#and the only soreness i feel is if i accidentally knock the back of my hand onto something

[sashamini]

my hands slipped

[nereidprinc3ss]

hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…

you do you for the rest!

in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.

warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love

a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!

It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied. 

Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details. 

A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name. 

“You in there?”

The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”

“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”

You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror. 

“Actually—could you come in here?”

There’s a pause. 

“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”

“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”

The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it. 

“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort. 

“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”

He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.

“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is. 

“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”

His nose scrunches.

Some might say it scrunches adorably. 

“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”

“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”

He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing. 

“My face freaks you out?”

“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—” 

You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face. 

Oh. He was fucking with you. 

He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer. 

“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.  

“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”

And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.

“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.

For some reason, this offends you. 

“Why not?”

Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.  

“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies. 

“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”

“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”

“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”

Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”

The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic. 

“Well—”

Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you. 

“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”

As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room. 

“My brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”

His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder. 

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”

“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back. 

“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”

“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”

“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately. 

“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”

“See? How hard was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”

“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.

“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”

With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin. 

“I can’t—”

“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. “Just move your shirt again.”

So you do, watching his reflection as he works.

And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are. 

“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer. 

“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”

Something aches in the pit of your stomach. 

Something resembling jealousy. 

It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid. 

Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you. 

You swallow and try to act like yourself. 

“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”

“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it’s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”

Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see. 

“A great colleague would kiss it better.”

“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”

You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.  

“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”

He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in. 

“H—woah.”

“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively. 

“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place. 

“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”

“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable. 

“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. “I’m going to HR!”

“Shut up! You love it!”

His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job. 

You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”

“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it. 

“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”

You frown. 

She makes a good point. 

Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail. 

It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut. 

When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer. 

On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl. 

I would never report you to HR beautiful

That would be a stab in the back!

You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen. 

When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.

Funny. 

Maybe that is the right word for what you two are. 

[sweetshuga]

Keep it on ✰ MS

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

fwb!matt! Your friend (with benefits) bought a new pair of glasses, a sight for sore eyes—and an even sorer aftermath.

Warnings! Smut!, obscene descriptions!, petname (pretty), p in v, unprotected sex (don't do this irl, this is just fiction, protect yourselves hoes<3), friends with benefits, size kink (kinda), dunno what more,

wc. 1.1k

note. English is not my first language! [Prologue]

You and Matt had decided on this weird arrangement after accidentally hooking up at a mutual friend’s party, both having drunk a little too much and zero fucks to give—you stumbled into a spare bedroom and woke up entangled in each other’s arms.

The compatibility was so good that the arrangement seemed logical. No strings attached, just feeling the bliss and having a friend to talk to that you knew wouldn’t judge you; almost too good to be true.

He was addictive.

Today was like any other day; with you knocking on his front door, ready to have the "much–needed" relief. As soon as Matt opened the door, you felt your breath hitch, he looked like a vision, the hair, the stubble, the clothes, the glasses– wait the glasses?

You blinked and stood there entranced, making Matt let out a small chuckle of amusement, "you gon’ stand there all day pretty?" You snapped out of your thoughts at his words, suddenly very nervous and fidgety, "yeah– no, uh... pardon my intrusion," your words came out more like a mumble as you slipped in through the door, your nervousness evident.

You cleared your throat and looked around briefly, "Nick and Chris aren’t home?" You asked, trying to distract yourself.

"Yeah, they were talking about going somewhere today, I’ve been alone all day, it’s a good thing you came, I was getting bored out of my mind," he chuckled as he saw the small fidgeting you were doing with the hem of your shirt, "you nervous or sum’?" Your eyes widened briefly, "whaaat? Me nervous? M’never nervous around you," you downplayed, laughing, but the slight quiver in your voice gave you away.

Matt chuckled again, "right, definitely not nervous, not at all," he said with playful sarcasm.

You couldn’t help a chuckle at his teasing words, even if it was at your expense. "You’re wearing glasses." You stated the obvious. "Yeah, does it look weird?" He asked, grinning while fixing his glasses, "no, not weird," you clarified, "it’s just that I’ve never seen you in glasses before, but I have to say, ’s not a bad look on you," smiling as you gave him a teasing nudge on his arm.

