#and the end was where like yeah that's a bit unusual and it's almost to dark to see

[cheralith]

grocery lists | a blue lock smau - part i — feat. itoshi sae

synopsis — when the empty number you've been using to list your groceries finally gets a recipient, your territory gets disturbed in an unusual way. cw : gn!reader, no pronouns used, smau, mentions of food, a sorry attempt at crack, fluff, sae is a lightmode user, short writing portion at the end a/n : baby's first smau! plz be nice or ill cry very hard thankyuo... this is also inspired by this meme series taglist (for parts ii and iii)

"'Mango'... how stupid," you mutter under your breath, eyes glaring with irritation burning as you stare at the given contact name the stranger has given you.

Your roommate scoffs out a laugh, "Yeah, like Re Al's Itoshi Sae was a much better option."

The click of your tongue resonates through your shared living room.

"Shut up. It's not my fault—I blanked out and his poster was right in front of me," you mutter as you glance at the large framed poster of said player, where it sits almost intimidatingly on the wall near the TV in a row filled with other framed players of your roommate's admiration. "I thought I told you to take that down and put it in your room. He's not even your favorite player."

Yoichi shrugs and scoops himself up another piece of your cheesecake despite your protests, a piece of mango juice dribbling down his chin. "Yeah, I know. But I need to get to his level, so I put that there as motivation."

You frown, pulling the plastic casing of the cake away from him before he can steal another bite. "It's ugly. He's ugly, put it somewhere else."

"You and I both know that last bit is a lie," he grins and wiggles his brows. "I saw the way you were staring at him when we watched the Barcha versus Re Al match. You only paid attention when he was on screen."

"Because who has a hairstyle like that!?" you squawk, your body betraying you and sneaking a heat upon your cheeks.

"Hm," Yoichi studies you with his intentful eyes, his smile only growing with intrigue. That peeved you about your roommate—how he was able to know people before they even knew themselves—and you were not an outlier to such a habit. "Alright. Say what you will."

A haggard groan leaves you, this meld of frustration and annoyance boiling over in your mind. You snatch the cheesecake container from the table despite Yoichi's protests with a huff, going to glare at Itoshi Sae's poster once again before you excuse yourself to the isolation of your room.

a/n : part one of what i think is most likely a three part mini series? idk i didn't want to cram everything into one singular post and also,,, this was a pain in my ass to do bc also a lot of smau-maker interfaces were frustrating to work thru lol so i resorted to the og method

but regardless, thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoyed (☆▽☆) ! reblogs and comments are always appreciated and never unnoticed <3!

(also sorry if u dont like mango cheesecake …. but i rly like it so… heh)

[girl-lostconnection]

A little addition to this. Shout out to @sundaescreamcheese because they’ve guessed right.

Warnings: Banished knight!Ghost x Witch!Reader x Bloodhound knight Soap, Elden Ring AU, Johnny is a bit of a dog, possessive behaviour, suggestive themes, smut at the end, biting

“Hail, witch”, gruff low voice would have startled you if your wards didn’t tense the moment he stepped onto your territory.

You don’t know what he’s doing here, this deep in the woods, this far from his usual duties and this far from Stormveil Castle.

But you aren’t going to be rude to the man in full armour, with a sword taller than you.

If whatever he seeks can be found without much hassle and he could get off your territory that would be great.

“Hail, knight”, you muse back, careful distance from him. Your wards won’t let him step much closer to the cottage, not unless you specifically grant him entrance and for now…for now you aren’t sure you should.

The man looks at you — someone’s skull now adoring the front of his helmet, his horse a menacing thing that huffs out cold air in agitation. Yeah, it’s no easy journey to get here.

That’s why you live here.

The man in front of you is tall and absolutely huge, more monster than a knight. Makes you wonder what happened for someone like him to become Banished.

What brought him to your doorstep.

You sigh, a little grateful that Johnny is too busy fussing over chickens in the backyard because gods know he can’t stand strangers. Even more than you so.

“You seek refuge or favour?”, you tilt your head to the side, eager to get rid of him faster. Johnny may not be able to run like he did before but he’s still one very good Bloodhound. You don’t have much time until he will stalk outside to see what’s going on in front of your house.

(The previous visitor that had a gall to grab your hand before leaving was hunted down by Johnny. Hunted down and brought back, the hand that gripped you resting on the first step of your porch)

Banished knight looks at you for a few very long moments but if sensing your agitation, gets off his horse — landing on his feet with grace, that sends shivers down your spine.

He’s not just big.

He’s in a very good control of his body and he’s very aware of his size.

He’s dangerous.

Your wards tense up, not letting him through when he steps forward and he freezes as if he forgot about them. Though who knows, maybe he did forget.

Knights did have tendency to feel like they are owed entrance wherever they go, perhaps this one is no different.

“I need to find another knight. Bloodhound”, his voice is low, muffled by the helmet he doesn’t take off — dark eyes boring into you, staring you down from the high of his height.

Your brows furrow at the strange request, heart thumping faster. There’s only one knight who has been around these parts of the woods.

And he’s no longer Bloodhound. You are not giving him back. You are not going to let anyone take him away and rip him off everything you and time out here have been slowly restoring.

“I can’t help you”, you voice sharp, unusually so and Banished knight tilts his whole body forward as if trying to press himself through the wards, his fingers curling and uncurling — leather of his glove creaking.

“I don’t need much, witch. Just tell me where he went. And I will leave”, Banished presses further, shoulders tense and voice curling around your throat like a grip.

He takes a breathe before stepping back, raising his hands in half-hearted placating gesture.

“I mean no harm. I can pay if you need. Just tell me if you saw him”, he sounds almost gentle, head tilting down so he can look in your eyes without you having to crane your neck at him. “I’m…a friend”, he adds reluctantly, like he needs to physically tear the words out of himself.

Your brows furrow further and coincidentally Johnny couldn’t find a moment to show up better than now, sound of his walking uneven — still a limp to his step.

He rolls out of the house, picture of faux nonchalance, despite the sharp edge to his eyes.

“Hen, you alright? I heard-“, words die on his tongue when he sees the Banished knight, eyes widening. There is a strange kind of hunger in his gaze.

You don’t like it.

Because Banished knight sees Johnny and almost lunges himself in his direction, the only thing stopping him are the tethers of your wards, curling around his throat, forcing him back, forcing him out.

Air smells like ozone, air cracks with pressure, your fingers quickly warming up with a spell because you were right.

This man is dangerous. He saw Johnny.

You can’t let him leave now. He will need to disappear.

But Johnny grips your shoulders and shakes his head, eyes mad and desperate, an anguish to his face that you don’t quite understand.

“Nae, hen. It’s Simon. Don’t”, he breathes out, fingers digging into your skin, eyes boring into yours.

You glance back at Banished knight and he’s sitting on his knees now, tethers forcing him down, still tightly wrapped around his throat.

He’s dangerous. You don’t know him.

But Johnny’s nose presses to your cheek, breathing shuddering and he doesn’t let go of you. He doesn’t pull away until you give him a slow tentative nod.

Your fingers flick, soft popping of tethers letting go audible in the air and Johnny actually lunges himself at the Banished knight, sending them both tumbling in the snow.

Knight holds onto him with such hunger something in you churns uncomfortably. What if he will take Johnny away?

Your fingers warm up with the subconscious desire to push the strange man (Simon, his name is Simon) out. Out of your territory, out of your woods, out of your life.

But Johnny looks genuinely happy to see him so you let it go, just sitting yourself down nearby. You’ll be damned if he gets injured just because you looked away for a second.

But Simon grips Johnny like he’s the lifeline and answer to his prayers. Simon’s palms slide all over Johnny’s body, stroking sides, checking for wounds or tethers (your lips practically curl in snarl when you notice. Who the fuck does he think you are?).

He pauses at Johnny’s bad knee, touch getting more careful, eyes expectant and suddenly on you.

“Old injury”, you tell him for some reason. Not like you actually have to. You don’t owe this man anything, he’s unwelcome guest in your home. “I did what I could. If I found him later, he’d probably be without leg by now. Infection practically ate him alive”

Banished knight holds your eyes for a very long moment and then melts back into Johnny, murmuring something under his breath — too far for you to hear.

Doesn’t matter. The man isn’t staying in your home. He’s dangerous.

You tell that yourself and finally go back into the house to put kettle on. It’s too cold to stay mad out in the open. He’s not staying here anyway, so there’s no need to get too riled up.

He’s not staying but Johnny still shifts his weight from one leg to another in the doorway, Simon looming over his shoulder. They both look like a pair of big, wet from snow dogs.

You look at Johnny unimpressed but he tilts his head to the side, grown out strands of hair falling over his forehead. It should be illegal to be that bloody handsome.

You sigh and gesture for them to get in.

Okay, tea never harmed anyone. You’ll let this man warm up and he’ll be on his way before the sundown.

With or without Johnny.

The thought makes bile rise in your throat but you force it down focusing on the task at hand.

You can’t keep him if he’d want to go and you won’t humiliate yourself with begging him to stay.

But Johnny, so attuned to your moods by now, so used to having you chat for both of you steps closer — hands wrapping around your waist, part of his weight leaning on you to give a break his healthy leg.

“Yer not happy”, he notes, nose pressing to your ear, huffing out air and you can’t help but relax, letting him lean on you. He’s warm, heat rolling off him in waves, seeping through the sweater you made for him. Your head tilts back on his shoulder and he presses a kiss to your neck.

“He’s dangerous”, you muse quietly and ignore the chuckle Simon lets out. Banished knight is now sitting in front of your fireplace, cloak taken off and hanged on the chair to dry out.

Johnny just nods, calloused fingers rubbing idle circles on your solar plexus. It’s a long moment before he speaks again.

“I’m dangerous”, it’s said almost causally, his breath ghosting over your neck and you suppress the urge to roll your eyes.

“It’s different”, you snap back immediately.

Simon huffs behind your back and if Johnny wasn’t leaning on you, you’d have probably thrown something in the man. He’s not going to laugh at you in your own bloody house.

“Simon’s not bad, hen”, Johnny breathes out, tone softer, teeth grazing over sweet spot behind your ear, heat dripping down to your abdomen. Bastard. He knows what he’s doing.

“And Simon is not staying here”, you grumble, pouring herbal blend in three mugs, suppressing the urge to shiver when Johnny bites your neck.

“Hen”, he starts and you already know where it leads, you head shaking quickly.

“No”, you cut him off and nudge him with a shoulder to step back so you can move. “Move, I need to give this Banished his bloody tea”

Johnny grumbles but peels himself off you, less than happy to lose the comfort and warmth your body provides. Less than happy to let you slip out of his grasp.

“He can stay in the barn”, Johnny offers and just grins when you send him a glare. His teeth itch to sink into the nape of your neck, press you into the bed, lick the fight and agitation out of you, make you soft and pliant.

“I said no”

“Hen”

“He’s dangerous”

“Hen, have mercy”

Simon watches the way you two bicker, enjoying that none of you even noticed he took the helmet off to drink the tea you placed on the table with more force than necessary, some of it trickling down the rims of the mug.

Simon huffs out a dry chuckle when Johnny tries to pull you back into his hands and you sidestep, smacking his hands away. Leaving Bloodhound almost pouting.

“Cruel”, he complains to Simon, hands crossing over his chest. But despite everything…Johnny looks good. Better than Simon remembers him.

He’s wider now, there is bulk to him that Bloodhound Knight Johnny didn’t have. His eyes are brighter.

He is talking.

Simon didn’t even know Johnny could fucking talk, thought all Bloodhounds are mute. Courtesy of the profession.

“I understand you want to sleep with your Banished in the barn today?”, the witch arches their brow at Johnny and groans when his eyes light up.

Like a bloody dog catching the whiff of blood on the hunt. Old habits die hard, evidently.

“You can stay”, Johnny announces to Simon like it’s his personal victory, like he brought his master a good game after the hunt and is waiting to get his ear scratched.

His grin so wide it’s a miracle his face doesn’t crack. Witch rolls their eyes but Simon sees the way their lips twitch.

Seems not only he has a soft spot for Johnny.

Maybe it should’ve made him feel uneasy but if anything he feels satisfied, like something finally clicked in place. Puzzle finally unlocking in his hands, showing him the reward.

Simon tilts his head to the side, scar crossing his lips stretching when he smiles down at you.

Yeah, he’s staying.

A day turns into a couple days and then into two whole weeks because of the blizzard, Simon pushing further and further.

Eyes heavy and dark when he’d catch a glimpse of your throat or Johnny’s bites — purple bruises on your neck, soft creaking of the bed upstairs whenever it happened.

Simon doesn’t tell you that he moved from barn to the cot in the kitchen and you pretend that you don’t know he’s been sleeping there for the last week.

Simon pretends in return that he doesn’t strain his ears, catching the smallest sounds Johnny tears out of you. That he doesn’t lean on the cold wall of the kitchen, thighs spread wide, his eyes closed. That his hand doesn’t find its way to touch himself, stroking at almost lazy pace.

After all, Johnny is not starving Simon of little love here and there, eyes electric blue, mouth slick on the inner side of Simon’s thighs — your taste still on his lips.

Simon worms himself into your life and starts moving bloody furniture so he can position himself more comfortably, clicking his tongue when you hiss at him — tilting his head at you the same way a heavyweight horse would at the farm’s cat.

His fingers catch your jaw when you grumble that he rearranges your kitchen again, his lips pressing to yours.

You take a step back just to feel Johnny’s warm chest pressing into you, breathing heavier than usually, hands wrapping around you.

Simon angles your face so he can slip his tongue in your mouth, groaning appreciatively when you let him in. When you tilt your head up, allowing his fingers to curl over your neck.

Here we go. Finally.

Simon licks your lower lip, finally pulling away and reaches for Johnny just to give him a kiss just as wet, now grinning like a well-fed creature. Satisfaction dripping out his every pore.

Johnny nuzzles into your hair, breathing out a low “think Simon can sleep with us now, hen?” and you just nod. Your legs jelly that don’t hold you properly, head stuffed with cotton, skin tingling from the heat of their stares.

That’s…an unexpected turn. You were ready for Simon to leave. You were ready for Johnny to leave with him.

But this…this is a surprise.

Simon presses a short kiss to your forehead and walks away to feed the livestock. There’s a new spring to his step, as if something just depressurised his spine, letting him grow a few inches up.

The issue arises only when it’s time to actually sleep because Johnny is insatiable and he refuses to move anywhere from between your thighs, not reacting to anything.

Especially not to Simon walking in.

You feel hot, Johnny’s tongue sending white hot sparkles down your spine, your eyes meeting Simon’s whose pupils blow wide and god, he’s more monster than a knight.

He’s the solide presence when he crawl in bed to pull you into his lap, big palms holding you open for Johnny, fingers sinking in the meat of your thighs.

“Eager today, aren’t we, sweet’eart?”, Simon sucks his own mark in your skin, teeth grazing your throat, his grip on your thighs getting stronger when you make the prettiest needy sound.

Music for his ears.

“It’s okay. Gonna take good care of ya. Gonna take care of both of you”, he practically purrs, sliding his fingers down your body to find the fluttering hole, dipping in it just to marvel at your body swallowing his first knuckle.

Johnny whines, his tongue circling lower, curling around Simon’s fingers, making you choke on your own breathing because too much-too hot-too wet.

Simon presses a kiss to your jaw, grin wicked and dark, stubble on his cheek scratching your skin.

“Be good, luv”, he murmurs, eyes heavy and hungry when Johnny sucks his fingers in, practically gagging on thick digits. “Open up for us”

Johnny bites on the fingers in his mouth before pulling away, dropping back down between your legs, sinking his teeth in the meat of your thigh.

Marking.

Simon smiles wider and adds a second finger, pushing in deeper, cooing in your neck when your hips buckle.

There’s no rush, love. They aren’t going anywhere.

After all, you already let them in. They might as well make themselves at home.

Johnny‘s tongue traces the bite mark on your thigh, his eyes fixed on another one he left on Simon’s knuckles that are currently sinking inside of you. Wet squelching sound sending a heatwave through Johnny’s whole body.

So welcoming to them. So sweet, hen. It would be their pleasure.

[muniimyg]

♡ 03: where art thou? why not upon-eth me?

series m.list // taglist

note: u can all thank my prof for pushing back my case study due date 😍 ,, tbh i give u cute moments in this pt and then i ruin ur life at the end <3 flood my asks and i'll update soon HAHAH ,, mwwaaaa

warnings: oc flirts with jk a lot ,, smut (sort of) ,, oc slaps jk ,, big fight lol

//

for obvious reasons, that car ride changed everything. 

it’s like a switch flips in your mind, a new experiment, a new challenge. you’re determined to push him. test him. see how far you can go without him snapping.

so, the week begins and you take notes. like a scientist, you’re methodical. 

careful.

but your methods are anything but innocent. 

you're testing him with everything you can think of: words, touches, close proximity—anything to see how he reacts. 

and fuck, does he react.

when monday rolls around, you start subtle. 

you’re sending him texts, clingy and cute, with just the right amount of affection to make his insides churn. you’re expecting a response, something—anything. but when the texts go unanswered for hours, your smile falters for just a second. 

his replies come in cold, sparse, detached.

nerd [12:13PM]: u’re trying too hard  nerd [12:18PM]: stfu for the rest of the day, yea?

on tuesday night, you attempt to perfect the art of being close without overdoing it. 

it’s a delicate balance—teasing the line between friendly and intimate, but you feel confident… partly because the circumstances are on your side. mentally, you thank jimin for inviting you over to join their movie night. 

as you sit next to him on the couch, your body just a little too close, brushing against him ever so slightly. your shoulder presses against his, the fabric of your shirt grazing his skin. 

it’s subtle, but it’s enough to make him feel the weight of your presence beside him. you watch him out of the corner of your eye, waiting for any sign, any reaction. his eyes stay glued to the screen, but you catch the subtle tension in his shoulders. 

you can feel it in the way his muscles tighten, like he’s aware but is trying to pretend otherwise.

you don’t pull away. 

instead, you lean in further, your body pressing against his just a little bit more. you can feel the heat radiating from him, and it makes your heart race. you let your head gently rest on his shoulder, letting the weight of it fall naturally.

for a moment, his body is still, like he’s frozen in place. his breathing stays steady, controlled, but you can tell he’s aware. his jaw tightens ever so slightly, and you notice the way his fingers twitch, like they’re itching to push you away, but he doesn’t. his hand, though relaxed, sits just inches from yours, and you can almost feel the friction between the two of you, an invisible force keeping you both in place.

"are you serious?" he glares at you.

you take note that his voice is flat but tinged with something else—like he’s trying to convince himself this is all just a joke.

you smile, pretending to play innocent. 

“what?”

“___…” he warns. “… fuck. whatever.”

“yeah?” you tease. “whatever? jungkook, i’m just sitting here, enjoying the movie," you say, tone light, as if there’s nothing unusual about the way your body is pressed so close to his.

he shifts uncomfortably, but you can tell it’s not a total rejection. 

his arm, once resting by his side, is now slightly tense, fingers flexing just a bit. 

“you’re really pushing it today," he adds, his voice gruff, but there’s no real bite behind it—just a hint of reluctant amusement. “the guys will notice.”

you don’t move.

you just stay there, head still resting against his shoulder, feeling the way his body stays taut beneath you. 

“let them.”

his jaw tightens again, but he doesn’t push you away. 

instead, his arm stiffens where it rests against the back of the couch, like he’s holding himself back. 

“you comfortable?”

“mhm,” you answer half-heartedly. 

“with me?" he says, raising an eyebrow as he looks at you sideways. "keep lying to yourself. you should quit this shit soon.”

you smile knowingly.

his words are harsher than he means them to be, but his body says otherwise. he’s not pulling away, not really. his chest rises and falls with a quiet exhale, and you can feel the warmth of his body seeping into yours.

