a tight smile. “Isn’t it?”.

Sam didn’t answer. Because you both knew the truth. Nothing about this was normal. Nothing about this was okay. But you weren’t going to fall apart. Not now.

Inside the diner, the three of you slid into a booth—Sam on one side, you and Dean on the other. The old leather creaked beneath you, and the scent of cheap coffee and sizzling bacon filled the air. It should have felt familiar, comforting. But it didn’t.

Dean barely glanced at you as he picked up the menu, flipping through it like nothing was wrong. Like this was just another morning.

And then—he did it. Right in front of you. He glanced up, eyes tracking the waitress as she walked past, his gaze lingering on her ass before he smirked to himself and went back to his menu.

Your stomach twisted violently.

Sam saw it, too. You knew because his jaw tightened slightly, his eyes flickering from you to Dean with something like disbelief.

Dean didn’t even notice. He just sat there, cool as ever, completely unaware that his casual, thoughtless action had just gutted you.

Because that was the thing—he had never done that around you. Not since the day he fell for you. Sure, before you, Dean had always been a flirt, always had a wandering eye, always made some dumb joke about a “solid ten” when you passed a pretty girl. But when he had you? You had been it for him.

There had been no wandering, no second glances, no careless flirting. He had made it clear, over and over again, that you were the only woman in the damn world as far as he was concerned.

Now, he was looking at another woman like you weren’t even sitting right there. Like you were nothing.

You clenched your jaw, staring hard at the menu in front of you, willing yourself not to react. Not to let him see how much it hurt.

The waitress—young, blonde, pretty—sauntered over with a bright smile, notepad in hand. “What can I get you boys?”. She barely glanced at you.

Dean grinned up at her, easy and charming, like this was the most natural thing in the world. “Coffee. And whatever’s got the most bacon”.

The waitress giggled—actually giggled—and nodded. “Got it. And for you?”, she asked, looking at Sam.

Sam cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Uh, Coffee and Eggs”.

The waitress scribbled it down, then finally turned to you. “And you, sweetheart?”.

Sweetheart. You almost laughed at the irony. “Just coffee”, you muttered, not trusting yourself to say more.

The waitress nodded, giving Dean one last look before walking away.

Dean leaned back in the booth, stretching his arm over the backrest, exhaling like he had not a single care in the world.

Sam, on the other hand, looked pissed. His eyes flicked between you and Dean, his patience clearly wearing thin. But he didn’t say anything—not yet.

You? You just sat there, staring down in front of you, stomach churning.

When the food arrived, the waitress made sure to linger, setting Dean’s plate down with a little too much enthusiasm, her fingers just barely brushing against his arm. “Careful, handsome”, she teased, a playful smirk on her lips. “Wouldn’t want you to burn that pretty mouth of yours”.

Dean grinned, easy and effortless, the kind of smirk that used to be reserved just for you. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I can handle a little heat”.

Your grip on your coffee cup tightened.

Sam visibly tensed beside you, his eyes darting between the two of you, but he stayed quiet.

You just sat there, taking a slow sip of your coffee, staring at the swirling black liquid as if it could drown out the scene in front of you. Under the table, your fingers found the band of your wedding ring, twisting it absently with your thumb—a nervous habit, one you had picked up years ago.

You had done this on hunts, when things got tense. When Dean had been out too long, when a case went south, when you were afraid of losing him. And now, you were doing it because you had already lost him.

The waitress giggled, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she gave Dean one last look before walking away. Dean—your husband—watched her go.

The sting behind your eyes burned, but you blinked hard, forcing it down. You weren’t going to cry. Not here. Not in front of him.

Dean picked up his fork, completely unfazed, as if he hadn’t just flirted with another woman in front of the wife he had apparently erased from his life. “Damn, this smells good”.

Sam snapped. “You’ve gotta be kidding me”.

Dean looked up, brow raised. “What?”.

You took another slow sip of your coffee, the warmth doing nothing to ease the numbness settling deep in your bones. Your fingers twitched against the ceramic, a silent battle raging inside you. Then, without a word, you set the cup down, pushed back your chair, and stood.

Before Dean could react, your hand dipped into the pocket of his jeans—the same move you had pulled a hundred times before when you wanted to drive Baby, when you wanted to tease him, when you wanted his attention.

But this time, it wasn’t playful. This time, it was just survival.

You snatched the keys and muttered, “I’ll wait in the car”.

Dean blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”.

You didn’t respond. Didn’t give him the satisfaction. Didn’t give yourself the chance to break right there in the middle of the damn diner. You just walked away.

Sam sighed and leaned back in his seat, rubbing a hand down his face as he watched you push through the door and disappear into the parking lot.

Dean, meanwhile, sat there, stunned for a second. Then he scoffed, shaking his head. “What the hell was that?”.

Sam shot him a look that could’ve burned through steel. “You’re an idiot”, he muttered, voice low but sharp.

Dean frowned, shifting in his seat. “Oh, come on, man—”.

“No”. Sam cut him off, leaning forward now, his anger barely contained. “You don’t get to do this, Dean. You don’t get to act like this is normal”.

Dean rolled his eyes. “I was eating, Sam. I was having a damn meal”.

“No, you were rubbing it in her face”, Sam snapped. “Flirting with some random waitress like she wasn’t even sitting right there”.

Dean clenched his jaw, his fingers tapping against the edge of his plate. “I didn’t mean—”.

“Didn’t mean to?”, Sam let out a humorless laugh. “Jesus, Dean. You chased her. You spent months convincing her to give you a shot. And now you’re treating her like she doesn’t exist”.

Dean’s grip on his fork tightened, his gaze flickering toward the window. He could just barely see the outline of Baby in the parking lot.

Sam exhaled, shaking his head. “She left everything for you. And you just let her walk away”.

Dean didn’t answer. Because he didn’t have one. And for the first time in days, something about that bothered him.

Steam curled in the small motel bathroom, clinging to the mirror and fogging up the glass. You had just stepped out of the shower, towel discarded as you reached for your underwear, exhausted from the long day of interviews and forced conversations. Your skin was still damp, beads of water rolling down your shoulders.

Just then, the door flew open.

Dean strode in without thinking, muttering something under his breath, fully intent on just using the damn bathroom before eating. His mind was still on the case, on the food in the bag he had dropped on the motel table—he hadn’t even remembered that you were in here.

Until now. Until he saw you.

Standing there, bare skin glistening under the dim motel light, hair wet and clinging to your shoulders, curves on full display—fuck.

Dean stopped in his tracks. His breath hitched, something deep in his chest clenching before he could even process what was happening. Damn it. He wasn’t supposed to react like this.

But hell, you were beautiful. No, not just beautiful. You were the hottest damn thing he’d ever seen. And it hit him like a punch to the gut.

You barely reacted. You simply sighed, pulling your underwear up with practiced ease, then reached for your shirt.

Dean had seen you naked a million times before. Even if he didn’t remember, you did. This wasn’t new. Wasn’t shocking. And honestly? You just didn’t have the energy to care. Your heart was too broken for something as trivial as embarrassment.

Dean, on the other hand was fucking hard in an instant.

It was like his body had short-circuited, completely ignoring whatever logical part of his brain had convinced him there was nothing left between you. Because right now, there was something. And it was undeniable.

Dean felt heat rush through him, pulse pounding in his ears as his jeans suddenly felt way too tight. He was still frozen in place, fingers twitching at his sides, brain struggling to catch up with what the fuck was happening.

You didn’t even spare him a second glance. Didn’t react. Didn’t blush. Didn’t tease him like you probably would have, back when things were good.

You just pulled your shirt over your head, moving around him like he wasn’t even there. And for some reason, that made it worse. Made it so much worse.

Dean swallowed hard, willing himself to look away, to breathe, but his gaze kept getting dragged back—dragged to the way your damp skin glowed under the shitty motel light, the way your muscles tensed ever so slightly as you moved.

His body remembered. Even if his mind didn’t. And that scared the shit out of him.

He exhaled sharply, finally forcing himself to turn around. “Fucking shit", he muttered under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a second.

You shot him a look in the mirror, completely unbothered. “What’s your problem?”.

Dean let out a humorless laugh, still not looking at you. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe the fact that you’re walking around naked like it’s nothing?”.

You raised a brow, pulling your jeans up, your expression unreadable. “It is nothing”.

He huffed, rubbing a hand over his jaw, trying to will his body to calm the fuck down. “Right. Yeah. Of course. No big deal”.

You let out a soft, almost bitter laugh as you grabbed your brush from the counter, dragging it through your wet hair. “Don’t worry, Dean”, you muttered. “I’m not expecting anything from you. Not anymore”.

That? That stung. More than it should have.

Dean finally glanced at you, something unreadable in his expression, but you were already walking past him, heading out the bathroom door like this conversation didn’t even matter. Like he didn’t matter.

And for the first time since this whole mess started… Dean wasn’t so sure he liked that feeling.

Dean followed you out of the bathroom, his steps quick, urgent. His dick wouldn’t stop throbbing. It was like his body had a mind of its own, like every nerve was on high alert, and fuck—he wasn’t used to this. Wasn’t used to being out of control when it came to himself.

And you just walked across the room like nothing had happened, completely unbothered, running a towel through your damp hair as you sat on the edge of the motel bed.

Dean exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You can’t do this”, he muttered, voice tight.

You didn’t even look up. “Do what?”.

He scoffed, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “This. Making me—”. He cut himself off, jaw clenching. “Making me horny just to get me to feel something”.

That made you pause. Slowly, you turned to him, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Excuse me?”.

Dean stared at you, like he expected you to admit it, to own up to it. Like this was your fault. But you just blinked, tilting your head slightly.

Then, after a beat, you let out a small, bitter laugh. “You walked in on me naked, Dean”.

His mouth opened, then shut. You had a point.

You crossed your arms, watching him, your expression unreadable. “I didn’t try to seduce you. I wasn’t parading around in lingerie, I wasn’t touching you, I wasn’t doing anything”. You let out a sharp exhale. “You came in, you looked, and now your body is reacting”.

Dean swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably, because shit—you were right. But that didn’t change the fact that his body was reacting. And it pissed him off. Because he shouldn’t be feeling like this. Shouldn’t be this fucking desperate to touch you, to feel you, when he didn’t even remember why. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “Then why the hell didn’t you care?”.

Your brows furrowed slightly. “What?”.