Matt smiled back at you, and took your hand, already leading you to his room. "Well, since my brothers aren’t home, might as well use it to our advantage, no?" You let out a small laugh, "yeah, not like we don’t use any moment of solitude to our advantage," you said as you let yourself practically get dragged into his room.

𓆩♡𓆪

After making out and having a slow sensual foreplay, you had become a needy mess. Your insides craved to be filled by him—the glasses perched on his nose didn’t help your ache, only worsened it. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him closer, eliciting a hum of approval from Matt. He broke the kiss, leaning forward to get a condom out of the bedside drawer.

"Hold on pretty, lemme put on-" you stopped his hands from ripping the condom, "do it raw today, I wanna feel you." A soft groan left his lips as he threw the condom somewhere on the bed, "you’re gonna kill me someday, woman," he breathed out, lining himself at your entrance, prodding but not pushing inside. You bit the side of your bottom lip, rolling your hips as you tried to push him in yourself.

"Matt... c’mon." You whined in frustration, the ache too much to ignore– or go along with his teasing. "Mm... you want this big dick in you huh? Want me to stretch you— split you open with it?" His voice was strained, letting you know that he was just as affected as you were.

"Please Matt, yeah... Please, I need you so bad... c’mon," you pleaded, your voice laced with desperation and pure need. Your hands trailed down his chest towards his stomach, his muscles tensing under your fingertips as shuddering breaths left his lips. "You’re so pretty when you beg like that," he praised, making you look at him with pleading eyes, silently conveying your need.

"Please, Matt— I need it, I need you," he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours. "I know pretty, I know," he murmured against your lips before claiming it in a searing kiss, slowly pushing his thick length in, stretching you deliciously. A soft moan of pure, unadulterated, relief and pleasure fell from your lips. Matt pulled back until only the tip of his dick was inside before slamming his hips flush against yours, bottoming out as he groaned into the crook of your neck.

The sudden feeling of being filled to the brim made your back arch, sharp moans exited through the "O" shape etched on your lips. Your hands clutched desperately at the bedsheets, trying to ground yourself from the intense pleasure as he pounded into you. He snaked one arm under the arch of your back, holding you tightly as his other hand held your hip—with bruising strength.

The subtle hint of pain caused your pleasure to double.

𓆩♡𓆪

Matt groaned in annoyance as his glasses kept slipping down his nose – due to the sweat-slicked skin – his hand on your hip reached for his glasses but you held his forearm, stopping any further movement. Matt’s pace faltered as he looked down at you, confused, "yeah? What’s up pretty? You okay? Am I being too rough-" You chuckled breathlessly at his concerns, "no, no, don’t worry, you’re not being too rough, I just..." You paused.

"You just?" He repeated, panting softly, slowly rolling his hips against yours. A breathy moan fell from your lips, "well, just keep it on alright... you uh... you look good in it, the glasses I mean." You said, still breathless, mumbling an add on, "delicious even," a slow smirk made its way onto his lips, now understanding why you were acting so flustered and fidgety earlier today.

Matt wiped the sweat that had been making his glasses slide, chuckling as he leaned down to your ear, his lips brushing against the shell of it. "Oh I’m gonna keep it on alright, the whole night even, m’gonna fuck this pretty little pussy so good—ruin you for anyone else," he whispered – a promise – before continuing his pounding, each one making your body rise up the bed.

Your tits bounced with each slam as he held you tightly, not letting you escape the intensity of it all. All you could do was cling to him and scream his name as he took what he wanted—what you wanted. Your nails dug into his back, making him hiss and shut his eyes in slight pain and pleasure, his pace never faltering.

The ecstasy etched on his features, the glasses, the stubble, the hair, the earrings, the chain— a sight for sore eyes indeed– and an even sorer aftermath.

𓆩♡𓆪

wc. 1,146

Isa's notes. Yeah... Another smut? I'm so awkward when it comes to writing something like this 🫠 Also, something longer? Gee, I know, but the topic is too good not to write a longer fic to.

