#and she had the audacity to mouth off to protesters about it

[angelsaxis]

its funny seeing people still insist that kamala had it in the bag when anyone with a brain is aware that she and the democrats ran a dogshit campaign. like utter shit. embarassingly bad.

[zweigsangel]

matt shutting yapper! reader up w kisses

it was a lazy saturday afternoon, the kind of day perfect for doing absolutely nothing. the two of you were sprawled out on the couch, a half-eaten bag of chips on the coffee table and some random show playing on the tv that neither of you were really watching.

you were mid-rant, your hands flying as you recounted a story about the lady at the coffee shop who had apparently ordered the most complicated drink in existence.

“and i’m standing there, matt, just trying to get my iced coffee, and she’s like, ‘no foam, no whip, but extra oat milk—like, what does that even mean?’ and the barista looked like he was about to cry—”

matt hummed in response, but his eyes weren’t on the tv. he was watching you, his lips twitching in amusement at how animated you got when you were talking about something that fired you up.

“—and then she had the audacity to ask for it in a different cup, like, who even does that? i mean, if you’re gonna—”

“babe,” he interrupted softly, a little smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

you barely paused, your hands gesturing wildly as you kept going. “—if you’re gonna make it that complicated, maybe just make it at home, right? like, it’s not that hard to—”

“babe,” he said again, a little louder this time, leaning closer.

you blinked, finally catching the way he was looking at you, his head tilted slightly and his smile growing. “what?”

“nothing,” he said, his voice warm and soft. “you’re just… really cute when you get like this.”

“like what?” you asked, narrowing your eyes in mock offense.

“like a total yapper,” he teased, his grin widening.

you gasped, swatting at his arm. “i am not a yapper!”

“uh-huh,” he said, catching your hand before you could smack him again. “you totally are. but it’s fine. i love it.”

“well, good, because i was gonna—”

he cut you off by leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, his free hand cupping your cheek as he kissed you softly but firmly. your words trailed off into a muffled sound of surprise, your body melting into his as his thumb brushed lightly against your jaw.

when he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your eyes wide as you stared at him.

“what was that for?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

he grinned, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “just wanted to see if it worked.”

“if what worked?”

“if i could shut you up with a kiss,” he said, his tone teasing but his eyes warm.

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile spreading across your face. “you’re ridiculous.”

“yeah,” he said, still grinning. “but it worked, didn’t it?”

you opened your mouth to protest, but before you could get a word out, he grabbed your waist and pulled you into his lap with ease, settling you so you were straddling him.

“what are you doing?” you asked, your voice a little breathless as your hands landed on his shoulders.

“don’t stop,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you again. “keep talking.”

you started to say something, but he kissed you mid-word, swallowing your voice with his lips. every time you tried to get a sentence out, he kissed you again, softer, slower, more insistent, until you were laughing against his mouth.

“matt, i can’t—”

“sure you can,” he teased, his hands on your waist as he grinned up at you. “keep going. i like hearing you talk.”

“you’re the worst,” you said, laughing even as he leaned in for another kiss.

“yeah,” he whispered against your lips, his grin softening into something sweeter. “but you love me anyway.”

and as much as you wanted to argue, you couldn’t—because he was absolutely right.

[girlygguk]

such an asshole ⋆ jjk

popular jock jk x popular cheerleader fem reader

draft dump, drabble, fluff, 1328 words, jungkook is oc's #1 bff and #1 protector, jk is cold to others, except her, bitchy queen bee oc, brief lil taekook squabble, tae's situationship makes a comment toward oc, jk doesn't like that, cute read

the cafeteria was loud. hobi’s laugh was louder.

he was in the middle of one of his laughing fits—the kind that had him slapping his knees, the table, and unfortunately, anyone sitting too close. today’s victim was taehyung, who rubbed his arm with a wince but couldn’t help laughing along even through the pain.

“hobi, you’re going to bruise the poor boy,” you hummed, stabbing a green grape from your tray with your fork before popping it into your mouth.

“deserves it,” your best friend muttered, reaching over to steal two grapes off your tray like the menace he was. his long fingers twirled one in his hand before casually tossing it into his mouth.

you turned to jungkook, narrowing your eyes, but he was already watching, his lips quirked as if waiting for you to say something. you opened your mouth to do exactly that, call out his audacity to take your grapes when his own tray of untouched food sat right in front of him, when taehyung interrupted.

“uh, fuck off, kook,” tae scoffed through a laugh, still rubbing his arm. “there wasn’t enough time to make that pass, and you know it.”

you blinked amusedly, chewing slowly with another grape speared on your fork as you watched the scene.

“there was enough time for your grandma to make that fuckin’ pass, hyung,” jungkook rolled his eyes before reaching for your vitamin water.

he unscrewed the cap and took a big gulp, passing it to you when your hand reached out for your own sip. when you were done, he took the bottle back and re-lidded it while taehyung's annoyed grumble cut through the air.

“my grandma’s in a wheelchair, you assh—”

“exactly,” jungkook deadpanned, placing the drink back on the table and reaching for another grape from your tray.

you gasped through a laugh, wrapping both hands around his larger one to keep it away from your food. “no, j! you wanted pizza, so eat your nasty ass cardboard—”

“there wasn’t enough time!” taehyung whined while you were in fits of giggles, paying little attention to his protest as you swatted jungkook away when he tried to dodge your hands and sneak more grapes.

when tae didn’t get the response he wanted from jungkook, he turned to the rest of the group with a dramatic frown. “guys?? don’t you think there wasn’t enough time?”

jungkook finally gave up wrestling you, letting his hand rest on your thigh as he glanced down at your tray with the most pitiful look. “just one, please?” he murmured softly. “don’t want pizza anymore…”

you rolled your eyes, sliding the tray toward him, a small smile tugging at your lips. you didn’t actually care; you just liked making him work for it.

as he picked at the grapes, you unwrapped a muesli bar, leaning your head on his shoulder while taehyung continued his tirade, searching the table for backup. “guys, seriously—don’t you think there wasn’t enough time?”

“i don’t know how to play football,” jimin shrugged, biting into a chicken finger. “and i wouldn’t care even if i did, taehyungie.”

you snickered at his response while taehyung groaned dramatically, clearly growing more frustrated. jungkook just watched him with a dull expression, almost finished with the fruit on your tray.

hobi agreed with taehyung, saying there wasn’t enough time, while namjoon shook his head, disagreeing. growing more desperate, taehyung turned to lia who sat beside him. “li, what about you? you know how to play, right?”

lia perked up, blinking prettily at him. “uh, yeah. definitely enough time,” she nodded confidently, making tae jut his chin out triumphantly at jungkook.

jungkook’s only response was a mocking nod as he finished off the last grape before taking the rest of the muesli bar you held out for him. “and you, y/n?” taehyung asked, turning to you with big, hopeful eyes. “what d’you think?”

you finished chewing your mouthful before meeting his expectant look with alittle shrug. “i think there was enough time, tae.” when you saw his shoulders droop slightly, you added lightly, “but it doesn’t matter. it was just a practice rally. who even cares—”

“course you’d say that,” lia muttered under her breath, popping a fry into her mouth.

your brows lifted slightly, tilting your head a little in amusement. “hm?”

the table fell silent. lia blinked up, pursing her lips before awkwardly laughing. “i just mean, like, of course you’d say that… you’d agree with jungkook no matter what, right? that’s, like… your thing?”

you bit back a laugh, very happily about to respond. but before you could, jungkook cut in, his voice cold and bored. “who even are you again?”

hobi’s strangled gasp cut through the air at his words. jimin buried his face in hobi’s chest to muffle his snickers while namjoon stared wide-eyed at his tray, hand pressed tightly over his mouth to cover his grin.

“aish… come on, kook,” taehyung winced lightly, glancing between the three of you awkwardly.

you didn’t blame tae for not really knowing how to react. you were all friends, had been for a long time. but lia was his latest link, and he seemed to like her a lot. you didn’t actually care about what she had to say anyway. she was new to cheer, and you knew from the moment you met her there was no substance to anything that came out of her mouth, so she didn’t bother you in the slightest.

your best friend, on the other hand? bothered.

“no, really,” jungkook said, tossing the empty wrapper onto the tray and sliding his hand back onto your thigh. “i mean, i know your name is ‘lee’ because taehyung just said it, but i honestly don’t even remember you sitting down…”

you absentmindedly fiddled with his fingers in your lap, head tilted curiously as you waited for lia’s response. but all she could do was open and close her mouth, clearly at a loss for words. “wh- i-” she stammered, looking to taehyung for help before scoffing lightly, “i’ve been sitting here, like, every day for the last week…”

jungkook just blinked slowly. he turned his head to you with a confused look, as if he was genuinely trying to figure out if what she said was true. you nodded slightly, your lips twitching as you confirmed she had, in fact, been sitting there. lia’s jaw dropped in disbelief as jungkook simply turned back to her, pursing his lips.

“oh,” he muttered, not sparing her a second glance as he picked up his phone with his free hand, swiping through it like the conversation had never even happened.

the table fell silent for a beat before jimin finally lost it, bursting into laughter that had him clutching hobi tighter. taehyung groaned, burying his face in his hands as you quietly laughed, your head leaning back against jungkook’s shoulder.

lia swallowed harshly in humiliation before muttering something about class, hastily gathering her things and leaving the table. you watched her walk off, your mind already wondering if she’d show up to practice tonight. you hoped she would.

“that was mean, kookie…” you said, turning to him with a pout. there wasn’t a hint of sincerity in your voice, though, and he knew it.

jungkook locked his phone, his gaze trailing over your pretty face before humming lowly, “meaner than what you would’ve said?”

your lips pursed as you pretended to think it over before nodding. “uh-huh. i’m an angel.”

“mhm,” he hummed, though the smile tugging at his lips told you he knew better. his hand tightened around your thigh, sliding you closer to him on the bench.

you chuckled softly, looping your arm through his and resting your cheek against his bicep. he opened his instagram to show you a reel he thought you’d find funny, as if he’d already completely forgotten about the last five minutes.

such an asshole, you thought amusedly. god, it was hot.

perm taglist @elinaki92 @parapiop7 @photogenius-530 @vantaebearr @crazy-eight17 @aalisiyahxstar @lovieku @apobangpogirlyyy @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @whoa-jo @kooeuphoria @junecat18 @fr0ggieth1nk @joonwater @myjungkookthighs @nikidream24 @whothefuckisthishoe @4noirre @gaebestie @lllucere @kissyfacekoo @rpwprpwprpwprw @granataepfelchen @yoonstaar

[haeryna]

i would give up heaven if i had to ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ✶.ೃ࿔*.