He took a step closer, jaw clenched. “You were naked. I walked in, and you didn’t even flinch”. His voice was rough, edged with something he didn’t quite understand.

You let out another quiet, humorless laugh, shaking your head as you ran the towel through your damp hair one last time before tossing it onto the bed beside you. “Shit, Dean”, you muttered, rubbing a hand over your face. “You’ve seen me naked a million times”.

Dean’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything.

“You used to wake me up in the middle of the night just because you needed me”, you continued, voice sharp but laced with something vulnerable. “You used to pin me against walls, drag me into the backseat of the Impala, couldn’t keep your hands off me for more than a damn second”.

Dean swallowed thickly. His body reacted again, a deep, primal pull in his gut at the images your words conjured, but his mind—his mind was still struggling. Still fighting against whatever this was.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “But now? You see me naked and act like it’s some huge deal?”.

Dean clenched his jaw, frustration rolling off him in waves. “It is a huge deal”, he shot back.

“No, it´s not".

He stared at you, mouth parting like he wanted to say something—anything—but nothing came.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

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[riddlesrizzler]

𝙃𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙑𝙚𝙣𝙤𝙢

summary: your twang, makes mattheo develop a thang for you.

characters: southern! reader. down bad! matty. mentions of slytherin boys

warnings: none! just sweet!

word count: 1.4k

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

It was a typical day at Hogwarts, or at least, that’s how it was supposed to be. Mattheo had been looking forward to the rare moment of peace when his schedule was free of detentions and irritating professors. But no, of course, life at Hogwarts never went as planned.

Instead of being tucked away in the dungeons with his friends, Mattheo found himself begrudgingly walking down the corridor with an unexpected new responsibility. He had been “volunteered” by Professor McGonagall to show around the new transfer student.

"Mate, it won’t be so bad. Just walk her around, show her the ropes," Theo had said earlier, a smirk plastered on his face, knowing full well that Mattheo hated babysitting anyone.

"I don’t babysit," Mattheo had growled in response.

"You’ll be fine," Draco added, adjusting the collar of his robes as he walked beside them. "Think of it as a chance to make a good impression on the new girl."

"A good impression? Why do I have to make a good impression? I'm not interested in being her tour guide." Mattheo couldn’t help but sigh as he glanced at the clock. The afternoon had barely begun, and he was already regretting this.

But his friends’ words stuck with him, and reluctantly, Mattheo dragged his feet toward the entrance hall where the new student was waiting. He turned the corner, his mind preoccupied with how much he’d rather be anywhere but here.

You stood there in your black robes, nervously twisting the end of your sleeve. Your boots were a little scuffed, your uniform skirt a little too short for the dress code. And your eyes-bright, curious, framed by lashes that could kill a man - flicked up to his.

“Oh, hell,” Mattheo muttered under his breath.

She was pretty.

Like, too pretty.

For a moment, everything around him seemed to fade. The chatter, the footsteps, the hum of the castle-all of it disappeared. It was just her, and her eyes were locked on his. His chest tightened, and for the first time in ages, Mattheo felt something stir inside of him-something that had nothing to do with his usual dark thoughts or aloof indifference.

She was beautiful.

He hadn’t expected it, and that’s what made it worse. He never allowed himself to think of girls in those terms-especially not in this place, not with everything else on his mind. But there she was, and everything he had told himself about being too detached, too cynical, seemed to vanish in the wake of that first glance.

She smiled softly, a slow, warm curve of her lips that made him feel like an idiot for standing there, staring. His mouth went dry as he forced himself to take a step forward.

"Hey, you must be the new transfer student, right?" he asked, a bit too sharp. He mentally cursed himself for sounding so curt.

And when she spoke, Mattheo felt his entire world shift.

“Well, I reckon that would be me," she said with a gentle smile, her southern drawl lilting through her words like honey dripping from a jar. "Name’s Y/N. Nice to meet ya.”

He blinked.

Your voice.

Mattheo’s heart skipped a beat. He was certain he'd heard accents before, but nothing like this. There was something intoxicating about it, something that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The way her words flowed... it was like music to his ears.

It was like sweet tea and slow Sundays. Like porch swings in the heat and lightning bugs in jars. Mattheo wasn’t used to soft. He wasn’t used to voices that lilted like that.

“Where are you from?” he asked before he could stop himself. He was genuinely curious, but more than that, he wanted to hear her talk again.

"Georgia," she replied, twirling a lock of her hair absently. “It’s a southern state in the states. We’re known for our peaches.”

"Peaches?" Mattheo’s lips curled into a slight smile. He couldn’t help it. Her voice was too mesmerizing, and he wanted to hear it again. “I’ve never heard anyone talk like you before."

Her laugh was soft, a melodic sound that only made him more captivated. “That’s 'cause most folks up here don’t know much 'bout the South. But trust me, there’s nothing quite like it.”

"Peaches," he muttered under his breath, the word feeling warm and comforting. “I think that suits you. I’ll call you... Peaches."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Peaches, huh? Alright, if that’s what you wanna call me.”

He couldn’t stop himself from grinning. It felt right, the way her name sounded in his mouth, and something inside of him clicked. He was already drawn to her, to her voice, to the way she made even the simplest words seem enchanting.

-

Throughout the tour, Mattheo couldn’t help but ask her more questions—anything to keep her talking. Her voice was like an addiction he couldn’t shake. They passed the Great Hall, the dungeons, and the greenhouses, but all he could focus on was her voice.

“So... do you always say things like 'reckon'?” Mattheo asked, his voice casual, though there was a glimmer of intrigue in his eyes.

She blinked, surprised by the question. “Well, reckon is pretty common where I’m from. It’s like a way of saying 'I think' or ‘I suppose.’”

"Reckon,” Mattheo repeated to himself, savoring the sound. “I like that.” He paused for a moment, looking around the hall as if searching for his next question. His eyes caught on a few banners hanging in the corridor. “What about... ‘y’all’? Do you say that a lot?”

Her lips curled into a smile. “Of course. It’s the plural form of ‘you,’” she explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “We use it when we’re talking to a group of people, like ‘How are y’all doing?’”

“Y’all,” Mattheo repeated, tasting the word like it was something sweet on his tongue. “It’s... it’s charming.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, clearly amused by his fixation on her accent. “You sure like how I pronounce things.”

“I do,” Mattheo confessed. “It’s... it’s different. But in a way that makes me want to hear it more.”

“Well, you’re in luck. I reckon I can keep talking, if you like.” The soft blush that spread across her cheeks made Mattheo’s heart flutter. She didn’t seem bothered by his words, but rather intrigued, a little amused.

-

That night, in the dim green light of the Slytherin common room, Mattheo collapsed onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. Theo was already half-asleep with a book on his chest, Blaise was flipping through a Quidditch magazine, and Draco was polishing his wand.

“She’s got the voice of a goddess,” Mattheo said, staring at the ceiling.

“Already?” Blaise drawled. “You fall in love every Thursday.”

“No, no, listen,” Mattheo sat up, animated now. “She talks like… like butter melting on toast. Like bourbon on the rocks.”

Draco snorted. “You sound insane.”

Theo peeked open one eye. “Didn’t you say she was from America?”

“The South,” Mattheo said dreamily. “She said,‘Well, you’re in luck. I reckon I can keep talking, if you like.” Do you understand what that did to me?”

“Turned your brain into soup, apparently,” Blaise muttered.

Mattheo ignored him. “I swear, she could be reading potion ingredients and I’d still be hanging onto every damn word.”

“She cute?” Theo asked.

Mattheo glared. “Don’t even look at her.”

Draco laughed. “Oh, he’s whipped. Already got dibs.”

Mattheo slumped back into the couch, a dazed grin on his face. “I’m gonna make her say my name. Just once. Mattheo. Like Mat-thay-oh, in that voice…”

Blaise threw a cushion at him.

“She’s from Georgia,” he announced.

Theo looked up. “Is that a real place?”

Blaise nodded. “I think it’s in America.”

“No,” Mattheo said, pointing a finger in the air like he was making a grand proclamation. “It’s the Peach State.”

Draco looked bewildered. “What the hell does that mean?”

Mattheo leaned forward, eyes wide and intense. “It means it’s hot, sticky, there are bugs that sing at night, and-get this-everyone’s got porches and eats fruit off trees like they live in some kind of fairy tale.”

“She told you all that?” Blaise asked.

He nodded. “With that voice. That accent. I swear, I’d listen to her read me my own death sentence and thank her for it.”

Theo threw a pillow at him again. “Get a grip.”

“Too late,” Mattheo said, already leaning back into the cushions. “She’s mine. I’ve already named her.”

“You named her?” Draco asked.

“Peaches.”

There was a moment of silence.

“God, you’re pathetic,” Theo muttered.

And still, Mattheo just grinned.

[lvl1l1]

HEYYY can i please request LADS men when you sleep on the couch after a heated argument

LaDS men when you sleep on the couch after an argument

pairings: LaDS men x Reader(separate)

content: hurt/comfort, arguments

a/n: these are so long idk what possessed me

Xavier

You tried to just keep it a casual conversation, bringing up how you still felt like he was keeping things from you at times, like he still didn’t trust you with everything after you two have been together for so long but with how he kept his answers short and clipped, his expression as cool as always, trying to change the topic, things started to get more heated.

You didn’t like how he was brushing you off again.

“See this is exactly what I’m talking about, Xavier.”

His lack of response was really getting to you.

He stays expressionless, you keep saying things trying to get a reaction out of him but he doesn’t falter.

On the inside, he feels regret and seeing you angry at him upsets him, too.

“Fine. Whatever, be that way.”

He doesn’t feel relieved when you walk out of the bedroom, but he just doesn’t know what to say to make you feel better.

He follows after you, going into the bedroom, he freezes when he sees you grab the sheets and your pillow.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping on the couch, Xavier.”

You try to slip past him but he doesn’t let you,

“No, you’re not.”

You stare up at him and seeing the usual affection replaced with anger hurts him.

“Please, don’t.”

“I’m mad, Xavier. I don’t want to sleep with you tonight.”

The tremble in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed,

“I can’t sleep without you next to me. And I know you feel the same way.”

You try leaving again but he just won’t let you,

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to see you right now.”

You notice the hurt in his eyes and you feel kinda bad but you can’t back down now, right?

He nods but still doesn’t step aside,

“I’ll sleep on the couch then. You take the bed.”

Your shoulders slump, seeing as he resembles a sad bunny.

“Fine.”