༝༚༝༚

© sweetshuga

[lymtw]

hi! omg I just have to tell you that you literally write Toji so well. If you’re taking requests, (if not then so sorry disregard!) may I request something where Toji accidentally hurts reader during sex and how he reacts? Or maybe pushes a boundary or something? Thank you so much! If this doesn’t interest you sorry!

A/N: Hello, hello 😊 Thank you for reading my works! I'm so glad to hear that enjoy the way I write this hunk of a man 🥰🫶🏼

Thank you for sending in this request 💙

It was one of those nights where things were calm and quiet, until Toji got home from a job that took up most of his day. His footsteps were heavy on the floor, his adrenaline was still high, and all he wanted was you, after a day that seemed never ending.

He greeted you like he usually does on days like this, with a weary, 'hey, doll' and a kiss that doesn't last too long, because he's aware of how he reeks of sweat and he feels filthy. He vented a little bit about his day, finally getting to verbalize his frustrations about the client's unprofessionalism and the snarky attitude that he had to deal with all day. The not so subtle sigh he let out afterwards, told you everything. You would have to give him a little extra love once he got out of the shower, to remind him that there will never be ruthlessness in any way, shape or form, similar to what he sees outside, when he comes home. You'll always be his solace, there to take care of him, even before things get too heavy for him to bear on his own.

Toji had different plans for the night. He came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets still gliding down his chest and rolling down his abdomen. You thought maybe he forgot to grab clothes, but that theory was immediately shut down when he unwrapped the towel and started running it up his body to dry himself a little more.

You flipped onto your stomach on the bed, your attention going to your phone as you wait for him to finish getting ready for bed.

"Since when are you shy about ogling me?" Toji asks, after a few seconds, a smirk decorating his face as he rakes his eyes over your backside.

You craned your neck to look at him, and he still wasn't dressed. "I'm not. Just thought it'd be a quick swoop of you getting your clothes on, so I naturally turned around."

He hums. "And if I decide to sleep like this, tonight?"

You shrug. "By all means. If you're comfortable, i'm not gonna stop you."

You never thought you'd have to go back on your word. He was comfortable. Very much so, but you weren't, anymore. It started out as something similar to what you had planned. You were affectionate with him, planting sweet kisses onto his face and lips, which he returned. It really was a loving moment, even when his hands started roaming, grabbing at your chest and teasing you through your underwear. It was still loving when he bared you, pulling off your shirt and kissing your exposed skin, your shorts and underwear being tugged off in the process.

What started out as a gentle lovemaking session, with quiet gasps and hums of pleasure, transitioned into something less delicate. His hips picked up a feral pace that ripped orgasms from both of you, sensitivity being the only thing he slowed down for. Heavy, audible breathing, gasps that sounded like you had the wind knocked out of you and cries, took the place of noises that were once light and controllable—volume-wise.

You felt like you were being used—like he saw you as something insentient, in that moment. Rough sex with him wasn't new, but this was something else, entirely. Everything was starting to hurt in an unpleasant manner. Your abdomen felt sore from how much it tensed each time you came, your thighs burned from being pinned to your chest for so long, and the actual movement of his cock drilling into your abused cunt was starting to bring on some tenderness.

"T-Toji," you call, through a huff. He couldn't hear you over the lewd sounds of skin on skin and his own sounds of pleasure. "Toji," you try again, your voice still coming out meekly. "Please, can we..." you whimper. "Can we pause?"

"Pause?" He grunts, not stilling. "You want me to stop? I'm close, again, baby. Just a little more."

You wanted to last for him. You wanted to let him have this last one, but you couldn't do it. It was too much to endure, and though it was terrifying to say the word, again, for the first time in a while, you had to put an end to it. It was for the best.

"Safe, Toji! Safe! Safe!" You used as much strength as you could to get your legs down, accidentally kicking him in the process. Toji got off of you immediately, his heartbeat doubling its pace— a mixture of his exertion and the sound of your very rarely used safe word, being shouted out. "S-Sorry, i'm sorry!" You choke out, apologizing for the accidental strike. There was guilt in there as well, for killing his pleasure.

He catches his breath before responding to you, not wanting to sound like a panting dog as he communicates the matter with you.