← previous | ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | next →

summary: sugar melts saccharide sweet on his tongue, and yet the taste in his mouth is so very bitter. the look in suguru's eyes tells him more than any words could. they'd messed up; badly.

tw: angst but melancholic? mentions of illness, mentions of abandonment, reader has a healthy relationship with their parents, author uses switches between "gojo/geto" and "satoru/suguru" to denote emotions. food as a metaphor for love. not proofread. author is extremely tired

notes: title taken from enhyphen's "sweet venom (english version)." a shorter chapter to kind of fill in the gaps. banner from @/cafekitsune

It's been a week since Gojo and Geto showed up at your doorstep and ever since then, you've been filled with a pervasive sense of anxiety. After the whole six hours they spent pleading outside your door (you shudder just thinking about it), they had been uncharacteristically silent. It had gotten to the point where you felt almost a bit insane, peeking your head out the door to check outside if anyone was waiting for you, before you left for work.

It didn't matter if it had been five years, or five days. You knew them better than you'd even known yourself. The freckle on Suguru's collarbone. The barely noticeable scar on Satoru's arm. How Suguru preferred tea, black, and always expensive, while Satoru's guilty pleasure was instant coffee with ungodly amounts of syrups and sugars added to it. You knew them, and therefore you knew that the silence was suspicious. Even as children, whenever you'd get into fights, they would be even clingier than usual, as if they were desperate to reaffirm that you were still there.

So why was it so quiet?

The scream of the tea kettle startles you out of your thoughts and you flinch, hastily moving to remove it from the stove. Why should you care? The audacity they'd had, coming to your doorstep on a whim, before claiming they had no choice. Your thoughts are more bitter than the medicine you mix into your parents' tea. Satoru had been undoubtably hysterical once his parents had found out. You couldn't blame him for that. But Suguru had been the one to call all the shots, buying two plane tickets instead of three.

What if they couldn't afford a third one?

You shake your head, as if you could physically shake the thought. It doesn't matter now, you think viciously, as you stack the cups on a tray. Five years was a long time to go without seeing someone for. Fame and wealth changed people, and you were no stranger to the heavy influence they both exerted upon the music industry. Besides, it's not like your address had changed since they'd left. They could've found you whenever they wanted to.

"You never left?"

The cups rattle dangerously as you carry them to your parents' room. Your mother is sitting up in bed, staring longingly out the window. Your father must be outside, soaking up the last few rays of sunshine before the sun started to set. Gently, you set the tray down on the nightstand. "I have your medicine, Mom."

Your mother smiles, but there's a fragile kind of sadness to it. "When were you going to tell us?"

Heavy resignation falls over you as you sigh, shoulders slumping. "I didn't want to worry you and Dad while you were away at the hospital. It wasn't that big of a deal-"

Your mother cuts you off, eyes firm but gentle. "Dear, please. I saw how happy you were when all three of you were together, and how devastated you were when they left. I just..." She hesitates before continuing. "I don't want you to live your life with regrets. Especially because of your father and I. You deserve to be happy too."

"I am happy," you protest fiercely, but she shakes her head. "You had such lofty dreams. And now, your father and I are the ones holding you back. Life is too short to have regrets like yours at such a young age."

"It just hurt so badly," you whisper, as you take a seat at the end of the bed. Your mother reaches over to intertwine her fingers with yours.

"I know, dear. But which is greater; the love for the things they did do, or the pain for all the things they didn't?"

Your mother's words ring through your ears as you blearily stare into your coffee cup. While the insurance helped, there were still bills to pay, and food to put on the table. You'd stayed up all night finishing work for your remote office job, before taking the short bus ride to the cafe you worked at during the day. The world spins briefly. You would kill for a good night's sleep.

The door chimes and grimacing, you down the rest of your coffee, before pasting a cheery smile onto your face.

"Welcome, how may I help..."

Sator- Gojo stares at you from the other end of the counter. Even with the cheap medical mask he's wearing, the blue eyes and white hair are enough to have your coworkers whispering behind you.

"...you," you finish lamely, immediately looking down at cash register. Why was he here? Especially in the town over? More importantly, why hadn't he gone back to Asia yet? Cursing, you study the bills lined up neatly in the till. Gojo says your name, softly, and the whispers behind you intensify.

"That's me!" you chirp, forcing yourself to point at your nametag. The tips were nice here, and you couldn't afford to find a new job. The pitying stares from everyone back in your hometown was already suffocating enough; gaining the attention from Gojo's rabid fangirls would probably push you over the edge. "Is there anything in particular that you like? Our customers really love the caramel crunch latte."

There's a tone to his voice that you can't place when he finally speaks. "Yeah, I'll take one of those. Extra sweet. Do you happen to have any tea here?"

The words slip out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. "Unfortunately, we only have one drink that features black tea."

Fuck.

You can feel Gojo's gaze, searing into your face as you stubbornly continue to stare at the counter. "Sure, I'll take one of those."

Numbly, you recite the total to him. As he hands you his credit card, you can see your hand shake as you reach out to grab it. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You should've forgotten everything about them when they left.

But you couldn't. You never could.

You hand his card back, but a firm hand on your wrist forces the air out of your lungs. Eyes wide, you peer up at Gojo in shock. His eyes are filled with an intensity that you've never seen before. "How much do I have to tip you in order for you to be the one to make our drinks?"

His grip is firm but not bruising, even as you try to tug your hand back. "I can assure you, our baristas-"

"I don't care," he interrupts. "I want you to do it. You're the only one who can do it." The final part of his statement is so soft that you barely catch it. "It's only ever been you."

You have the horrible feeling that the two of you are no longer talking about extra sweet lattes and London Fogs. The whispers are getting so loud now that you yank your hand back and give him a strained smile. "I suppose I can." At this point, you'll do anything to stop talking with him.

As you busy yourself around the cafe, you hate how easy it is to make the two drinks. Extra caramel; Satoru always loved when his coffee was practically infused with it. You grab the filtered water, running it through a filter several more times. Suguru always insisted tea tasted better the more filtered the water was. You heat the water as you crush up small caramel candies. Satoru enjoyed when his drinks had a little something he could chew on. The tea was steeped for five minutes, exactly. You added lavender and vanilla syrup. When Suguru had made you try a London Fog for the first time in ninth grade, you'd teased him for the "oddly pretentious taste." A splash of milk. An extra large heaping of whipped cream.

Wiping your hands on your apron, you can feel the pain in your heart form the salt of your tears. "Lizzie," you call out. "Can you deliver this to the customer? I'm going on my ten minute." Not waiting for a response, you dash into the bathroom, barely slamming the door behind you as you let the first of your tears fall.

"Toru! Toru!"

"What?" he snaps. Undeterred, you rush up to him, bright pink lunchbox clutched in one hand. "Sugu said you forgot your lunch at home, but it's okay! We pooled our allowance together, so Sugu's in line for the cafeteria right now"

A rush of warmth fills his chest. "You shouldn't have," he protests, but you wave it away. "Mama always says that food is meant to be shared, especially with people you love! And it wouldn't feel right eating without you."

The school onigiri had never tasted good, but that day, Satoru had savored every bite.

Satoru stares at the teenager who'd called his name, wringing her apron nervously, before taking the offered cups. "Thank you." Where had you gone?

"Can I get your autograph?" she blurts out, and Satoru winces. His cover had been completely blown. Suguru's not going to be pleased, he thinks wryly. Yet as he dutifully signs his name on the provided paper, his mind wanders to you. Your hands had been shaking. Were you cold? Tired? Or was it his fault? Briefly, he considers sticking around, before quickly dismissing that idea. You clearly wanted to avoid being associated with him, and although the thought makes his stomach twist, he understands it as much as he hates it.

The walk back to the hotel is short. Satoru's mind is a mess. The bags under your eyes rivalled Shoko's. Were you taking care of yourself? You seemed thinner, too. The sick feeling inside him only grows, festering into something ugly. He dutifully ignores it (like he has been the past five years) and takes a sip of the latte you made, freezing.

Every time all four of you had gone over to your house after school, you'd always insisted on making snacks for the three of them. The coffee tastes like sunny afternoons, and bright laughter, of your voice teasing Satoru for the sheer amount of sugar you'd have to put in his drinks. Caramel seeps into his system, and unbidden, he thinks of your eyes, watching him with a hint of apprehension and exhaustion.

When had it gone so wrong?

Suguru is lounging on the couch as he enters. "What took you so long?" Suguru grumbles, reaching for the other cup. It takes Satoru a moment to respond.

"She was working at the cafe."

"Is that so?" Suguru murmurs, taking a sip of his own drink. Immediately, he tenses, eyes stunned. "Did she-"

"Yeah."

"It tastes kind of like-"

"I know."

The two lapse into silence. You'd had so much love to give that it had practically overflowed. Food was just one aspect of it. Some days, you'd even give up parts of your lunch, insisting that Satoru or Suguru take a bite. He thinks of the way you'd hold him, the way you'd leave him encouraging notes in his locker, how you'd save up allowance to buy small things that reminded you of them. How you'd keep extra hair ties on your wrist for Suguru, and how you'd always keep a plastic water bottle in your bag for Shoko. How many times had they taken it for granted, taken you for granted?

"She looked so exhausted, Sugu. She's got these real dark bags under her eyes, like she hadn't slept in a while. Her hands were shaking. Her eyes were so dull, and so lifeless. I..." Satoru closes his eyes. "I think I would give up anything for her. Music, fame, money. I forgot what it was like, being with her. I felt alive, even though she could barely even look at me."

"I think the worst part is that she really thought we wanted to leave her behind," Suguru says, miserably. "It's all my fault, I was in such a hurry to get us out of there that I didn't say goodbye at all."

"You're not the only one to blame." Satoru's voice is sharp. "We both knew where she lived. We could've called her house phone, saved her number to our new phones from her parents."

"Will she ever forgive us?"

The way they'd heard you wailing from behind the door had torn their heart in two. They never wanted to hear you make those noises again, especially with the agonizing knowledge that it had been their fault.

"I don't know," Satoru says, truthfully. "But I can't even think about returning to music until she knows just how much we really love her."

[carmillascrusade]

You’d learned from movies how love ought to be | Emily Prentiss x F!reader

Summary: Elizabeth Prentiss makes a surprise visit to the BAU. You can’t stand by idly as she belittles your (secret) girlfriend. Angst-> fluff

Word count: 1,670

A/N: I have re-written this about a million times but it’s finally at a place where I’m happy with it. Also, I really hate Emily’s mam. She’s such a cunt (excuse my French)

After a gruelling case and even longer plane journey you had found yourself back at the BAU getting ready to finally go home. You waited for Emily by the elevator under the guise of needing to ask a follow up question about the case. Nobody other than JJ knew about your relationship, despite how long you had been seeing one another for. JJ only knew because she happened to spot the two of you out on a date. How that happened exactly you weren’t sure. 

You smiled sheepishly across the room at your girlfriend, itching to be closer to her and hold her in your embrace once more. Emily entered the lift first and you followed soon after. Fingers twitching in controlled excitement, giddily thinking of snuggling up with Emily with a film playing in the background as soon as you get home. 