You say and turn around, trying not to let this feeling get to you. You put your things back on the bed and hear him leave the room.

Confusion overtakes your features, why didn’t he take his stuff? You wait a minute and walk out after him, after some hesitation.

As you quietly go back into living room, you see him lying on the couch, no blanket, no pillow, eyes closed.

“Xavier, go get your things. You’ll catch a cold.”

He doesn’t open his eyes as he speaks again,

“It’s what I deserve. I upset you.”

Your mouth falls open at that, the ridiculousness of his behaviour almost makes you break out into a laugh. Almost.

“Xavier, even if I’m mad at you, I don’t want you to be cold and uncomfortable the whole night.”

He cracks one eye open, looking at you.

“But I want to be cold and uncomfortable for making you mad.”

You sigh, trying to fight the smile that’s making its way onto your face,

“You’re unbelievable.”

He’s looking at you with both eyes now, noticing the tension dissipate. Xavier props himself up,

“I’m sorry.”

You know he got you once you walk over and sit down on the couch next to him,

“I know.”

Reaching out with your hands to brush through his hair,

“And you know that I’ll forgive you once I wake up.”

He leans into your touch, testing the waters by lying his head in your lap.

“Thank you. But please don’t make sleep without you. I won’t intrude on your space, I just need to know that you’re still here.”

Scratching his scalp a defeated groan leaves your mouth,

“Go into the bedroom. I’ll be right there.”

His lips curl upwards, he begrudgingly lifts his head off your lap. He lingers, not getting up from the couch yet. You can guess why and knowing he needs the comfort just as much as you do, after everything that was said, you lean over and press a soft kiss to his forehead. A relieved hum forms in the back of his throat.

He then gets up, not trying to push his luck.

Xavier knows your feelings are valid and he would never want you to feel like they aren’t.

He doesn’t always handle things the right way but nothings more important to him than making it up to you. He’ll fix this, he’ll show you how much he truly trusts you.

Rafayel

You didn’t mean to leave him waiting, again.

Wondering where you are, if you’re okay and why you weren’t answering your phone.

This morning, you texted him, letting him know about today’s mission.

An emergency, there wasn’t much time and you had to get going now. You promised to come see him and call once you were back.

Rafayel kept himself busy all day, he noticed how you didn’t read his text, telling you to stay safe.

You also didn’t read any of his follow up texts and as the hours passed and there was still no answer from you, he started to feel anxious.

It was getting late, the sun setting soon.

He tried to call you and when it went straight to voicemail, he couldn’t help the concern clawing at him.

You should be done by now. You said you’d call him, once you were back. So, what was wrong?

-

It was dark out now, you had finally wrapped everything up.

Your phone had died in the middle of the mission, as soon as you had gotten back to the HQ you left it to charge.

You knew Rafayel was probably worried but you had texted him this morning, it shouldn’t be too bad. Or so you hoped.

Bidding your farewells to your coworkers, you left the association’s building, finally turning your phone back on.

The wall of missed calls and messages from Rafayel didn’t help your conflicted heart.

You tried to call him back, he wasn’t picking up.

You tried once, twice, it just kept ringing and ringing.

As you finally arrived at his art studio, you noticed the gate was closed.

Confused, you unlocked it and walked to the door.

You were thinking of how to apologise him, you didn’t mean to leave him hanging all day but it’s not like you did it on purpose.

Walking into his home, you saw him painting in the living room, back turned to the door.

“Hey, I’m back.”

You said quietly, placing your keys on the table, waiting for a reaction from your boyfriend.

You expected him to pout, whine, be upset but you were surprised, when… nothing came.

No reaction, he didn’t even turn around.

You approached him slowly, not knowing what to do.

“I’m sorry, Rafayel. My phone died and the mission turned out to be more difficult than expected. I left as soon as I got to the association.”

Usually, he’d be talking to Reddie now, acknowledging your presence in some way or another, making sure you know he was upset.

But still, nothing.

He just kept painting.

No hum, no change in his movements, no looking over.

You sighed, you knew you messed up but the least he could do was talk to you about it.

“Look, I know I should’ve been more careful, made sure my phone was charged or given you more details. I didn’t know, though. So, can we please just-“

“Just what?”

The first time he spoke since you’ve arrived and he still wasn’t looking at you.

“What do you expect me to do now? Throw myself into your arms, crying?”

You were taken aback by his tone,

“No, I didn’t mean-“

He cut in again, voice steady, words sharp,

“This isn’t the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Am I supposed to lose my mind everytime you pull something like this? It’s not like you keep your word, anyway.”

The accusation hung heavy in the air and you were trying to deal with this as sensibly as possible but he was making this increasingly more difficult.

“Rafayel, you know how my job is. I’d never ignore you on purpose. I kept you waiting and I’m sorry, I really am. But sometimes, there just isn’t anything I can do.”

A scoff escaped him and you could feel a headache forming. You were expecting him to follow up, come up with a retort, tell you how disappointed he was but he just went silent again.

You felt tired, your eyelids heavy and you simply didn’t have the emotional maturity to deal with this appropriately right now.

You went to get changed, as you were leaving the room, you heard him mumble something under his breath,

“As expected.”

You halted, standing still for a moment before turning back around,

“What was that? If you have something to say, speak up.”

You crossed your arms and he finally looked up at you, gaze completely void of emotion.

“Not like you care, anyway.”

Your eye twitched at that,

“I understand if you’re upset but if you’re not willing to talk to me like an adult, I can’t help you. If you want to act like a child, be my guest.”

An ironic laugh left him at that and his eyes went back to his painting,

“Im the one acting like a child?”

“I don’t have the energy to deal with this right now, Rafayel. I have to do my job, grow up.”

You spun around on your heel to actually leave the room this time, when you heard rustling behind you, he was getting up.

He grumbled under his breath again,

“Didn’t know being a hunter meant you have to ghost your boyfriend.”

You clenched your teeth at his condescending comment but decided to not dignify him with a response.

You quickly walked into your shared bedroom, changing into your PJs.

Finally catching a glimpse of yourself for the first time today, you looked rough.

Thinking about how Rafayel still treated you so harshly, after seeing the state you were in.

Impulsively, you grabbed your pillow and your blanket and stormed into the living room.

He wasn’t there anymore, probably having gone to the bathroom to get ready for bed as well.

You settled down on the couch, you knew you were acting petty but you just didn’t want to put up with his attitude tonight.

You laid on your side, back turned to the room, when you heard the bathroom door open.

Rafayel’s steps were loud, you could feel his eyes on you as he came to a stop. The urge to turn heavy but you refused to budge.

He inhaled sharply, you could hear him mumble something under his breath again but couldn’t make out what he was saying, even if you could’ve, you were done arguing.

When you still didn’t hear him move, you turned around, seeing him standing in the middle of the room.

He looked hurt, making eye contact with you but not saying anything else.

He turned around, walking into the bedroom.

You heard the door click shut and a feeling of hurt settled into your chest.

You laid awake for a while, tossing and turning, regret seeping in, you didn’t want to fight with him like this.

Soon, sleep found you.

Eyes falling shut, mind still stuck on the interaction with your boyfriend.

-

Your eyes fluttered open, taking in the darkness.

You wanted to rub your eyes, when you felt your left hand being engulfed by something warm and heavy.

As you looked over, you immediately noticed the mop of purple hair being on eye level with you.

The scene in front of you made a lump form in your throat;

Rafayel was sitting on the floor, one hand holding onto yours, face resting again the couch.

His long legs were crossed and his posture was atrocious, you knew he’d wake up sore like this.

Him setting his pride aside, seeking you out in your sleep, made your heart race, even after how he was acting earlier.

You knew he was trying to hurt you both in an attempt to put his walls back up, he was scared for you.

There was nothing he feared more than losing you, you disappearing again. He didn’t want to wake up one day, finding out you were gone.

And you admittedly weren’t always making it easy for him.

Your other hand reached out and ruffled his hair,

“You idiot…”

You got up to the best of your ability, with him still gripping your wrist, sitting down next to him.

You managed to wrap him up in the blanket as well as you could, pressing your head into his shoulder.

You two would make amends once he woke up.

You couldn’t help but press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Zayne

You’ve been buried in work lately, barely having time for yourself. No time to cook meals, so you’ve been relying on take out. Coming home so late from work makes you feel like you’re not making the most of your day, so in turn you stay up late, watching shows, playing games, trying to keep up with your boyfriend’s schedule.

Zayne has been trying to be lenient, he doesn’t want to tell you what to do and what not to do but he could see how your unhealthy habits have been getting worse and how it’s wearing down your condition.

Once he brings it up, he’s objective, neutral, speaking as your doctor, not your boyfriend.

When you try to reason with him and explain how those little acts may be unhealthy but they’re the only comfort you have in the midst of so much work.

You promise him, these habits aren’t here to stay and once you have enough breathing room again, you’ll go back to doing all those things he puts so much emphasis on.

He’s unimpressed, urging you to rethink. You know it comes from a place of concern, he’s telling you these things out of love but it simply feels so belittling.

You’ve been so overwhelmed and he’s seen firsthand how badly you need some understanding more than you need health advice.

Seeing how he doesn’t back down, you start to feel irritated. He refuses to see things from your perspective and you refuse to back down now.

The argument spirals as you call him out on not being much better,

“Overworked? Bold coming from you.”

His voice is steady and his words are harsh as he doesn’t pay much attention to your feelings,

“Yet I still make sure to get my nutrients. I also don’t spend my free time rotting away in front of a screen. You barely go outside during your time off.”

Zayne notices the hurt on your face a little too late,

“You’re my boyfriend before you’re my physician, Zayne. Act like it.”

His brows furrow at that, not responding.

He leaves the room before this could escalate any further, telling you to calm down first, which naturally sets you off even more.

You weren’t done with this conversation but realising he won’t continue you this, you decide to back off.

You’re mad at him and you’re going to show him.

While he’s in the bathroom, you grab your things from the bedroom and bring them over to the couch.

After he’s done getting ready for bed, he walks out and sees you sprawled out on the couch, cuddled up with your pillow, clinging onto it, the way you usually would to him.

He lets out a sigh, he can’t see your face, but that sound aggravated you even more.

Zayne sits down next to you, you don’t look at him.

“Do we have to do this?”

You don’t answer, he stills for a moment before getting back up.

Your lips tremble, seeing how quickly he gave up but to your surprise he comes back with his own blanket and pillow in hand.