"What are you saying 'sorry' for?" He asks, eyes darting over your frame, watching as you scramble to cover yourself up with the blanket. "No, baby. Don't do that." He leans down to pick up the towel he let fall to the floor, before climbing into bed with you, and drapes it over his lap.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears. You felt vulnerable, unable to look at Toji, even when you could feel his gaze on you.

"You okay?" He asks, looking at your twinkling eyes and the stifled quiver of your lips.

"It's okay," you say, your voice wavering. "It's fine." You glance at him, crossing your arms over your chest beneath the blanket.

"I asked if you're okay. Answer that first."

The room went quiet as you tried to compose yourself. The lump in your throat got more uncomfortable by the second. Your stomach ached from the soreness of your abdominal muscles and from holding in your emotions, for the sake of putting up a strong front that Toji never asked for. He was being genuine and his eyes wouldn't leave your face. He could see you holding it together, poorly.

"It was just a lot... and it was starting to hurt. I just- I needed a break." You swipe the knuckle of your index finger beneath your eye, frustrated by the cool dampness left behind on your skin.

"Okay, and what was that 'sorry' for?" He asks. He wants to hold onto some part of you, to hopefully soothe you a little bit, but he's not sure if you want to be touched by him, right now.

"You didn't get to finish and I kicked you. It was an accident, I swear. I didn't mean to do that. You know I would never hit you, Toji." Your eyes welled up, again. You thought about how you want to make him feel as safe as he makes you feel.

"It didn't hurt me one bit, ma. You barely even touched me, so drop the guilt on that. Also, do you not feel and see the mess we made?"

It's impossible not to. You're both sweaty, the sheets are damp with the juices that flowed out of you and his cum still resides in you—warm and slowly drooling out.

"I'm more than satisfied. I was getting greedy with you, huh?"

You nod your head, giving him a small, weary smile.

He sighs, no trace of disappointment or being let down. If there's anything to be upset over, it's the fact that you apologized for something you were faultless about. He can't bring himself to be firm with you about it, right now. You still did exactly what you were supposed to by using the safe word. As for the guilt that lingered around having to use it, that's a long conversation reserved for a more appropriate time.

"Are you okay?" He asks, again. "Be honest."

"A little sore, but i'm okay," you respond, lifting the blanket up over your chest, again.

"Mm, okay. Stay here." He wraps the towel that rests on him, around his waist. "Don't go anywhere, alright?" The corners of his lips lifted, earning another smile from you before he's off to the bathroom. He grabs a towel and uses hot water to dampen it, knowing that by the time he gets back to you, it'll be warm.

He ran the towel all over you, a simple wipe down, for now, so that you would feel a little cleaner and wait to shower until morning.

His gaze is soft as it trails behind the movement of his hand. This is an act of love for the one who cares about him more than anyone else, meaning his touch is as gentle as can be, like he's mending deeper wounds.

When he got to the most sensitive part, he was especially careful. He was very attentive, dabbing the towel against you, his eyes flitting between what his hands were doing and your face to make sure he wasn't hurting you. You winced a few times, and each time he pressed a kiss to your thigh—a silent apology.

Afterwards, the sheets were pulled off the bed and tossed aside to be washed, along with the blanket. Only the comforter stayed so that you wouldn't have to sleep on the bare mattress. You both got dressed, staying light in clothes for comfort. Even without a blanket, you wouldn't be cold for a second through the night, because Toji clung onto you. He held you tight and murmured sweet nothings into your ear, until all you could do was hum tiredly in response, eventually falling asleep.

[popamolly]

‘DANCE WITH THE DEVIL’ ALASTOR

summary. Alastor grapples with the realization that he might actually have feelings for you, as you contend with the internal conflict of obeying your mother's wishes or pursuing your own happiness.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX

warnings. dark romance, smut if you squint, human!alastor, age gap! you’re in your early 20s while Alastor is in his early 30s, you're naive, Alastor preys on your innocence, blood, kidnapping, implied murder, 18+ minors dni

author’s note. thank you so much for 800 followers! as well as the amount of love this story is getting! i am enjoying writing for human!Alastor and can’t for you all see where i’ll take this. enjoy sinners. (also, if you saw the rough draft and all the mistakes, no you didn’t)

One moment you were on Alastor’s cluttered desk and the next you were in his spacious bed. You had no idea how you got there as it all remained a mysterious blur. The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow on both of your bodies as you two continued to move in sync with one another. Straddling his waist, the rhythmic dance against his hips had your head tossed back in pure bliss. It was a slow, deep, sensation that was vastly different from a few hours before.