You hadn’t been staying at your place recently. Emily’s townhouse had all but became your own- in everything but name. Too lost in your daydreams about your evening, you failed to notice that Emily stilled in the entryway of the elevator; back ramrod straight and hands curled into fists. 

Your confusion was soon answered as you spotted her… Elizabeth Prentiss. 

She stood with that ever present snarl on her face, eyes ablaze as she set her sights on Emily. “Do you have any idea what you have done, Emily Elizabeth Prentiss?” She seethed. 

Emily deflated slightly at her mother’s cruel gaze and you couldn’t help but think it was awful to see a usually confident woman, such as Emily, reduced to a frightened child.  Her mother persisted in her assault, stalking towards your girlfriend to jab her pointy finger into her chest. 

“You have embarrassed yourself. And most importantly, you have embarrassed me! How dare you drag our name through the dirt.” 

“I did what was best for the team and solving our case, mother.” Emily was soft spoken as she replied, still afraid of upsetting her mother after all of these years. 

“You-“

“Woah!” You cut off before she could bite out anymore awful remarks. “Who are you speaking to like that?” 

Your blood was boiling. The heat encompassing your body wasn’t of embarrassment, but of pure, unadulterated rage. Emily had done the best she could in the circumstances given and you weren’t going to let a selfish, cynical woman take that away from her. 

“Little, irrelevant girls should not but in places they do not belong.” She wasn’t even looking at you while she spoke, instead tilting her head at Emily and narrowing her eyes. 

You stepped in front of Emily then. She would look at you while you spoke and hear what needed to be said. Emily glanced at you, silently begging you not to do anything rash but you chose to ignore her. How could you stand by and let someone belittle your girlfriend, relative or not? 

“You will look at me when I speak to you.” You hissed. 

Her eyes widened at your audacity, mouth opening to fire back a rebuttal but you spoke before she could get a word in edgewise. “How dare you come here and belittle your daughter so shamelessly in public? Emily Prentiss is the best unit chief this team could ask for and you coming her and suggesting otherwise does not only insult her but the whole team as well.” 

“Her decisions are ours too.” You continued, blinded by your own anger. “If you’re going to be rude, you can leave. Not only are you unwanted here but your presence is only bringing negative attention to yourself- which I’m sure you don’t want.” 

“After everything I have done for you… are you going to let your subordinate speak to me in such a manner, Emily?” Elizabeth quietly fumed in protest. 

All eyes seemed to be on the three of you. Watching every move you made. Waiting. Listening. Cataloging every little detail away for later use. The air around you was still, thick with tension and simmering with rage. Elizabeth Prentiss stared at you as if you were nothing more than mud dirtying her extortionately priced shoes, and in some regards you supposed you were. 

You watched as she turned on her heel, head held impossibly high, and turned away to stride out of the building. Good riddance, you thought bitterly. Hopefully she’ll stay in the pits of hell this time, never to re-emerge again. 

What you weren’t expecting, however , was Emily’s short nails digging into your forearm, gripping you with such intensity that you couldn’t help but let out a shocked squeak. She lent closer to you, mouth to ear, her breathing irregular as it came out in short, erratic puffs. 

“What were you thinking?” She growled low enough so that only you could hear. 

“What? Emily…” Your voice faltered at the tone she was using. Never before had it been directed at you and you were suddenly regretting your actions. 

“Do you have any idea what you have done?! You’re an idiot! She’ll hate me forever now.” Her voice had risen exponentially, drawing the attention of bystanders once more; as well as the attention of your team. 

“Emily, I’m sorry, I really am. I should’ve have spoken out of turn but…”

“No.” She was seething. “You shouldn’t have!” 

“You know what, if you want to suck up to your awful mother for the rest of your life then be my guest.” You shouted back. “But don’t you dare come crying to me when she doesn’t change.” 

With a scoff you shoved her hand away from your arm and stormed out of the lobby. Your face was hot with a mixture of rage and embarrassment, the cool chill of the winter air a pleasant contrast to your scorching skin. 

Emily had driven you to work today and you weren’t about to go back and beg her for a lift home. You puffed out a sigh of frustration before treading down the street in the vague direction of your home. You would have to walk down busy roads but so be it. 

Snow fell gently around you, blanketing the ground in yet another pristine layer of white. You clutched your coat closer, savouring the warmth it provided as your frame shook with silent sobs. Your eyes, red-rimmed and swollen, stared blankly at the ground ahead.  Glistening trails left on your cold, flushed skin in wake of the tears streaming down your face. 

Your breath came out in a shuddering gasp , misty puffs visible in the frigid air.Had you lost Emily before you truly even had her? 

A shrill beep of a car horn tore you from your contemplation. To your right, your lover, or former lover, pulled up beside you; rolling down the window as she got close enough. 

“Get in. You’ll catch your death out here.”

“No, thank you.” You bit out stubbornly. You didn’t want her help. 

“Please. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. We-we don’t have to talk but please let me drive you home.” She begged. 

You considered your options carefully. On one hand, you could walk home which would probably take you hours and freeze to death while you were at it. Or, on the other hand, you could accept the lift from Emily and journey home in a warm, cozy car. The second option seemed much more fulfilling. 

“Fine.” Was your only nibbled out reply. 

True to her word, Emily didn’t try to instigate a conversation but you didn’t miss the way her eyes would glance over at you when she thought you weren’t looking. You took this chance to admire her for all she was. The long, slant of her nose was prominent under the dim light filtering in through the far windows; the silver roots of her hair shining ethereally against the black that made up the rest of it. 

The grey would always be beautiful to you. It was simply stunning. And the three colours of grey that blended into one would always be exquisitely beautiful, even if she couldn’t see it herself. 

“I’m sorry for shouting at your mother.” You blurted quietly, nails picking at the skin around your fingers. 

Her hand came to clasp yours, stopping your fingers from their self inflicted torture. A small kiss was placed to your knuckles before she placed your hand back down, opting to rub soothing circles onto the back of your hand instead. 

“No, my love. I should be the one apologising.” 

“Wh-“

“Ah-ah, let me finish. Never in my life have I had someone stand up to me against her and I think the prospect of losing my mother, even though she is a terrible one at that, was so daunting. But then I realised that I wouldn’t really be losing much anyway. You and the team are the only family I need.” She said it with such conviction that a fresh set of tears sprung to your eyes. 

“You shouldn’t have to choose between us or your mom, Emily.” 

She shrugged at that. “There isn’t really a choice. My mother could never give me what I need, but you can.” 

“What do you need?” You asked slightly puzzled at water this was going. 

“Love. Unconditional love and a source of comfort. You provide that and more and I can only hope that I can be that for you too.”

“Oh, Emily… you’re that and more.” You breathed. 

Taking advantage of the fact the car was stopped at a red light, you leant over the console to press a searing kiss to her lips. One that you hoped expressed your love and devotion. Emily seemed to get the message, her own lips meeting your own eagerly, like a woman starved, tongue peaking out to meet yours desperately. Sweet whispers of “I love you” permeated the air as you basked in Emily’s presence. 

And the team definitely were not surprised to find a photo of you two posted on social media late that night titled: “Forever and always”

A/N: I know that your ask asked for more fluff/comfort but I couldn’t help myself with the angst(whoops). Anyways, hope the end is sufficient enough!

[selfless-solipsist]

°˖✧ The Tea ✧˖° [Planet Janet]

「 ✦ “You ever think about therapy, Janet?”✦ 」

╰┈➤ Planet Janet x Female Reader ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ (Yes really)

> I tried, okay? > Also, I used the gif with Wander because I couldn't find one with ONLY Janet. Besides, it's cute.

You and Janet—what a pair. Who knew that galactic conquerors and sentient planets could bond over tea, pancakes, and a shared love of spilling the cosmic tea about everyone else? Your weekly visits to Janet's surface had become a ritual, a bizarre yet oddly soothing routine in the whirlwind of your chaotic life. Every Sunday, you would make the trek to her, perched atop your sleek starship like a villainess on a throne. As you landed, Janet would practically roll out the green carpet—literally. Vines would snake toward your feet, forming a path of flowers that seemed to sigh at your approach. The air would fill with the scent of syrup and fresh pancakes as if the universe itself conspired to make you stay.

Janet always greeted you with that same excited giggle, which you imagined was her equivalent of screaming into a pillow out of pure joy like an excited teenage girl. You were her best friend, after all, and she made sure you knew it. The cottage she had "grown" on her surface just for your visits was ridiculously cozy—almost too cozy. The walls were covered in alien floral wallpaper that changed patterns depending on her mood, and the place always smelled faintly of whatever celestial garden she had conjured that week.

“I made pancakes!” her voice would echo through the cottage as you stepped in, your heels clicking against the impossibly pristine floor. “Sit, sit! I added extra stardust sprinkles this time!” You would settle into a chair crafted from her vines—comfortable in a way that was almost unsettling—and take your plate, deadpan as ever.

“You know,” you would start, taking a bite, “if this whole ‘planet’ thing doesn’t work out, you could really rake it in as a cosmic brunch spot. These pancakes could end wars.”

Janet’s delighted giggle would practically cause earthquakes.

The two of you always got to gossiping. Janet had her opinions on everything—Maurice (her ex-moon, as she bitterly referred to him), the state of galactic politics, and especially the sheer audacity of some planets thinking they could pull off rings when they clearly didn’t have the gravity for it. And as for you? Well, you had plenty to share about the overly dramatic exploits of the so-called “villains” you occasionally crushed in your spare time. Your dry delivery always sent Janet into adorable fits of hysterics.

Today, though, the gossip session had taken a bizarre turn.

As you casually recounted the ridiculous antics of a wannabe overlord whose “evil laugh” sounded more like a goat in distress, her vines had slowly but surely wrapped around your arms, legs, and waist. By the time you noticed, you were cocooned like a fly in a spider’s web.

“Janet,” you said flatly, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Is this about me leaving again?”

Her voice came out soft and wheedling, like a child caught stealing snacks. “I just don’t want you to go... I mean, don’t you like it here? You’re my best friend!”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the vines as if they were a hammock. “We’ve talked about this. You can’t just kidnap your friends. It’s... weird.”

“I’m not kidnapping you!” she protested, vines tightening just a smidge. “I’m... giving you a hug!”

“Uh-huh. And I suppose you’ll be serving pancakes directly to my face next?” The sound of plates clinking made you glance down. Sure enough, a vine was extending a forkful of syrup-soaked pancake toward your mouth. Unfazed, you took the bite. “Okay, points for effort.”

Janet squealed in delight, the entire surface of her planet rumbling like she had just won an award. “See? You’re so happy here! Why don’t you just stay forever?”

“Because I have planets to conquer and people to terrify,” you said, deadpan. “I can’t do that from your cozy vine-chair.”