“It’s going to get cramped. But I don’t mind, if you insist on sleeping here.”

“Zayne, I wanna sleep alone.”

He shakes his head, putting his things down next to yours.

“We might’ve disagreed but I don’t want the day to end like this. If you don’t want to talk to me right now, that’s fine. But don’t push me away, please.”

You stay silent at first, not knowing what to say.

Your heart feels a little warmer,

“Almost forgot you can be thoughtful, after all.”

He chuckles at your snarky comment, showing he’s not irritated.

You push your pillow lower, making your eyes visible to him.

Your eyebrows are still furrowed but he can tell your gaze softened.

You turned away and scooted over, making some space for him.

He took the hint and laid down next to you.

You’re lying in the dark, breathing slowly, starting to miss your boyfriend even tho he’s right next to you.

It’s not like you enjoyed fighting with him, especially with how apathetic he could be when he thought he was right.

You knew he didn’t say any of those things with malice, he was worried and that was his way of expressing it.

Unable to sleep due to the emotional and slight physical distance to your boyfriend, the thoughts running through your mind and the tiny couch you were sharing with your freakishly tall partner, you opened your eyes again.

“Zayne?”

You whispered, being quiet in case he had already fallen asleep.

He hummed in response and you shimmied back a bit, wanting to feel him,

“I don’t want to fight anymore…”

He shuffled, wrapping one arm around your waist loosely, not wanting to overstep,

“I’m glad. Me neither.”

His voice was low, not disturbing the quiet.

“Do you think we could go back to the bedroom?”

You heard him exhale a laugh,

“If you’d like to.”

You nodded, still not turning around.

Before you could say anything else, Zayne spoke up again,

“I’m sorry. I overstepped earlier. I have no right to tell you what to do. However, I only want the best for you, even though I might not be the best at expressing that at times.”

You turned around, looking up at him in the dark, and he was still able to make out your features,

“I’m sorry, too. I wasn’t willing to hear you out at all.”

“The same goes for me. I wasn’t offering solutions, I was just lecturing you.”

Leaning your head against his chest, you snuggled closer,

“Honestly, you had some valid points. I should spend more time with you whenever I finally have some free time.”

Zayne cradled your head,

“Don’t feel forced to. I just think I could make you food whenever you home, you don’t have to get junk food. In hindsight, there’s nothing wrong with indulging once in a while.”

You nodded,

“Yeah, sounds like a good plan.”

The two of you basked in each other’s presence like this for a little while longer, before Zayne dragged you back to bed.

His main priority is looking after you, his love for you is unrivalled but he’s still new to all of this, he’s trying.

Caleb

You and Caleb rarely fought.

Ever since you were younger, Caleb was always willing to bend to your whims.

He’d always back down and let you have your way.

Whether it’d be about who got to go first in a game, who got to sit in the passenger seat of the car or who had to clean up after playtime.

The older you two got, the more serious your fights became at times but Caleb would still back down, wait for you to let your anger out at him.

Obviously, whenever he could, he’d try to mediate.

He never wanted to fight with you, it was the worst.

There was this irrational fear in his mind, that whenever you were mad at him, you’d leave, hating him, never wanting to see him again.

He knew it was stupid, unrealistic but he much preferred your loud anger, yelling at him, staring him in the face, not turning away and ignoring him.

It was the same reason he’s never truly been angry at you.

Yeah, he’s been irritated because of careless things you’ve done but that comes from a place of concern.

He loves you too much, feels too much for you to ever show his anger, however that doesn’t mean the mask doesn’t slip sometimes.

Still, he wouldn’t keep arguments going.

He’d serve as an outlet for your anger, he’d let you get everything off your chest and whenever he wanted to bring something up that bothered him, he’d do it in a way you wouldn’t notice his true feelings.

So, whenever it did come to an argument, you knew it was serious to him. But you simply weren’t used to having him not agree with you, especially because you knew you were in the right about this.

Well, so you’d say, if you could recall what “this” was.

You don’t even remember what the fight was about, you two have just been spiralling from one thing to the other for a while now. The tension was starting to become unbearable.

Especially because Caleb was doing what he’s always done, taking whatever you throw at him and just accepting it.

He’s willing to be the bad guy in your eyes, as long as it meant keeping you safe.

And you were starting to grow sick of it.

Caleb would never raise his voice at you, he’d never intentionally do anything that could hurt you, whether it be emotionally or physically.

A stark contrast to how you’ve been shouting at him for the past 20 minutes.

Everything was so different now, it was like you were both speaking a different language. Not like when you two were kids, not when it felt like it was you and him against the world.

You didn’t want him to just stand there and take it while standing his ground, insisting he knew better than you.

It was starting to drive you crazy, so the next thing you knew, was you angrily stomping out of the room.

Caleb stood in the living room, unmoving.

Replaying the argument in his mind, trying to think of where he went wrong.

As he was standing there, starting to wallow in self pity, you returned.

He was thinking of how to solve the situation, when he noticed the blanket and pillow you were holding.

You waltzed straight past him, plopping down on the couch, fluffing up your pillow in silence.

“Pipsqueak, c’mon.”

Not looking at him, still preparing your newly decided sleeping spot, you answer,

“We’ll talk in the morning. I don’t wanna be near you right now.”

His eyes widened slightly, moving towards you but keeping his distance, as to not set you off more.

“I understand that but I don’t want you to go to sleep upset.”

At that, you paused for a moment, fingers hovering over the pillow you were still adjusting, before you collected yourself and went to busy your hands again,

“It’s a little late for that.”

You heard a thud near you and you quickly looked up, worried.

You saw Caleb on his knees in front you, head hanging low,

“I’m sorry. You’re rightfully upset but please, let me fix this.”

You sighed, lying down.

“Caleb, go to sleep. We’re not doing this right now.”

Once he looked up at you, you felt your resolve waver. Just why did he have to resemble a kicked puppy so much?

You turned around, not letting your wet dog of a boyfriend get to you.

“Okay, I love you. Sleep well.”

He said but he got up really slowly, hoping you’d change your mind after all.

He went into your shared bedroom, leaving the door open behind him.

Caleb tried to sleep, he really did but he’s been laying awake for the past two hours.

It felt wrong to sleep without you in his arms. The right side of the bed shouldn’t be cold; you shouldn’t be away from him, especially after such a long time apart.

He didn’t want you to be mad at him, he didn’t even want to fight with you but you were just so stubborn.

Why couldn’t you just see he was trying to protect you?

He stopped his train of thought, knowing it was just putting him in a worse mood.

Surely, you were asleep by now, right?

And you’ll have cooled off by the time you woke up.

So, you definitely wouldn’t blame him if he joined you on the couch, would you? He just missed you so much, he couldn’t sleep without you.

He quietly walked into the living room, not wanting to wake you up.

When he saw you there, lying all by yourself, he felt something in his chest tighten.

It made him feel like he was a little boy again, like you were right here but so far out of his reach.

So, fragile and vulnerable, like if he touched you, you’d break, disappear.

He was pulled out of his thoughts, when you mumbled quietly in your sleep,

“…caleb, don’t..”

He couldn’t make out what else you were saying, but you were thinking like him, even in your sleep.

He never wanted you to go to sleep upset.

He slid in under the covers with you, wrapping his arms around you.

He couldn’t stand being away from you too long, he needed to make sure you were real, that you were with him.

And with that thought, he finally managed to drift off to sleep.

Sylus

This was the angriest you had ever been at Sylus.

He prided himself on being a man of his word, keeping all his promises, especially the ones he made to you.

So, when he showed up again after 4 days, you were making sure he knew how mad you were.

He had promised you, he wouldn’t repeat what happened with Tulla Island.

He wouldn’t disappear without saying anything, he wouldn’t leave you wondering whether he was dead or alive, but that’s exactly what he did.

He send you a cryptic message the morning of, not answering when you tried to figure out what he meant.

Mephisto was still around, but he was no help either.

So, when you decided to pull up to the base 2 days in, having Luke and Kieran explain to you, that your boyfriend had to leave on urgent business that they couldn’t elaborate on, you felt many things at once.

You’d been seething until he showed back up, acting like nothing happened.

“You promised, Sylus.”

He was sitting, while you were pacing around the bedroom, anger evident in your voice.

“This time was different. I didn’t leave without a trace. You ended up asking the twins, no?”

You stopped in your tracks, looking at him in outrage,

“And they were no help at all! I didn’t know where you were, I didn’t know what you were up to, actually, I still don’t know!”

He was trying to be understand and pragmatically approach the situation but you weren’t putting up with this.

“Sylus, you’re not listening to me at all. How many more times are you planning on pulling something like this?“

He raised a brow at you, having a hard time hiding his amusement, you thought he was mocking you, when in reality he felt relieved to know you cared about him so much,

“This isn’t much different from you leaving for your missions. You don’t tell me where you’re going, either.”

You crossed your arms,

“You can’t be serious. You can utilise your stupid resources and figure out where I am, you find a way everytime. It’s either Mephie showing up or you! How is that fair?”

He propped his chin up on his palm, looking at you with hooded eyes,

“Those resources are open to you, too, sweetie. What’s mine is yours. Besides, don’t you know the saying? Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Maybe you weren’t trying hard enough.”

You couldn’t deal with his sarcasm, not when you’d been worried for the past four days, wondering if he was alright, whether this was his way of disappearing out of your life after all, still feeling the anxiety you had the last time this happened.

The smugness on his face was just pissing you off more.

“Can’t you be considerate of my feelings for once? Is it fun to you to see me suffer like this? Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you.”

You knew you didn’t mean any of the things you just said, he knew you didn’t mean any of it, he was always bending over backwards to accommodate you.

His love for you was unconditional and whenever he kept you in the dark, it was for your own sake.

But his usual teasing was just setting you off.

You were getting more animated by the second, the realisation of how you had been feeling for the past few these really settling itself in your mind.

Sylus was just silently watching, not saying anything but seems like that was also not quite the right choice, as his silence irritated you as well.

At some point, Sylus started answering. His patience started to run thin, while it would never run out when it came to you, he didn’t appreciate the tone you were using with him.

He stood up in the middle of your sentence, walking towards the door,

“What, so you’re just going to walk away now?!”

“Yes. Before either of us say something we’ll both regret.”

And with that, he was out of the door.

You watched, dumbfounded.

Your firsts clenched, you felt like he wasn’t taking you seriously.

He was definitely underestimating your level of pettiness.