His fingernails dragged across your back as he watched your face contort in pleasure, he loved the sight of you— the various marks on you caused by him stirred something within him. It made him wonder how many times can he break you before you crumbled into a million of tiny pieces.

Before you knew it, you were waking up in Alastor’s bed again, only this time you were alone just as the sun reached its peak in the sky. The sunlight was so bright you had to squint your eyes as you sat up in the bed. A delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee and breakfast wafted through the air making your stomach grumble. Knowing that Alastor was perhaps in the kitchen, you pull the sheets from over you and go to stand, your legs felt like jelly and the soreness you felt in between your legs truly made it harder to walk.

You scanned the room for something to wear. All traces of modesty had disappeared since Alastor had taken you across nearly every piece of furniture in his possession, at that point what did you have to be modest about? Opting for one of his blouses, you opened his closet with the expectation of finding a more varied collection, only to discover that each blouse and pair of trousers adhered to a more monochromatic theme.

While reaching for a shirt, you accidentally knocked down another hanger. As you got on your knees to searched for the fallen garment on the floor, your fingertips brushed against a wooden box that was neatly tucked away into the shadows of the closet, sparking your curiosity. You sat down on the floor of the closet, dragging the box toward you to open it- but it was locked.

You decided to leave it be, excusing it as a mere heirloom or something of importance to Alastor. It was left in the back of your mind as you retreat from the closet, you changed into the blouse before leaving his bedroom to follow the delightful scent of breakfast- but before you left the room, you couldn't resist picking up Alastor's forgotten glasses from his nightstand.

As you made your way to the kitchen, the delicious scent of breakfast intensified. The memories of the night before lingered in your mind, a mix of passion and tenderness with Alastor. The soreness between your legs served as a reminder of the intimate moments you shared.

You found Alastor humming a jazz tune as he cooked, completely absorbed in his culinary endeavors. The clinking of utensils against pans filled the air, harmonizing with his cheerful humming. He turned to look at you, a smile spreading across his face.

"Well, good morning, my dear," Alastor greeted, his tone a mix of charm and, at least you hoped, genuine affection. "I hope you slept well."

"Goodmorning Alastor, I did sleep well, thank you," you returned his smile, feeling a sense of comfort in the domestic scene. The small kitchen table was set for two, adorned with a simple but elegant lace. Alastor had an uncanny ability to make even the most mundane tasks seem like an art form.

You took a seat at the table, placing his glasses carefully beside you. Alastor joined you, serving a delicious-looking breakfast onto your plate.

"Help yourself," he said, gesturing to the spread before you. "We had a long night so I am sure you are quite famished.”

You looked down at your silverware as you thanked him, your entire body heating up at the mention of your shared affairs last night as you dug into the meal, savoring the flavors. The comfortable silence between you and Alastor spoke volumes, a example of the connection formed between you two during the night.

Alastor sat across from you with a delighted hum, newspaper in hand while he sipped from his coffee mug in the other, "And how are you faring, my dear? I supposed I did get quite carried away." He broke the domestic silence with a grin, his eyes looking over your neck that was littered with marks. His marks.

"I'm fine," You say honestly, "I enjoyed it really, it was good...for my first time." You all but whispered the last part.

"Well that eases my worry," Alastor puts on his glasses to rest them on the bridge of his nose as he looks over his newspaper again, turning the page as he crosses his right leg over his left, “Let me know if you prefer tea in the morning, I have some brewing on the stove for the afternoon.”

Tea. You audibly gasp at the word as the realization dawned on you. You were supposed to be at home, sick in bed, and drinking tea— that was your cover for the night but the night was long since over. Glancing at the clock, you noticed that it was thirty minutes until eight o’clock, which was the usual time for breakfast to be served at your house. Your mother always expected you at the table a minute before her, groomed and ready for the day ahead. If you weren’t there on time then surely it’ll cause suspicion.