Her voice turned playful but with an edge. “Oh, I don’t know... I think you could terrify quite a lot of people just by calling this place your new home base. Imagine the fear! ‘The villainess who lives on a sentient planet!’”

You snorted. “Janet, you’re starting to sound like Maurice.”

One whine snapped like a whip.

“Don’t you dare compare me to him!” she snapped, vines twitching in a way that suggested she might fling you into the stratosphere.

“Touchy,” you said, completely unbothered. “What happened this time? Did he park in your orbit without permission again?”

“He said my volcanoes were overkill! Can you believe that? Overkill!”

 “Well, Janet... you did incinerate that asteroid last week because it ‘looked smug.’”

“It was smug!” she huffed. “Just floating there, acting like it was too good to get caught in my gravity!”

...

“You’re... definitely over him,” you deadpanned.

Janet went suspiciously quiet for a moment, her vines loosening just enough for you to stretch a leg. You knew better than to press further, but the little smile tugging at your lips said it all. If nothing else, the pancakes would keep you distracted from her possessive streak—or so you thought. She huffed, and the vines holding your arms tightened, almost like a passive-aggressive hug. “Why do you always bring him up? Maurice this, Maurice that. I’ve moved on!”

You arched an eyebrow. “Oh, totally. That’s why you have a crater on your northern hemisphere shaped like a frowny face. Real subtle, Janet.”

“That’s not a frown!” she shrieked, her voice reverberating through the air like a scorned diva at a karaoke night. “It’s modern art! You wouldn’t understand—it’s planet feelings!”

“Sure," You smirked. “Just like it wasn’t weird last week when you redirected a meteor to crash into him for ‘accidentally’ calling your oceans lukewarm.”

“He deserved it!” she snapped, vines flailing dramatically in sync with her voice. “I’m not lukewarm! My oceans are a perfect 78 degrees, with a light saline breeze!”

“And yet,” you said, as calm as a supernova before it explodes, “here we are. You, a sentient planet, and me, a mildly kidnapped villainess, discussing your volcanic breakup like we’re on some galactic talk show.”

Janet let out a melodramatic sigh, the ground rumbling beneath you. Flowers popped out of the soil, as if her emotions manifested as floral overcompensation. “I just want to be appreciated, you know? I put so much effort into everything! My waterfalls, my sunsets, my pancakes—”

“Your pancakes are phenomenal,” you said, mostly to stop her rant. A vine fed you another syrup-drenched bite before you could refuse.

“I know, right?” She preened. “Do you think Maurice ever complimented my pancakes? No! He always said things like, ‘Too much syrup, Janet,’ or ‘You can’t serve pancakes to a comet—it doesn’t have a mouth!’ He didn’t get me.”

“Yeah, Maurice is a real jerk,” you agreed around a mouthful of pancake. “But, y’know, he was your moon. Kind of literally made for you.”

Janet gasped in exaggerated offense. “Made for me? MADE FOR ME?! I’m a planet! I have billions of options! BILLIONS! You’re lucky I even let you visit—” She cut herself off, her vines quickly shifting to a far-too-gentle cradle around you. “I mean, not that I’d ever let you leave. But it’s totally not weird, right?”

“Oh, no,” you said flatly, sipping from a vine that somehow held a dainty teacup. “It’s perfectly normal to be smothered by your bestie every time you try to leave. I’m sure everyone would love being planet-wrapped. So cozy.”

Janet giggled, missing the sarcasm entirely. “See? You get me. That’s why you’re my favorite.”

“Favorite... what? Human? Friend? Pancake-eater?”

“Everything,” She replied, a suspicious amount of sincerity in her tone. Her surface glimmered in what could only be described as a planetary blush, soft hues of pink and green rippling across her landscapes.

You raised a single eyebrow, unimpressed. “You’re not trying to butter me up so I’ll stay longer, are you?”

“Me? Never!” She said, giggling nervously as her vines tightened again—just slightly. “But, uh... since we’re talking about it, you could just stay. You’re way too good for all those other boring planets.”

“Janet.” You tilted your head, voice dripping with deadpan calm. “I’m not moving in.”

“I didn’t say move in,” she shot back, clearly flustered. “I just meant, y’know... permanent visits!”

“Mm-hmm.” You looked at the vines still wrapped around you. “Because you’re so good at letting people leave.” Janet opened her metaphorical mouth to protest, but you cut her off with a pointed glance. “Look. I’ll always stay a bit for the pancakes. I’ll even stay to listen to you vent about Maurice and how he ‘never appreciated your tectonic activity.’ But at some point, I do have to get back to my evil empire.”

“But I’m lonely!” She wailed, her voice echoing through the atmosphere like a soap opera star delivering a tragic monologue. “Do you know how hard it is being a planet? The endless void of space, the silence, the meteor showers that no one even compliments me on? And then Maurice—”

“Okay, okay!” You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the smirk tugging at your lips. “You can keep me wrapped up in vines for, like, five more minutes. But after that, I am leaving. Probably.”

Janet sniffled dramatically, flowers blooming at your feet in response. “You mean it? Five whole minutes?”

“Yeah,” you deadpanned. “Just don’t forget to feed me pancakes while you monologue. Kidnapping always works better with snacks.”

She squealed in delight, her vines pulling you into an overly enthusiastic embrace. “You’re the best! I’ll make more syrup right now! Oh, oh, do you want a blueberry topping this time? Maybe some whipped nebula cream?”

“Surprise me,” you said with a sigh, leaning back into the cushy vines. “I’m already wrapped up in this mess, anyway.”

Her vines loosened just enough for you to adjust your position, which now felt less like a hostage situation and more like a bizarre spa treatment. One particularly enthusiastic vine fluffed your hair like a cosmic hairstylist who had overcaffeinated, while another twirled a napkin around your neck in preparation for what could only be described as round two of the Pancake Situation. “Whipped nebula cream and blueberry topping it is!” She declared, her voice a bubbly mix of excitement and the faintly unhinged energy you had come to expect. The ground beneath you shifted, a small geyser of syrup bubbling up from nowhere. “I’ll make this stack extra special. Only the best for my bestie!”

“You mean your only bestie,” you corrected, expressionless as ever. “Unless you’ve started taking applications.”

She let out an exaggerated gasp, the kind that made the whole atmosphere shiver. “You wound me! Like I’d let anyone else steal my best friend!” The vines squeezed you slightly—just enough to feel the weight of her emotional gravity, pun fully intended.

You groaned, though the corner of your mouth twitched upward. “Janet, if you keep acting like this, people are going to start calling you that planet. The clingy one.”

“I am NOT clingy!” she shot back, her tone defensive as wildflowers erupted around your chair.

“I’m... selective.”

“Right. Because wrapping me up in vines like a burrito is totally normal behavior.”

“It’s called affection!” she huffed. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy conquering every galaxy with your scary villain smirk, you’d get more of it.”

Your sly smile widened even more, because of course it did. “Oh, Janet, sweetie. I don’t get affection. I command it.”

Her laugh rumbled across the surface like rolling thunder. “And yet here you are, letting me feed you pancakes and braid your hair like a galactic princess.”

“Braid my—” You froze, finally noticing the intricate, alien floral pattern her vines had been weaving into your hair. “Janet!”

“What? It’s cute! You look like royalty.” She paused, a vine plucking a mirror from somewhere (where did she even store these things?) and holding it in front of you. “See? You’re glowing!”

You stared at your reflection, the deadpan expression on your face now juxtaposed with what could only be described as the most elaborate cosmic updo in the history of villainy. There were glowing flowers, swirling patterns, and even a little ribbon made of stardust. “Well,” you said after a long pause, “if I’m going to be an unwilling planet prisoner, I might as well look fabulous.”

“That’s the spirit!” Janet squealed, the landscape shimmering with excitement. “You always know how to make me laugh!”

“Yeah, I’m a real riot,” you said dryly, reaching for another pancake. “Hey, speaking of laughter, let’s talk about Maurice again. Remember the time he—”

Janet’s entire surface trembled, vines waving like an exasperated drama queen shooing away bad memories. “Ugh! Must we bring him up again? He’s so... so lunar!”

“Lunar?” you repeated, arching an eyebrow. “That’s an insult now?”

“Yes!” she snapped, voice tinged with melodrama. “He’s cold, distant, and always orbiting other things. Do you know how many asteroids he’s been hanging out with lately? Asteroids! They don’t even have atmospheres!”

You snorted. “Sounds like he’s rebounding pretty hard.”

Janet made a sound that was somewhere between a scoff and an actual volcanic eruption. “Good riddance. Let him chase his dumb little space rocks while I—while we—live our best lives.”

“Uh-huh.” You leaned back, letting her vines drape over you like a weighted blanket. “And by ‘best lives,’ you mean trapping your bestie every time she tries to leave?”

“It’s not trapping,” she insisted, although the vines around your ankles said otherwise. “It’s quality time!”

“Sure it is,” you muttered, eyeing the syrup geyser that was now accompanied by a fountain of nebula cream. “You ever think about therapy, Janet?”

“Therapy?!” She recoiled like you had suggested she downsize her volcanoes. “I don’t need therapy! I’m perfectly well-adjusted for a sentient celestial body! Besides, I have you!”

“And there it is,” You raised a fork as a vine elegantly served you another pancake. “Just promise me you won’t sprout another ‘Welcome ___ Forever!’ topiary when I leave.”

She giggled nervously, a suspicious patch of vines shuffling as though trying to hide something.

...

You narrowed your eyes. “Janet...”

“It’s tasteful!” she defended quickly, sounding every bit like someone caught decorating their crush’s locker with glittery hearts. “And besides, you’ll be back next week for pancakes anyway, so what’s the harm?”

You sighed, unable to argue with that logic. After all, who could resist a planet with gourmet pancake skills, top-notch hair braiding, and just the right amount of possessive insanity to keep things interesting? Not you, apparently. “Fine,” you said, a smirk tugging at your lips. “But if you start naming craters after me, we’re gonna have a talk.”

Her vines tightened briefly in what you assumed was her version of a mischievous hug.

As the pancakes dwindled and the conversation mellowed into a comfortable rhythm, you leaned back into her vine-crafted throne, your eyes half-lidded in a syrup-induced haze. Despite her dramatic tendencies and occasional bouts of mildly possessive planetary behavior, Janet had a charm that was impossible to deny. Maybe it was her optimism. Maybe it was the way her laugh echoed like wind through a meadow. Or maybe it was the fact that she could whip up five-star brunch in the middle of nowhere. Either way, you were… fond of her. Not that you would ever admit it aloud in a way that wasn’t laced with your signature sarcasm.

“You know,” She began, her voice soft and thoughtful, “I don’t really say it enough, but… having you here makes everything better. Like, I used to think stars were the best thing about space, but now… I think it’s you.”