-

Sylus had left your apartment, thinking of how to make it up to you.

He understood why you felt the way that you did and he never meant to leave you worried but sometimes ignorance was bliss.

Admittedly, his business ended up taking longer than expected.

He originally wanted to be back sooner, before you even knew it but things played out more complicated.

Still, you should know he was essentially undefeated.

There was nothing, that could stop him from coming back home to you.

So, coming back to just to see you hurt like this, because of him, made his heart break.

He also didn’t dislike your angry side, he liked seeing you give into your emotions, showing what you truly thought.

What he didn’t like, was seeing you talk yourself into a spiral without letting him get a word in.

He thought it would be for the best to leave you to cool off, while he tried to get back into your good graces.

Now, what he didn’t expect upon his return into your bedroom, was the emptiness on your side of the bed.

He walked into the living room with quick steps.

And there you were, in all your glory, hogging the entire couch, duvet, comforter, multiple pillows, plushies included.

You were on your phone, paying him no mind.

“What’s the big idea, kitten?”

You just hummed, turning to lay on your stomach, kicking your feet up in the air, tapping away on your phone,

“I’m mad at you, so I’m sleeping here tonight. Good night.”

The laugh he let out vexed you even more, and of course, he noticed that.

“That’s funny, sweetie. Come now, get up.”

When you didn’t move, the corners of his mouth curled up in an entertained smirk.

He walked over to you and stopped right next to the couch, towering over you.

“Don’t make me say it again, kitten.”

You didn’t miss the amused lilt in his voice.

You barely spared him a glance,

“Sylus, I don’t want to sleep in the same place as you tonight. You managed for the past four days, I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it today as well.”

He let out a huff,

“My, that’s too bad.”

You thought that meant, he’d leave you be, so imagine the surprised noise you let out, as he picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder.

“Sylus, you jerk! I’m not joking around with you!”

Sylus tightened his grip on you, as you started thrashing around,

“I know.”

Your escape attempts were futile, he carried you back into the bedroom and dropped you onto your bed,

“You can be mad at me, scream at me but you don’t get to avoid me. That won’t make things right.”

You jutted out your lower lip, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden,

“You don’t get to lecture me right now.”

You rolled over onto his side of the bed and hid under his covers.

The bed dipped, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him but not taking the blanket off your head,

“You’re right. But I don’t want the love of my life to feel even more alone than they already have for the past four days.”

You slowly lifted the blanket off your face, not looking up at him,

“Allow me to mend things between us.”

You scoffed,

“There’s nothing broken…”

“Then, let me show you just how much I adore you.”

Damn that smooth talker.

[lvnleah]

little moments | no more secrets.

find the no more secrets materlist here!

13 weeks pregnant | January 16th 2025 

You found yourself getting closer to Kyra each day, she was always by your side. 

You hadn’t stopped throwing up all morning, Beth had to pull over God knows how many times on the way to training. Each stop was filled with you either throwing up or dry heaving miserably on the side of the road. By the time you actually arrived at the training ground, you felt drained, your limbs heavy, your stomach aching, and your patience nonexistent.

Beth shot you a worried look as she parked. “You sure you’re okay to train?”

You exhaled sharply, leaning your head back against the seat. “I have to.”

Beth frowned. “No, you don’t have to. No one’s expecting you to push through when you feel like shit.”

“I’ll be fine,” you muttered, though neither of you believed it. “It’s just a little bit of nausea.”

Beth didn’t look convinced but sighed in defeat. “At least let me tell Renée how bad it’s been this morning.”

You groaned but didn’t argue. You knew Beth would tell her anyway, whether you agreed or not.

Dragging yourself out of the car, you walked sluggishly into the training centre. Your body protested every movement, nausea still churning deep in your stomach, but you forced yourself to push through.

Kyra was already in the changing room, “Hey, you—” Her excitement faded as soon as she got a good look at you. “Whoaaa. You look terrible, Hayds.”

“Wow, thanks,” you muttered, rubbing a hand over your face. “That’s so kind of you, Ky!”

Kyra’s expression shifted to concern. “No, seriously, you okay?”

“Just morning sickness,” you said, as if that made it any less miserable.

Kyra winced in sympathy. “Still? I thought that was supposed to ease up by now.”

You snorted. “Tell that to the baby. They love making my life hell.”

Training started, and you did your best to focus, but it didn’t take long for everything to catch up to you. At the end of training, you felt the familiar warning signs, your stomach twisting uncomfortably, cold sweat breaking out along your skin.

You barely managed to make it to the toilets in the changing room before you gagged violently, doubling over at the side of the toilet.

“Shit—” Kyra was at your side in an instant, her hand hesitantly hovering over your back before she finally made contact, rubbing gentle circles. “You’re okay, just umm…breathe. Yeah, breathe!”

That might have been comforting if, seconds later, Kyra let out a strangled sound and stumbled backward. “Oh my god. Nope. Nope, I can’t do this—”

Even in your miserable state, you couldn’t help but let out a weak laugh between heaves. “Are you serious right now?”

Kyra made an absolutely horrified face, taking another step away like distance would make it easier to handle. “I— I tried—”

But before she could even attempt to redeem herself, a firm but amused voice interrupted.

“Move,” Alessia said, stepping in. She barely spared Kyra a glance before crouching beside you, pulling your hair back and rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back. “Deep breaths. Let it pass.”

Kyra, still a safe distance away, groaned. “I was helping!”

Alessia raised an unimpressed eyebrow as she chucked. “You ran.”

“I panicked!” Kyra protested.

You let out another weak laugh, your body still shaky as the nausea finally started to settle. “Worst support system ever.”

Kyra gasped, “Hey! That’s mean.”

Alessia snorted, still focused on you. “Let’s get you inside, yeah?”

You nodded tiredly, letting her help you from your spot on the floor, while Kyra muttered under her breath about how unfair it was that her one weakness had betrayed her so badly.

14 weeks pregnant | January 22nd 2025 

Away trips were never fun but they were even worse now that you were pregnant. You weren’t playing, but you still wanted to be there to support the team. It also made you feel normal too. 

The team was traveling to Brighton, and despite the exhaustion pressing down on you like a weight, you’d insisted on coming along. You weren’t about to let pregnancy ruin you, and besides, you didn’t want to miss out. 

Beth had raised an eyebrow when you’d told her your plan. “Are you sure? You can barely stay awake for an entire training session.”

You’d rolled your eyes. “I’ll be fine, I’ve got my colouring books so it’ll be alright.”

So now, here you were, tucked into a seat on the team bus, wedged between Kyra and the window, with Caitlin and Katie sitting on the opposite side of the table to you. The four of you had somehow ended up as a little pocket of chaos, which meant the journey would either be entertaining or absolutely unbearable.

Kyra had been in a teasing mood since the moment you sat down.

“Hayden,” she said, poking your side as you tried to focus on your colouring book, “Hayden,” another poke. “Hayden,” yet another poke. “Haydennnnn!”

“Oh my god!” You grumbled, pausing your colouring that had your full focus, “What do you want?”

“Geez, I just wanted attention,” Kyra huffed, a pout forming on her face as she crossed her arms over her chest. “But you’re too busy colouring!”

“You’re a child,” you muttered, shaking your head as you returned to your page. 

Coloring was one of the few things that helped you relax, and with the way pregnancy had your emotions all over the place, you needed all the peace you could get.

Kyra leaned over, her chin resting on your shoulder as she peered at your page. “What are you even coloring?”

“A sunset,” you answered, carefully shading in the gradient of the sky.

“Looks good,” she hummed, before suddenly snatching a random marker from your set.

“Kyra,” you warned, already sensing trouble.

“What? I just wanna help,” she said innocently, uncapping the pen. But instead of contributing anything useful, she scribbled a tiny heart in the corner of your page.

You sighed. “You’re an absolute menace.”

Kyra just grinned, “And yet, you love me.”

You tried to fight back a smile as you playfully shoved her away, focusing back on your work. After a few peaceful minutes, though, you noticed something was… off.

You picked up a blue but it wasn’t blue it was purple. 

Frowning, you checked your markers and your stomach dropped. The lids had been swapped. Your yellows were actually oranges, your blues were actually purples, and worst of all, your favorite shade of yellow was completely ruined, mixed with a streak of dark green.

“Kyra!” you gasped, horror in your voice.

Kyra peeked at you with a shit-eating grin. “What?”

“My pens! You—you ruined my yellow!”

Across from you, Katie let out a loud cackle while Caitlin snorted into her drink. “You didn’t.” Caitlin gasped, “Kyra, you’re such a pest.”

Kyra gasped dramatically, as if she was shocked by the accusation. “I would never do such a thing.”

“Oh, you definitely did such a thing.” Katie laughed, “Yer ruined the poor girl's pens!”

“Okay, but in my defense, I didn’t think Hayden actually used that yellow.” Kyra shrugged, “Yellows ugly.”

You groaned, throwing your head back in frustration. “I always use that yellow!”

“Oops?”

“Oops? Kyra, I’m pregnant. Do you want me to cry?” you said, tears bubbling up.

Kyra’s smirk dropped instantly. “Wait no, no, don’t do that! I’ll…I’ll fix it!”

But Kyra was too late, tears were already streaming down your face and she began to panic. 

“Way to go, Kyra!” Caitlin huffed, “Hey Hayden, it’s okay. We’ll get you some more pens yeah?”

Katie handed you a tissue, “Well done, you’ve made the pregnant woman cry!” Katie added, kicking Kyra under the table. 

“Hayds, I’ll buy you new markers. I’ll buy you ten sets of markers. Please don’t cry.” Kyra apologised frantically. 

“You…you ruined all of my markers!” You sniffled, tears streaming down my face, “Colouring the only thing I like at the moment and…and I use the yellow all the time!”

“Hey, hey, please don’t cry,” Kyra begged, picking up her phone and typing the brand name of your pens into her search bar. “Are these the pens you use?” You nodded. “Okay, okay, look I’ll buy the pack of 200!”

You watched closely as Kyra brought the pen set but not just any pen set, it was the pen set you’d been wanting for months. The set you couldn’t justify buying for yourself. 

Your tears stopped immediately.

Kyra blinked at you in confusion as you wiped your face, sniffled once, and then just… smiled. Without a word, you leaned into her side, resting your head on her shoulder.

Kyra hesitated. “Wait… were you faking it?”

You hummed, eyes already drifting shut. “No,” you murmured sleepily, “hormones are just weird.”