“if it’s so shit, then you move." you murmur, pressing just a little closer.

he shakes his head, his hand twitching again like he’s about to do something, but he doesn’t. 

instead, he leans his head back against the couch and tries to focus on the movie. you can tell he’s trying to hide the way his breath catches whenever you get too close, but you notice it all the same.

the silence settles, but it's different now. 

you’re closer, and you can feel the way the tension thickens. he doesn’t push you away, and he doesn’t pull closer, but his body is no longer stiff. 

there’s a slight shift—a crack in the armor, just enough for you to know you’re making progress.

when wednesday arrives, the tension between you and jungkook shifts. you can feel it in the air—a subtle change, like a shift in the current. you’ve pushed him just enough that now, you know he’s starting to feel something. 

maybe it’s curiosity, maybe irritation, but whatever it is, it’s there. 

and that’s when you go for it.

you’ve intruded his home for the 2nd time this week (thank you yoongi for the emergency key). you’re standing behind him as he fiddles with something at the counter. you glance at him, making sure the space between you is just close enough that you can brush up against him without making it too obvious. 

you take your time as you lean across the counter to grab a mug. 

the movement is slow and deliberate. you make sure your boobs brush against his arm as you do. he’s taller than you so no matter what; it’s inevitable. 

he’ll see what you intend for him to see.

it’s casual like you’re just going about your business… but you watch him carefully, studying his reaction. his body stiffens for the briefest second. his eyes flicker, narrowing, before he quickly schools his features again, turning away slightly. 

but you see it—you feel the way his jaw tightens, the way his shoulders shift. 

it’s all there, even though he tries to play it cool.

you don’t move away. 

instead, you linger just a little longer, standing closer than you need to, your body just a bit too close to his. you watch as his eyes flicker, the smallest hint of frustration in his gaze, before it softens into something you can’t quite place. 

maybe it’s confusion. maybe it’s something more.

“you look handsome today,” you say, the words slipping out with that playful, almost too-casual tone. though your voice is light, there’s a little challenge in it. you know how it sounds, and you know it’s enough to get under his skin.

for a moment, there’s a beat of silence. 

he doesn’t flinch. 

doesn’t even look at you directly. 

… but you can feel the weight of his gaze on you, and when you glance at him, you see his lips pressed together tightly. his face is impassive, but you know better. he’s holding back, trying to keep it together.

“cut it out,” he utters under his breath. 

it’s not the sharp command you expect, though. it’s more like a warning. like, he’s not sure what to do with the way you’re pushing him. his gaze flickers down to your lips for a fraction of a second before he quickly looks away.

you grin, knowing you’ve struck a nerve. 

then, you pull back just slightly, but you don’t move too far. you keep your body close, letting the space between you linger with tension. slowly, your eyes flicker to his, catching the way his gaze darts between your eyes and lips, and the flicker of hesitation in his expression.

you know it’s working. 

the coldness is a mask, a shield, but it’s starting to crack. the way his body tightens ever so slightly, the way his breath hitches for a fraction of a second, it’s all the proof you need. he’s trying to pretend he’s not affected, but you can see through it.

innocently, you tilt your head, studying him. 

"what’s wrong, jungkook?" you ask, your tone dripping with false sweetness. "did i make you uncomfortable? or just horny?”

he looks at you for a long moment, his eyes narrowing again, but you see the shift in him. 

he’s not as cold as he wants to be. 

there’s something softer in the way he looks at you now, the way his shoulders relax just a little. but the silence stretches between you, and you can feel the unspoken words beginning to weigh in.

jungkook stays quiet but the tension is undeniable, and you know—you know—he’s not as unaffected as he wants to be.

on thursday, you decide to be a menace.

the timing has to be perfect, so you wait outside jungkook’s lecture hall, pretending to be on your phone. 

when the doors open, students file out in waves, and there he is—black hoodie, backpack slung over one shoulder, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. he’s walking with a few of his classmates, casually chatting. you wait until he’s just a few feet away before stepping into his path.

the bump is perfectly orchestrated. 

your shoulder brushes his, and your notebook, pens, and phone all tumble to the ground with an exaggerated clatter.

“oh no…” you sigh dramatically, crouching down immediately to gather your scattered belongings. jungkook stops, his classmates following suit, their conversation halting as they glance at you and then down at your outfit—a fitted crop top and a tiny skirt that rides up a little too much when you kneel.

you hear a low whistle from one of the guys behind jungkook.

“damn,” someone murmurs, and that’s all it takes for him to snap. 

his jaw tightens as he bends down next to you, shoving your phone and notebook into a messy pile before grabbing your forearm, and making you stand.

“seriously?” he mutters, glancing behind him at his classmates, who are still ogling. “you couldn’t wait to drop all this somewhere without an audience?”

you blink innocently, brushing off your skirt as you stand. 

“it was an accident,” you pout at him. “but thanks for helping.”

his glare softens, but only slightly. he bends down again, this time crouching low and deliberately blocking the view of his classmates as he picks up your things.

“wanna introduce me to your nerd friends—“

when he straightens up, he thrusts the pile into your hands, but before you can even say anything, he asks, “where are you going?”

you hesitate, taken aback by the question. “uh, the other side of campus...”

jungkook doesn’t miss a beat. 

“i’ll walk you.”

“really?” you say, surprised, but already grinning. he looks like he regrets offering the second the words leave his mouth, but he doesn’t take it back. “you don’t have to. did you have a meeting or something with your marine conservation club?” 

he tilts his head at you. 

“what? i’m not mr. save the dolphins today? your tiny brain actually remembers my club name?”

you shrug.

“i’m not that dumb.”

“so you say,” he grumbles. “but yeah. i do have a meeting. i’ll just attend it late.”

gasping, you let out a last-minute squeal. “mr. perfect attendance is tarnishing his rep for me?”

“it’s fine,” he says flatly, glancing back at his friends and muttering something about catching up with them later. before you can tease any further, he’s taking your notebook and phone from your hands, tucking them under his arm as if it’s his duty now.

as the two of you walk, you chatter away, filling the silence. 

normally, he’d roll his eyes or tell you to be quiet, but today, he listens. 

he nods occasionally, even hums in acknowledgment, though his eyes are straight ahead, his expression carefully neutral. you can’t help but notice, though, the way his hand finds its way to your waist—lightly at first, almost hesitant, but then it lingers, his fingers splayed across your side as though keeping you close.

and then, as if his subconscious takes over, his hand slips lower, brushing against the curve of your ass. your steps falter for a moment, and you turn to look at him, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

“jungkook?” you say, arching a brow. “y-your hand…”

he blinks, glances down, and quickly pulls his hand back, shoving it into the pocket of his hoodie as it burns him. 

“shut up,” he hushes you, his ears turning red. "you wanna act like an ass? at least give me some."

you laugh, loud and unapologetic, and he glares at you, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

but you notice the way his shoulders are less tense now, the faint hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. he doesn’t say anything as he walks you the rest of the way, carrying your things like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

on friday, you leave him alone.

no texts, no calls, and no showing up.

by 2pm; jeon jungkook realizes he misses you.

so, jungkook caves.

nerd [3:02PM]: wya? nerd [3:04PM]: come over :/ yn [3:08PM]: hiii yn [3:08PM]: what for ? nerd [3:09PM]: sent image attachment nerd [3:09PM]: figure it out ?

you don’t see jungkook until saturday night.

… which, isn’t too bad considering it would’ve just been like… a day and half since he last saw you—but it was bad. 

jungkook ran through all the possibilities in his head. 

could he be sick?

could he be undergoing some sort of unconscious stress that’s leading him to feel this way about you? 

or… was it finally time for him to accept the truth?

when the doorbell rings, jungkook wants to answer it. 

but he stops himself.

he isn’t easy. 

he doesn’t want to be. 

instead, he lets one of the guys answer it. 

as you walk into the room, you’re greeted with the view of the guys are lounging around, a few beers and snacks spread across the coffee table. jungkook is in his usual spot, slouched in the corner of the couch, his hood up, legs stretched out like he owns the place.

he looks up when you enter, his dark eyes flicking to yours for just a second before darting away, as if the sight of you doesn’t make his heart trip over itself. you catch the subtle change in his posture—he straightens ever so slightly, his legs pulling in just a bit, his shoulders losing their slump.

“hi,” you call out, your voice light and warm as you shrug off your coat.

he nods at you, keeping his face neutral. 

“hey,” he replies, the word coming out gruff, almost dismissive, but you don’t miss the way his gaze lingers as you move to take a seat. 

you plop down on the couch next to him, close enough that your thigh brushes his. he stiffens at the contact, his hand twitching where it rests on his knee, but he doesn’t shift away.

“mad at me?” you tease, tilting your head to look at him, your lips quirking into a grin.

he looks at you funny. 

“why would i be?”

you shrug.

“you aren’t greeting me like the way i want you to.”

he leans forward. “how do you want me to greet you?”

you pause, pretending to take a moment to think. then, you take his hand and gently place it on your upper inner thigh. his eyes widen and you stroke his hand gently. 

“wanna—”

he scoffs, his expression carefully guarded. jungkook catches your bluff.

“god, you’re annoying.”

yet, the corner of his mouth betrays him, twitching upward just a little.

you giggle and then push his hand off. 

the banter is effortless, the tension between you subtle but electric. 

throughout the evening, you’re all warmth and light, leaning into him when you laugh, your hand brushing his arm or shoulder every chance you get. at first, jungkook attempts to resist. 

his replies are short and his eyes anywhere but on you… but as the hours slip by, you feel him softening, his walls starting to crack just enough for you to sneak through.

then comes the game of mafia.

the group gathers around the coffee table, cards dealt, and jungkook ends up as the supposed villain. the accusations start flying almost immediately.

“you’re way too quiet, man,” taehyung declares, pointing at jungkook with a dramatic flourish. “you’ve got ‘mafia’ written all over you.”

jin chimes in, grinning. “yeah, it’s always the quiet ones. plus, look at him—he’s sweating.”

“i’m not sweating,” jungkook snaps, sitting up straighter, his jaw tightening. “i’m wearing a fucking hoodie and you guys turned up the heat. you're all so fucking bad at this game, you've all been sabotaging me physically!”

the others laugh, piling on more ridiculous accusations. even you can’t help but join in, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips.

“sorry, jungkook,” you say, shrugging with mock innocence. “you do look kind of guilty.”

his eyes snap to yours, and for a moment, something raw flickers there—hurt, maybe, or frustration. his lips part like he’s about to say something, but instead, he pushes back his chair and stands abruptly.

“what the fuck do you know, ___?”

old habits die hard.

“chill,” yoongi warns. “it’s just a game.”

“whatever,” jungkook says, his voice clipped. “this game’s stupid anyway.”

without another word, he turns and storms off, leaving the room in stunned silence. the sound of his bedroom door slamming echoes.

the group exchanges awkward glances before taehyung leans toward you with a teasing smirk. 

“our boyfriend is in a mood… what should we do?”

jin chuckles. “___, you should probably go check on him before he sulks himself into oblivion.”

rolling your eyes, you push yourself up from the couch. 

“he’s so dramatic,” you chime, but there’s a softness to your voice as you head up the stairs and down the hall towards his room. 

a part of you hesitates… partly because of the event that occurred the last time you were here. but, you shrug it off. as you stand before his door, you raise your fist to knock but abruptly, he swings his door open.

“what do you want?”

“how’d you know—”

“you’ve got heavy ass fucking feet.”

you hiss at him. “yah, sore loser energy does not look good on you.”

opening the door wider, you step inside. he huffs and sits on the edge of his bed. with his hood still up, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, he glares at you with a mix of irritation and something else—something softer.

“did they send you up here to check up on me? what did they bribe you with this time?”

“nothing actually,” you answer him truthfully. “i’ve got my own motivations.”

jungkook can’t help but crack half a smile. 

“like what?”

you lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms with a small, knowing smile. “wouldn’t you like to know?”

before he lets himself enjoy this moment, his jaw tightens, and he looks away. his gaze fixes on the floor. 

“why’d you turn on me?” he huffs, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

you push off the doorframe, stepping closer.

“it’s just a game, jungkook,” you say gently, your voice deliberately soft. “you’re not actually mad, are you?”

his shoulders tense, a flicker of something crossing his face—annoyance, maybe, but there’s something deeper underneath. his hands clench into fists on his thighs, the muscles in his forearms flexing as though he’s trying to ground himself.

“it’s not the game,” he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper, rough and raw like it was dragged out of him against his will.

you blink, caught off guard by the weight of his tone. “then what is it?”

his jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t answer. his fingers twitch at his sides, and then he’s dragging a hand through his hair, pushing back his hood. his hair falls messily over his forehead, but he doesn’t fix it. when his eyes finally meet yours, it’s like being hit with a tidal wave—anger, frustration, and something else that makes your breath catch.

“you.”

your heart stutters in your chest, but you keep your composure, tilting your head slightly. “me?”

he exhales sharply, shaking his head like he’s trying to find the right words.

“you play too much.”

his voice is rough but lacking its usual sharpness.

“you get in my head… and then you just—” he cuts himself off, the frustration rolling off him in waves. his leg bounces slightly, and his hands grip his thighs again, knuckles pale from the tension.

“you don’t even care,” he says finally, his voice quieter now, almost like he doesn’t want to admit it. “what the fuck were you doing to me all week? experimenting or some shit? fuck, isn’t your major psychology or something? you’re basically being trained to be a psycho.”

the jab stings, but you ignore it. instead, your chest tightens at his words, the vulnerability he’s trying so hard to bury beneath his irritation. you take a step closer, your knees almost brushing his.

“i do care,” you say softly, reaching out, your fingers brushing against his knuckles.

his gaze drops to where your fingers touch his, and for a moment, he’s completely still, like he doesn’t know what to do. then, slowly, his hand turns over, palm-up, brushing against yours with a hesitance that makes your chest ache.

“then can you stop messing with me?”

there’s something about his tone—about the way he says this. his words are one thing, but the ache of his deliverance is completely something else.

“i wasn’t messing with you,” you whisper, your gaze locked on his.

his lips part slightly, and his breathing is uneven as his eyes search your face, like he’s looking for something—an answer, a hint, anything.

“then what are you doing?”

you lean in, closing the distance just enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. your smile is soft, almost teasing, but there’s a weight behind it.

“making you want me.”

jungkook is good. 

you have no idea how or why, but your underwear and skirt are on the other side of his bedroom floor. 

your legs are spread wide for him, as he licks his fingers and begins to gently drag it inside your folds. he separates them before lowering himself in. he looks at you, not breaking any eye contact as he flicks his tongue against your clit. 

you clench your fist. 

after a few licks and sucks, he lifts his head away. he brings his fingers to your mouth, cueing you to suck on them. 

you do. 

as he places his thick fingers inside, you part your mouth and suck on them. bobbing your head and twisting your tongue around his digits as you suck—jungkook winces at the way you do so. 

“fuck,” he utters. 

as he takes his fingers out, he begins to massage your folds. his pressure is firm yet pleasurable. his fingers trace around your entrance and play with your clit. you feel your toes curling as he breathes near your pussy. 

it pulsates. 

he can’t help it. the view is just too fucking perfect. jungkook massages your folds, spreading them a part before he spits on it. he takes his thumb and rubs in his saliva. massaging it in, slowly and surely—mixing it with your wetness. 

“good kitty,” jungkook praises. “your pretty pussy is swelling up, ___. what’s going on? excited? horny? happy? you’re so wet, baby. so fucking—do you hear it?”

jungkook shoves his fingers inside you, curling and pumping them in and out. you gasp at the sharpness but feel completely immersed in his act. 

.. and yes.

you do hear it.

you hear how wet your fucking pussy is.

“o-oh my god! j-jungkook—”

“yeah, baby?”

your stomach twists. 

“d-don’t—stop. stop calling me—”

“sorry,” he apologizes quickly, shifting his body to tower over you. he caresses your face, his thumb lingering on your bottom lip. then, he kisses your cheek and trails his kisses down to your neck. you moan at his softness. 

he’s so close to you. it’s only now that you realize how addictive he is.. from the way he smells to the way his touches make you feel…

he’s perfect.

in this moment, he is everything to you.

“sorry,” he repeats against your skin. “i’m sorry, kitty.”

you gulp. 

“do you forgive me?” he pouts, resting his forehead against yours. “hmm? forgive me, please.”

“i forgive you,” you breathe. “c-can you—”

just as you reach for him, he shakes his head. 

“can’t kiss you,” jungkook sighs. “won’t know how to get rid of you after.”

you smile. 

“you wanna get rid of me after this?”

jungkook stays quiet. 

you shift. 

“no.”

just as jungkook leans in, your lips inches a part—

the door suddenly creaks open.

a girl—someone you didn’t recognize—steps halfway in, her hand still on the doorknob, her brows lifting in surprise when she sees the two of you.

her eyes darts between your flushed face and jungkook.

“oh, shit! uh—sorry,” she says quickly, taking a step back but still lingering awkwardly in the doorway. “i didn’t know you had a tutoring session before mine... i’ll, um, come back later, then? sorry to interrupt.”

before you can even process her words, she’s gone, the door clicking shut behind her. the sound left a hollow sort of silence in its wake like the air had been sucked out of the room.

you blink at the now-closed door, the words tutoring session before mine looping in your head like a broken record. your chest tightens, heat crawls up your neck as you turn back to jungkook. 

his expression is already shifting, panic bleeding into his features.

you shift your body entirely, pushing him off you.

“wait,” he starts, “shit, ___. it’s not like that—”

“okay,” you say flatly. 

you get up from his bed and grab your underwear and skirt. yanking them on, your movements frustrate jungkook. 

he doesn’t know what to do. 

in any and every angle—he’s in the wrong.

“i’m sorry, okay?” he tries again, stepping closer. his voice was softer now, almost pleading. “it wasn’t—i didn’t know she’d just barge in like that. i thought the door was locked—”

you shove past him, your shoulder brushing his as you make your way toward the door. you could feel the pressure building behind your eyes, a sick mix of anger and humiliation clawing at your throat.

“wait—” his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist, but you ripped it free, spinning around to glare at him.

“don’t.”

“___, please—”

“it’s not about whether or not the door was locked—” you choke, “it’s… fuck. tutoring session, really? is that what i am right now? is that what she is—”

“no,” jungkook answers sternly. “holy fuck, please. let’s talk about this—”his jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to let you go, to just let you leave. but then he took a step forward, his voice sharp and cutting—

“___, what did you want from me?”

you freeze, your hand still on the doorknob, your back to him. the words hit you like a slap, knocking the wind out of you.

jungkook takes a chance. 

he steps closer to you. 

“... because, honestly, i don’t think you even know.”

you stay quiet. 

jungkook clears his throat. 

“well, fuck. if you don’t know, then it’s not my fault,” he says, his tone hard now, defensive. “you can't want things from me and then not know how to handle shit, ___. you don’t get to make me another one of your fucking situationships. you wanted me to want you and this—holy shit. this isn't my fault. it’s yours—”

suddenly, your palm connects with his cheek before you even realize it. the sound of the slap reverberates in the room. his head jerked to the side, and for a moment, he just stands there, stunned.

your hand stung, your chest heaving as you stared at him, your vision blurring at the edges.

“i hate you.”

“___, i’m sorry—”

but it’s too late. 

you don’t even bother looking back as you storm out of jungkook’s room, your chest heaving with a mix of anger and humiliation. the tears are already burning at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them back, determined not to let them fall. your feet carry you down the hall, towards the stairs, your vision blurry with rage.

“wait—” jungkook’s voice echoes behind you, followed by the thud of his footsteps as he chases after you. he hustles, dressing himself as he goes after you.

“fuck off!” you snap, your voice trembling but firm.

he doesn’t listen. 

of course, he doesn’t. 

“holy shit—please! ___, stop. just fucking hear me out—” he pleads, his tone exasperated, like he doesn’t know what else to say.

“stop?” you spin around halfway down the stairs, glaring up at him. “stop what, jungkook? stop assuming? stop feeling humiliated? stop—”

your voice cracks, and you hate how raw it sounds.

“whatever.”

jungkook freezes on the step above you, his lips parted as if he’s going to respond, but nothing comes out.

you don’t wait for him to gather his words. 

you turn back and keep walking, practically jogging down the last few steps and into the living room where everyone else is. their laughter dies down the second they see you—flustered, teary-eyed, and furious—followed immediately by jungkook chasing after you.

“uh, what’s happening?” namjoon asks, his eyebrows raised as he glances between you and jungkook.

“are you two fighting?” jin’s tone is a mix of concern and curiosity, his head tilting as he watches the scene unfold.

"fuck," jungkook groans. "no shit, hyung."