You blinked, stunned into a rare moment of silence. The only sound was the gentle rustling of her vines as they rearranged themselves into a cozy blanket over your shoulders. “Janet,” you said slowly, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re flirting with me.”

“Flirting? Me?!” she gasped, vines wriggling like a schoolgirl caught passing notes. “I—okay, maybe a little! But can you blame me? You’re brilliant, you’re confident, and you eat my pancakes like they’re the only thing keeping you alive.”

“Well,” you said, smirking, “they kind of are. Your cooking’s the only thing keeping me from taking over the universe twice as fast.”

Janet giggled, her surface glowing faintly with soft greens and pinks. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, really. To be… important to someone.”

“You’re more than important,” you said, surprising even yourself with the sincerity in your voice. “I mean, who else would braid my hair, feed me pancakes, and try to keep me as their personal space prisoner all in one day?”

“I knew you got me,” Janet said, her voice dripping with affection. “You always do.”

You looked down, spotting one of her roses growing near your armrest. Its petals opened wide, its soft pink glow shimmering like it was daring you to make a move. You reached out and gently cupped the bloom, tilting it toward you like a hand to kiss. “If this is your equivalent of a cheek,” you muttered, more to yourself than anything, “then… yeah, why not?” Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the petal. The rose immediately sparkled, its glow intensifying until it bathed you both in light. The vines around you trembled like Janet had just been told the juiciest gossip in the universe.

“Y-you kissed me!” she stammered, her voice rising an octave. “You actually kissed me!”

“Don’t get used to it,” you said, though the flush creeping up your neck betrayed your nonchalant delivery. “I don’t go around kissing planets every day.”

Janet squealed—an actual, full-on squeal of pure joy. Flowers burst into bloom across her surface, their petals opening like a cosmic fireworks display. “Oh, my molten core, you’re so cute when you’re flustered! Do it again! No, wait—don’t! I mean, do if you want to, but only if you feel like it—”

“Janet,” you interrupted, amused. “Calm down. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?” Her voice was soft, almost vulnerable.

You sighed, leaning back and letting her vines settle around you like a warm hug. “I promise. For now, anyway. But only because you’re bribing me with pancakes.”

She giggled again, her glow softening into a gentle shimmer. “I’ll take it. For now.”

And as you sat there, wrapped in vines, sipping tea made of stardust and stealing glances at her glowing surface, you couldn’t help but think: maybe being a planet’s favorite wasn’t so bad after all. 

[kissingmilfs]

dream devil girl!au | natasha romanoff

summary: reader and natasha are natural born enemies it feels like at this point. defying the odds of a collegiate level jock and cheerleader having something in common. yet all the constant bickering leaves you both frustrated. always for more than you can chew off. sequel to 🌫️

cw: bullying (sorta), one (1) slap, degradation, pet play-ish, name calling, 18+

a/n: i didn’t include any pronouns for reader but i am afab! so that’s the pov i’m on <3 i used mostly non-gendered type nicknames. also sought guidance doing final pieces on this fic layout from my gf’s @pocolottie fic layouts <33

⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓

you’re storming off somewhere upstairs in the sorority’s huge mansion. you’d only agreed to come to this stupid speed dating event because your entire friend group wanted to be supportive of kate. she was stepping out of her comfort zone. friendship solidarity or whatever.

you didn’t mind that a few sorority girls spent most of their times trying to flirt and get your number. it was flattering, certainly a welcomed ego boost. what you did mind was a certain aggravating voice the entire evening making snide remarks your way. scoffing and rolling her green eyes every time another girl floated your way.

natasha, annoyed with the constant attention you were receiving, made up some lie to all of the girls. she told them some bullshit story of you breaking some freshman’s heart and sleeping with her fucking roommate! one of the sorority girls even threw her champagne in your face.

all you heard was natasha’s snickering and a group gasping, before you pushed through the crowd to escape. now you’re in some guest bathroom upstairs washing the sticky residue off your face. you’re mumbling underneath your breath the entire time. calling natasha heinous and foul names you’d never repeat to anyone else. swearing every couple words because you’re so fucking pissed off.

once your face is dried, you swing open the bathroom to see natasha standing in front of the door with her arms crossed. she looks angry. the audacity for natasha to feel any negative emotion in this situation. you don’t even bother acknowledging natasha or even uttering a word. instead, you attempt to brush pass natasha, but the girl forcefully pushes your shoulder back.

“get back inside the bathroom.”

you blink your shock at natasha’s firm statement. she seems extremely serious about it too. her tone harsh and demanding.

“you’re out of your fucking mind. get out of my way.”

“or what? you’re gonna cry and run away? you already did that and it was pathetic. just like you.” natasha basically spits out her words at you, resentment laced with each one.

you roll your eyes. that is one of natasha’s favorite words to use for you. pathetic. she really sees you as some second class citizen. someone below her. you’re the lowly, dumb jock and natasha’s the pretty, smart, and talented cheerleader everyone loved. except for you. natasha always fucking had an attitude around you. always scoffing, rolling her eyes and even sneering your way. one day you had to ask wanda if you smelled bad from soccer practice.

you stare down at natasha. the girl is a lot of bark for someone whose a few inches shorter too. an evil smirk spreads on natasha’s lips. as if natasha read your mind.

“i will scream bloody murder and humiliate you even further. get back in there. now.” natasha basically barks her order at you and something inside of you snaps and lulls you back into the bathroom.

natasha’s smirk returns once more as you follow orders. she mirrors your footsteps, crossing the threshold of the bathroom. natasha immediately locks the door.

“see? old dogs can learn new tricks. good puppy.”

you open your mouth to protest, only getting out, “na-“ before natasha’s palm makes contact with your skin, a sharp sting remaining.

“you don’t speak until i tell you to. not after what i heard you say about me in here. you’ll listen like the mutt you are, okay? nod if you understand.”

you grind your teeth down, holding the pained cheeked, desperately wanting to snap back at natasha. but whatever that lulled you into the bathroom—it also kept you quiet and obedient. so, you nod your head while glaring at natasha.

natasha beams almost triumphantly with smile that looked sincere. natasha leans forward and pats your head.

“good dog! you’re too dumb anyway. i should punish you even more honestly. that slap was nothing. you’ve earned a hundred by now. but…mommy can start us off on a clean slate.”

you cock your head to the side, wondering what the hell natasha is ranting about. failing to understand what’s shifting between you two.

“don’t worry too much about it, mutt. i’m not here to use your brain. i’m afraid that’s long gone. remember that party two months ago when we fought the entire way there and then they locked us in the van…” natasha trailed off, as she looked over at you sitting on the closed toilet bowl.

heat rushes into your face at the sudden trip down memory lane. of course you’d remembered it. you convinced yourself for the next two months that it wasn’t the best sex you’d ever have. you even fought harder to convince yourself you didn’t enjoy natasha taking full control. i nod my head at natasha question. natasha rolls her eyes.

“yeah, of course you do. you were a pathetic whining bitch in heat. anyway, it had me thinking and wondering, why you decided to fuck half the female body population in that time? every fucking practice all i can from the girls’ mouths is y/n this and y/n that. as if you weren’t begging me to fuck you that night. clawing at my back, so desperate to be fucked and used. have you even let anyone touch you like that since then?”

you swallow thickly, squeezing your legs at the aching feeling natasha’s words left in your cunt. she mastered the language of dirty talk. her raspy, low pitched voice adding a delicious twist to them.

natasha commands, “speak, mutt. i asked you a question.”

“no. no, i haven’t let anyone touch me like that since.”

“mhm…when was the last time?”

“the last time what?”

“you’re so fucking painfully obtuse. the last time someone touched your greedy pussy.” natasha plainly said, as if the conversation were boring her.

you chew your lip nervously, knowing natasha will easily catch you in your web of lies. or completely humiliate and mock you with the truth. you close your eyes shut, dropping your head.

“it’s been a while…like maybe two years…”

natasha’s face immediately upturns into the most wicked grin she’s ever produced. your answer fills her with a sense of pride and accomplishment. what a beautiful, beautiful addition to natasha’s ego this was. natasha knows the game is afoot. she’s already made you her bitch. there’s nothing else to be done or said.

all you hear is the click of the bathroom lock, cueing natasha’s exit.

[serenescribe]

We know that thanks to Halloween part 2, Silver has had encounters with bears and wolves and bonded with them. I wonder how Lilia would react to one of these encounters with a larger animal when he is present. Silver that is a mountain lion not a kitty, son.

[✐] ficlet frenzy

“Silver?”

“Yes, Papa?”

“What… are you doing?”

It’s a very good question to ask, Lilia thinks. He’s just returned from yet another long trip, leaving Silver in the care of Malleus and the Zigvolts, with all of them checking up on him periodically. Silver is old enough now that Lilia can afford to leave him at home rather than drop him off elsewhere, but he still needs an adult to check in on him lest he forgets to eat.

So with all the supervision Silver surely has had, why in the Sevens is he cuddling a mountain lion?

His son giggles, as though he were simply petting a docile house cat as opposed to a feral cougar. “This is my friend!” he says brightly, beaming at Lilia all the while. His tiny hand disappears into the thick mane of the lion as he scratches at its neck, and Lilia just about has a heart attack when the beast opens its mouth, revealing sharp fangs that can rip his boy to shreds, only for it to yawn lazily instead.

“Your friend,” Lilia echoes, dumbfounded.

Silver nods eagerly.

“And, pray tell, Silver,” Lilia begins, slowly walking up to where Silver cuddles with the beast on the grassy floor near the cottage, his limbs entangled with thick, fur-covered muscles, “how did you come about meeting this…” His eyes shift to the lion, who leers at him. “This friend of yours?”

“She just showed up one day,” Silver replies, before letting out a squeak as the lion — or is it lioness now? — leans in, giving him a mighty, slobbering lick. “H-Hey! That tickles!

Lilia feels his eyes twitch.

“Erm, she seemed really hungry,” Silver continues, blinking those wide eyes at Lilia as he continues to answer him, “so I gave her some of my food.”

Lilia takes another step forward, and the lioness has the audacity to growl at him. Its hackles raise all of a sudden, tail stiff as it goes on the defensive. Instantly, his hands fly up, raised in front of him defensively. “I do not mean any harm!” Lilia protests, trying to appeal to— to this greedy lioness, apparently. “I simply want to get closer to my son.”

The lioness continues growling at him until Silver pats it gently. “It’s okay!” he tells it brightly, scratching behind its ear. “My papa doesn’t mean any harm! You can let him come close!”

And miraculously, the lioness settles down. Lilia is able to get close enough to sit on the ground, cross-legged, near his child and the beast, though he still detests the way those eyes seem to be scrutinising him. What for?!

“You can pet her, Papa,” Silver tells him with a toothy smile.

Lilia meets the cougar’s eyes. He feels a thin trickle of sweat running down his neck as it leers at him.

“I think I’ll pass, dear.”