Kyra relaxed, wrapping an arm around you instinctively. The warmth of her, the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, made it impossible to stay awake.

But just before sleep fully pulled you under, you mumbled against her shoulder, barely loud enough for her to hear, “I really wanted them but couldn’t justify it. Thank you.”

Kyra just looked at Katie and Caitlin who were biting their lip, trying not to laugh, “What the fuck just happened?”

“That’s pregnancy hormones for you, pest!” Caitlin said, trying her hardest not to laugh and wake you up. 

15 weeks pregnant | January 30th 2025

“Ow, fuck!” You yelped mid squat, immediately dropping the weight.

Everyone’s attention immediately turned to you. You felt the ache immediately in your calf. Being fifteen weeks pregnant, things in the gym and training were starting to slow down. 

Your body was changing a lot, you had a little bump now and everyday you noticed something new changing in your body. Gym session felt harder than before and it was driving you insane. 

Kyra was the first to reach you, eyes wide with concern. “What happened?” she asked, steadying you as you winced and sat on the ground. 

“Just—my calf,” you muttered, exhaling slowly. “I think I overdid it.”

Beth immediately rushed over to your side before listing off what felt like a million and one questions, “Are you alright? What did you do? Is it the baby? Do you need the doctor? What is it? Tell me!”

“Jesus Christ woman, I will if you let me.” You huffed, “It’s just my calf,” you reassured her, though the ache was definitely more than a small twinge.

Before you knew it you were sat on the ground, Kyra crouched beside you on one side with Beth on the other while Lia, Kim and Leah stood around you. 

Lia raised an eyebrow. “Hayden the physios said to take things easy! You need to follow their advice.”

“You mean ‘take it easy’ like you did when you had that knee injury?” you shot back. 

“Difference is, she wasn’t pregnant,” Kim pointed out, “Come on, let’s get you to sit down on a chair and let physio check you over.”

“I’m pregnant, not injured,” you argued, but the ache in your calf had you leaning into Kim slightly as she pulled you up.

“Yeah but you’re still overdoing it,” Kyra huffed, “You should just take it easy.”

“You’re pregnant and you just hurt your calf,” Alessia pointed out. “So… maybe listen to Kyra for once?”

“Can someone pinch me?” Leah asked, “Kyra’s making sense, why is Kyra making sense?”

Kyra rolled her eyes, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hayds, just go and get checked out.”

“Are you feeling alright?” Beth said, placing a hand on Kyra’s forehead. “You sure you aren’t the one who needs the physio to check you over?”

Kyra swatted Beth’s hand away, “Fuck off, Beth. I’m fine, I just think Hayds should get checked over.”

“If you don’t take me to the physio I’ll get you a takeaway tonight and we can watch whatever movie you want, Ky!” You tried to persuade Kyra. “I promise.”

She hesitated for a moment and just as she was about to say something, Kim interrupted her, “Absolutely not, no! You need to get checked.”

“But Kimmm!” You whined, trying everything to avoid the physio, “I’d be wasting their time!”

Kim sighed, shaking her head as she led you in the direction of the physio’s room. “No. Now come on, let’s get you to the physios.”

“Wait for me!” Kyra said, joining you and Kim, “I wasn’t actually gonna agree!”

Beth was already hovering again, practically ready to carry you herself if needed. “Do you want me to—”

“I can walk,” you interrupted, though your calf protested when you put weight on it. Kyra shot you a knowing look, and before you could argue, she ducked under your arm, letting you lean on her.

Lia sighed as you hobbled out of the gym with Kyra and Kim. “I give it two days before she’s back in the gym trying to squat again.”

“More like one,” Leah corrected. “That girls stubborn.”

“I can hear you, you know,” you grumbled. “I’m pregnant, not injured!”

Beth followed closely behind, “Yeah, well, you look injured right now, so maybe just once listen to your body?”

You sighed, allowing Kyra to help you down the hall toward the physio room. “I am listening to my body,” you muttered. “It just doesn’t always say things I want to hear.”

Kyra snorted but didn’t comment, instead adjusting her hold on you to keep you steady. Beth, however, wasn’t done.

“You know, this wouldn’t be happening if you actually rested like the physios told you to,” Beth continued. “Instead, you’re in the gym squatting like you’re not carrying an actual human inside you.”

“I wasn’t even lifting that much,” you argued, though the tightness in your calf was making you regret your stubbornness. “I was just doing some squats.”

Kim scoffed. “You literally just yelped and dropped a weight.”

Beth, walking beside you, shot you a knowing look. “And scared the shit out of all of us.”

“I’m fine,” you reassured her softly. “Promise.”

You finally reached the physio’s room before any of them could say anything else. Kyra helped you ease down onto the physio table while Beth stood close, watching like a hawk. The physio, Emma, raised an eyebrow as she pulled up a stool.

“What did you do this time?” she asked, already reaching for your leg.

“Nothing serious,” you said quickly.

“She tried to squat and dropped the weight,” Kyra interjected before you could downplay it any further.

Emma shot you a look before gently prodding at your calf. You hissed as she pressed on the tight muscle, and Beth let out a sharp exhale behind you.

“Tight as hell,” Emma muttered. “Probably just a strain, but let’s be sure.” She reached for some massage oil and began working through the muscle. “How’s everything else? Any other pain, dizziness, discomfort?”

“I’m fine,” you said, but Beth scoffed loudly.

“She’s not fine. She’s been pushing herself too hard.”

Emma glanced between the two of you before shaking her head. “That doesn’t surprise me. Hayden, you do realize your body is changing, right? Your center of gravity is shifting, your ligaments are loosening, and your muscles are working overtime to compensate. You can’t train the same way you used to.”

You groaned, letting your head fall back. “I know that, but slowing down is driving me insane.”

“I just don’t want you to push yourself so hard that something actually happens. To you or your baby.” Emma said, “You need to take things easy.”

Your eyes flickered to hers, and you sighed. “I’ll be more careful, okay?”

Beth studied you for a moment before nodding. “Good.”

Emma smirked. “Alright, let’s get you sorted. But Hayden, this means modifying your training properly. No more squats with weights for now.”

16 weeks pregnant | February 6th 2025. 

“Are you two sure you’re going to be okay?” Beth asked for what felt like the millionth time. 

“Yes, Bethany,” Kyra sighed, pushing Beth towards the front door, “We’ll be fine, I’ll look after the pregnant lady very very well.”

“Stop pushing me out of my own house, Kyra!” Beth groaned as she joined Viv at the front door. 

Kyra grinned, not looking the least bit sorry. “You’ll thank me later when you realize a night out without babysitting Hayds is exactly what you need.”

“Hey!” You mumbled, “I don’t need a babysitter! I’m pregnant, not a child.”

“You do realize Beth’s still going to text every five minutes, right?” Viv sighed, throwing her coat on. 

Beth shot Viv a glare. “I am not that bad.”

You and Kyra exchanged a look before responding in unison. “Yes, you are.”

Beth groaned, throwing her hands up. “Fine! Whatever! But if anything happens—”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll call,” Kyra finished for her. “Now go before you change your mind and decide to stay home hovering over Hayds like a mother hen.”

Beth grumbled under her breath but finally stepped outside. “Try not to kill each other or the dog please.” Viv sighed. 

“No promises,” Kyra quipped as she shut the door behind them. 

As soon as Beth and Viv were gone, she turned to you with a mischievous grin. “So… how much trouble do you think we can get into before they get back?”

You sighed, rubbing your belly. “Ky, no. Beth and Viv will kill me if anything happens to us or the dog.”

Kyra pouted dramatically. “Okay, okay. No trouble. But that means we need a new plan. Movie night? Snacks? Ice cream?”

You considered it for a moment before nodding. “Ice cream sounds good. And a movie, if you don’t pick something terrible.”

“So rude.” Kyra gasped, rolling her eyes, “My taste is amazing!”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as you followed her to the kitchen, Myle following closely behind you. 

Half an hour later, the two of you were curled up on the sofa, a blanket draped over your legs, a tub of ice cream between you, and IT playing on the screen.

“This was a terrible idea,” you muttered, gripping the spoon a little tighter as Pennywise’s eerie smile filled the screen.

Kyra, who had insisted this movie was a “classic” and that you were both “definitely brave enough” to handle it, was now clutching onto you like her life depended on it. 

“Okay, but why does he have to be that creepy?” she whispered.

Myle, the only one completely unfazed, was curled up on the rug, sleeping peacefully while the two of you suffered in fear.

When a particularly terrifying jump scare had Kyra yelping and you squeezing your eyes shut, you’d had enough. “Nope. I’m done. Turn it off.”

Kyra fumbled for the remote, slamming the power button so fast she nearly dropped it. “Yeah, okay, maybe this was a mistake.”

You exhaled deeply, rubbing a hand over your bump, trying to protect it from nothing. “Beth and Viv are never going to let us live this down if they find out we got scared by a movie and had to turn it off.”

Kyra shook her head. “No, no, nope! They’re never finding out.”

A tense silence settled between you, both of you still very much on edge. The house, which had felt cozy and warm earlier, now seemed way too dark and way too quiet.

“…Do you think Pennywise is real?” Kyra asked suddenly.

You threw a pillow in her direction, “Shy would you say that! Are you trying to scare me into not sleeping?!”

Kyra gulped. “I mean… we don’t know he’s not.”

That was it. You were not spending another second in that living room. “Come on, we’re going to bed,” you announced, standing up so quickly you almost knocked over the ice cream.

Kyra didn’t argue. She practically sprinted after you, grabbing a spatula from the kitchen counter on the way.

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked, stopping at your bedroom door. 

“Weapon,” Kyra said seriously, holding the spatula like it was some kind of deadly blade.

“You are unbelievable.” You chuckled, heading into your bedroom with Myle trailing at your feet. “…But it ain’t a bad idea.”

“You’ll be thanking me when Pennywise shows up and I save us,” she muttered, sliding under the covers beside you. 

You weren’t sure how long you’d been asleep, but the sound of the front door opening jolted you and Kyra awake at the same time.

“Did…did you hear that?” Kyra whispered, her grip tightening on the spatula that she’d fallen asleep with. 

Your heart pounded in your chest. “Of course I heard it! Someone’s in the house!”

Kyra gasped. “It’s Pennywise. We’re done for.”

“Oh my God, Kyra, shut up!” you hissed, your brain not exactly working logically at 1am.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway. Kyra’s hand clenched around the spatula.