“guys, let’s all chill,” taehyung interjects, raising his hands like a referee. “we’re all friends here—”

“he’s no friend.” you cut him off, your voice sharp and laced with emotion. you’re trembling now, fighting the tears that threaten to spill over. 

the room goes silent.

even taehyung, who was halfway through a casual shrug, stops mid-gesture. everyone’s eyes dart to jungkook, whose expression shifts from startled to pained in a split second.

“what am i to you, then?” jungkook asks, his voice low but audible enough in the tense quiet. he takes a step toward you, his hand reaching out before falling limply to his side. 

you don’t answer. 

you just shake your head, the tears finally breaking free as you turn on your heel and head for the door. the air feels suffocating, and you need to get out of there before your emotions betray you any further.

“wait—” jungkook’s voice cracks, and for a moment, it sounds like he’s desperate. he jogs after you again, his hand catching your wrist just as you’re about to reach the front door.

“why the fuck are you so pissed about this?” jungkook cries. “holy shit, you’re infuriating. you know that?”

“are you done?” you ask him coldly. 

a beat. 

“do you want me to be?”

[spidercatweb]

Your Embrace and My Collapse ★ Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: fem!bau!reader, migraine!reid, angst, hurt/comfort, tiny bit of fluff at the end, established relationship, Spencer is snippy and a little mean but it's because of migraine, Spencer yells at reader, reader is sad for a bit, non-specific case details, mentions of women being murdered, a hint of misogyny from a suspect, one single swear word, umm nothing else I don't think? lmk if so. this is set in s6 :)

Description: Spencer has a migraine, he yells at r when it gets too overwhelming, he regrets this later, calling to apologize.

Word Count: 3.1k

Request: Hi! First off I loveee your blog!! Second off could I get a spencer reid x fem!reader where they r having an argument about literally anything and then a lot of spencer groveling? thanks for considering

A/n: thank you sm for the request, anon!! I am just now realizing that what happens in this isnt much of an argument 😬, but i quite like how it turned out. I hope you enjoy!! <3 Is it obvious i got carried away w this one?

After four years of working with Spencer, and nearly two years of dating him, it wasn't surprising that you were the first to notice that something was wrong. 

The past few days, Spencer hadn't gone on as many long rambles as usual. Maybe he was just tired this week, cases have been very time consuming lately. Not that they usually aren't.

You figured out what was wrong when you saw him squeeze his eyes shut and rub them with the base of his palms. Three times in an hour. Unusual. 

After the team finished delivering the profile for the current case, you took a moment to pull him aside. 

"Are you feeling okay?" Concern in your voice, you reached gently for his hand. 

He pulled away. "Yeah, I'm fine." His face scrunched up, he shut his eyes tightly and his nose crinkled up. You'd find it cute if it wasn't obvious he was in pain. He pressed into the bridge of his nose with two fingers,clearly trying to ease a headache.

"Okay," you gave him a small smile and nod, "let me know if you need anything, I've got Advil in my bag." 

"I know, thank you." He made an effort to return your smile.

"Reid, Y/l/n, we've got a lead. Garcia's about to fill everyone in." Hotch's commanding voice cut through the calm, quiet bubble around the two of you. 

The team filed into the briefing room of the BAU. Thankfully, the case was local. You were glad to be in a familiar place. 

Garcia was already seated at the small round table, tapping away on her laptop. You sat down next to Spencer, Prentiss sat on your other side.

"Lovelies, we have a small problem. I've found two men who almost exactly fit our profile."

"We'll bring both of them in for questioning, then. What do we know about them, Garcia?" Hotch directs the attention back to her.

"I was just about to tell you that, sir. First up, we've got Landon Adams, 27 years old. His childhood was... less than nice. Plenty of trips to the hospital, poor thing. Lots of injuries consistent with abuse. And I'm assuming everything going on at home was related to the multiple reports of violence towards his fellow students at school. Multiple suspensions, and he was expelled from his highschool." She takes a quick moment to switch the information on her screen.

"Second guy, Cole Parker, 29 years old. Similar childhood to Adams. Frequent hospital trips for supposed accidents, bad behaviour at school, suspensions, an expulsion. Oh and get this! They both work in construction! Different companies, though."

"Do we have home addresses and places of work?" Rossi chimes in.

"We do, sir, I've already sent them to you all." Garcia smiles proudly, always one step ahead.

"Thank you, Garcia. Alright, Prentiss, Morgan. You two go to Adams' home. Rossi and JJ, you go to his workplace. Seaver and I will go to Parker’s home. Y/l/n and Reid, you two go to his workplace." 

Everyone nods at Hotch as they receive their placements. The team splits up accordingly, each pair heading to a different SUV. Exiting the Quantico building, you see Spencer wince at the brightness of the sun. You sigh quietly. You don't like seeing him in pain, but you have a job to do. You'll talk more later.

The car ride is quiet. You drive, Spencer sits in the passenger seat. The silence isn't exactly comfortable, but it isn't awkward. You roll down his window just a little, to give him the fresh air he so obviously needs. You take the time to theorize about the suspect. Will he even be at work? Will he run? Put up a fight? You hope not.

As you pull into the small, gravel parking lot of the construction company, you sit for a moment to prepare yourself to talk to whoever is managing the place. In your experience, people in this line of work aren't often eager to talk to FBI agents. You look over at Spencer, he must have put on his sunglasses when you weren't paying attention. He now looks a little less irritated without the sun in his eyes. Good. 

You gently place a hand on Spencer’s knee, catching his attention. “You ready to go?” 

He brushes his hand over yours, giving it a light squeeze. “Yep.”

You both step out of the car into the bright sun. The sunlight reflects off of tiny, glistening specks in the gravel, and right into your eyes. You squint as you head to the front entrance of the building alongside Spencer, now wishing you’d also brought your sunglasses.

The inside of the building is similar to the outside. Concrete, dusty, smelling strongly of diesel. You noticed how Spencer scrunched up his nose at the pungent scent. 

The only other person inside is an older man who introduces himself as Mark, the manager of the building. 

“You two are FBI? Really? Well what are you two doin’ out here?”

You ignore the man’s questioning of your authority. “We’re here to ask you a few questions about one of your employees, Cole Parker?”

“Ah. Well, he called in sick today, and I’m not one to judge, but he didn’t sound very sick on the phone. If you ask me, he’s ditching work to be with that new girlfriend of his.”

“Girlfriend?” Spencer asks. He glances over to you, the unsub had been killing young women. If Cole Parker was your guy, this new girlfriend of his could be in danger.

“Yeah. He’s been yammerin’ on about her for the past week. Her name is Carol… or Christine? Somethin’ like that. Hard to keep up. He gets tired of em’ fast.”

Interesting.

“Have you noticed any shifts in his behavior lately? Short temper, violent outbursts, things like that?”

“Hm. Y’know I’m really not sure, I’m not around him long enough to notice. Might be better to ask some of the guys. I can give you the address of the site they’re workin’ if you’d like.” He offers.

Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose again, his vision beginning to blur. “We’ve already got two other agents headed there right now, but thank you.” 

The man notices Spencer’s clear discomfort, “You alright?”

“Yeah. Fine, thanks.” He runs his hands through his hair anxiously, further tousling his already messy curls.

“Thank you for your cooperation, sir.” You hand him a card with your work phone number, “Please call me if you remember any important details about Cole.”

He puts the card into his shirt pocket. “Of course. Have a nice day, you two.” 

As you both exit the building, Spencer stops right outside the door, running his hands over his face with a sigh.

You turn to look at him with concern. “Spence-”

“I just need a minute. I’m fine. I’ll meet you in the car.” His eyes are squeezed shut as he faces the ground, rubbing his temples.

You respond with a quiet “okay”, and silently head back to the car, where you wait for him. You put the air conditioning on blast as you pull out your phone to call Hotch.

“Hotchner.” He answers quickly.

“Did you and Seaver find Cole?”

“Yes, we’re just about to bring him in for questioning. How’s it going over there?”

“His boss told us that he can’t keep a girlfriend for too long, always switching between girls. He didn’t notice any other odd behaviors though. We’re just about to leave.” You spot Spencer walking over to the car.

“Alright, thanks. See you at the precinct.” He hangs up the call.

Spencer slides into the passenger’s seat, looking slightly calmer than before. “Who was that?” 

“Hotch. Him and Seaver are bringing Cole Parker in for questioning.” You turn the air conditioning down a little, so it’s still cool but not as loud, not as irritating for Spencer.

“Good.” 

***

Spencer leans his head back on his seat and closes his eyes. The drive back is just as silent as the drive there. By the time you get to the police precinct, Spencer is half asleep. He opens his eyes slowly. Squinting at the light coming through the windshield, he turns his head towards you.

“Hi.” You huff out a small laugh, earning a small quirk of his lips. “Feeling a little better?”

“Mm.” He sighs with a nod, “a little, I’ll be fine.”

You reach over and comb your fingers through his hair, he leans into your touch. You fix a few stray hairs that stick out, then give him a peck on his cheek. “Let’s go.”

***

The lights in the precinct are bright, filled with the chatter of nosy police officers. They flock around the team as you all enter with both suspects. Hotch and Rossi take on the task of interrogating, with the rest of the team on standby if needed. You stand behind the two-way mirror with Seaver and Reid. You listen intently to every word, you note mannerisms, you profile. That is your job after all.

Cole is becoming frustrated after only thirty minutes of interrogation. Hotch stays calm and collected as Cole’s volume rises. 

“I’m telling you! I was nowhere near there! I was out with some guys from work. Ask ‘em, they’ll tell you.”

“We did. They all had pretty different stories. We also got security camera feeds from the alley that night. Are you telling me that isn’t you?” Hotch slides a grainy photo across the table. The lighting is dark and the quality is less than ideal, but it’s clearly Cole in the photo.

He groans and mumbles something under his breath, “those bitches deserved it.”

“Pardon me?” Hotch prompts him to repeat himself.

“I said they deserved it! Every last one!” He yanks hard at the cuffs grounding him to the table, lunging at Hotch.

Hotch doesn’t move a muscle. “Alright, that’s enough.” He nods to the two officers standing at the back of the room. They move to restrain the man and bring him to a holding cell.

You look up at Spencer, who at first glance, seems fine, like he’s just thinking. But you notice his glassy eyes and flushed face. He tries to inconspicuously shield his eyes from the flickering fluorescent light above his head. Seaver notices this too, she gives you an “is he okay?” look, you give her a shrug and a worried look that says “I have no idea.” She exits the room to go check on Rossi and the others, leaving you and Reid alone.

You hover beside him, not wanting to worsen his pain any more. After a few moments of watching him silently suffer, you hear a sniffle. He’s crying. You get a sinking feeling in your chest, all you want is for him to be okay. 

“Spence,” you whisper. No response. “Do you want to sit down? I can get you some water,” you offer kindly. 

He shakes his head, massaging his temples again.

“Are you sure? The case is pretty much wrapped up. I’m sure Hotch wouldn’t mind.” Your voice stays soft, gentle.

He raises his voice “God, I’m fine! It’s fine! Nothing will help, just… Just stop trying to help me. I don’t need help.” You spot him wiping a tear from his face as he storms out of the room.

You don’t follow. Maybe he needs some time alone. You respect his wishes. You don’t help. Though you’d really, really like to. Instead, you follow Seaver’s trail to the second interrogation room where Rossi is still digging deep into the other suspect’s mind. You watch through the two-way mirror.

“Really, Landon? Were you really stopped on the side of that road for a nap? You were on your way home, weren’t you? Why not wait until you got back?”

“I was tired. I didn’t want to fall asleep at the wheel.”

“Alright. You’re sure you didn’t see anything suspicious? No … man lugging around a woman’s corpse? Burying her?”

“No, man! I was sleeping!” He throws his hands up in the air, as much as one can while cuffed to a table. He sighs defeatedly.

Hotch slides past you and into the interrogation room. He lets Rossi know that while he’d been interrogating, Cole Parker had fully confessed to the murders. He spared no detail, including  ones the police and FBI hadn’t yet shared with the public.

Rossi gives Landon a half-hearted apology and a pat on the back as the officers uncuff him.

***

You help Hotch to get a written confession from Cole, which takes longer than usual, because his handwriting skills aren’t exactly the best. But you sit in the room with him, waiting, as he drops the occasional rude comment directed towards you, his victims, or the police.

While sitting silently, you think about Spencer. You wonder if he’s okay. You think about what he said. He doesn’t need help from you. He doesn't want help from you. Leave him alone for once.

You shake the thought out of your head. He’s in pain. He didn’t mean it. This does little to ease the anxiety spinning in your mind.

“Hey, lady. I’m done writing.” He drops the pen down onto the metal table with just enough force to express his annoyance.

“Good. Did you sign it?” 

“Of course I did. What? Do you think I’m stupid or something?” He’s clearly looking for a fight.

Unamused, you respond. “No. I think you’re a serial killer with a severe lack of respect for women. I was just checking. A lot of people forget.” You slide the paper towards yourself and look it over before placing it into a file folder. You give a nod to the officers in the room and they take him away. You leave the room after them, meeting up with the rest of the team except Spencer, who’d reluctantly gone home per Hotch’s instruction. Thank goodness someone else noticed.

Hotch pulls you aside for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind if you left to help Reid. There’s not much left for us to do today anyway. You’re free to go.”

You hesitate. He doesn’t want help. He doesn’t need you. 

“Okay. Thanks Hotch.” You give him a faint smile as you go to grab your things.

***

Instead of heading to Spencer’s apartment, you go to yours. You want to check up on him, but don’t want to pain him with a blaring ringtone, and he was most likely staying away from screens, so he wouldn’t see a text. You keep him in your thoughts as you change out of your work clothes and settle down for the night. 

***

Spencer lies on his bed in complete darkness. At this point, the pain had brought him to tears. He hadn’t eaten anything due to the nausea looming in his stomach, which only made the headache worse.

He needed something. A distraction. Nothing loud. Nothing bright. Nothing that would irritate him further. He wanted you. He needed you.

He thinks back to what he said to you earlier. Why would I say that? Well, he knew why he said it. Scientifically. Higher sensitivity, more pain, more irritability, this leads to outbursts. He just wanted it to stop. He didn’t mean to yell at you.

He sighs, shifting to be face-down in his pillow. He just wants to feel okay. Why won’t it stop? What’s wrong with me? A pained whine escapes him as he decides to try to get some rest. 

***

Your phone’s ringtone pulls you out of your sleep. You grab it from your nightstand, checking the time first. Who’s calling me at 12:30am? Spencer. You answer with some hesitation, anxiety still whirrs in your mind, residue from hours ago. 

“Spence?”

“I really- I’m really sorry for what I said earlier. I didn’t mean it. And I know that’s not a good excuse but-” His voice is quieter than usual, strained.

“I know you didn’t mean it. You weren’t acting like… you. I was worried.”

“I said I didn’t need help but I’m um- really rethinking that right now. And I’d completely understand if you didn’t want to but um- could you maybe come over? I just really want someone here with me. I want you here with me.” 

You could tell from his voice that he was still hurting, he was scared. You get up without a second thought. 

“Of course, Spence. I’ll be right over.”

He sighs with relief. “Thank you.” 

***

Spencer hears the lock on his door click as you enter. He stays right where he is, in bed. 

You walk in as quietly as you can, leaving your shoes at the door and trying your best to navigate around in the dark. You nudge his bedroom door open and whisper a quiet “I’m here” as you spot the outline of him in his bed.

He sits up slowly with a small hum of acknowledgement. “Hi.” He reaches to turn on the lamp beside his bed.

“No, don’t, you don’t need to turn it on. It’s fine.” You reassure him. “Do you want me to get you anything? Water? Meds?”

“Both, please. Meds are on the kitchen counter.”

“Okay, I’ll be back in two seconds.” You head to the kitchen, spotting the meds once you turn on the lights. You fill a glass with ice, then water, grab the box of meds, then rush right back to Spencer’s room, turning off the kitchen lights as you leave.

You carefully hand him the glass of water, he thanks you, then takes a long sip. You hand him two tablets of his meds, and he swallows them with the water.

“You want to try to get some sleep?”

He nods, “Yeah, but these usually take about half an hour to kick in, hopefully they do kick in. I’ll probably be able to sleep then.” Your eyes have now adjusted to the dark, you can see him give you a small smile.

“You want me to stay?”

“I’d really like it if you did.”

“Alright, move over then.” You don’t wait to slide into bed next to him. It warms your heart to hear him giggle slightly from this.

***

Your next hour is spent with Spencer curled up to your chest, with your fingers carding through his hair. The room is silent, save for your breathing and the sighs he lets out every so often. You stay awake until you’re sure he’s asleep, then for a little while longer, just to make sure. Finally, you can’t keep your eyes open any longer, and you’re pulled into a calm sleep. You hope that when you wake up, everything will be okay. And it will be. Because it always is with Spencer.

Thank you for reading! <3

Feedback is very much appreciated!

My requests are open!

🪻

[carnalcrows]

QUIET - GYEONGSU

pairing: gyeongsu x top male reader

synopsis: You can't get him to be quiet.

content warnings: 18+,thanos is an asshole, the smut starts abruptly lol, dumbification, full nelson (kinda).

word count: 0.8k

The second Thanos kicked Gyeong-su out of the group during Mingle, you knew he was screwed.

He just stood there, frozen, as the remaining groups turned their backs on him. No one wanted dead weight. No one wanted to take a risk. And Gyeong-su—despite his sharp tongue and quick temper—looked small. Like he’d just been tossed into the deep end and left to drown.

You clicked your tongue.

“Tch.”

Before you could even think about it, you grabbed his wrist.

He flinched, turning to you with wide eyes. “Wha—?”

“Shut up and move.”

You yanked him forward without waiting for a response, scanning the crowd. Most groups were already full, people standing in tight little circles, making their bonds clear.

Then you spotted two guys lingering near the back, hesitating.

You strode right up to them. “Us four.”

They looked between you and Gyeong-su, uncertain, but when the alternative was death, people didn’t argue. The moment the timer ran out, you and Gyeong-su were still standing.

Gyeong-su, however? He had barely moved an inch away from you for the rest of the night.

Back at the bunks, it was immediate. The second you sat down, Gyeong-su flopped next to you. Not just near you—on you. Practically latched to your side like a damn barnacle.

“You saved me,” he said.

You groaned. “Oh my god.”

“No, but seriously. If you hadn’t��”

“You’d be dead. Yeah. I know.”

“I just—why?” His voice was quieter now, almost unsure. “You didn’t have to.”

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Because I felt like it. Stop thinking about it so much.”

He huffed, but you knew he wasn’t letting it go.

He didn’t say anything else, but he also didn’t leave you alone for the rest of the night. When lights-out rolled around and you pushed yourself up with a sigh, Gyeong-su immediately straightened.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom,” you muttered.

“I’ll come with you.”

You raised a brow. “You scared of the dark or something?”

He scoffed. “What? No. Just—you know. Safety in numbers.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue.

The second you stepped into the bathroom, Gyeong-su turned to you, face unusually serious.

“Seriously,” he said. “If there’s anything I can do to repay you, just say the word.”

You let out a slow sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. “Actually, there is.”

He straightened. “Yeah? What?”

Instead of answering, you grabbed his collar and yanked him into the nearest stall.

“Wh—” His breath hitched as his back hit the door. Before he could say anything else, your mouth was on his.

–

Gyeongsu’s hands scrambled for something to hold onto. He gripped your arms, then your waist, then your shirt like he was trying to ground himself. The kiss turned messy fast—wet, desperate, all teeth and tongue. You could feel how warm he was, how shaky his hands were as they moved up to your shoulders.

You pressed closer, pushing your cock further into him, finding places he didn’t even know existed.

He gasped.

You grinned against his lips. “You’re so loud.”

“S-shut up,” he stammered, trying to catch his breath.

But then you snapped your hips against his.

He choked on a moan, fingers digging into your shirt.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, pressing your forehead to his. “Will you shut up?”

“I—I’m trying,” he whined. His head tipped back against the stall door, breathing heavy. “But you’re not making it easy.”

“Not my problem.” You licked into his mouth again, swallowing the next sound that slipped out of him.

He trembled, legs barely holding him up at this point.

His fingers found the hem of your shirt, curling into the fabric like he was holding on for dear life.

You slid a hand into his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him gasp.

“Quiet,” you warned again.

He bit his lip, nodding shakily.

You smirked. Cute.