And more importantly, Lilia thinks, stifling a sigh, perhaps we ought to have a chat about the dangers of befriending mountain lions…

[sris-skies]

ON SIGHT- junmin xikers

It was a tiring day for Junmin, they had been rehearsing and rehearsing for what felt like endlessly. He removed the cap on his head to card his fingers through his hair with a quiet groan. He put his cap back on soon after- he was meant to be laying lowkey after all, one of the downsides of being an idol was the amount of ‘fans’ that didn’t seem to understand boundaries. 

y/n was humming along to the songs playing in her earphones, slowly browsing through the aisles at the corner store, looking for snacks to get. She had been studying all day and was craving something to snack on- but she wasn’t sure what to get yet. The store was basically empty, save for a clearly exhausted cashier and maybe one other person- she wasn’t really sure, but she felt safe nonetheless. 

Her eyes finally landed on a packet of chips, it was the last packet as well and seemed to be the exact thing that she was craving. As she went to go and get it, another person’s hand grabbed that chip packet from off the shelf, right in front of her face. She looked aghast at the scene, her hand hovering over the now empty place on the shelf, turning to look at the person who had the audacity to steal her chips from right under her nose. Any and all protests or complaints she had, died on her tongue as she looked at him. He was cute with platinum blond floppy hair, partially hidden with a cap, and dark brown eyes looking at her from over a white surgical mask- hiding the rest of his face. 

Junmin was staring at the girl in front of him, heart pounding in his chest as he looked at her. Maybe all those hours of perfecting his singing and dancing were making him delirious because there was no way that this girl, this stranger in front of him, was genuinely this… pretty. She looked as if she was going to say something, Junmin barely even processing anything other than her cute and tired features. Was this what love at first sight felt like? He didn’t know, but it came damn close to what those songs have been harping on about. 

y/n opened her mouth as if to speak, maybe to ask him for his name, his number- something, or maybe to ask him to move so she could grab a different packet of chips, or maybe even to ask him to give her the packet of chips he was holding that he had so rudely stolen from right under her fingers. Instead of any of those options, the only thing to leave her lips was a weak “hey”, the one word making her feel like she had fallen into a whole new world where the two of them were its center. 

-

birthday fic for junmin yay!! my writing schedule is still going to be quite sporadic lol, uhm sorry hehe. hope you enjoyed!

[mc-lukanette]

If being embarrassed was a sport, Marinette would've won the game all by herself. If being embarrassed was a river, she'd be carried violently downstream screeching "Why did I do that?!" If being embarrassed was the goal of the night, she'd have succeeded with flying colors.

It was not, in fact, the goal of the night.

All Marinette had wanted was to spend some time with Nino at a charity event, make a few jokes about the guys who were auctioned off as temporary dates, and go about her life after a mildly fun night where nothing of interest happened.

Clearly, that was not the case, and it was all she could do to find the quickest opportunity to sneak out. It felt vaguely like she was abandoning Nino, but she suspected that he had similar plans.

Unfortunately, she'd barely made it out into the hall before a familiar and unfairly smooth voice called out, "Hey, Marinette."

"Eep!"

She jumped. The hallway was so empty and quiet that his voice seemed extra surprising, and Luka just stood there, casually smiling away like she hadn't just made a complete fool out of herself.

Maybe if I pretend not to know him, he'll go along with it, she thought desperately.

Only it was too late, Luka idly toying with his bangs as he admitted, "I didn't expect you to buy me."

Her face flushed pink. The sound of her hitting the table and shouting out her price probably could've been heard throughout all of Paris, right? She could already see the news articles about it: Desperate Woman Has Superhuman Vocal Chords.

And did he have to word it like she bought him and not a date with him?!

"W-well..." She dropped her gaze to the floor, rubbing against the rug with her foot. She debated on whether to claim I just acted, or I wasn't thinking, or it was just a joke, but ultimately decided to admit, "I didn't want anyone else to have you?"

She dared to peek up and saw his brows raise in surprise. Feeling the intensity of the auction come back, she stomped at the floor her foot and clarified, "B-because all those people don't know you, and you don't know them! You can't know what their intentions are!" With a small 'hmph', she crossed her arms and added, "And they were even advertising you as Jagged Stone's son, not Luka Couffaine!"

"I'm probably not a popular face, even with my dad," Luka replied, having the audacity to defend them.

"But you're a kind face!" Marinette protested, committing to her argument and pointing at him. "They kept bidding weak prices for you and I couldn't let them get away with that! It was like they didn't even respect your time!"

He choked out a laugh, covering his mouth to stifle the rest of it.

"D-don't laugh! I'm serious!"

"I know," he said through his giggles, clearing his throat to try and cut himself off. "I just feel lucky."

She faltered, confused. "Lucky?"

He nodded, smiling at her. "Thank you for looking out for me, Marinette. I really appreciate it."

"Really?"

"You're right. Maybe I could've been in danger."

She relaxed her shoulders, seeing that he actually understood. Of course, she knew she had "other motives" to buy a date with him, but at her core, she couldn't help worrying about him. She worried about everyone.

"...Still." She rubbed the back of her neck shyly, adding, "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just bought you like that. I know it's for charity and I'm glad the money's going to it, but—" She covered her face to whine into her hands. "—I've never done this before! It feels like I'm claiming you! You don't even have to go on a date with me, really!"

There was a pause, followed by Luka letting out a slow breath. She tensed, sensing what she was fairly sure was disappointment, only to then feel Luka's fingertips against the back of her hands. He caressed downwards until he could grab her wrists, gently tugging to make her reveal her face to him.

"Disappointment" was not what she saw in his expression.

"What if I told you that it was okay?" he asked, almost in a whisper.

She blinked, then looked around to confirm that they were still alone. No one else was around, so her only guess was that Luka wanted to ensure that this conversation was only for them.

Blush intensifying, she swallowed and asked in reply, "F-for me to feel like I'm claiming you, or for you to go out on a date with me?"

He grinned instead of answering. "I'm looking forward to it, Marinette."

"Me claiming you, or going out on a date with me?" she asked again.

He continued as if he didn't even hear her, "I'll have to try my best to give you the kind of date you deserve."

Is that just... a yes?!

Before Marinette could respond, the two heard rapid footsteps approaching them. They looked just in time to see Nino fleeing the scene of the event, Adrien following closely behind and calling after him.

Chuckling sheepishly as she watched them go, Marinette noted, "I guess he'll have to explain it like I did."

"You didn't buy a date with Adrien?"

Luka's tone had shifted entirely and it occurred to her that he must've been elsewhere when the date with Adrien was up for auction. She turned to look at him, replying, "No? I didn't bid for him.... ah—" She waved her hands desperately, realizing that she'd just trapped herself. "—not that I think he doesn't deserve protection! But... um..."

"Hm." He hummed, a sparkle in his eyes like something had clicked in his head. Reaching out to press his hands to hers and intertwine their fingers, he added, "Don't worry. I think I get it."

She tilted her head to the side. "Y....you do?"

He followed along, tilting his head in the same direction. "I'll call you later so we can schedule our date. I'll pay, of course."

"Wait—no!" She pulled away. "You didn't ask to have a date with me!"

"I don't have to ask to want one," he retorted without missing a beat, unusually direct.

What did I get myself into?!

[scarlettrust]

There was something about cards. The smooth feel of them when Slip dealt them in front of him The balance between strategy and blind luck, finding patterns in the cards you were dealt. He’d been playing a lot of solitaire since coming back, waking up both his mind and his sluggish muscles.

Things like walking and taking had become easier in time, but it was the fine motor skills that Slip still found himself struggling with. The once familiar pattern of shuffling and dealing was definitely helping, even if progress was slower than Slip would have liked.

Patience, Vespa kept telling him at every check up- firm and rasping. Slip knew she was right, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“You winning?”

From his spot cross legged on the floor, Slip looked up as a plate of flood was placed at his feet. A grilled cheese, the perfect shade of golden brown with a neat stack of carrot sticks next to it. All carefully made by the lady standing next to him, hovering like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to stay.

“Depends on how you define winning I guess.” Slip said, putting the cards down in favour of a carrot stick. At first he had bristled at the idea of being waited on like this. Like was a fragile doll that would shattered to pieces if it wasn’t taken care of correctly.

But that was just the way Juno was, Slip was slowly learning. He did the same to everyone, if given half the chance and kitchen.  It was cute… in a way that Slip was still trying to get used to. Back on Brahma nothing came without strings attached, especially as a pest. Doubly so whenever food was involved.

Something about Juno seemed like he understood that though. Slip had a hunch it was the same reason  why nobody ever left the detective’s apartment feeling hungry.

“I don’t have to um… keep playing solitaire though,” Slip offered, waving a hand to the empty spot in front of him. “If you want to play something?”

“Oh?” Juno sat down on the floor next to him, grunting softly as his knees popped in protest. “You got something in mind?”

Slip gathered up the deck, stacking the cards together before shuffling them. A swell of pride filled him as he managed the bridge without his hands shaking too badly “Street poker?”

“With a shark like you? not on your life.” Juno snorted, leaning back on his hands. “I’m still figuring out all the rules to that stupid game. It doesn’t make any damn sense.”

“That’s kinda the whole point.” Slip said, an easy smile filling his face. It was easy to see why Petya liked him so much- there was just something about the detective that put you at ease. The rumble of his voice, or the way you didn’t feel like you had to pretend. “You have any suggestions?”

“What about regular good old fashioned poker.” Juno immediately offered, plucking the newly shuffled deck from his hands. “no war goats required. Also, eat- before it gets cold.”

“Fine.” Slip mumbled around a mouthful of sandwich. He had to admit it was good, the perfect amount of cheese all melted to perfection. “But no way I’m playing poker with you. Not with the way you count cards.”

“Hey! Where’d you hear that!” Juno protested, actually having the audacity to sound offended.

“Vespa.”

“You can’t trust anything she says,” Juno huffed, arms crossed defensively across his chest “she’s just a sore loser.’

“And, Petya,” Slip continued without mercy, “ and um Rita and Buddy, and—HEY!”

Slip ducked just in time as a pillow from the couch was lobbed at his head. He scrambled for it, throwing it blindly back. It caught Juno square in the face, the detective letting out a muffled off as Slip started laughing so hard his lungs hurt.

Juno was also laughing as the cushion fell into his lap. Somewhere in the frey his eyepatch had come askew- revealing the mess of scars that lay beneath.  Slip wanted to ask him about it— maybe one day he’d actually work up the nerve.

“Alright, alright— no poker then.” The detective said, adjusting the straps across his face so his eyepatch sat properly one more. “Okay Jackson, you come up with something then.”

“I don’t know… crazy 8s?”

“Works for me,” Juno said, dealing the cards into two neat piles. “Winner does the dishes this week?”

“Only if we can’t bully Petya into doing them.”

“I like the way you think, Jackson.”