“This is it,” she whispered dramatically. “We’re gonna die.”

As soon as the bedroom door creaked open, you both screamed and before she could think twice, Kyra swung the spatula with full force.

A loud smack echoed through the room, followed by a pained “What the fuck!?”

“…Viv?” you said, eyes adjusting to see Viv standing there, one hand clutching her forehead, the other frozen in shock.

Beth, standing just behind her, blinked in confusion. “Did you just hit Viv with a spatula?” She asked before laughing. 

Kyra, still holding the weapon, looked equally horrified and impressed. “I—I think I did.”

Viv groaned, rubbing her forehead. “Why the fuck did you hit me?”

“We thought you were Pennywise!” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Silence.

Then Beth wheezed. “You thought—” She had to pause to catch her breath. “—you thought Pennywise broke into the house?”

Kyra sat there frozen for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.”

Beth lost it. She doubled over laughing, clutching her stomach while Viv groaned and muttered something in Dutch.

“You’re both fucking ridiculous,” Viv grumbled, still rubbing her forehead. “I come home after a nice night out, and I get attacked in my own house.”

Beth wiped at her eyes, still grinning. “Ky, I can’t believe you hit Viv with a spatula.”

Kyra huffed. “You weren’t the one who just spent two hours being traumatized by a demonic clown, Bethany!”

Beth shook her head, still laughing, before looking at you. “And you let her do it?”

Viv groaned again, still not over the fact she’d been smacked in the face for simply walking into her own house. “I hate you both.”

The next morning, you woke up to Kyra groaning beside you, muttering something about how her back hurt from sleeping in a weird position. You were about to tease her when the events of last night came rushing back.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, covering your face with your hands. “We are never living this down.”

Kyra groaned again, this time for a different reason. “Viv is never going to let me forget that I threw a spatula at her.”

Before you could respond, a soft knock on the door interrupted you, followed by Beth’s overly chipper voice.

“Good morning, my little horror movie survivors!” she called out.

You groaned into your pillow, “Go away, Beth.”

“Not a chance,” she said, pushing the door open. “We’re going for a walk. You two need fresh air after the traumatic experience you put yourselves through.”

Kyra peeked over the covers. “Is Viv coming?”

Beth smirked. “Yep. And she’s got a lovely reminder of your… reflexes on her forehead.”

Half an hour later, the four of you were strolling through the park with Leah, Alessia, Lotte, and Steph along with their dogs. You walked beside Beth, holding Myle’s leash while Kyra had placed herself between you and Viv, clearly still feeling guilty.

It didn’t take long for someone to notice.

“What the hell happened to your head?” Alessia asked, squinting at the faint bruise forming on her forehead.

Viv sighed, “Kyra happened.”

“Oh god, what have you done now?” Steph groaned, “I swear to god Kyra if you—”

Kyra immediately turned red. “I didn’t mean to!”

Leah raised an eyebrow. “Wait, wait, what?”

Beth burst out laughing, unable to hold it in. “Kyra threw a spatula at her.”

That was all it took for the girls to lose it.

Alessia practically doubled over. “You what?”

“Kyra!” Steph said, whacking her lightly on the back of her head, “Poor Viv.”

Lotte tried to be sympathetic but was biting back a smile. “Viv, I’m so sorry. That must’ve hurt.”

“Oh, it did,” Viv grumbled. “Never thought I’d get hit with a spatula…”

Kyra, still looking mortified, groaned. “We watched IT, okay? We were already freaked out, and then you two showed up and scared us half to death!”

Leah shook her head, still laughing. “So, your first reaction to being scared was to throw a spatula?”

“I panicked!” Kyra defended. “And it was the closest weapon when I went to bed!”

Alessia wiped a tear from her eye. “Oh, Ky, this is the best thing I’ve heard all week.”

“You’re all the worst,” Kyra muttered, shoving her hands in her pockets.

You squeezed her arm in sympathy. “I mean… you did say the spatula would come in handy.”

Viv let out a dramatic sigh. “Next time, just aim for Beth instead.”

Beth gasped, “Wow. Betrayal!”

As the laughter died down, the conversation shifted to other things, though every now and then, one of the girls would glance at Viv and chuckle under their breath.

Kyra leaned into your side, mumbling, “I’m never living this down, am I?”

You smiled, “Nope, you’re never gonna forget this.”

[supercutszns]

kay this might be a CRAZY thing to say and idk if ur taking reqs rn but just!!! take this as a lil treat idk!!!!

luke w a sunburned reader……… and bro is obsessed w how he leaves handprints after he touches you…. IS THIS CRAZY IDK. AM I INSANE.

wc + pairing: 1.5k, luke castellan x daughter of poseidon! reader

notes/warnings: this thought literally made me feral thank u so much😵‍💫😵‍💫 got a little carried away but wanted to write some more of my twin beads babies so this was the perfect opportunity! reader is able to burn, mentions/allusions to sex, luke is horny but aren’t we all, just fluff & banter with smutty undertones

The waves roll in to break crisply against the shoreline. There’s a noise they make, a soft crackle and splash, that sounds like laughter. You’ve had a long, good day at the camp beach, savouring your one day off to lounge on the sand with your friends and swim as far as your legs could carry you. Percy was the only one willing to keep up with you—Clarisse tried and hid her bitterness when she failed, and Luke humoured you for all of five minutes until he realized he didn’t need to be your swim buddy anymore. Percy clumsily waded in after you each and every time, and it had never been more obvious the two of you were related.

Despite the beauty of the sun warming down the sky, Luke can’t bring himself to pay attention. There’s only you, between his legs, staring out at the water like you’re seeing it for the first time. You’re especially gorgeous after a long day at the beach. Even prettier now that Luke doesn’t have to pretend you’re not. The muscles and the skin he spent ages tracing in the darkness of his cabin have a new weight to them out here, heavy and captured in the shadow of the sun.

He pulls you against him, arms winding around your front. You’re so warm and he needs more of it. He presses his nose into the dip of your shoulder and breathes. You smell like salt and sunscreen, a citrusy comfort that’s defined the past five years of his life.

“You tired?” He asks, muffled against your skin. No matter what you say, he knows. He can feel you sinking into him, the way your muscles have melted away.

“I’m happy,” is all you say, because you know he knows too.

The curve of his smile matches the curve of your shoulder as he kisses your skin, twice. He never does it once anymore. Reminds him of all the years he’d spent pretending like he didn’t want you. The least he could do is double what he gives you; return everything he’s saved for you in your youth.

He feels you sigh as he traces the tip of his nose up the dip in your neck, and the way your breath wavers when his mouth follows suit. He kisses your neck lazily, lets his teeth scrape on your skin, lets himself soak in the warmth and your exhales. He likes it when you pretend this doesn’t drive you crazy.

You’re really not giving in this time, though, and he supposes he’s in no rush either, so he pulls back and rests on the heels of his palms. You groan a bit, but whatever you’re about to say is cut by his very pronounced, “Shit.”

You glance back at him. “What?”

His eyebrows pique. “You’re burnt, sailor. Like super burnt.”

“Really?” You try to crane to get a look at your back, which is futile, and sigh, “How bad?”

“Pretty bad.”

“Like three years ago camp triathlon bad?”

He shakes his head. “Like … last year’s kayaking trip bad.”

That settles you a bit, so you shrug. “Oh, that’s fine.” You wave Luke off and turn back to the sunset. “You know it’s so weird, I never burn in the water. It’s only when I’m out of it that it happens.”

“Or when heatstroke happens,” Luke remarks, taking the opportunity of your back facing him to run his fingers along your spine. “Do you remember after the triathlon right after I beat you? When you crossed the line and the second I came over you started—”

“Please don’t finish this—”

“—vomiting all over the place and nearly passed out in my arms?”

“Luke!”

“And that older Ares kid you thought was soooo hot had to take you to the infirmary?”

“Okay, that is enough!” You turn around and wrestle his hands away from you, until he pushes back and you’re both slapping each other wherever you can, laughing like children. “Colin Ackerman was hot, you were just jealous of him!”

He catches your splitting smile that hits his heart like a tsunami. “Yeah, I wonder why!” He manages to gain the upper hand and maneuvers you back into his arms, but you put on an impressive show pretending like it’s not what you wanted all along. Your back settles against him once again, your nose smushed to his cheek, and you nudge and nudge until he kisses you. You sigh and trace your finger along his jaw and Luke wants to kick himself stupid for going this long without tasting you whenever he could.

“You’re so annoying,” you grin, kissing his cheek.

“At least I’m not Colin Ackerman.”

You snort and kiss his face again before turning back to the lake. Luke takes it upon himself to keep running fingers up your spine, noticing how your skin ripples a different shade in his wake. He can’t believe he didn’t see you were burnt sooner. You never listen to him about wearing a shirt once you come out of the water. Unfortunately, the part of him in his boxers is often glad for that.

He watches intently as he presses his thumbs into your back and drags them out, feeling your muscles stretch. It’s distracting, the burn briefly fading on your skin under his fingertips. It’s like a map of exactly where he’s touching you. A mark that lingers.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, running his thumb down your back again just to see what it does to you.

“What?”

“Mm, this,” he murmurs, moving up, watching a river blossom between your shoulder blades as he touches you.

“Not really,” you let out a pleased sigh when he kneads your shoulders for a moment. “Feels good.”

“Yeah?”

He drags his hands down to the middle of your back, making sure to press hard enough that he can see the path he’s travelling. He rubs circles near your spine, a place he knows you knot up. “This?”

“Aye aye, captain.”

He presses his palms flat against your back and pulls away to see the imprint. Embarrassingly, he thinks it’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen. His hands travel further, resting on your hips. “How about when I do… this?” He hitches his thumbs just below the waistband of your bottoms.

“Luke!” You whip back to him like you’re scandalized, which he knows very well as a look you give when you want to rile him up.

“What, I’m just asking!” He takes your hips and drags you back so you’re flush again. There’s a flash of your smile when you look back at him, and he knows he has you. He kisses your neck again, toying with your waistband, letting his fingers dip a little lower every time. “How’s that feel?”

You don’t answer him, and you don’t need to. The sigh you give when he kisses your pulse is enough. He lingers there, swiping his tongue over the spot, and takes his sweet time cherishing it. You make a little sound that nearly kills him. “So pretty like this,” he says. “Wanna see?”

The two of you are chest-to-chest before he even gets a chance to elaborate. He has to prod your face away with his nose to get you to stop kissing him. Suck on that, Colin Ackerman!