You kissed him again, slower this time, drawing it out. His breath hitched, his body pressing completely into yours now. The warmth of him, the way you fit in him perfectly, almost like you were molding him out—it was intoxicating.

You felt yourself release before you even registered it. He moaned, head hitting the wall behind him. His eyes scrunched as he came– staining your shirt, which was already wrinkled.

You leaned your forehead against his and breathed deep. His legs were still trembling.

By the time you pulled back, he was a wreck. Flushed, breathless, pupils blown wide.

You tilted your head. “That shut you up?”

His lips parted, like he wanted to say something—then his brain short-circuited. He nodded dumbly.

You chuckled. “Good.”

Then you pulled both your pants back up, before unlocking the stall and patting his cheek. “Let’s get back before people notice.”

Gyeong-su blinked, still dazed, before scrambling to follow you out.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[babydollitzel]

can you do a fic where ponyboy is paired up with his crush for a project who he is like obsessed with and she's so so beautiful and everyone knows it and they go to his house to work on it and the whole gang is there and they tease him, then they go to his room to work but end up making out and Darry barges in and flips out and the gang has a field day teasing him

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐲

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Ponyboy Curtis x soc!reader

warnings/extra; making out but it barely is

It was a nice day in Tulsa, you could hear the usual birds chirping and soft rustling of leaves. You were currently on your way to Ponyboy’s house.

You had to admit you were being slightly wary while on your way to the east side of town, where all the greasers roamed. You were a pretty soc girl, so quite literally anything could go wrong, but you’d rather go to Ponyboy’s house than him come to yours, not wanting him to get jumped by the socs again after seeing that cut under his chin.

Earlier that day your teacher had partnered you and Ponyboy for a project. You always thought he was cute, from his unusual name to his overly greased hair. And you knew he felt the same towards you, the poor boy was painfully obvious.

It was almost as if he was obsessed with you, sure he’s had crushes on other girls before, but he’d never really spent time in his room writing poems that he’d never give to them or doodle their name on his worksheets like he did with you. But of course, everyone teased him for it, especially the gang.

You decided that this would be your chance to make a move, you knew he liked you, and you liked him too, so you for sure were going to do it. As you arrived at the Curtis house you softly knocked on the door a couple of times, patiently waiting for someone to open the door.

You looked up once you saw the door being opened, you locked eyes with Ponyboy. It was as if he was waiting for you. You gave him a sweet smile “Hey Ponyboy”

“Hey, c’mon in” He said, trying to act casual, even though the giddiness in his voice was painfully obvious. He stared at you for a few moments, not believing that you were actually at his house, before moving aside to let you in. As you walked inside he closed the door behind him.

As you walked into the house you spotted some of Pony’s friends along with his brother Sodapop, most of them were too busy talking and laughing to notice you two, but others like Dallas and Two-bit made some teasing remarks. This made Ponyboy wanna make a rush to his room before you could hear.

“We can work on it in my room, c’mon..” He said as he walked you both down the hall to the small room he shared with his brother Sodapop. As you got to his room you sat at the edge of the bed while he sat at his desk. “So..have you come up with any ideas for the project?” You asked as you looked around his room. “Uh..not yet” How was he supposed to admit he couldn’t come up with anything anyway because he was too busy anticipating your arrival?

“That’s alright we’ll come up with something, we have about a week anyway” You wanted to make some small talk before actually initiating anything, but now that you’ve had your fair share of words, you began to go for it.

You leaned off the edge of the bed a bit and got closer. “Ponyboy, can I ask you a question?” You said in a sweet tone, your faces not too far from eachother. The closeness made him fairly nervous, but he tried to keep his cool. “Uh, yeah sure, what is it?”

“Can I kiss you?” You knew he would say yes, it was obvious he liked you, so it’s not like he would say no. You basically had him right where you wanted him. When you asked that he was surprised, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. As he replied his eyes darted to your lips. “Yeah..yeah you can”

You had gotten all the confidence you needed, you pressed your soft lips against his. He leaned closer from his place at his desk, the kiss was gentle yet passionate. He put his hand on your waist and gently rubbed the clothed skin as you put your hand on his shoulder. The make out session went on for a while until you heard the sound of a couple of roudy boys followed by the swing of a door.

It was Ponyboy’s intimidating older brother Darry and the whole gang. You and Ponyboy quickly pulled away as you saw the stern look on Darry’s face and sly ones on everybody else’s. Two-bit was the first to speak. “Well..what’s going on here?” He said with a goofy sounding chuckle. You could hear the others hooting and hollering at Pony as well. Ponyboy rolled his eyes a bit as you just sat there slightly nervous.

“Ponyboy, I thought you said you’d be working on a project?”, said Darry. “We were we’re just taking a little break..” Ponyboy mumbled sheepishly, and annoyed since the gang walked in on you two. “Yeah yeah whatever you say loverboy..” Dallas said as him and the rest of the guys started walking away, Darry speaking up before leaving.

“When I come back I best see you two working.” Darry said with a shake of his head and shut of the door. It got silent in the room until Ponyboy spoke up, “so where were we?” You laughed softly and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, the both of you knowing there’d be no work getting done.

[solxamber]

Omg, uh sorry if this is filling up your inbox! You can take your time with this anytime! Pls take care of urself if u feel sad (Romantic btw :3)

Savanaclaw and Scarabia with a silly reader who owns a circus and stuff— they act all innocent and stupid and silly, but are actually really good at being mature and responsible and smart (emotionally and intelligently). And, They always have some extremely shocking stories to tell, like that one time where they and Falena are friends and how their family has some history with the al-asims.. oh the list can go on!...

can u see what I see ☹️☹️

Savanaclaw, Scarabia with a Silly but mature! reader

i think i see your vision anon 🫡 Thank you for the request!

also the inbox is open for all requests, there's no need to be sorry!

Leona Kingscholar

Leona was lounging under a tree, as usual, his eyes half-closed as you plopped down beside him. You had that mischievous smile again, and he braced himself for whatever nonsense you were about to spout.

“Leona, did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally declared myself queen of a lost kingdom? Oh yeah, I was leading a parade for my circus when we stumbled upon this hidden city in the desert. They hadn’t seen outsiders in centuries, and for some reason, they thought my outfit meant I was royalty. Long story short, I ruled for a day—had a crown and everything.”

Leona cracked an eye open, staring at you. “You? A queen?”

“Yep. But don’t worry, I abdicated the next morning. Told them it wasn’t for me. Too much responsibility, you know?” You laughed, completely at ease, as if you hadn’t just described one of the most ridiculous situations ever.

Leona groaned. “You’ve gotta be making this stuff up.”

“Nope! 100% true. I even have pictures of the royal llama they gave me as a parting gift.” You winked, leaving Leona wondering whether you were serious or just really good at telling tall tales.

But later that day, a real problem cropped up in Savanaclaw. Some of the younger students had gotten into a fight, and it was escalating fast. Leona, grumbling, was about to step in when you, with a surprisingly firm tone, intervened.

“Hey! Knock it off!” you commanded, standing between the feuding students with a calm but authoritative air. “Fighting’s not going to solve this. You need to talk it out—what’s going on?”

To Leona’s surprise, they actually stopped. You took each of them aside, patiently listening and guiding them to a resolution, diffusing the situation before it could spiral. Once things calmed down, you turned back to Leona with a smile, as if nothing unusual had happened.

“See? All it takes is a bit of patience.”

Leona stared at you, genuinely impressed. “You’re... not as dumb as you act, are you?”

“Only when it’s convenient,” you replied, your grin back in full force. But there was a warmth behind your eyes, a quiet confidence that made Leona’s chest tighten. For once, he didn’t have a sarcastic comeback, just a lingering thought that maybe you were a lot more than you seemed.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie was used to your wild stories by now, but every time you shared one, it still left him shaking his head in disbelief. Today, you were telling him about one of your most outlandish adventures yet.

“So, Ruggie, did I ever mention the time I accidentally joined a pirate crew? My circus got shipwrecked on this random island, and before I knew it, I was swabbing the deck of a pirate ship. They thought I was this legendary thief, and I just rolled with it. Spent the whole month trying to convince them to switch to legal trade—pretty sure I turned them into a merchant fleet by the end.”

Ruggie almost choked on his snack. “You? A pirate? No way.”

“True story! They even gave me a parrot. Named him Biscuit.” You grinned like this was the most normal thing in the world.

Ruggie shook his head, laughing. “You’re somethin’ else, y’know that?”

But not long after, a real problem popped up. One of the younger students in Scarabia had been short on money, and there was a mix-up with their scholarship. The kid was panicking, unsure how to fix it. While Ruggie was good at hustling, this wasn’t his field of expertise. He figured the situation was about to get messy.

Then you stepped in, calmly talking to the student. “Hey, don’t worry. We’ll figure this out. Let me help.”

You guided the student through the bureaucratic mess, making calls, filling out forms, and working things out with Scarabia’s administration. By the end of it, everything was sorted, and the student left with a grateful smile.

“You handled that like a pro,” Ruggie commented, impressed. He hadn’t expected you to know your way around serious issues like that.

“Sometimes life throws you curveballs, and you’ve gotta handle them with a cool head,” you said with a wink. “I’ve got practice from managing a circus, after all.”

Ruggie chuckled, but the admiration in his eyes was clear. “You’re full of surprises.”

“Good surprises, I hope?”

“The best kind,” Ruggie grinned, feeling his heart skip a beat. You might act goofy, but there was something about you that kept pulling him in.

Jack Howl

Jack was used to your carefree attitude by now, but your stories never failed to catch him off guard. Today, you were regaling him with a tale so absurd he didn’t even know how to respond.

“So, Jack, did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally tamed a dragon? It’s true! I was performing in a mountain village when this dragon showed up, all angry and roaring. Turns out, he had a thorn in his foot. Once I pulled it out, we became best buds. He even gave me a ride back home.”

Jack slowed his jog, staring at you incredulously. “You’re telling me you... tamed a dragon? Just like that?”

“Yep! He was actually really sweet once he wasn’t in pain. Kinda like a giant puppy.” You laughed, completely unfazed by how insane the story sounded.

Jack shook his head, half-impressed, half-baffled. “You’re something else.”

But later, when a real problem cropped up—a couple of first-years lost their way in the forest near campus—your goofy demeanor melted away, replaced by a calm, focused attitude. Jack was ready to run in headfirst, but you stopped him.

“Wait, Jack. If we charge in, we might get lost too. Let’s think this through.”

You took a moment to assess the situation, coming up with a plan that involved splitting up into small, safe search parties. You helped guide the students back, your calm leadership reassuring everyone involved.

Jack was impressed. “You... really know how to handle things when it matters.”

You smiled softly, shrugging. “I guess when you’ve been through enough crazy stuff, you learn how to stay calm.”

Jack couldn’t help but admire you. You might be goofy, but you had a strong sense of responsibility underneath it all. And, more than anything, he liked that you didn’t lose your lightheartedness, even when things got tough.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Jack muttered, a little flustered.

You grinned. “Just doing my best. But thanks, Jack.”

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim was always delighted by your stories, and today, you had another one to tell that had him practically bouncing in excitement.

“So, Kalim, did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally became the head chef for an underwater banquet? We were traveling with the circus near a coastal city, and somehow, I got mistaken for a famous sea chef. Next thing I knew, I was cooking for a bunch of merfolk. It wasn’t too bad, except for the fact that the main course was supposed to be jellyfish. Do you know how hard it is to cook jellyfish?”

Kalim’s eyes went wide with fascination. “No way! What did you do?”

“Well, I just winged it! Turns out, jellyfish isn’t that bad if you deep fry it. The merfolk loved it, though I think one of them might’ve cried because I didn’t use enough seaweed seasoning.” You giggled at the memory, and Kalim burst into laughter beside you.

“That’s amazing! You always have the best stories!” Kalim grinned from ear to ear, completely charmed by your carefree attitude.

But later, as a group of students caused a commotion in Scarabia over some miscommunication regarding event planning, Kalim started to get overwhelmed. The party plans were a mess, and everyone was panicking.

Before Kalim could start spiraling, you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Kalim, it’s okay. We can fix this.”

You quickly took charge, calmly directing people, assigning tasks, and helping resolve the confusion with remarkable ease. Despite the chaos, you remained collected and responsible, ensuring everything got back on track. By the end of it, the students were thanking you for saving the event.

Kalim watched you in awe, his heart swelling with admiration. “Wow, you’re amazing at this! I didn’t even think about half of the things you just did!”

You smiled, a little sheepishly. “I’ve learned a thing or two from managing my own circus. Keeping things organized is important when you’ve got that many moving parts.”

Kalim beamed, his admiration growing even more. “You’re incredible! I love how you can be so fun and carefree but also super responsible when it matters.”

You laughed. “Well, I can’t have you stressing out, can I?”

Kalim’s heart fluttered as he realized just how much he adored every part of you—the goofy, lighthearted side and the calm, mature side that always seemed to have everything under control.

“I’m lucky to have you around,” he admitted softly, his face turning pink.

You grinned, nudging him playfully. “And I’m lucky to have someone who enjoys my stories. We make a good team.”

Jamil Viper

Jamil wasn’t one to get distracted easily, but you had a way of getting under his skin, especially with the wild stories you told so casually.

“So, Jamil, you know how everyone has a weird family tradition? Mine is... accidentally kidnapping a sultan’s pet tiger. Oh, it wasn’t on purpose, of course! The circus was performing in this palace, and I thought it was part of the act. Turns out, it was the sultan’s favorite tiger. Had to smooth things over with a five-course apology dinner. But hey, I got to keep a gold plate as a souvenir.”

Jamil blinked, his expression somewhere between disbelief and amusement. “You... kidnapped a royal tiger?”

“Yep! Accidentally, though. I gave it back!” you laughed, completely unfazed by how wild the story was. “But I did manage to calm the sultan down. Turns out, I’m pretty good at apologizing.”

Jamil shook his head, exhaling a slow breath. “I don’t know how you manage to stay so calm in situations like that.”

“Well, when you run a circus, you learn to roll with the punches,” you winked.

Later that evening, when a situation arose with a group of students causing chaos in Scarabia, you stepped up before Jamil could even lift a finger.

“Hold on, I’ll talk to them,” you said, stepping forward.

With a calm but firm approach, you quickly diffused the situation, guiding the students to settle down and offering solutions to their grievances. You did it all without raising your voice, just being patient and understanding.

Jamil watched, impressed at how you handled everything so smoothly. Once the students dispersed, he approached you with a newfound respect in his eyes.

“You’re... more capable than you let on,” he admitted, glancing away.

You smiled, not smugly, but warmly. “I just know when it’s time to be serious. Someone’s gotta keep the peace around here.”

Jamil’s heart skipped a beat. Maybe there was more to your lighthearted nature than he initially thought.

Masterlist

[starlight727]

A little gift

Shadow Milk Cookie x reader fic (Chapter 2 - Theater of Lies)

Part 1 (you are here)

Part 2

Part 3

You and the Brave Gang, Pure Vanilla, White Lily and Elder Faerie were all making your way to the HUGE theater that Shadow Milk had set up after escaping from the Silver Tree. The stage was beautifully and masterfully decorated, every detail of it was perfect, just what Shadow Milk was looking for in the stage that would help depict his side of the story, the story about the day the Beasts got sealed in the tree sooo unfairly.

When everyone reached the stage, you all had a couple of minutes to sit back, relax and get comfortable before the show started. Everyone stayed alert for any possible surprise attacks from the Jester, but you decided to sit down and wait instead. Out of everyone in the team, you were the only one who was actually interested in the show and learning about Shadow Milk more, perhaps you were having some... feelings after you two first met when he broke out of the Tree. His whole demeanor caught your attention and you couldn't help but stare in awe at him, he definitely noticed this and seemed to smile at you, something that made your heart jump in shock and excitement!

You seemed to smile at the memory of the encounter, it was like you were in a trance, the others noticed this and came closer to you to ask.

"Hey Y/N Cookie, what's got you smiling like that?" asked Strawberry Cookie

"Yeah, you look unusually happy despite everything that's going on right now." added Wizard Cookie. Their questions made you snapped out of your thoughts.

"Wha-? Oh! Sorry guys, I was just thinking about something funny, that's all!" you answered with a nervous chuckle.

"Hmm, alright but be careful, we have to stay alert, we don't know what that weird clown has in store for us" Wizard replied.

His response made you feel upset a bit, it made you wanna correct him by telling him the name and actual role of the Beast of Deceit. Almost as if... you were defending him... ok no, this is going too far, you have to calm yourself before you do anything stupid, so you keep your thoughts to yourself and close your mouth.

You hear circus music coming from the theater, something that made everyone jump a bit, everyone was so on edge, but you weren't, you were getting excited because the show was about to start! The lights dimmed and a spotlight aimed at the theater curtains. Shadow Milk Cookie presented himself and a round of applause could be heard from different directions, even you were clapping and cheering for him! Your friends could tell there was something wrong with you.

After the first act of the play ended and the stage curtains closed, everyone was preparing for the next act, they were feeling anxious and a bit impatient. You, on the other hand, were walking around in one spot, thinking about how fun and exciting the show was. It made you unable to stop thinking about Shadow Milk Cookie, how funny and clever he is, how smart and talented and... handsome and dreamy and charming and... WHOA OK!! Getting a little too deep in thought there, better slow down before someone notices you swooning and sighing over the jester you were supposed to help take down.

But as you stopped those thoughts from taking over your mind, you noticed something moving in the corner of your eye. You looked over to the left and saw a jester-hatted jack-in-the-box puppet waving at you and signaling you to come over to where it was. You made sure no one was watching you and made your way there. When you got close to the puppet, it greeted you with a bow, which made you bow back and chuckle a bit, the puppet giggled with one hand on its mouth and another behind its back in response.

"Ok, I'm here, did you want to tell me something?" you asked curiously.

Then the puppet rummaged in its box and pulled out a soft black and blue jester hat with blueberry bells on its tips, just for you. You gasped quietly as to not alert your team, then you took the hat.

"Is this for me?" you asked, and the puppet nodded in agreement.

"Aww, thank you, little puppet!" you answered as you put on the hat.

It was a perfect fit, and it smelled like something... it smelled like... blueberry milk! The scented hat put you in a calm mood as you enjoyed the smell and sighed deeply.

You wanted to show your gratitude to the puppet, so after checking that nobody was watching you, you leaned over and gave a tender little kiss on its forehead. The puppet was surprised by your gentle action and pulled its hat over its flustered face to cover it, you giggled at the action and the puppet slowly hid in its box afterwards.

"Aw, don't worry, it's ok!" you said softly as you cupped the puppet's cheeks and gently nuzzled its head.

A few moments later, the stage curtains were lit up by a spotlight, the next act was starting soon!

"Oh, the show's about to start again!" you said, looking at the stage.

"It was so nice meeting you, little puppet, and thank you so much for the gift, bye!" you waved goodbye as you walked closer to your team, the puppet waving back as you left, you thought you saw it sigh sadly, but Gingerbrave stopped you from asking yourself if it actually did that.

"Whoa, cool hat Y/N Cookie!" said Gingerbrave excitedly.

"Oh, uhh, thanks!" you said in a calm tone, hoping no one would ask you where you got it from.

"Say, where did you get it?" of course it had to be Wizard Cookie who asked.

"I... found it. On the floor. I thought it was cool so I... decided to take it with me." you answered with a nervous chuckle.

But before Wizard could ask more questions on it, a thundering and charismatic voice resonated through the land.

"Ok, my dear audience!! Everyone get back to your seats and STAY QUIET, for the show is about to begin~!" said Shadow Milk Cookie after hearing the 3 Cookies talking while he made preparations for the show. Everyone just stayed silent afterwards, thank the stars.

Although, he noticed you wearing the hat that puppet gave you. Little did you know that he was disguised as that very same puppet! He did it because after your first meeting, he couldn't help but feel attached to you, a Cookie who showed no signs of fear and cowardice when he returned, it intrigued him. He wanted to know more about you and your nature, so he turned himself into the jack-in-the-box puppet you met and called you over. He bowed, saw you chuckle and bow (which made him blush and genuinely smile a bit, but luckily for him, the puppet form hid that), gave you the hat, saw how happy you were, and felt your kiss on his forehead and your gentle touch on his cheeks (he felt shocked from all of this, feeling his face burn from all the sudden affection, the soft look in your eyes made him feel like he was melting inside, he found himself enjoying this so much).