[angeliqueiguess]

kitchen nightmares (s.jn)

004. girl code w.count: 738

warnings: swearing, haechan being a whiny mf

Friday had finally arrived, and Y/n, Karina, and Haechan were done with their shift. Ready to make the most of their free time, they decided to hang out together. After a quick coffee stop, they headed to the park to unwind and shake off the day’s stress.

Sunday finally rolled around, and with the restaurant closed, Y/n, Karina, and Haechan took advantage of their day off, hanging out in the park after grabbing some coffee.

"I still don’t get what you see in him," Haechan said, sprawled out on the grass with his eyes closed.

"Oh my god, Haechan, I don’t like him," Y/n replied, frowning. "I just think he’s cute, you idiot." She gave him a light tap on the knee.

"Same difference, idiot," he muttered, rubbing where she’d hit him.

"It’s not, and you shouldn’t even know about it," she shot back, a little annoyed, glancing over at her best friend, who was failing to keep a giant grin off her face. "But of course, someone had to run their mouth."

"You know I love you, right?" Karina said, pulling Y/n into a hug. Y/n hugged her back, unable to stay mad.

"Ugh, I could never stay mad at you, Rina."

"Not like it matters. You don’t even have a chance with Johnny," Haechan chimed in out of nowhere, adding, "Mark’s single and thinks you’re cute."

"Mark thinks anything with long hair and a pulse is cute," Karina deadpanned, making Y/n laugh while Haechan shrugged.

"Think about it, Y/n," he said, cracking one eye open to look at her. She rolled her eyes.

"No way. I’ve seen the amount of weed he goes through on his breaks. Not happening," Y/n replied, raising an eyebrow.

"You gotta start somewhere, right?" Haechan teased, shrugging.

"Yeah, maybe start by shutting the fuck up."

''Chris is cute too, you know?'' Karina said with a grin.

''You can have him'' Y/n replied, while Haechan scoffed.

''Girl code, something you wouldn’t get'' she added, pausing for a moment ''Plus, if Rina weren’t my friend, I wouldn’t be into him anyway.''

''Right, because you like grandpas'' Haechan teased, earning another smack, but this time from Karina.

''Ouch, what was that for?'' he protested, opening his eyes to see Y/n was busy scrolling through her phone '' And why did you hit me?''

''Because you need to shut up, and for your information, Johnny is not ancient or anywhere near Leeteuk’s age'' Karina said, glancing nervously at Y/n, who was now giving her a serious look ''I mean, your brother isn’t that old… he doesn’t even look it, really.''

''Oh my god, can you not understand? Johnny is just attractive. I don’t. Like. Him.'' Y/N emphasized each word, letting out an exasperated sigh.

''Yeah, yeah, you say that, but then you’re all horned up just because he looked at you'' Haechan said, sitting up from where he’d been lying down.

''Do you need another one?'' Y/n raised her hand, making Haechan quickly shield himself.

''No, but I think you need therapy. You know, maybe work through that anger management issue.''

Y/n just rolled her eyes, and right as she was about to respond, a ping from her phone caught her attention. She picked it up from where it was lying in the grass and saw it was a message from her brother. With a sigh, she opened the chat.

"What? Are you fucking kidding me?" Haechan groaned, staring at his phone in disbelief. He’d just read Leeteuk’s message in the work group chat. "I was supposed to go out with Yeji before my shift. This shit sucks," he added, flopping back onto the grass and tossing his phone aside.

"Guess you’ll have to cancel, Romeo," Karina teased, locking her own phone and giving him a smirk. Haechan just sighed, visibly annoyed.

"Y/n, do something!" he whined, looking at her like she could magically fix everything. She shot him a frown. The audacity, she thought.

"And why the fuck do you think being his sister gives me some kind of power?"

"At least we can head in together," Karina offered looking at Y/n, trying to stay positive.

"Uh, actually, no babes," Y/N said, and Karina tilted her head in confusion. "I have to go in an hour early. Leeteuk’s special request," she sighed, making Karina slump against her shoulder.

“Tomorrow’s shift is going to be brutal,” Haechan muttered, his face a mix of frustration and resignation.

prev masterlist next

angie's note: so hyuck is a milf hunter u said?????

taglist(open): @thegracerammy @neocupidd @pjsteroid @peterm4rker

[lucaaazd]

Bertolt made up his mind. He was going to do it.

His entire life, he’d been busy hiding behind his father’s leg and his brother’s glare. He’s done hiding. Today was the day. He will do it, even if it kills him.

Clutching the fated piece of paper as if his life depended on it, he raised his chin and stepped forward. Screwing his eyes shut, he jammed the card into the machine.

“It’s backward,” The bus driver said.

Impossible. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He opened his eyes just a slit and with trembling fingers, withdrew the yellow metro card and turned it upside down.

“The. Other. Way. Sonny,”The bus driver glared down at him.

Oh no. Bertolt opened his mouth and no sound came out. What do you mean the other way? Like the other way other way? Not upside down? His throat was paper dry. A line of people was trailing behind him, smacking their lips grudgingly. “Gimme that,” the bus driver snatched the card from Bertolt’s hand.

“Hey!” Bertolt protested weakly.

“Have a good day,” said the bus driver angrily as he waved him off to the back of the bus.

Bertolt almost whimpered. He wobbled his way through people’s legs, dodging incoming shoulders and almost falling face first into a woman’s lap. She looked about his mom’s age and horrified at his audacity. “So - sorry,” Bertolt squeaked.

There it was. The window seat in the very back, safe and secluded, promising a sweet undisturbed journey for the socially inept young boy with low self esteem and a fully charged iPhone SE. Bertolt climbed into his seat and opened his messages with clammy fingers. He paused between “💕🕊️” and “Mommy” and with only a moment of hesitation, swiped to the latter and typed, “On the bus.”

Sent. Bertolt waited a few seconds for the dotted message bubble to pop up, but it didn’t. He added, “Where do I get of again?”

Still no response. Bertolt chanced a look around him. The bus is half full but no one’s making eye contact with him. He perceived the screen hanging above the ticket machine and to his horror, only a map of the city with a little gps icon of the bus was shown. The stops weren’t named. How are people supposed to know where to get off then?

He went back to the chat and typed, “How do I get off”.

He knew it’s 22nd street something. 5th avenue? Maybe he would know when he saw it. He’d never been to the restaurant his brother worked at but he knew it was a fancy Italian one with nice green booths and tons of vines and bouquets up front. He just had to pay attention.

However, he couldn’t help but notice that the bus hadn’t stopped for a long time. If felt like it’s been chugging along for at least twenty minutes, unless his mind was playing tricks on him. Time always went by slower when he’s nervous.

Ding. Yellow letters flashed across the screen, Stop Requested.

The bus skidded to a stop and the back door opened, letting off an old lady lugging her grocery cart. A blond boy his age got on and paid with his phone. Bertolt didn’t know you could do that. He just sort of like, tapped it. This other boy looked familiar and way more confident than Bertolt had felt moments ago. He cowered further into his seat, pulling his hood over his head. He found his brother Benny’s chat and texted, “Hey, on my way. Where do I get of?” He waited for exactly twelve seconds before going to his dad’s chat, “dad, on my way. what stop? 👀👀”

In that exact moment, Bertolt felt a broad figure closing in on him. His heart jumped to his throat. The beefy blond boy from earlier had skirted around him and plopped down a mere two seats away, sitting with his legs wide open in a content sort of way. Bertolt said the S-word in his head and in a moment of franticness, pressed the little telephone next to his mom’s name. He hung up immediately, remembering his mom’s still at work and didn’t like to be disturbed. Neither did Benny, and he’s probably in the kitchen right now. Dad’s his only hope.

Their conversation in the doorway before he departed into the unknown flashed in his mind. “Are you sure, buddy?” His dad had said, concern etched into his lined face, “Aren’t you a bit too young for such a feat? It seems only yesterday we let you download Instagram on your cell phone, and now you wanna take the bus all my yourself? Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

Bertolt had nodded solemnly, “I am sure, father. I’ve decided. I’m going to be just like Arthur.”

“Like - like Arthur, you said?” His father clutched his chest, tears welling up in his eyes, “Oh, my little Bear Turtle is all grown up.”

“No more Bear Turtle,” He remembered tightening his grasp on his backpack straps, “it’s Bertolt.”

Bertolt exited out of his father’s chat. He would not give in. He would not ask for help. He said he was going to do this all by himself and he will honor his words. A surge of bravery welled up in him. He found himself typing, “Hey, wyd?”

A moment later, “💕🕊️” was typing. Bertolt’s heart swelled twice its size. Another moment later, her speech bubble vanished.

What a bummer. His soul punctured, Bertolt put on his headphones, opened up YouTube and scrolled through videos about Multiverse Battleground, Roblox Death Balls and Ice Spice edits. He clicked on one of the Ice Spice edits.

“Still can’t believe Ice Spice got an entire room of adults to sing,” He read in his head as the video started playing, “‘You think you’re the shit? Bitch you aren’t even the fart.‘“

He bursted out laughing. That’s the best thing ever. You aren’t even the fart. That was just awesome. She’s so cool. He finished the ice spice video and the next one started playing automatically. He’s really curious about her music now. Everyone at school talked about her ‘melons’, but Bertolt wasn’t sure he was quite there yet. He liked the fart song, that’s for sure.

He finished the next one, and then the one after next, before scrolling down and clicked into the thumbsnail of a woman screaming her head off while pointing at a kid holding a diaper with disdain written all over his face. That’s weird. He’s intrigued.

A pop up appeared on his screen, informing him that his phone was on 20% and asked if he wanted to put it on low battery mode. Bertolt groaned. He forgot how old the damn thing was. Reluctantly, he clicked yes and went back to YouTube. However, he couldn’t help but notice the sky was starting to darken.

Wait. Where was he?

Bertolt scrambled out of his seat. He could not tell where he was at all. He looked around as if someone would miraculously read his mind and tell him exactly what to do, but help did not come. He might not know where he was, but he was 99% sure he’d gone too far.

He looked down on his phone and saw the screen light up with a message. “Watching Case Closed with my Dad. Wbu?”

He typed furiously, “Annie, how do you make a bus stop?”

She responded right away. “Wdym? Like with your body?”

“No,” Bertolt felt like crying. He’d screwed up big time. “I’m on the bus.”

“Oh!” Annie replied, “Idk. Tell the bus driver.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Is there another way?”

“Let me ask my dad.”

A moment of silence elapsed as Bertolt stared at her message bubble, reciting prayers quietly in his head. His eyes flitted to the 3% on his battery before the screen darkened and he could see no more.

Bertolt bursted into tears.

“Hey,” a hand found his shoulder. Bertolt wheeled around, sobbing and wiping his face with the back of his hands.

“Oh, woah,” the blond kid put his hands up defensively, “So - sorry. I was wondering if you, uh, had a phone.”