He looks down and feels your gaze follow. He rests a hand on one of your arms, draped over his shoulders. When he drags his thumb along your skin, the path snakes across your complexion. “Look.”

“Yeesh,” you say, and Luke laughs. He lays kisses along your arm, and he imagines this is what the ocean smells like. This is what lost sailors feel when they finally press their faces against land again.

“Can I take you back to my cabin?” He asks, letting his teeth graze the skin of your shoulder. He doesn’t ever want to move, watching the imprint of his thumbs against your ribs and his teeth on your neck. He wants to see his hands on you everywhere.

You wind a hand in his hair. “There will be people in there.”

He gently snaps the strap of your swimsuit against your shoulder with his mouth, “Your cabin?”

“Percy.”

The sigh he lets out is embarrassingly pent-up and he pulls away to look at you in your beautiful face. “Can I please take you somewhere nobody else is so I can take off all these clothes and see where else I can touch you?”

“Be my guest, captain,” you smile eagerly.

“Thank you,” he exhales, and you waste no time in kissing him again, open-mouthed and fervent. He imagines his handprints nestled into your back, your hips, your thighs, and he’s gotta get out of here before he gets too carried away. You feel good and warm and wonderful and he’s desperate for more.

Thankfully he has practice in patience when it comes to you, so he kisses you twice more until the scorch is unbearable. The two of you rush along the sand like drunks, until Luke gets you somewhere with a little less sun and a lot less fabric so he can make good on his word.

luke taglist: @sunniskyies @apollos-calliope @lillycore @sunny747 @m00ng4z3r @pabkeh @thaliagracesgf @theadventuresofanartist @bonnie-tz @ash-williamsss @sucker-4-angst @kitkat-writes-stuff @too-deviant @huang-the-geek @daughterofthemoons-stuff @jennapancake @idunnowhattonamethis @jarofshells @the-oracle-at-delphinitely-not @lauraisthebestyapper @nininehaaa

[socialobligation]

schedule disruption: you

you and izuku midoriya have been best friends forever. he's busy, responsible, always on schedule—you're not. but when your night goes sideways, he drops everything to come get you. you say something you might not remember. he hopes you do.

the music inside is muffled now—blurry thudding base pressed against the walls like it's trying to escape. your phone glows in your palm for a few seconds longer, until izuku’s "i'm on my way" disappears. you blink, feel the chill air wrap around your shoulders, and finally set it down beside you on the grass.

the night air is cool against your skin, a little too cool for how flushed your face feels. you're barefoot, or at least... one shoe is definitely missing. whatever. it's fine.

you curl your arms around your knees and squint up at the stars, counting exactly none of them.

the front door opens behind you with a roar of noise and then shuts again. laughter spills out into the dark for a second, but it doesn't reach you. you sit there in a haze, cheek pressed against your arm, blinking slow. everything feels floaty. you're starting to regret that last drink.

when the familiar black car pulls up to the curb, headlights washing over the lawn, you sigh in relief. izuku parks in a weirdly straight line, like even now he needs to make sure he's perfectly aligned with the sidewalk. of course he does.

he's out of the car in a second, jogging around to you. "y/n?"

you lift your head and wave weakly, "heyyy, 'zuku."

he exhales through his nose, crouching diown. "are you okay?"

"mhm," you hum, then after a beat, "no."

he doesn't ask anything else. he helps you up with one arm around your shoulders, leading you gently to the car, careful not to rush you.

"you smell like cheap tequila and regret," he says as he buckles your seatbelt for you.

"mmm. that's just perfect."

the drive to your dorm is quiet at first—until it's not.

"izuuukuuu," you sing, dragging out the vowels.

he glances at you, just long enough to check you haven't somehow turned into a puddle in his passenger seat. "yeah?"

"do you think that if trees could talk," you say, eyes glazed and face pressed against the window, "they'd be mad at us for always carving initials into them? like. what if that was their face?"

"...what?"

"like—what if—what if it's like if i just came up to you and went '<3 Y/N + I.M.' right across your cheek with a knife."

he blinks hard, struggling not to laugh. "okay. maybe no more frat parties for you."

"you're not even listening to the message, izuku," you pout.

"i think you should write a thesis on it. present it to the botany department."

"you're making fun of me," you say dramatically, eyes fluttering closed. "wow. and to think, i was gonna marry you."

he almost swerves. "what?"

"hmm?"

"...nevermind."

when he pulls up to your dorm and puts the car in park, you frown.

"shit," you mutter, blinking hard. "i don't have my key."

he turns to look at you. "what?"

"my roommates brought me. they were gonna unlock it when i got back. i didn't... i didn't think i'd need mine."

he lets his head fall back against the headrest, then sighs.

"...okay. you're coming back with me."

by the time you get to his apartment, you're half-asleep and still clinging to his arm like gravity doesn't apply to you anymore.

"okay, come on," he murmurs, locking his car and adjusting his grip around your waist. "let's get you inside."

the walk to his building is slow. you trip on the curb and immediately latch onto him with both arms, face smushed against his shoulder.

"you smell nice," you whisper.

"that's—thank you," he says, trying to breathe through it.

he unlocks his door, nudges it open with his foot, and guides you in gently.

you kick kick off your lone shoe and immediately make a beeline for his bed, flopping face-first into the mattress. he sighs and tugs a blanket over you, tossing you a hoodie too—just in case.

he exits the bedroom and returns a few minutes later with a bottle of water, aspirin, and a small trash bin.

you've turned onto your side, face buried into his pillow.

"y/n," he says softly, kneeling beside the bed, "can you sit up for a second?"

"mm. no."

"i brought you water."

"...fine. if you insist," you grumble, lifting yourself up with all the grace of a wet noodle.

he hands you the bottle and the pills. you down them obediently.

then, after a long pause: "you're too nice to me."

"someone has to be," he replies, tucking the blanket around you. "your decision-making tonight was... not ideal."

"hey."

"you were drunk. by yourself. with nobody around that you knew."

you frown, suddenly more awake. "okay, well—sorry my friends ditched me? that's not my fault."

he sighs, eyes soft. "i know. i'm not blaming you."

you grumble something incoherent and flop dramatically onto your side. "felt like you were."

"wasn't," he says gently. "just... worried."

you peek up at him, eyes squinted. "...i guess that's allowed."

"thanks for the permission," he says, and you swear you hear the tiniest smile in his voice.

he starts to stand, but your hand catches his wrist.

"hey, izuku?" he pauses, looking back at you.

you blink slowly. "you're my favorite person. like ever."

his eyes widen a little. he swallows. "...y/n—"

"'s true. dunno when it happened but i love you."

he blinks.

you blink.

"...what?" "i love you," you repeat, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "kinda figured you knew that already."

his mouth opens. nothing comes out.

it's not the first time you've told him that.

you've said it before, offhandedly—over childhood goodbyes, late-night calls, after especially rough days. but something aboiut the way you say it now is different.

it doesn't sound like a best friend.

it sounds like everything else.

"i mean," you continue, voice soft and sleepy," why else would i always call you first? or wait for you to text back before i do anything. or remember your whole ass schedule even though i don't even know mine."

he looks like he's buffering. you broke izuku midoriya.

which means the only plausible thing to do here is keep going.

"oh," you add suddenly, "and you're, like, insanely hot. in a shy, rule-following, chronic overachiever kinda way."

"y/n."

"what?"

"you're drunk."

"yeah," you agree, "but i'm also right."

he laughs under his breath, eyes warm even in the dim light. and then, gently:

"yeah. i... love you too."

your eyes widen just slightly, and he adds, a little quieter, "i just want you to say it again when you mean it sober. so i can believe it's real."

you grin, eyes fluttering shut. "i'll tell you first thing in the morning, then."

he lingers there a second longer, like he's about to say something else—but he doesn't.

just pulls the blanket over your shoulder a little higher.

and softly, almost too softly: "okay. morning, then."

he turns off the light and closes the door behind him.

[nottswitch]

I saw Ari (nottsangel) doing the “Theo au’s react” kind of thing and thought it would be so fun with yours too! How would your Theo au’s react to reader being quiet during sex?

i saw these reaction posts on ari’s blog too, and i love them, so i’m excited to do this with my aus too! i’m gonna be writing this for the aus that i’m more invested in and already have some content for, but if you want me to add others from my list, you can ask <3

sister’s bf!theo — with him, you’re kinda forced into being quiet when your sister’s home, so whenever you’re alone together, he wants you to be loud. i’m talking moans, whimpers, cries, whatever he can pull out of you. if you’re quiet, he’s slapping your ass hard, knowing it’s gonna make you scream for sure. “you think you can just stay quiet like that, piccola? nuh-uh, we’re only getting started.”

cult leader!theo — he’s used to you being rather quiet, because let’s be real, you’re under the influence most of the time. he’s fine with silent gasps and little whimpers, or just nothing at all. he’s just gonna cradle your head to his chest and whisper in your ear, adding to the hazy, intimate atmosphere around you. "so good, my dear. you’re taking me so well.”

chef!theo — does everything he can to encourage you to be louder, but does so gently, in case it’s not something you’re comfortable with (because he cares <3). "feels good, baby? you’re so beautiful like that, amore, let me hear those pretty sounds, yeah?”

bully!theo — he is the one who’s shutting you up by stuffing his fingers or your own panties into your mouth. he wants to hear you scream his name, it’s one of his biggest fantasies, but he also dreads anyone finding out there’s anything at all going on between you two. so he settles for degrading you for being unable to hold back your moans, while simultaneously jerking off in his room late at night, thinking how you’d sound with his name on your lips. "shut the fuck up, you’re moaning like a slut.” but if you’re actually quiet by yourself? nah, he’s still degrading as hell. "cat got your tongue, huh? or did you finally learn to shut your fucking trap for once?”

ceo!theo — he’s used to women being loud, because, well, it’s him, and everyone’s trying to impress him. so when you’re quiet, his ego takes a blow, though he’s trying not to show it. he wants to be better for you, so he’s not pressing the issue; he just keeps going, hoping that at some point, you’re gonna get comfortable enough to be louder.

lead singer!theo — he’s just surprised, because when are you ever quiet with him? he kind of gets concerned too, and almost stops to check up on you. but then you whine in protest and move your hips, signalling for him to continue, and he smirks, giving your ass a spank. "there’s my girl. don’t scare me like that again, alright?”