He remembered all of that from just looking at you with that silly hat, including the part when you left... He had never felt like this before, it all felt new to him after being imprisoned in the Tree for so long, he hasn't felt like this since before he got corrupted... it felt amazing... and comforting. When you waved goodbye and left, he couldn't help himself. He felt sad, lonely, like a string that was holding you two together was cut off so abruptly that it hurt him, he yearned for your voice, your touch, your whole self, he wanted... no... he needed you.

He sighed loudly, which made his audience question in their heads why he did that. He caught their confused looks, gasped silently, cleared his throat and composed himself. Now was not the time to be sappy, he had a show to put on, and by the stars he was gonna put on a captivating one. Maybe, after everything ends, and he finally gains his freedom by killing Elder Faerie, then maybe... he could reunite with you again... only time will tell.

[starsinthesky5]

not sure if you’ve answered this ask before but how did joe’s hometown friends react to joe telling them about him and songbird? cause i can totally see them not believing anything he says and teasing him about it! like they think there is no way introverted joe got with miss popstar

a/n: not using joe's hometown friends real names for this because well...yeah :)

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

it’s one of those classic athens summer nights—warm, quiet, and humid and sticky in that way that clings to your skin. the kind where the air smells like grass, smoke, and beer, and it feels like time’s slowed down just for a while. trevor’s backyard hasn’t changed since high school—same patchy grass, same rusted grill, same half-broken lawn chairs arranged in a lazy circle around the fire pit. the fire crackles low, casting orange glow over their faces, and a bluetooth speaker hums quietly with old blink-182.

“you been quiet, man,” trevor says, turning from the fire to squint at joe, who’s leaning back in his chair, hood low, sipping from a can of some cheap seltzer. “what’s going on with you lately. haven't seen you out much this off-season?”.

joe shrugs like it’s nothing, like the reason behind his absence on trips with the friend group isn’t a big deal, late replies to their text messages aren't unusual, and the abnormal amount of times he's checked his phone in their presence isn't strange for him. but there’s something about the little curve of his mouth—just the tiniest hint of a smile—that immediately sets off alarm bells.

“nothing,” he says, too casually. “just…been busy,”.

“busy,” quinn echoes, already grinning. “okay, define busy. like, football busy? or…someone busy?”.

joe doesn’t answer right away. just lifts his can, takes a slow sip like he’s got all the time in the world. there’s a flicker of something behind his eyes—a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, smug and unbothered, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “mm,” he hums, setting the can down with a soft clink. “bit of both, ya know,”.

“oh shit,” ryland says, sitting forward in his chair, now fully paying attention to what joe was saying. the drunken haze in his brain vanishes in a second. “you’re seeing someone. like actually?”.

max drops his beer can dramatically into the cooler. “i knew it. bro’s been off the grid since the beginning of last month...ever since that trip to the hamptons for the white party,”.

“okay, who is she?” trevor asks, pulling his chair next to joe and nudging his leg with a sock-covered foot. “do we know her? is she from around here?”.

joe shrugs again, infuriatingly vague. “maybe,”.

“maybe?! maybe?!” quinn groans. “you can’t drop that and go back to sipping your fuckass high noon like you didn’t just cause a national emergency. your fan girls are about to freak bro. i hope you know that,”.

ryland narrows his eyes. “all right. twenty questions. is she blonde?”.

joe shakes his head.

“brunette?” quinn asks.

joe nods softly, smirking as he thinks about her her hair, thick and soft and everywhere when she sleeps, tangled in his fingers and fanned across his pillow. it always smells like coconut and something sweet he can never name. in the sun, it turns golden at the ends, almost honey-like, and in the mornings, it’s a mess he loves combing through with slow, lazy hands. he thinks about how it tickles his neck when she leans into him, how it always ends up tied in a claw clip or falling over her eyes when she’s baking, how he’s stolen at least three hair ties off her wrist just to keep one in his bag, one in his car, one around his water bottle.

“college girl? someone from lsu or ohio state?” max questions.

but then before joe can respond, quinn jumps in, “cheerleader? actress? oh my god is it hailee—,”.

“no, no, and...no?” joe scoffs, cutting in and shutting it down before they go to far. “she's a...singer,” he says casually, as if he didn't just cause a bomb to go off inside his friend's drunken little brains.

the fire cracks. the boys go still.

max blinks. “…like, hobby singer? or, like…real singer?”.

joe lifts a brow, amused at the question before he replies, “real,”.

“wait,” ryland says slowly. “wait. wait. are you talking like…local bar gigs, or like…spotify verified?”.

joe’s smiling now. not saying anything. just letting it build.

“dude. don’t,” ryland rolls his eyes.

trevor leans forward, squinting at joe through the firelight like he’s trying to read his mind. “okay. give us something. initials. a lyric. a song title. anything,” he says, motioning dramatically with his beer can like it’s a lie detector test.

joe lifts his own can to his lips, sips slow, eyes glinting with mischief over the rim. then, deadpan, without even blinking, he recites,

“didn't they tell us don’t rush into things, didn’t you flash your green eyes at—”.

“NO FUCKING WAY,” max screeches, nearly choking on his drink. he slaps a hand over his mouth like the words burned coming out.

of course they recognized it. of course.

those lyrics...that album. they were everywhere. stores. the radio. social media. hell, quinn’s sister cried to the song wonderland after prom.

“shut up,” quinn yells, leaping to his feet and launching his trucker hat across the yard like it personally betrayed him. “you’re lying. you’re a lying little bitch, dude,”.

joe shrugs, calm as ever, like he’s not sitting on the biggest bombshell of the summer. his lips twitch, the ghost of a grin threatening to break. “i’m not lying,” he says, tone maddeningly casual. “just didn’t think y’all could handle it,”.

“you're telling me you—joseph lee burrow—are dating her. the grammy-winning, international pop sensation, women want to be her, men want to marry her, princess of the music industry? man, please. we're not stupid,”.

joe’s smile grows at the mention of all her titles and how she's portrayed to the public. “yeah, i am,”.

trevor’s jaw drops. “how,”.

“you don’t even talk that much!” quinn yells. “all you do is sit their with your shades on and people watch,”.

“what did you do, just stare at her until she fell for you?” max asks, skeptical of the entire situation..

“pretty much,” joe says with a small laugh.

ryland puts his hands on his knees and breathes. “i need a minute,”.

“when did this even start?!” trevor asks, practically shouting. “how long has this been happening?”.

joe finally pulls his phone from his pocket, scrolls for a second, and then flips it around. it’s a photo—simple and oh so special. she's in his hoodie, makeup-free, curled into his lap on the couch. she’s kissing his jaw and smiling with her eyes shut. joe’s looking straight into the camera, pink-cheeked and happy in that soft, lovesick way that only happens when someone knows they’re home.

the boys lose it.

max collapses to the grass. “that’s a real picture. that’s not even a paparazzi photo. she’s got her feet up. she’s snuggled. this is domestic,”.

“oh my god,” quinn moans. “he’s so far gone,”.

“bro,” ryland says, pointing. “she’s got the hoodie. she’s got the sleepy smile. you love her,”.

joe freezes for half a second—just enough for the guys to catch it. the slight shift in his posture, the way his fingers flex around his drink. he doesn’t say anything right away, just stares into the fire, watching the embers crackle like they might spell out the answer for him.

because no, the L word hasn’t come up yet. not out loud. not between them. but god, he feels it. in the way she looks at him when she’s half-asleep in his hoodie, humming along to some soft melody she hasn’t released yet. in the way she traces lazy circles over his chest with her fingers while he talks about nothing. in the way she laughs like he’s her favorite sound.

his throat bobs, swallowing something quiet and terrifying and real.“yeah,” he murmurs eventually, a slow smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “i’m getting there,”.

trevor clutches his chest. “nah, i’m sick. our introverted hermit crab bagged the pop princess. i feel like i’m dreaming right now,”.

“he skipped all the levels,” max mutters. “went from ‘barely talks to girls without stumbling over his words’ to dating someone like her? unbelievable,”.

“when do we get to meet her?” quinn asks. “do you think she’d let us hear some unreleased shit?”.

joe chuckles, knowing he was the only one that was allowed to listen to what she'd been working on as of late. it was about him, so it was only for him. that was her precious logic. “probably not,”.

“what’s she like?” ryland asks, more curious now than anything. “like, actually. behind the flashing lights and headlines,”.

joe softens, like physically softens as he starts rambling. “she’s…so funny. extremely smart. especially football smart. kind of like a shot of espresso. but she can also be a nice warm glass of milk when you need her to, you know? she sings around the house. leaves her jewelry everywhere. keeps stealing my hoodies. she bakes. even taught me how to cook a little bit. she's so pretty, and like not just superficially. she has such a pretty heart and i know that makes no fucking sense but...she's just such a great person. and she's real. you wouldn't even think she's famous if you spent one whole day with her. she's so...normal. and she just brings out that side of me that i thought was dead the second i came into the league. she's like a breath of fresh air after years of breathing in smoke,”.

“oh my god,” trevor whispers. “you’re in love love,”.

“you guys are insufferable,” joe says while he rolls his eyes, but he’s beaming at the same time. you know why? because it's true. even if he won't admit it out loud or to himself.

it's so fucking true.

he glances down at his phone again and fires off a quick text, they found out. they’re freaking out. they love you but don't think you're real. (oh, joe. so to the point. what happened to hi? hello? did you burn my kitchen down yet?) and a minute later, her reply pops up, tell them i said hi. and yes, i am real. and i also can't wait to meet them :)

and when joe shows them the texts?

yeah. they lose it.

[earlgreylatte]

Play to Lose

Marshall is a huge dick who probably hasn’t ever gotten laid. For some reason, you want this pathetic man.

Marshall Ward is so fucking weird.

The first time you ever interacted with him (if you could even call it an ‘interaction’) was watching him argue with a bunch of dumbass high schoolers.

Sat on his doorstep with a bowl of cereal in hand and a lit cigarette resting next to him, you watched a trio of teens happily heckle him as they practically skipped past his house on the way to their school.

“Hey, you’re not going to find a girlfriend at the bottom of that bowl, Marshall!”

“He’s nothing but a cuck, anyway!”

“Bitchless!”

High schoolers are particularly mouthy these days.

You watch him swing his spoon around wildly as he retorted, “I’ve gotten more than you virgins could ever dream of! Have fun getting killed by global warming before you ever know the touch of a woman besides your mom, who I also FUCKED, by the way!”

“Go fuck yourself!” The kids shout, flipping the man off as they turn the corner.

He sticks up his middle finger in response, spoon clutched in his palm, scowling before he catches sight of you across the street, your neighbour’s dog sniffing the ground, your grip on his leash slack from the scene you just witnessed.

He stares at you for a moment before realizing he’s been inadvertently flipping you off. He opens his hand into an awkward wave, spoon cluttering to the ground.

“Hey—oh fuck,” He bends down to retrieve his spoon, but only ends up dropping his bowl in the rush.

You shoot him one more judgmental glance before leading Stewart the Black Labrador back home.

It becomes a part of your routine, after that.

Every other day you would take Stewart on a walk, stop to watch Marshall get bullied by some kids, and then indulge his attempts at conversation.

(“Yeah, no, I’m like the cool older brother to them, we’re just joking——I didn’t actually fuck any of their moms, haha…”)

Soon, jilted conversations across the street turned into movie discussions at his doorstep (after the high schoolers were long gone, you didn’t want to become a target.), where you learned his eyes were a bright, almost electric blue. They were…nice.

He was definitely an asshole, but he wasn’t a bad guy. He always had something to say, someone to disparage or scoff at (usually high schoolers), was unusually invested in the new hero Radiant Black, but despite all that, he was considerate. With how he always put out his cigarette when you approached even when it looked freshly lit and the way he listened intently to your words when you decided to deem him with anything more than a dry stare.

(“All people do is talk shit without knowing the details, I——Radiant Black shouldn’t have to deal with their crap. Honestly, fuck everyone else and their moms…too far?”)

Eventually, conversations outside his door transferred to ones into his house when you realized he had a very adorable dog by the name of Orson, with charming, floppy ears and an appreciation for cuddles.

Yes, Orson is the reason you warmed up to Marshall.

(“I see how it is, you’re just using me to get to Orson! Well, Stewart and I don’t need you, anyway! Wait, come back—“)

Okay, so maybe you’ve become a bit fond of him and his stupid looking face. But that’s solely because of Orson. Definitely not because you caught a slip of his defined stomach when he was stretching.

So, when you find yourself next to him on his couch, watching some 80’s movie, as Orson naps by your feet, you make a decision.

“So, do you usually just pass out on your couch, or do you actually have a bed?” You speak up, turning your head to look at him, his face only illuminated by the TV.

“Uh, random, but yeah,” He responds, attention shifting to you as he raises an eyebrow, “Why?”

You rise from the worn couch, “Show me.”

“You’re so weird,” he says, but he acquiesces, leading you to his room.

A twin sized mattress rests next to the wall (no bed frame?), clothes and comics scattered across the floor. It was cluttered but not necessarily a pigsty, as from just a sniff you could pick up a whiff of laundry detergent and shampoo. Luckily, he mostly smoked outside.

He almost looks sheepish as he observes your reaction, “Trying to figure out if there’s anything valuable for when you decide to ransack the place?”

“No, nothing like that,” you respond before turning to face him, “You like me, right?”

He seems to blank out for a moment, “What?”

“You’re into me,” you nod, “And, I’m into you.”

“Huh?”

“Are you going to stand there slack jawed or are you going to do anything about having a girl that likes you right in your bedroom?” You ask.

He seems to snap back to reality, letting out a near hysterical laugh, “You confess like you’re talking about the weather, and what? No, actually, why am I even supposed to do with that!? This is a lot all at once! Are you expecting me to ravage you or something—“

“Yes.”

“I was joking? No, I was definitely joking—“

You tilt your head, “You don’t want to?”

“Well, I didn’t say that…”

You grip the hem of your hoodie before shrugging it off, letting it drop to the floor. He stares at your chest, still covered by your bra. You’re tempted to ask if this is his first pair.

“Is this your first pair?” You ask, gesturing to your breasts.

“No! I was just wondering if girls just——don’t wear shirts under their hoodies?”

“Shut up,” you order before stepping out of your pants.

“Shutting up…” He replies, fingers twitching at his side watching you intently as you slowly approach full nudity.

“Okay, you can talk,” you toss your bra next to his comics, an arm covering your chest as you move to his bed, propping yourself against the wall, seated on the mattress he called a bed. “Take off your clothes already, weirdo.”

Within an instant, his shirt and pants lay discarded on the floor and he joins you on the bed, crowding against you, a hand resting on the mattress near your hips, while the other places itself where your neck and shoulder meet as his mouth presses against yours, lips slightly chapped but incessant, as he hungrily devours you. A far cry from his earlier hesitancy.

You taste the smoke on him as he groans into your mouth, tongue pressing against your lips before you open for him, letting him suck and lick, swallowing your noise of surprise when a hand starts groping your chest, thumb rolling over your nipple.

He parts from you, letting you catch your breath before he dives down to envelop a breast into his mouth, teeth nipping as you jolt while he pinches you with the other.

“Ah, Marshall—!” You try to chide him, but you’re cut off when he does it again, “Ugh, seriously, you’re going to make them sore!”

You feel his laughter against your skin before he pulls away, meeting your gaze with a grin, “Really?”

“Yes, you—ow! Seriously, Marshall!” He pinches your nipples with another laugh, is this actually his first pair of tits? He’s acting like they’re a new toy to fiddle with. He continues to squeeze and flex his hands as you wiggle your hips impatiently, the heat in your stomach growing at his impromptu massage.

“Okay, okay, sorry!” He grins, hands trailing down your stomach to your thighs, fingers rubbing comforting circles, appreciating the softness.

You huff, hand reaching back to position the pillow against the mattress, nudging him to shuffle back with your foot as you lay down, shifting before looking up at him expectantly.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he smiles, keeping your thighs bent and apart, fingers brushing over your underwear, before his palm rubs against your clit, making you gasp. If you were more clearheaded, you’d have expressed surprise at him finding it so quickly.

“You know, you were complaining earlier, but you’re pretty wet now,” he comments smugly, watching you squirm at the continuous pressure against your sex, “Maybe if I…”

“Nnn-no,” you moan, back arching when he snakes a hand to pinch your hardened bud again. You’re going to kill him.

“Okay, last time, I swear,” he promises, now focused on helping your discard your last piece of clothing, pausing as the two of you silently stare at the clear liquid stringing from the fabric to your mound, “…you really don’t like it when I play with your tits?”

You glare at him and he pulls off your underwear, staring at them mournfully for a moment before tossing them on the floor with the rest of your clothes.

His finger runs up and down your slit, before pushing against your hole, sliding into you, and a second finger enters, as he begins a rotation of scissoring and thrusting as he stretches you out. Your stomach flexes, squirming when he speeds up.

“Keep still, you’ll be the one crying if I don’t prepare you enough,” he scolds you lightly, more focused than you’ve ever seen him.

“Confident?” You say, breathing hitching as you clench around his fingers. “Doubt you’re that big…”

He stops, face unreadable before he pulls away, and you glance at his prominent bulge. Okay, he’s not small.

He shoves his boxers off, and, okay, definitely not small.

He plants his hands on either side of you, settling in between your legs as he leans down to your face, kissing you again, as your hands move to trail up and down his back. You’ve never heard him talking about working out despite his built frame.

He pulls away, member rubbing against your hole, “You still want to do this?”

You dig your nails into his flesh, “Obviously.”

And without any more fanfare, he pushes into you, slowly feeding you each inch, as you shakily exhale, trying to swallow your noises and failing when your mouth drops opens and you swear you can feel him in your gut.

He starts to move, thrusts slow and long, gradually increasing his pace, as your chest starts to heave, your breath coming out in short pants and moans. You shut your eyes as you writhe under him when he moves to grip your hip with one hand as the other grinds against your clit, causing you to let out a choked whimper.

“You look innocent but you’re as desperate as me, aren’t you?” He speaks up, pace increasing enough to rock your body back and forth with each thrust. “You’ve wanted this as l-long as me, bet you touched yourself too…couldn’t get yourself to cum though based off how swollen your clit was from a little groping, heh. You needed me to help you cum, right? You particularly threw yourself at me—”

“Dick,” you choke out.

“Didn’t deny it…you acted all high and mighty earlier, but now you can barely string a sentence together—“

“Shut up,” you scrunch up your eyebrows, as you clenched around him, his pace faltering as he shuddered, wisps of hair sticking to his forehead.

“D-don’t do that….”

You do it again.

He pinches your nipple.

“Ah, f-fuck you—“

“Already doing that,” he grunts, finger still moving against you, his other hand leaving your breast to lock fingers with your hand, which was lying limply next to you, “You’re close, so just let go and—“

“Marshall—“

“Come on, there you go—“ he coaxes you, enraptured by the increasingly fucked out expression on your face.

With an embarrassingly loud moan, you orgasm as he fucks you through it, before he finishes, shooting his load into you with a low moan and shudder.

You both pant, eyes locked as he pulls out, cum oozing out of you onto his sheets, before his head falls to slump between your breasts.

You stare at the ceiling as he nuzzles against your moist skin.

“We didn’t use a condom.”

“Oh, fuck—“

(Shoving your head and arms into a borrowed graphic shirt, you flinch when the coarse fabric rubs against your nipples. You whip around to glare at Marshall, “I told you that you were going to make them sore!”

“Just go shirtless, and boom, problem solved,” he replies, pulling up his boxers.

“Kill yourself.”

“Love you too, babe.”

“We’re seriously doing things out of order, aren’t we…”)

I already know no one is going to read this and the small number of radiant black fans on this site are going to block me, but IDCCC! I’m the first one to make radiant black x reader content!! ME! (Why do I do this to myself…)

Reader and Marshall about each other: they’re so weird, thank god I’m normal…

read radiant black…

Masterlist

[thanksbutno98]

Lice

John Price x wife!reader OC

Summary: The Price family gets lice.

Warnings: swearing, not edited.

——————

“You good Cap?” Soap was just walking from the showers with a towel in hand but no move to actually begin drying himself off.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” John mumbled as he scratched at his scalp.