“Not anymore,” wailed Bertolt miserably.

“Oh. Hm,” the kid wavered, “Do you know where we are?”

“No,” Bertolt sniffled, “D - do you?”

“No,” said the kid, “but I’m pretty sure we’re in Queens.”

“QUEENS?” Bertolt yelped. That’s like, the suburbs. Holy fuck.

“Yeah. I think we’re screwed,” the kid said.

[mariswxt]

Light My Fire (Again) | beau arlen | preview | three

Summary: “I thought I’d swore off love, Jenny.” I smiled, chuckling a bit as I looked down to my feet then back up the skies, taking in the twinkling lights. “God, I really thought I did, and I was doing such a good job at it too. But, well, I just… I couldn’t help it.” I wet my lips slightly, biting the bottom one. “It’s improper, but it’s true.”

SERIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

(divider credits go to cafekitsune)

I was sitting in Jenny’s kitchen with Beau and Jenny, of course, the latter busy making lunch since I’d handled our breakfast. I was, again, scrolling on my Instagram, most of my feed Harry and Rhea the redhead. The guy even had the audacity to tag me in a photo, which I didn’t respond to or react to. Beau’s eyes followed mine, locking on the screen with a frown. “That’s Harry the jackass. Why are you lookin’ at photos of Harry the jackass?”

“He’s with the redhead he cheated on me with. Rhea.” I explained with a sigh, and he snatched the phone, not giving me time to protest as he looked at Rhea with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he smirked, nodding.

“I see the appeal.” He chuckled, looking at me playfully. Jenny gasped in horror, swatting his arm while I looked at him incredulously, taken aback by his audacity. “I mean, she’s gorgeous-”

“Beau!” Jenny scolded while I looked away, starting to internally panic. He�� thought Rhea was gorgeous? Did he really? Was Harry justified in leaving me because I wasn’t good enough?

“I’m messin’ with you!” Beau raised his hands in surrender, taking another look at the photo before handing my phone back to me. “Sweetheart, Harry the jackass doesn’t even know who he’s lost. This Rhea girl? Doesn’t even hold a candle to you. She’s an LA three, or a Texas one. You are a ten in both worlds, darlin’. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Thanks, Sheriff.” I sighed in relief, rubbing my face. Jenny patted Beau’s shoulder, giving him a look that said ‘I was about to rip your head off’. “You got me there for a second.”

“I got Hoyt too.”

“Yes, he did.” Jenny nodded, glaring playfully at Beau. “If you’d said that truthfully, no joking, I’d rain down hellfire.”

“Well, I’m glad I was just poking some fun.” Beau smirked, then patted my knee. “You’re gorgeous, Southern Belle. Ain’t no messing around there.”

I was about to smile and give him a compliment back, but I got a call from Cassie, and I picked it up, putting it to my ear. “Talk to me, Cassie.” I said, taking a breath out while a small chuckle threatened to escape my mouth.

‘Hey. Uh, Cormac just spotted your father at the Blue Fox Diner.’

LMF TAGLIST:

@deans-spinster-witch @nancymcl @hobby27

Let me know if you wanna join the taglist, comment your thoughts below, reblog with feedback or lmk if you want an author’s cut on a chapter!

Love, Arty.

[lewistoferrari]

sergeant whiskers [part two] pairing: simon riley x gn!reader cw: fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort part one | part three | masterlist

“simon, come get your cat!”

simon lets out a groan loud enough for you to hear, before making his way to the bedroom. “what are you on about love?” he asks from the doorway.

he sees you standing near the bed with your sweater in one hand, while you point to sergeant whiskers with the other hand. the cat’s not paying either of you any mind as she sits in the center of the bed licking a paw.

“she hissed at me,” you answer with a pout that turns into a scowl when simon has the audacity to laugh. “and before you ask, no i didn’t do anything. she was sitting on my sweater with her claws embedded into the fabric, so i moved her out of the way.”

“gently, i hope.”

“of course i did! what kind of person do take me for simon riley?”

simon winces at your little indignant shriek, before putting his hands up in surrender as he steps further into the room. he leans across the bed, scooping the kitten up into his burly arms. and your heart does not flutter when he rubs his face against her little furry one.

“little gremlin,” simon murmurs fondly, while stroking the cat’s fur. “you givin’ renna a hard time?”

renna? you mouth silently in disbelief. the absurdity of your husband implying sergeant whiskers is your child is enough to make you shake your head with a laugh.

“whiskey’s not giving me a hard time,” you say softly, much to simon’s surprise. “i just wish she liked me.”

simon’s eyes soften at your words. he sets sergeant whiskers back down, then tugs you to his chest. “she does like you. would interacting with her more change your opinion?”

you start to protest immediately, because— “i interact with her.” you feed her, cuddle her, and talk to her when she actually decides to pay attention.

you don’t interact with sergeant whiskers enough though. simon knows this, and so do you. it makes you feel a little guilty because simon adores whiskey like she’s his child. but you? you’re a bit distant, and just a little reluctant to form a bond with the little ball of fur.

simon hesitates a little when he asks his next question. he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, but he has to know. “you don’t like her?” simon asks gently, watching silently as your face falls.

“i do like her,” you sniffle, your voice thick with tears. “i want to love her, but i don’t know if i can.”

simon is now looking at you in concern, because you’re starting to get weepy over sergeant whiskers. and this is not how you thought your day would end up. all you wanted was for whiskey to remove her claws from your sweater. you never thought old feelings you tried to bury would resurface and ruin your day.

your tears spill over when simon says, “sweetheart, take a breath and tell me what’s wrong?”

he waits patiently for you to stop crying, so you can explain to him why you’re having a hard time accepting whiskey. and he just stares at you in surprise when you tell him about your childhood pet you loved very much, up until the day she died.

“after that, i promised myself i would never get another pet,” you admit. “it’s part of the reason why we have the no pets rule. i was happy when you agreed, but then you came home with whiskey, and now all i can think about is how i’ll be devastated if anything ever happens to her. it’ll be too much for me.”

simon presses a kiss to your temple, then to your lips, before resting his forehead against yours. “i’m so sorry, sweetheart. if i had known, i would have never— do you want me to give sarge away?”

“absolutely not! i can’t believe you would suggest such a thing,” you say with a huff. “i’d never make you give whiskey up because of me. she’s yours, simon.”

“ours.”

you let out a little laugh before turning away from simon and towards the bed, where sergeant whiskers is sitting and watching both of you. she gives you a slow blink and a soft mewl, before hopping off the bed and prancing out of the bedroom.

you watch her go, and simon starts chuckling when you start sniffling again.

this time, it’s tears of relief and happiness.

-

a/n: i’m sorry this is not what i had planned originally lmao but i hope you liked it. also renna is a gender neutral term for the word parent. you can also use ren & renny.

[edhellfire]

So maybe, just maybe, he'd read this whole situation wrong. For a second there he thought Jess was scared of him, or scared of what they were doing but the way she was grinding on him swayed him the other way. She wasn't scared of him, or scared of what they were doing. She looked more into it than he did. Or, you know, maybe not considering she could do doubt feel him getting larger, harder, by the second. It became very clear that he was in no position of power here. She knew what she wanted and she was going for it.

But he had desires as well. He had two beautiful breasts right in front of him that he hadn't even touched yet. She'd no doubt see the grin of his face when she verbally consented to him touching her. It was a vague request on his part and she would see why in just a second.

Eddie tightened his grip on her hips, pulling her even closer to him, chest against chest. Then he shifted both their bodies so that her back was against the headboard and he was on top of her. Except he wasn't quite on top of her, more like straddling her legs. She did give him consent and giving consent for Eddie Munson to touch you was likely not what she would expect.

He was surprisingly strong, and quick too. Just as quickly as he had changed their positions, he did it again. This time moving further down her legs so he could give her a pull and now she was laying on his bed with her head on his pillow. His reward was getting a full glimpse of her body. Her breasts and curves exposed. He made a mental note to comment on how she had the audacity to hide all of this under flannel. A crime against humanity in Eddie's opinion.

If she was nervous at this point, it was understandable and any other teenaged boy would have likely gone straight for the breasts and boy did he wanted to but he'd work his way up there. Literally. Because he moved even further down her body, almost moving off of the bed and then he kissed her shin, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses up her right leg and up the bit of thigh exposed by her shorts. His eyes didn't leave her face once. His lips bypassed the area covered by her shorts, moving to her abdomen, placing soft almost tickly kisses on her tummy.

This was Jess we were talking about. She was his friend. More than that, he was her friend. Or at least he hoped she saw him that way. He didn't want her to think, or even entertain the thought, that this was about sex or him feeling nothing but lust for her. While lust, and being horny in the middle of the night, played a big role in this happening; he wanted her to know that she was more than ass and tits to him. He appreciated every bit of her.

He was hovering above her, a hand on either side of her shoulders, looking down at her. It was him checking to see if they were on the same page still. He really wanted those titties in his mouth but he was damn scared he'd already crossed about ten boundaries. As hot as she was to him, nothing they did that evening was worth losing their friendship over. "I'm losing my mind right now." With how much he wanted her and holding himself back.

There was one sure way to know if they were on the same page, and he was sure that if they weren't this would be the one thing that would ubdoubtebly get her to speak up. One hand lifted from the mattress, fingers moving up her inner thigh. She could protest at any moment and he would stop. He wasn't even planning on going anywhere restricted areas just yet. But he was grinning because he didn't have to go all the way up. She was a little wet between her legs and he could feel it in her inner thigh. "Sweetheart, did I make you do that?" Eddie was beaming, feeling stupidly proud of himself for getting a girl a little bit wet. It wasn't the first time, obviously, but he didn't think he'd ever get that with Jess! This was a win and he would take it. "How can I help?"

His grip on her hips is enough to earn him a soft little hum, but it's the tug of her hips down to meet his, the press of his length so frustratingly close to where she's aching for him, that elicits a surprised gasp from her. While she might've been the instigator of their current exploration, she was definitely out of her depth. She wasn't certain what was coming on too strong or if she seemed too timid, neither of which she wanted to be.

So that's what the tension really was. Jessica's mind running away with what if's and am I doing this right? type of questions. She settles under his hold quickly, however, her hips rocking against his on pure impulse. Later she might blush at the remembrance of how much she liked the sensation, but right now, curled against Eddie, impulsive curiosity had her wanting for more. Especially as the feeling of his cock twitching beneath her told her just how much he was enjoying himself as well.

Here she was, grinding herself against this man, and yet his comment about liking what he'd seen is what has her cheeks aching with misplaced modesty. It's his question, though, that pulls her away from any sort of insecure thoughts and focused on him. At first she nods her consent, then pulls back just enough to find his gaze again, "Please do." The tender draw of his fingers up her spine wasn't enough, nor the grip on her hips, she wanted to feel him everywhere and slowly her nervousness to say as much was falling away.