The men had all just finished up with some training exercises and were showering off to head home for the day. The only thing was Price had removed his hat after their 5 kilometer run which was unusual, then poured a bottle of water over his head. Now he sat on one of the metal benches in front of his locker messing with his hair.

“A bit vain today, sir?” Kyle joked having never seen the normally, wash and go, man fiddle with his short hair cut before.

Kyle had just pulled his shirt over his head and was looking back at Soap who was toweling off his hair and not caring in the slightest that he was fully exposed. It wasn’t unusual for the Scotsman to do this and the rest of 141 had become use to the man walking around stark naked in the locker room as if it were common. None of them really cared since they often got changed and showered around one another, expect for Ghost.

The off white locker room they sat in had rows of navy blue lockers with a long bench down the middle creating isles. They were in the back of the locker room away from the main door that shared the hallway just outside the gym. They were near the side door that lead to the higher ups offices which is why John’s locker in particular was over there.

The lockers in the back were against the farthest wall which was where Kyle and John’s lockers were, only separated by two. While Soaps was in the final row of lockers that faced the back wall and directly across from John’s. The space was a bit bigger allowing two rows of metal benches but all their lockers were pretty close, expect for Ghosts who’s was on the end near the showers.

“No, shampoo didn’t make my head stop itching.” Price voice was husky as he turned over his usual bottle of two in one shampoo and looked if it had an expiration date.

“Steer clear you two.” Ghost walked into the locker room and down to the back, still in his sweat drenched clothes and pointing at Price. Opening his locker and grabbing his gym bag he flung it over his shoulder seemingly to go shower at home like he usually did.

“Steer clear of what?” John asked, preoccupied by the ingredient list on the bottle. He sat forward with both of his elbows resting on his knees and still inspecting his shampoo. He was the only one completely dressed and ready to head home.

“What, you got a death wish and put something in Caps shampoo?” Gaz snorted out a laugh finding the notion of Ghost pranking anyone ridiculous. He was fastening his jeans almost ready to head out.

“Lice.” Is all Ghost said before heading for the door.

“WHAT!?” John shouted sitting up straight and glaring at Ghost. The accusation was out of left field and John absolutely thought he didn’t have lice, it had never even occurred to him.

Soap and Gaz looked at John and immediately created distance between them. Kyle kept his opinion to himself but moved down the bench towards the door, away from Price instead of where he had been only an arms length from him.

“Fuck that.” Soap who was still naked, grabbed his bag and moved to the farthest corner of the locker room where Ghosts locker was.

“I don’t have lice.” John snapped. His stomach twisted uncomfortably seeing how quickly the men in his charge moved away from him.

“You’re going to tell me those sticky kids of yours would never bring home lice?” Ghost asked, his back was pressed against the side door ready to push back and leave.

“My kids aren’t sticky!” John snapped back, detesting how his children had just been brought into this.

“Of course not, sir.” Ghost sounded respectful in his tone but Gaz, Soap, and John knew he was being a smart ass.

The mention of lice had John’s whole scalp lighting up and feeling itchier than it had before. He had been telling himself skipping his morning shower was why his head had been itching all day. Which is what caused the confusion from moments ago as to why his scalp still itched even after his shower.

“If he had lice don’t you think Indy would know by now? She’s on top of everything.” Gaz tried to come to John’s defense although he was slowly creating more and more space between them. John was looking between his own gym bag and Kyle’s, which was now much closer to Soap and eyeing the distance. It was making his blood boil to be treated like a leper.

“Gaz’s got a point. Indy would’ve blown up your phone if that’s the case.” Soap nodded to John was now pulling his phone from his bag to prove you hadn’t contacted him.

The boys were right if he had lice it was from the kids and you would have been trying to reach him so he wouldn’t give it to anyone else. Tapping the screen John was ready to show it off with no notification but his heart dropped. On his screen were 11 missed calls from you and a text in all caps that read: ‘THE KIDS HAVE LICE!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!’

“Fuck.” John grunted out which caused Simon to snort out a dry laugh confirming his suspicion. Without a word he pushed out of the locker room and left his captain to be exiled by the other two members of 141.

“We’ll see you when you’re lice free, sir.” Gaz skirted out of the locker room so fast the door hadn’t even completely shut behind Ghost.

Turning John looked over at Soap who was pulling out fresh clothes and looking back with an apprehensive look.

“What!” John snapped feeling judged under Soaps gaze.

“Nothing, sir. Just don’t do anything to jeopardize the Mohawk.” With his index finger Soap pointed to his hair and then went back to getting dressed.

“Fucking muppets.” John grumbled. Snatching his bag, he angrily stormed to his truck.

——————

Walking into his home John was surprised to see how messy it was. Usually you kept on top of dishes and general tidiness but not today. The plates from lunch were still sat on the table and there were four plastic shopping bags sitting on the kitchen island. The contents were spilled out across the counter of different looking bottles and hair tools. There was cardboard and plastic pieces littered across the surface from whatever you had torn open in your haste.

Looking over John saw the laundry room door left open and all the sheets and bedding in a large pile spilling from the door. The washer was lightly rattling from how packed it was while the dryer hummed along next to it. It occurred to John in that moment you were not playing around with this and he should quickly hand over his hat so you could hopefully save it.

Walking down the hall towards the living room it was empty yet the tv was still playing some kids cartoon. You had stripped all the cushion covers off the couch which was probably what you were washing at the moment. All the blankets and kids stuffed animals were missing and knowing you that was the first load of laundry you did so Lily could have her teddy bear back. There was an insecticide spray especially for lice sitting on the coffee table showing your thoroughness.

Thats when John heard faint crying coming from upstairs. John had to let out a defeated sigh knowing he was about to walk into a mess of a situation. Just the amount of the laundry you two would be doing was a nightmare let alone the lice. But the true relief was, you were his wife, who was always ready to spring into action and get things with the kids solved quickly.

John made his way upstairs, around the banister and down the hall to the ‘kids bathroom’ that was between Evelyn and Jj’s rooms. Stepping into the doorway John was greeted by the sight of his oldest, Jj sitting on the little mahogany wooden step stool in front of the sink with a small towel wrapped around his shoulders and hair covered in white soapy suds. The eleven year old was shirtless and in gym shorts, looking bored out of his mind.

The bathroom was a rectangular shaped room with emerald green wallpaper and gold fixtures. The floor consisted of large square terracotta tiles that had a long beige shag floor mat in front of the porcelain white tub. The large tub was carved out into the wall to the right of the door and had matching foggy emerald green tiles wrapped around the three sides of it. There were tiled shelves built into the shower where shampoo bottles were knocked over and leaking from the storm that had entered the bathroom.

To the left of the door was a white marble counter that stretched the same length of the tub. It had two sinks and the children’s toiletries placed on their perspective sides. Evelyn’s side was messy with tooth paste stains littering the sink and faucet while Jj’s was pristine. Over the counter hung a large rectangular mirror with a gold Victorian style frame with the most intricate design. At the end of the counter was the toilet and across from that the linen closet that was shut by a thick mahogany door with gold fixtures and a crystal door knob.

You had designed this bathroom yourself and John thought it was a bit garish at times but you absolutely loved it, it’s why your en suite had similar wallpaper. But when it came to home design he didn’t have an eye for it so he let you have free reign when redoing any room in the house.

You were sat on the edge of the tub with your hair tied up into a tight bun and damp. You had on black cotton shorts, a tight white tank top and wore a determined expression across your face. Your nine year old daughter was sat on the floor between your legs wearing one of John’s t-shirt that swallowed her whole body. It was damp around the neck and so large it hid the athletic shorts she had on underneath. You had a fine tooth comb in your hands with a long metal pick on one end as you rooted through the young girls hair.

Evelyn was quietly sobbing, her bottom lip sticking out and face rosy from the tears. John’s presence caught the attention of everyone but you. Seeing him had his little girl bursting into tears and trying to make a move for him but you placed your hand on her shoulder not letting her move.

“Mummy’s being so mean to me! She called me patient zero and has been tugging at my hair for hours!” Evelyn wailed making John’s chest tighten seeing her in distress. Even with her crying like this she looked so cute in his shirt.

“Oh my god, stop being a baby.” Jj rolled his eyes at his crying sister, right hand coming up and scratching the back of his shampoo covered head.

“That bad?” John looked to you who was still intensely focused on picking out lice from your daughter hair.

“They’re both blessed with your thick hair so it’s taking awhile. And it hasn’t even been a full hour yet Evie.” You reminded your daughter who was still crying loudly. She was uncomfortable and you understood that but still you didn’t like being painted the bad guy when you had been picking through her and her brother’s hair far longer than you liked.

“This is the second time I’ve shampooed and you’ve picked through my hair.” The sobs were causing her words to be less and less coherent. John placed a kiss to her forehead and whispered a promise of icecream later which had the young girl sniffling away the tears.

“I take it you’ve gotten it to?” John asked as he turned off your phone timer and motioned for Jj to stand up so he could help.

“No, actually I haven’t been itchy at all but thought I’d wash my hair with the lice shampoo just to be safe.” You had barely looked at John as you kept going through Evelyn’s hair trying to make this as quick as possible.

Jj moved the stool aside and bent forward to put his head into the sink. John took the towel and then lathered the shampoo a bit more before continuing. Looking over his shoulder he spoke.

“Well bad news then.” John sighed the words out as he ran the sink and started to wash the shampoo out of Jj’s hair.

“No.” Was all you said, looking up into Johns downturned blue eyes.

“Yeah, so I’m next.” John sounded defeated.

“I’m starting to think this will never end.”

——————

“Ow, stop tugging.” The timber of John’s voice rumbled through your en suite.

“Stop squirming then.” You mumbled back with the same frustration in your voice.

John was currently sitting on the tiled floor with his back against the wooden chair you were seated in. You two were centered a foot away from the doorway of the bathroom facing the open double doors that lead into your bedroom. There was a program John picked playing on the tv to help pass time. He was between your legs but not in the way he usually liked. He kept wincing at how roughly you were going through his hair. Tugging on the short stands and then digging into his scalp to get whatever it is you saw out.

“I see why Evie was crying. You are mean.” It was a half hearted joke with a tone of sincerity beneath it.

“Yeah and you’re both big babies. Jj didn’t complain once.” You were running low on patience and didn’t need your husband’s sass at the moment.

“Yeah, cuz he saw that you only get rougher after complaints.” John’s comment had you purposefully tugging on his hair.

“Ow! Quit it!” John’s left hand came up to try and lightly swat your wrist but you were quick and swatted his hand with the comb before he could get to you. With a deep and agitated grumble John shook his hand from the light sting you had left.

“Oh, I’m sooo sorry.” You retorted sarcastically.

You two sat in silence as John pouted. He didn’t like your short temper and you didn’t appreciate his attitude. You’d been picking through your families hair for what seemed to be the latter half of the day. It had caused an ache in your back to slowly creep from your tail bone and up to the center of your spine. There was a stiffness in your shoulders and you were absolutely starved, being the only one to not have had dinner since you had your finger digging through someone hair at all times. The amount of laundry you had gotten through was taxing on you but there was still so much more to get done before you could call it a night.

The only member not subjected to this was your baby who had thankfully been asleep for the majority of your lice removal. Lily was currently babbling in her rocker in your bedroom where you could see her swinging her little baby arms around with a teether in hand. John purposefully had the rocker pointed towards you two so Lily could see him. John was Lily’s comfort person and when she could sense he was home but out of sight she’d lose it until he picked her up. Then magically all the tears washed away and she was giggling. The morning meltdowns had become a ritual when John left but he ate it up, loving how much his baby girl adored him.

“How do’ya think we got it?” John broke the silence with a happy hum as you started to comb out his hair, meaning you were almost done.

“I thought it was Evie since she was the worst but I’m starting to think it’s you. Your head was so much worse than hers.” You spoke and then patted John’s shoulder signaling you were done.

“Me? How would I get it?” John looked up at you as you got up from your spot and went to wash your hands. He took the chance to smack your ass hard as you passed by, a loud clap echoing through the room. It stung but you chose to ignore it, having become accustom to John’s wandering hands.

“Maybe one of those disgusting guys you wrestle around with during training exercises.” You shrugged and began to clean up your bathroom counter from all the lice tools.

“Simon guessed I had lice, you don’t think-“

“Holy fuck it was him!” You interrupted and turned quickly to look at John. Your eyes were wide and then you were grabbing your phone and scrolling through it like you had some form of proof.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions.” John waved you off as he got up from the bathroom floor, his knees clicking. He was ready to start becoming suspicious of others not blatantly point the finger.

“No, look!” You brought your phone up and shoved it in John’s face.

He blinked rapidly and pulled your hand back from the sudden bright light in his face. Squinting he saw a text conversation from you and Dove, Simons wife.

Dove: Hey girly I have a quick questions for you.

You: what’s up :)

Dove: Grace brought home lice and gave it to the rest of us. Any suggestions on what shampoo I should use or how to get rid of it fast?

John’s eyes widened as he realized it absolutely was Simon who’d given him lice. The bastard had been practicing some new grappling moves with him, Soap and Gaz a couple of days ago. Now it was going to look like John was the one to give everyone lice when in actuality he had been framed.

“That fucking prick. He’s the one with the sticky kids.” John blurted out sounding a lot meaner to you than he intended.

“His kids aren’t sticky. Don’t be rude.” You immediately shot John’s comment down not appreciating his jab at other peoples children. Which John also didn’t appreciate his kids being called sticky like Ghost had done earlier that day.

“No, darling he told me we’re the ones with sticky kids but it’s not true. He’s the one with sticky kids who bring home lice.” John tried to explain but you only looked at him more confused.

“No one has sticky kids. Knock it off.” Your face was sour and words stern but John only threw his hands in the air completely exasperated that you weren’t getting what he was saying.

“I’m gonna hang him by his ankles and have everyone take turns wailing on him.” John grumbled to himself as he made his way into the bedroom.

“Well let’s hope the boys didn’t get it.” You followed after John who was now brooding and pacing the length of your bedroom as he plotted away.

“Oh if I have it, the boys have it. The trouble is how do we convince Soap to shave the Mohawk?” John was rubbing his chin.

“Don’t be mean! I’ll help him like I did you. He can just shower here and I’ll delice him.” Your words had John’s head snapping in your direction.

“That boys never allowed to shower here. Last thing I need is you seeing how he walks around bloody nude to air dry.” John spat the words out hating the idea of you seeing another man naked.

“I mean, I don’t mind if he needs to air dry.” You joked, wagging your eyebrows at John. He shot you a stern look silently telling you to knock it off.

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

@exhaustedpotat0 @glitterypirateduck @ivymarquis @crazymela @what-0-life @boredfairy4 @hihhasotherfixations @stephanswhxre @shanjisan @k4es @luvleywrites @kita03-0 @midwesternwitchery @aleynaleia @suckerforbassist @misshoneypaper @theaonlax @blackstar9005 @tooterbutt @havoc973 @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @freshlemontea @cosmoscoffeee @sae1kie @ohworm-writes @ghostslittlegf @fanficwriterlover @arminarlertssword @faceache111 @azu21 @thirstyb-ches @nini-11-08 @sgtgarricks @kiki-is-hyperfixating @mayflysdie @thirstyb-ches

[insomniac4000]

ArthurTV as a dad

If you want more dad fics send me a message on who you want!

Let me know if you want to be on my tag list

It was a seemingly innocent question, there comes a point in every relationship where things take a slight turn. Not a demand, not a wanting right now but just a clarification on where things were going. For Arthur the dreaded question came one evening when they were sitting on the sofa her cuddled up under his arm as they watched David Attenborough’s latest documentary on BBC.

“Seeing all this stuff about the environment makes me a bit weary about having kids, what do you think?” Arthur paused for a moment and flinched his body tensed up and she felt it underneath her. She sat up a little looking at Arthur who appeared pensive. She wasn’t asking for kids right then and there and Arthur knew that but this was a conversation he wasn’t looking forward to. They had been together for ten months, things were serious and there always came a point in a relationship where it needed to be established if a couple were on the same page with things and if not best to have the conversation before things moved further.

“I guess.” Arthur’s response was short and sharp. He looked down at his girlfriend with those big brown almost puppy like eyes that she had grown to love so much, her facial expression full of worry.

“Do you not think about stuff like that?” she asked, she didn’t want to pry but this was something she could see herself doing in the future and if Arthur didn’t want that then she would need to make some tough decisions. Arthur sighed and turned to face his girlfriend, a pensive look on his face.

“It’s not that easy for me. A couple of years ago I did one of those DNA gene tests you know just for fun. Well as it turns out I am actually a carrier for a rare heart defect, if I have a baby with someone else who has this gene and the baby gets this disease then well…. Let’s just say it won’t be a very good outcome. I laugh about it with the boys but it’s a very serious problem.” Arthur was serious, and he was seldom serious he was her lovable goofy Arthur so to see him like this was unusual and it worried her. He continued. “It’s not like I don’t want to but it’s not as easy as going oh I want kids one day lets have them.” Arthur explained. He watched his girlfriends face as she nodded and absorbed all the information given to her.

“Is it a given?”

“Yeah. If I end up having kids with someone with the gene too it’s like 75% that kid will end up with well…” he paused and drew in a deep breath. “Let’s just say it wouldn’t be a very good life.”

“I’m happy to take the test, if that’s what you want me to do it, if only for your peace of mind.” He couldn’t help but smile at her offer, she was always like this thinking of other people. He really didn’t expect her to do anything about it, he did want to let her know what the situation was. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he didn’t see in future with her when in fact it was completely the opposite. If he didn’t care about her at all he would have just kept quiet about it, it was easier that way. He pulled her into him and she took in his scent, it was slight vanilla and she was sure it was hers but she loved it on him so didn’t want to tease.

“I’m not asking you to do that. This is my problem don’t feel like you have to do something,”

“But in the future there is a possibility it could be our problem. I want to do it for you, for us.” Arthur kissed the top of her head and she settled a little more into his arms letting the stillness of their flat wash over them.

She found a clinic, Arthur suggested just taking the same sort of test that he did but she assured him if she was going to do this then she was going to do it properly and found a fertility clinic. Arthur paid, she told him it wasn’t necessary and now this was something she was going to do for her peace of mind but he insisted, he also insisted in having his own test. She laughed at him as she held the cup still for him for him to deposit his specimen into.

“Get it at the right angle this time” Arthur said between grunts, this was by in large the least sexy wank he had ever had.

The results came in by post over two weeks later, the were sent to her apartment as often Arthur could be out. The text came when Arthur was filming a Podcast but he rushed back to her flat as soon as they were done, leaving Bach in the dust.

“So?” His big brown eyes were full of anticipation, his forehead crinkled a little with worry.

“I haven’t opened it yet, I was waiting for you.” She then grabbed the white envelope which had been sitting on the table by the door where she usually kept her keys, her hands shook sightly as she opened it. The white envelope discarded on the floor in haste as she opened up the three bits of paper. Arthur stood behind her, his hands resting gently on her shoulders as he read over her. It looked as though Arthur’s results were on the first page.

“Wow I am a MAN!” Arthur commented on seeing her strong his swimmers were. She giggled a little in response but was more concerned for what was about to come. She gave Arthur the first age so he could gloat in full as she read the second, her results  looked normal for a women her age which meant the genetic results could only be on the last page. She swapped the sheets of paper over and scanned the 3rd page, feeling Arthur’s eyes on her. He watched as her lips slowly turned up into a smile as Arthur’s heart thumped more viciously in his chest.

“I don’t have it. I’m clear!” She scream throwing the paper up in the air. She giggled as Arthur turned her round, and lifted her up off the ground before planting kisses all over her.

It took another year until the conversation of kids came up again, but at least this time they knew what the future would hold. It didn’t take them long, two months and she got the pregnant 2-3 weeks letters on the stick. She decided to film Arthur’s response and he played it in a video later on down the line.

“Hello. So I have just received some exciting news,”  she beamed towards the camera as she waved the stick showing the pregnant words proud.

“I’m going to leave this little camera here and hopefully capture his reaction on camera.” Her smile couldn’t beam any more. The camera then cut to the next scene where Arthur was coming back from his filming session.

“How did it go?” She was trying so hard to act as nonchalant as possible.

“It was good. Chris did his usual I’m going to take five shots for everyone else’s one to make him look good.” Arthur moaned a little but there was a small smile underneath.

“You’d be lost without him really. So what did you want for dinner? I was thinking maybe baby back ribs and baby corn,” when she said the word baby she really had to reign in her giggles.

“Sounds lovely,” Arthur responded giving her a light kiss on the head.

“Can you erm, set the table for me babe?” She asked biting on her lip before glancing at the camera slightly, the camera that Arthur had still failed to notice. She watched carefully as her husband of barely a month opened the cutlery draw and there on top on the knives was the test. Arthur’s eyes widened as he picked it up with two hands, like it was the most fragile thing in the world. He studied it for a few seconds, drinking it all in before turning towards her with the sweetest smile on his face.

“Is this what I think it is?” He asked hopefully, she nodded and both of their faces broke out into huge grins as she run to him and hugged in.

“This is incredible, I mean you have just put your piss all over stuff we eat food with but I don’t really care about that. We’re having a baby!”

Arthur tried is hardest to make pregnancy as comfortable as possible. He read all the books there was to read and gleefully pointed out all the advice which contradicted each other, coming to the conclusion that it was best they would find their own way.

He held her hair back when she was sick, rubbed her feet when they got swollen, whenever she huffed and puffed and moaned about how big she was the response was usually “Well yeah…but you’re carrying my child and that means more than everything else.”

The baby decided it didn’t feel much like having it’s head down and a month before the due date when it refused to budge it was decided, it was going to be a C-section.

“I just feel like I’ve failed before I’ve even started,” she sighed staring at the scan picture they had got from that day. She thought about the contractions, the labour, Arthur there giving her encouragement and breathing exercises, she picked her playlist. Her birth plan was now going completely out the window and she was struggling to deal with that it wasn’t going to be the experience she had built up in her mind.

“Look. I know you’re disappointed and that’s understandable but the most important thing for me is you are safe and our little girl is safely bought into the world,” he rubbed her belly gently like he had done so many times before. Their daughter always kicked at that and this time was no exception. They smiled at each other again before Arthur tried once again to support his wife.

“How this baby gets here doesn’t change any of that. It doesn’t change how incredible you are, how you’ve kept a lobing home for them for the last eight months and how we will continue to provide them with a loving home when they’re here.”

“You’re good at this.” She replied with a tearful laugh.

Two weeks later, Arthur was in scrubs, seated beside his wife in the operating room. He’d never felt so helpless—watching a plethora of surgeons around the table, Emma lying still but tense, his hand clasped in hers.

“It’s okay,” he whispered to her, even though his stomach was in knots. “I’m right here.”

And then, at 8:42 a.m., a cry filled the room. High-pitched and furious, alive and loud. The pair both exhaled breaths they didn’t realise they were holding.

A nurse brought her over swaddled and pink, and he stared down at the tiny face carefully taking the little bundle immediately feeling the biggest rush of love he had ever experienced. “Hi,” he whispered, already crying. “Hi, little one.”

Emma looked over at them, tears streaking down her cheeks. “Is she okay?”

Arthur leaned in, bringing their daughter close to Emma’s face. “She’s perfect.”

The first few days at home were a whirlwind. Arthur had imagined parenthood would be tough, he had read all of the book after all but nothing prepared him for the sheer scale of sleep deprivation, anxiety, disorganisation but also of overwhelming love. Ivy barely seemed to sleep unless she was lying on someone’d chest and even then she woke uo every hour almost on the hour for a feed. As the weeks went by things settled slightly and Ivy would be more alert. Arthur  took those opportunities to talk to his daughter, whispering to her about chess, YouTube video ideas, and why she absolutely couldn’t cry every time he tried to change her.

Arthur tried to pick up the slack as she was healing slowly from the surgery, each movement tender, each night a challenge. Arthur did his best to be everywhere at once; changing nappies, washing pump part, giving pain killers, making a ridiculous amount of toast with one hand while holding Ivy in the other.

One evening, about two weeks in, they sat in bed together while Ivy napped in her cot beside them. The house was finally quiet. They were laying there with her head on Arthur’s shoulder. “I was so scared of all of this,” she said. “The C-section, the recovery… I thought I’d feel like I failed somehow. But then she came, and suddenly none of it mattered.”

Arthur kissed the top of her head. “I told you. It doesn’t matter how she got here. Only that she’s here. And that you’re both okay.”

“You’ve been amazing, you know. Ivy’s so lucky.”

Arthur snorted. “I can’t even put a baby grow on the right way half the time.”

“I mean those poppers are tricky,” she agreed.

They sat in silence, the soft sound of Ivy’s breathing filling the room.

Arthur looked down at their sleeping daughter, then back at wife. “I think we’re going to be alright at this.”

“Yeah. I think so too.”

As Ivy grew she was full of opinions and questions and absolutely no fear. She’d inherited her mothers hair and her fathers cheeky grin and inquisitively, which meant every time she got in trouble usually for things like painting the dog or refusing to wear anything but wellies and a fairy dress Arthur had to turn away so she wouldn’t see him laugh.

Arthur adored being a dad. He loved the chaos, he would make up the most random and adventurous stories before bed, the zoo would be their favourite place for “daddy daughter days” as he called it when he wasn’t working. It took a while for them to get the balance right but they were now in a really good place.

Then came the curveball.

Arthur found it one Saturday morning on the bathroom sink, next to the toothpaste. He stared at it for a full thirty seconds before yelling, “Y/N?!”

She walked in sheepishly, already bracing herself.

“Is this… are you…?”

She bit her lip and nodded. “I took it last night. I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. I’ve felt a bit off lately.”

Arthur blinked. “Off like… off-off? Or off like ‘growing a human’ off?”

Emma gave a small laugh. “Apparently the second one.”

He took a moment. Then another. And then he laughed. Loud and giddy and maybe a little unhinged.

“We’re having another baby,” he said, like saying it out loud would make it real. “Oh my god.”

Emma stepped toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, wrapping her tightly in his arms. “Yeah. I’m more than okay.”

Telling Ivy was its own adventure.

She sat at the kitchen table, munching toast and dramatically refusing the crusts, when Arthur crouched beside her.

“Mummy has a surprise for you,” he said.

Ivy’s eyes lit up. “Is it a rabbit?”

“Uh… no. Not quite I’m still working on that one promise.

Emma sat beside her. “There’s a baby in Mummy’s tummy.”

Ivy looked between them, jam covered brow furrowed. “What does that mean? Did you eat it?”

“No!” Arthur’s laughed rang through the kitchen wishing he had filmed this now. “You’re going to be a big sister.”

She paused, processing. Then her face scrunched up. “But I’m the baby.”

“You’ll still be our baby,” Emma assured her. “But now there’ll be another little one too.”

Ivy looked unconvinced, then took a bite of toast and shrugged. “Okay. Can I name it Kitty cat?”

“We’ll think about it.”

The new baby, a boy they called Orson slotted into their family perfectly. At first Arthur was concerned he wouldn’t love a second child as much as he did their first but those fears were taken away the second he was born and wrapped a hand around his finger. Orson was chaos and energetic, the second he could move his hands were in everything. Uncle Chris took him to football every Sunday for a kick about while Arthur watched his daughters ice skating. Wednesdays when Ivy was at nursery Arthur would take Orson out to his place of choosing which was usually a park or a soft play, Arthur often got more stuck in going down all the slides.

Saturdays were family days, they would often go out or when the weather was bad would stay in and “camp” in the living room. After one particularly intense game of the floor is lava she turned to her husband and smiled.

“Do you ever think about another one?”

“No, but  I wouldn’t change these two for the world.”

[bunnliix]

When Eight Becomes Nine - Chapter Ten

okie, this is a long chapter. I didn't mean for it to get this long, but here it is! Also I apologize in advance for the ending.

Pairing: Ateez x 9th member!reader  Summary: The aftermath of Hongjoong and y/n's little cuddle session, and a decision is made. wc: 3.3k AU: a/b/o  Genre: Fluff/Angst  warnings: yelling, screaming, Angst, Hongjoong's room, crying, aftermath of Hongjoong's room (it's nothing graphic or bad, but like someone gets in trouble and gets sent to Hongjoong's room and yeah. There are tears and sadness), name calling (idiot), Wooyoung being dramatic!, Seonghwa being done, Ateez being touchy feely, anxiety, self-doubts?, almost injuries? like injuries could have happened, but they didn't, zoning out, derogatory names and slut-shaming, use of the word slut in a derogatory way, y/n gets slut-shamed despite nothing actually happening, fighting, and I think that's it?? masterlist

San woke up, finding that their pack alpha and omega were missing from the pack den. It wasn’t unusual for Hongjoong-hyung to go missing, but for Seonghwa-hyung to not be here was odd as well. Fortunately for the beta, the mystery of where the older omega had disappeared to, would be solved quickly as the omega in question silently opened the door and walked into the room. 

Seeing San awake, Seonghwa jumped slightly. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, Sannie sweetheart.” Seonghwa apologized, unsure of when the beta woke up.

“I woke up when you had already left, hyung. You didn’t wake me.” San replied, voice gravelly as he had just woken up.

“Oh, that’s good then. You can go back to sleep now.” The omega told him, smiling.

“Where’s Joong-hyung?” The younger man asked.

“He fell asleep in the living room. I couldn’t wake him up to bring him back in here, so I left him there.”

“Do we know if y/n is awake yet? She’s slept for a long time.”

“She was awake. She’s gone back to bed now, since no one will be up soon.”

“Is she okay?” San asked, voice filled with concern.

“I think she will be.” Seonghwa reassured him, before pulling the beta down into the nest with him, “Now, let’s sleep, shall we?” He asked, though it wasn’t really an ask at all.

San nodded, letting his head be pulled into his hyung’s neck, breathing in the calming scent of lavender and chamomile as he drifted back into dreamland once again. Seonghwa wasn’t too far behind him, and the two remained intertwined as they both slept peacefully.

Unknown to either of them, San hadn’t been the only one awake in the nest. Wooyoung had overheard their conversation, being that he was laid right next to Sannie, though now Seonghwa-hyung was right next to him instead. He pouted that Hwa-hyung had gotten to see and talk to his baby omega. He wanted to be the first one to see her this morning, and since she was awake not long ago, it shouldn’t be hard to wake her up again. He’s barely gotten to spend time with her - completely ignoring the fact that he’s monopolized her time since she’s arrived here - and he wanted to learn even more about her, about his new member and baby omega. (Honestly Wooyoung might just be more delulu than Atinys are)

He found that Yeosang had clung to him while they were sleeping, and though he tried to pull himself out of the alpha’s grip, he was unable to do so. He watched as Yeosang’s eyes fluttered open, locking onto him as soon as the other man was awake enough to realize where he was.

“And what do you think you’re trying to do, pretty ‘mega?” the fairy-like alpha asked.

Wooyoung chuckled nervously, “Nowhere, just needed to get a bit comfier, that’s all.” He said, and by the look on his friend’s face, he was nowhere near convincing enough.

“Sure. You definitely weren’t about to sneak out and try and see the omega sleeping in Hongjoong-hyung’s room.” The elder, though only by months, man said, completely unconvinced.

The omega pouted, looking away from his alpha pack mate. Fingers gripped his chin and turned his head so that he had to look at his friend. “We can go and wait in the living room for her to wake up. But I won't allow you to go in and wake her. She deserves to not be woken up by you jumping on top of her.” Yeosang told his friend.

And with that, Yeosang carefully pulled the two of them into a sitting position in the nest, before looking around to see if any of the others had woken up, finding that they were the only two awake. He then stood up, pulling Wooyoungie up as well and exiting the room silently. The two idols followed the smell of coffee and vanilla, just as Seonghwa had earlier, though there were other scents that were unfamiliar. Walking into the living room, they found their captain and their guest cuddling together on the couch.

“What?! Why does Hongjoong-hyung get to cuddle my baby omega, but not me!?” Wooyoung shouted, shocking the two on the couch out of their peaceful sleep. Yeosang immediately slapped a hand over Wooyoung’s mouth, but the damage had been done.

Y/n bolted up out of her sleep, knocking heads with Hongjoong and they both cried out in pain. The two turned to see that it was each other that they had bumped into, and blushes and stammered words were their responses to the situation they had ended up in.

“Look what you’ve done, you idiot.” Yeosang scolded Wooyoung, who pouted at being scolded, but ultimately looked concerned as to the pain the alpha and omega pair on the couch were in.

“Are you okay?” Hongjoong asked y/n, concerned about her.

She groaned but nodded, feeling disoriented from barely being awake and then the pain from knocking heads with Hongjoong. The alpha moved to check her head, making sure there were no bumps or anything to be concerned about. There he found the bruises from yesterday, and grew concerned over it, but he knew that it wasn’t the time to bring that up. Thankfully, she didn’t have any bumps from their little clash, and he sighed in relief before setting his sights on the omega who caused this to happen.

“Wooyoung, you better have a damn good reason for yelling.” He said, his voice almost a growl by the end. Wooyoung shrunk and hid behind Yeosang, hoping that the other alpha would save him from their pack alpha. Yeosang, being smart and not having a death wish, pulled away from his friend, leaving him in full view of their pack alpha.

“Sangieeee, how could you leave me to die?!” Wooyoung shouted dramatically.

“You did this to yourself. Deal with the consequences.” Yeosang said to his friend.

“Yah! You betrayed me!”

“And you woke y/n-ssi and I from our sleep. All because you had to yell. My room, now.” The captain said to the younger idol, with no room for argument. Wooyoung knew that, and started to slink off to Hongjoong’s room, dreading what was to come.

However, he stopped as the rest of Ateez filed out into the living room, having been woken up by the commotion in the living room. Their sleepy footsteps had gone unnoticed in the back and forth chatter, though all eyes looked to the remaining five as they took stock of the four who were already in the living room.

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa started, his voice sickly sweet, “did you wake up Hongjoong and y/nnie?” He asked, though he already knew the answer.

Wooyoung started to back away, knowing he was already completely fucked. “Um, would you accept no as an answer?” He replied.

Seonghwa, ignoring everyone else in the room, stalked over to his baby omega, and grabbed the idol by the back of his shirt, pulling him away to Hongjoong’s room, calling out to the pack alpha as he did so. “Darling, we have an omega to talk to. Come on, don’t be late.” Hongjoong, knowing it wasn’t good to dilly dally when Seonghwa was in this type of mood, smiled down at y/n, covering her with the blanket before following behind the two omegas.

Yeosang approached the couch, as did the others, slightly crowding around y/n, who was still sleepy and confused about what happened.

“I’m sorry that Wooyoung woke you up, y/n-ssi.” Jongho apologized, voice a bit gruff from sleep.

“It’s okay. Will he be okay?” Y/n asked them, worried for her fellow omega.

“He’ll be fine. He just needs to be reminded about what we don’t do in this pack.” Yeosang assured her.

She nodded, still concerned for what would happen to Wooyoung-oppa in Hongjoong-oppa’s room. San moved to sit down next to her, Yeosang taking up the other spot on the opposite side of her, as the other three settled down around her as well. 

“Did you sleep well?” San asked, absentmindedly playing with the blanket on top of y/n.

“I did. I really didn’t mean to fall asleep on Hongjoong-ssi though. I’m sorry.” She said, bowing in apology after finishing.

“Why are you apologizing?” Mingi questioned, looking confused.

“I fell asleep on your pack alpha, I shouldn’t have done that.” She explained like it was obvious.

Yunho cut in, “It’s okay. If hyung hadn’t wanted you to fall asleep on him, he would have said something. And if he is okay with it, then we have no room to argue or get mad at you for it. It’s okay, truly.”

She nodded, still not really believing them. She knew different packs had different boundaries, and she herself had very limited experience with packs, outside of her own family pack, but it felt wrong to have done that, without any of the others permission.

San, sensing a bit of discomfort from her, reached out to grab her hand, his grip loose enough for her to slip out of it if she truly didn’t want him to hold onto her hand. He looked down at her, “Truly, it’s okay y/n. I can promise you as the pack beta of the Ateez pack, that none of us have felt uncomfortable by any of your actions, and Hongjoong wouldn’t have comforted you as he did this morning and last night, if he didn’t want to.” He told her, trying to convey to her the honesty in his words.

She looked up at him, and she could hear and see the truth to his words. To be frank, she never held any distrust in their words, it was more of a her problem than anything else. “Thank you, San-ssi.” She thanked him.

“No problem, and you can drop the formality. You can call me, San, San-oppa, Sannie, anything you want.” He told her, pulling her in for a quick side hug before pulling away again.

Y/n felt her cheeks heat up as San pulled away, unsure of how to react to how touchy everyone seemed to be now. Sure, some of them were touchy before, cough cough Wooyoung cough cough, but it felt very odd for the others to be so touchy with her. She shrugged it off as everyone was still trying to shrug off the last slivers of sleep.

Yunho felt his phone buzz in the pocket of his sweatpants, pulling it out to find a message from their manager, wondering where they were. He finally looked at the time and realized that they were scheduled to be at the company 30 minutes ago.

“So, we have to run. We were supposed to be at the company 30 minutes ago. I’ll get the three in hyung’s room. The rest of you, get dressed please. Yeosang, San, team up and find some clothing for y/n please. She doesn’t need to go back into the company in yesterday’s clothes, and we don’t have time to stop by your dorm. I’m sorry.” Yunho took charge, directing everyone and looking over to the smallest of them all, apologizing to her.

She waved off his apologies, telling him it was okay as San pulled her off the couch and led her away, Yeosang tagging along and walking behind the two. Yunho set off to get the remaining three on track to leave the dorm. Arriving quickly at the captain’s room, he knocked on the door, receiving a “come in” from two out of the three within the room. He opened the door to find Wooyoung with tear tracks down his cheeks, as he was held in between the two eldest members of the group.

“We’re 30 minutes late. We have to go, hyung is wondering where we are.” He informed the trio. Hongjoong immediately moved off of the bed, heading into his closet to get ready. Seonghwa wiped the remaining tears off of Wooyoung’s face, before coaxing the younger omega to slide off the bed as well, guiding him out of the room with words of comfort whispered in his ears. He stopped in front of Yunho, pulling one arm away from the younger omega to wrap around the taller man’s head, pulling him down to kiss his forehead. “Thank you Yun-sweetie. I know you wrangled the others for us. Now go get ready yourself. Joongie and I will handle it from here, okay?” The eldest told him, before releasing him and walking away with Wooyoung.

Yunho quickly left to his own room, and it wasn’t long before the nine of them all met back up in the living room, which still had the remnants of the late night activities of Hongjoong. The alpha in question quickly moved to pack up his laptop and headphones, as he would be bringing them with him today.

“Okay, are we all ready?” Seonghwa asked in his normal soft tone of voice, receiving many nods and other affirmative responses. He became the leader of the line of idols and y/n as they made their way to the door. Mingi once again, the sweetheart he is, knelt down to tie y/n’s shoelaces for her, smiling up at her once he finished before standing up and leaving through the front door. She didn’t realize how long she stared until Seonghwa came up to her, a gentle arm wrapping around her shoulders and guiding her out the door as well, pulling the door closed behind the two of them.

“Let’s get down to the car, shall we? The others are waiting, baby omega.” He said, his voice soft and kind as she smelt the same lavender and chamomile scent that was on the blanket. He must have been the one to find Hongjoong-oppa and her this morning, before Wooyoung violently woke them up. She nodded, and let him lead her down to the van waiting outside their dorm.

Seonghwa pushed her inside first, where she took the empty spot next to Jongho, while the taller omega took his spot next to Hongjoong and Wooyoung, the other omega still looking a bit rough, but it seems that he would be okay, like the others had said. 

The car quickly took off, before y/n was able to buckle in, and Jongho’s hand immediately shot out to prevent her from falling forwards and bumping her head on something. He pulled her back into her seat, quickly finding the seatbelt and buckling her in. “Be careful, we don’t want you getting hurt. It wouldn’t be a good look if management heard that we let you get hurt.” Jongho said to her, before pulling his phone out and texting someone.

Y/n looked away, pulling out her own phone, finally taking a moment to herself, even if she was in the van surrounded by all eight members of Ateez. She took a moment to look down at her outfit. Yeosang and San had managed to pull together an outfit that mostly fit her. She had been given a pair of Hongjoong’s sweatpants that had ended up in Yeosang’s closet, and her socks were from Wooyoung, while her top was from San, so it was a bit big on her in places. The hoodie she wore on top came from Mingi, who draped it over her head as he walked by the trio in the hallway. The scent of wood and leather was almost embedded in the hoodie, and she recognized it as one he’s worn on more than one occasion. She felt grateful that the alpha would lend her an item he clearly treasured, considering how much his scent surrounded it.

It didn’t take long to reach the company, or maybe y/n just got a bit too absorbed in her phone to realize how long or short the drive was. Her shoulder being shaken pulled her out of wherever her brain went, and she looked over to see that it was Yunho who was shaking her.

“Are you okay?” He asked her, looking concerned, “I can have the driver take you back to the dorm if you’re not feeling well enough to be here today.” He told her, giving her the option.

She shook her head, unbuckling her seatbelt and exiting the car, where she found the other seven were waiting for her, all of their eyes on her form. She looked down, avoiding their eyes for a moment until Wooyoung came by her side and grabbed her hand.

“Come on, let’s go inside already. There’s no use standing around out here.” He said, pulling her along as the others seemed to surround the two of them, almost like mini-bodyguards. It seemed that the older omega’s words broke the tension, and everyone started chatting, including her in the conversation as well, not letting her feel left out.

They quickly arrived at the meeting room that the boys had been told to meet at, where they found the entirety of the other auditionees as well as Ateez’s management team. They filed in, Wooyoung still holding y/n’s hand, and it seemed that all of the auditionee’s attention went to the two omega’s connection, before they looked away, speaking to each other. Y/n knew it most likely was gossip about her, and she tried to sneakily pull her hand away from where Wooyoung had gripped it, only for the older omega to hold her hand even tighter.

“What’s this meeting about?” Hongjoong asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We’ve set up a meeting to talk about the newest member of Ateez. Y/n-ssi, please take a seat over with the other auditionees.” One of the staff spoke up, before directing her to take a seat.

Y/n moved over to the group, doing her best to ignore the whispers they clearly wanted her to overhear. She sat down next to Aaron, the only person who seemed to be nice to her.

“Where did you go yesterday? You never came back to the dorms last night. And now you walked in with Ateez?” He questioned her.

“I happened to meet up with them in the foyer of the company, and since we were all heading to the same place, I came with them.” She said, ignoring the other question.

Aaron opened his mouth to try and pull more answers out of her, but was stopped by one of Ateez’s managers clearing his voice before speaking. “So, we’ve gathered here to talk about the ninth member of Ateez. Since we’ve had a couple days to evaluate your abilities, we’ve decided it’s time to come to a decision.” He explained.

“We think we’ve made our decision on who we want to be our final member. They have great dancing and singing skills, and they seem to get along well with others.” Seonghwa spoke.

“Well, maybe we’ve thought of the same person then. We wanted to present Aaron to you as the ninth member of Ateez. He’s got the qualities of what makes Ateez, Ateez. Plus, he’ll blend in well, being another guy.” The staff member spoke, seemingly very excited.

“What?! I was told that this would be our decision, not yours.” Hongjoong quickly spoke out.

“Well, you’ve clearly spent a lot of time with the omega of the auditionees, and maybe they would work well in a girl group, but the staff who have observed you all, think that Aaron is the best fit as the final member of the group.” The staff member continued.

“I think we have some say in who our last member is, considering that they will have to live with us.” Seonghwa said, supporting Hongjoong.

“Yeah! We want baby omega to be our ninth member!” Wooyoung cried out.

“Well, I guess sleeping with the members is one way to get what you want. But really, did you ever think the staff would be supportive of an omega slut becoming the newest member of Ateez? You omegas think that you can get whatever you want by flashing and giving away your body to alphas, but you won’t get away with it this time.” She heard in her ear as she watched the idols she had grown close to, fight their management for her.

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[fraugwinska]

Follow up idea to the person who suggested that lovely birthday doodle request,, Reader who can draw proficiently as a hobby and often sketches folks at the hotel in their sketch book. Alastor is a bit offended that no matter what it seems as though he’s no where in this book, when they retire for the night he brings it up almost as if he’s jealous and they laugh at him. He’s upset because now he feels as though they are making fun of him until they retrieve another book and turns out they draw him in privacy (he’s so special he has his own book) It’s so cute too theres little heart doodles and them holding hands everywhere

Darling, how can I say no to 1) you *handheart* and 2) to such a cute pürompt? Make way, guys, gals and non-binary pals, here comes the fluff-queen!

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Pictures of You

“ME NEXT! ME NEXT!” You tugged your sketchbook out of Niffty's small but surprisingly strong fingers. The little demon giggled and almost fell from your shoulder, making you laugh.

“Niff, any more doodles of you and I'd have to pay you royalties. Also, Angel asked first.”

You grinned, turning another page of the thick binder to an empty canvas and twirled the coal pen in your hand. Husk had just involuntarily changed his sleeping position from 'face in hands' to 'face on counter', groaning at the impact, so you wanted to start anew. Niffty resumed to braid your hair – you often let her just do what she wanted, she had a knack for it anyways – and huffed. “You only want to draw him because he can do impossible poses.” “Well, he is flexible.”

“Comes with the job, sweet cheeks.” Angel, who had entered through the door, grinned at you, taking his pink heart-shaped sunglasses off while he walked behind you, leaning over your shoulder. “Aw, toots, you really are talented, Husky looks like a snack there. Can I have that when 'ya done?”

“Have what, my effeminate fellow?” Angel jumped as Alastor materialized behind him without warning, releasing a startled 'Jesus Christ on a cracker!' while his lower set of arms clung onto your tensed shoulders. The radio demon laughed heartily, bending over slightly to look past Angel's head. He craned his neck and reached with his cane, forcing you to lean sideways so he could examine what you were drawing.

You flinched at the contact with the strangely warm metal, but didn't look up from the page. You only gripped the black coal tighter, feeling it beginning to crack. Alastor hummed in what sounded almost fond praise, giving a brief tap to Husk's shape on the paper.

"Marvelous! What a talent you have." he proclaimed. "Although I have to ask again, my dear, how come you never draw me? Surely I could..."

You lifted a finger, face scrunched up in concentration and shook your head, eyes firmly on the almost finished sketch. Alastor clicked his tongue in a displeased way, clawed fingers impatiently tapping the microphone at the end of his cane.

"Really, dearest. I have a great interest for-"

"Hold on!"

"-a unique idea of the possibilities-"

"Done!"

As you finished, you stretched your cramped hand, setting down the charcoal on the armrest of the red plush sofa and rubbing your fingers to get rid of the black stains. You ripped the paper out of the sketchbook and handed it to Angel, carefully avoiding Alastors burning eyes and ignoring the angry static pops sizzling on your skin.

"There you go, Ange. You can lock it in with a little coat of hairspray, otherwise it will smudge easily."

You hastily stood up, letting Niffty tumble down your back onto the sofa with a wild giggle while you quickly assembled your things. You saw Alastor open his mouth and interrupted whatever speech he might've wanted to deliver you, your heart racing and mouth unusually dry.

"Oh, would you look at the time, I promised Charlie to get laundry done by the evening, I better get going. Maybe another time, yeah? Okay, bye!"

You were already through the door by the time he had registered you leaving, mouth half-open and ready to protest against whatever injustice he felt you had done him. His eyebrow twitched slightly at your retreating figure, eyes flickering between the corner you disappeared around and Angel Dust, the latter laughing mockingly at the deer.

"Aw shucks, failing again, deer daddy? What is it now, the fifth time she blew 'ya off?"

"The seventh.", Niffty corrects him, scratching on the black spot where you had set the charcoal in between your work. Alastor gave her a sour expression, while Angel leaned back, eyeing the sketch of his subject of interest with lovingly.

"Maybe she took 'ya by heart, Smiles. Don't 'ya always say 'ya got a face for radio only?"

***

Alastor was fuming.

Everyone was in that damn book, everyone. And yet, he was nowhere in it to be found.

In his opinion he was far superior in beauty of aesthetics then, for example, Angel Dust, or Vaggie. Hell, Husk had even made an entry, and all he did was lay around and drink himself into oblivion. Why would you take the time to sketch these nobodies in detail instead of him? Was he that unimportant to you, did you deem him that unworthy? Or was this your subtle way of making fun of his appearance, his laughable predicament of being a predator in a prey body?

He thought he'd have been generous enough not to reprimand you, or destroy that damned book all together after all this time. It was your luck that he had developed a strange fondness of you. Alastor only ever bothered himself with a few souls since his arrival in hell, and his encounter with you was a happy coincidence indeed. You were so much less annoying, so much more quiet and respectful than most of the demons around him, with your charcoal pen behind your ear and a keen eye for beautiful things that you turned into artworks like it was your second nature.

And even though you've always seemed to take a liking to him, his patient questions for a sketch, a portrait or just anything of him was met by you with dismissiveness, awkward excuses or outright evading, only ever drawing other sinners, even the cursed piglet Angel called a pet. But never, never him.

This couldn't go on any longer. He would talk to you about it, and either you would draw him willingly or you would draw nothing at all.

Your room was located only three corridors down his own suite, right across of a broken down door. Despite the late hour you had left the door cracked open, music faintly streaming through it along the orange light of your desk lamp. Which meant you were still awake. Still working. Still drawing.

The door made no sound when he pushed it open, carefully peeking his head inside. He was right, your back was hunched over your desk, completely lost in your work while your voice hummed along with the little melody from the radio.

The radio he had gifted you. He snapped his fingers and the music screeched loudly before coming to a stop, the radio dying instantly and making you jump in your seat.

"JESUS!" You whipped your head around, clutching your heart. He gave his best charming smile, red eyes narrowing in on you.

"No dear, it's just me." he smiled maliciously and closed the door behind him, it clicking ominously shut. Locked. You laughed awkwardly, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face and hastily closed the thick, black sketchbook on the desk shut, a different one than the one from before. A new one. Another cursed one without him in it, surely.

"Haha, thank satan, I'm not dressed to meet the son of god." you quibbed, avoiding his gaze and twirling your pencil, something you always did when you were nervous.

He didn't join into your joke, instead he walked over to your dresser, where the filled sketchbook from before laid. Open, showing a detailed drawing of Keekee stretching in front of the fireplace. The blasted cat was the last straw.

"Why," Alastor spoke sharply, barely registering his antlers sprouting in angry cracks, "are there any and every sinners and creatures depicted in that... doggone, ridiculous thing?".

His words were spat with so much anger he missed your scared and confused look when you pushed your chair back, almost tripping and scrambling to get away. "What? Alastor, I..."

He hit the book once, almost tearing the thick parchment. "And not one mention of me? You have no idea how utterly vexing and insulting it is to feel ignored, or rather unnoted! What did I do, oh do tell, dear, that makes you think of me so below you that you just outright forget my existence?!"

Again, he hit the book, feeling it starting to rip from the amount of pent up frustration tightening his grip. But it did feel good, immensely so, to take it out on the damn thing he would have shredded weeks ago, if you didn't enjoy it so much.

"N-Nothing, you really don't... you don't understand...", you laughed nervously, eyes too pleading, too soft for his liking, as if you mocked him or worse: Pitied him. The thought alone fueled his anger further.

"Then I advise you to make me understand, my darling.", he growled, shoes scratching on the wooden floors with each step as he neared you, pressing you against the desk. "Because otherwise, I have no inhibitions to incinerate every single one of these god damn..."

"I draw you all the time. In your own book."

You grabbed the sketch book from the desk and thrust it in his face, spouting more nonsense with teary eyes that went deaf through his ears, only glaring at the cover and then opening it, ready for anything.

Nothing. Nothing but him.

There was no mention of anyone else.

There was nothing but him. His face. Portraits, stills, sketches, whole sceneries, doodles even.

Pages and pages full of his own features, his eyes looking back at him, so carefully captured in coal lines that his head reeled.

There he was, walking in long strides through the lobby, hair perfect and suit straight, the drawing so detailed it could've been a photography. On the other side was a picture of him, his eyes narrowed, showing no emotion as he stared down at the hotel papers in his hand. The next page, he was captured in a fight with that buffoon Sir Pentious, his is mouth cracked in an evil smile, claws stretched and ready to snap the snakes' airship in half.

And ever in between those artworks: Little doodles, as if drawn with an absent mind, of him and you. Holding hands. Embracing each other. Laughing together. Gazing into each others eyes. Silly hearts all around them.

Alastor almost dropped the book and the shakily uttered your name, for once truly at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Alastor...", he finally heard your muttering, voice trembling with tears. "I didn't know how... I was just... so... so embarrassed, and..."

Embarrassed. The absolute absurdity of it all.

Here he had been, worried you found him beneath the beauty you held in such esteem, wounded even so much as to bring out this unjustified anger. The fool he was. He was an idiot to have not considered the other possible explanations for your reticence.

Slowly, carefully, as if you'd spook and run should he move too fast, Alastor wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, still holding the book safely in his hand, pressing it into your back. At his will, his shadow lifted a hand and turned the radio on once again, a low hum resounding from the speakers as the soothing, quiet music continued.

"Mon cœur, the unnecessary pain you caused us both. And yet, I'm the one who has to apologize.", he said with an honesty he rarely spoke with. "We're both, evidently, quite hopeless. No use in keeping these feelings and words unsaid any longer then, hm? Can you forgive this old fool?"

You stared at him bewildered, at a loss for words yourself, before a relieved smile cracked your worried frown. Shiny tear streaks were running over your reddening cheeks, he wiped them off your face with a soft swipe of his thumb.

"Of course... As long as I can continue drawing you." You chuckled and pushed your face into his chest, Alastor was more than certain to hide the flush of your cheeks. He chuckled, gripping the book in his hands tighter as he buried his nose in your hair. You smelled like paper, paint and charcoal. And underneath it all lingered the scent of something new, yet familiar. Something... very much like him.

"Draw the both of us like this to perfection, darling, and that would be a deal worth to agree on."

[teawitch]

Witchcraft and Fire

In honor of Witchblr's Fire Safety Wheel of the Year season, I've decided to share a few stories - with the underlying message - GET A FIRE EXTINGUISHER!

Blessed be thy ARRRRGGHHH

This one goes back to the 90s or so. I wasn't present and didn't know the individual involved, but the story still circulates through witchcraft circles, though I can't find the original video.

Imagine if you will a male witch, skyclad, demonstrating his relationship with the element of fire (A naked man showing off) when the fire gets a little too close to his "blessed be thy loins." Yeah, a lot of frantic swatting at the loins followed.

Anyway, did you know your hair is flammable? Even the hair down there.

But it says Water!

Knowing the person involved, I wasn't that surprised by this one. So, in an attempt to find a way out of ongoing "can you blow out the candle" debate, the person involved decided to pour Florida water on it.

For those who haven't encountered it, Florida water is a cologne often used for cleansing and purification in various traditions. Since Florida has hefty Cuban and Puerto Rican populations, we can buy Florida water at Walmart. So having it on hand isn't unusual. But one main component of Florida Water is alcohol.

Fortunately the resulting flare up didn't set anything on fire. But I will suggest investing in a candle snuffer for the altar.

We summoned the quarters. I thought they'd keep us safe.

I was at a ritual where at one point we needed to leave the inside ritual space to conduct part of the ritual outdoors. I was early out the door because it takes me a little longer to navigate stairs and assumed the candles were extinguished before everyone left. I was wrong.

As we were coming back in after magic and meditation, I heard a rush ahead of me. Apparently the candles, taper and in not really the sturdiest of holders, had burned nearly down, were flaring up since herbs had been included in the wax, and were about to catch the altar cloth on fire.

"I thought they'd be safe because we were in ritual and had cast a circle" was the response from the person leading ritual.

(I do have to admit, the candles only almost burned the house down. Anyway - don't leave candles unattended.)

In my defense, it was a long, intense ritual

So, I can't leave myself out of the stories. As part of my practice, we do a year of shadow work. This includes keeping a specific journal which is burned as part of an intense ritual at the end of the year.

Now I'm in Florida which is often humid and damp, so the only way to successfully burn a lot of paper is either set up a fire pit or, well, nestle a tealight candle at the bottom of a large fire-safe cauldron. Which I'll admit, has its drawbacks. But it was raining that night and I wanted to complete the ritual. So I set the cauldron on a tile floor on the edge of the back door.

It's a long ritual, feeding paper to the flame, chanting and meditating. It's also tiring. Eventually, I decided to end the ritual and needed to put out the bits of paper smouldering at the bottom of the cauldron. Keep in mind, there was no flame. Just charred paper with bits still glowing around the edges.

So I poured in some of the tea for ritual.

Flame shot a good foot out of the cauldron.

Fortunately, the space was clear enough that there was nothing nearby to set on fire.

I'd forgotten about the tea light. Most modern candles are made of paraffin, or a similar oil. You can't put out an oil fire with water.

Now the candle wasn't burning. It was like the paper - just sitting at the bottom, smouldering a bit. I'd forgotten it was there. When the tea hit it, it woke up with a vengeance. I grabbed the lid I should have been using and slammed it down on the cauldron and everything was fine.

Get a fire extinguisher!

[jxwl4k]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Christmas Eve .𖥔 ݁ ˖

☘︎ . . . genre. fluff

☘︎ . . . pairings. bakugou x reader

⤿ a snowy cityscape on christmas eve.

Snowflakes swirled in the chilly night air, the city glowing with festive lights and bustling with holiday cheer. It was Christmas Eve, and while most people were home celebrating with their loved ones, Pro Hero Dynamight was finishing up his patrol. Katsuki Bakugou trudged through the snow-covered streets, his sharp crimson eyes scanning for any signs of trouble.

It wasn’t like he hated Christmas; he just didn’t see the point in making a big deal about it. Work always came first.

As he rounded a corner, his comm crackled with a familiar voice.

“All clear in my sector,” you reported. Your voice had a calm warmth to it, one that Bakugou had grown to appreciate more than he cared to admit.

“Same here,” he grunted.

You had been paired with him for tonight’s patrol, which wasn’t unusual since you often worked together. As a pro hero, you were one of the few people who could match his intensity in the field, though your personalities were polar opposites. While Bakugou was fiery and brash, you were calm and steady—a balance he never knew he needed until he met you.

As your shift came to an end, you and Bakugou met up at a small park in the heart of the city. The place was almost magical, with twinkling fairy lights wrapped around the trees and a large Christmas tree standing in the center, its ornaments shimmering in the soft glow of the streetlamps.

“You don’t look very festive,” you teased as you approached him, pulling your scarf tighter around your neck.

“Tch. Like I’ve got time for all that crap,” Bakugou muttered, though his gaze softened slightly as he looked at you.

You chuckled, reaching into your bag and pulling out a thermos. “Hot chocolate?”

He raised an eyebrow but accepted the cup you poured for him. After taking a sip, his lips curved into a small, satisfied smirk. “Not bad.”

“You’re welcome,” you said playfully, sitting down on a nearby bench.

For a while, the two of you sat in companionable silence, watching the snow fall and the occasional group of carolers pass by. It was rare for either of you to get moments like this, away from the chaos of hero work.

“So,” you began, breaking the silence, “any plans for the rest of the night?”

“Just headin’ home,” he said with a shrug, though there was a hint of something else in his voice—maybe hesitation.

You tilted your head, studying him. “No family dinner? No holiday party?”

He scoffed. “You know I’m not into that crap.”

You smiled softly. “Yeah, I know.”

There was a pause, and then, to your surprise, Bakugou spoke again.

“What about you?”

“Me?” you echoed, a bit taken aback. “Probably just going home too. Maybe watch a movie, eat some leftovers. Nothing exciting.”

He frowned, his gaze flicking to you. “That’s dumb.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“I mean—” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s Christmas Eve. You shouldn’t spend it alone.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by his sudden concern. “Are you saying I should find a party or something?”

“No, idiot,” he muttered, looking away, his cheeks faintly pink. “I’m saying… maybe you should spend it with me.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. “Are you asking me to hang out?”

“Call it whatever you want,” he grumbled, avoiding your gaze. “Just don’t make it weird.”

A grin spread across your face as you stood up, brushing the snow off your coat. “Alright, Dynamight. Where to?”

“Back to my place,” he said, finally looking at you. “I’ve got food, movies… and more of that hot chocolate crap if you want it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Sounds like a plan.”

As the two of you walked side by side through the snowy streets, the city lights reflecting in your eyes, you realized this was probably the best Christmas Eve you’d had in years. And judging by the small, almost shy smile on Bakugou’s face, he felt the same way.

Maybe Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.