“I hate to cut this short but I have to go,” You hurriedly gobble up the rest of your food before standing up from your chair, “I have to be home soon or my mother will kill me!”

Alastor raised an eyebrow at the irony in that, “Surely, you have time to at least finish your coffee?”

You spared the moment a thought but ultimately shook your head, “I’m sorry but I can’t,” you walked past Alastor to go into his bedroom to slip on your clothes from the night before. His footsteps followed, accompanied by the jingle of car keys in hand.

As you hurriedly grabbed your belongings, Alastor offered to ease your worry with a smile, "I'll drive you home. No need to rush alone in your state of distress."

Grateful for the assistance, you nodded in agreement, and together, you both left his place. You felt different now, a bit lighter, more mature as you slipped into the passenger side of Alastor's car. He held the door open and closed it for you like a true gentleman. The car ride was filled with light banter, Alastor's charismatic demeanor easing the tension that lingered from your hasty departure.

Once you reached your home, Alastor parked the car a little ways away from your estate and turned to you. "Thank you for the company, darling. I hope your mother's wrath is not as fearsome as you anticipate."

You chuckled nervously, appreciating his understanding. "I hope so too. And thank you for everything, Alastor.. I enjoyed our time together."

He leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and planted a gentle kiss on your lips. "Until we meet again," he whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

With a promise to see each other soon hanging in the air, you slipped through the back door of your home, grateful for the concealment it offered. Hastily, you made your way to your room, hurriedly taking off the clothes from the night before taking a moment to compose yourself. You had only a few minutes to spare and you couldn't waste them.

After freshening up in your own personal water closet, you did your hair as neatly, and quickly, as you could— following up with a light touch of makeup. The faint taste of Alastor's farewell kiss lingered, and you couldn't help but smile at your reflection in the mirror. Now, groomed and ready, you braced yourself for the day ahead and the potential questions your mother might have about your ailment.

You rushed downstairs into the dining room, the scent of freshly brewed tea and warm toast filling the air. Just as you took your seat, your mother entered, her expression stoic. Unfazed, you greeted her with a bright smile, attempting to mask any trace of your recent escapades.

"Good morning Mother, How did you sleep?" you asked cheerfully, reaching for the toast as if it were any ordinary morning.

Your mother eyed you with a raised eyebrow, as she sat down at the head of the table, allowing the maid beside her to pour her tea, "Well enough, dear. I found myself tossing and turning all night. And you? That cold seemed to be really troubling you last night."

You laughed nervously, hoping your casual demeanor would deflect any probing questions. "It was, I could hardly get out of bed last night but thankfully sleep eventually came."

She continued to observe you, suspicion lingering in her gaze. Of course she knows you snuck out but she wouldn't reveal her cards too early. She would let you have this win for now in the hopes that when your rendezvous did come to light, your spirit would be so crushed by then that you'd have no other choice but to lean on your mother for support because she knew that this was a mere distraction for you and you were nothing but a toy to the man that wanted to use you. Your mother should know, after all she was a young girl once herself. "Mm-hmm," she responded, not fully convinced as she eyed the turtleneck dress you wore. "Anything interesting happen last night?"

Your heart skipped a beat, but you maintained your composure. "Not really, just a quiet night. How about you? Anything exciting on your end?"

She hesitated, scrutinizing you for a moment before deciding to drop the subject. "No, nothing out of the ordinary. Just the usual."

Relieved, you continued with a light breakfast, inwardly sighing at the narrow escape. Little did your mother know about the intriguing night you had spent with Alastor, and you hoped to keep it that way—for now, at least.

As you sipped your tea, hoping to steer the conversation away from any further inquiries, your mother decided to drop a bombshell. With a casual tone, she announced, "Silly me, but I forgot to mention that we're hosting a party in two days. We must prepare you for that so I have list of errands we need to run. Oh, and I've decided it's time that I take over in your matchmaking process."

Your eyes widened in surprise, nearly choking on your tea. "A party? Matchmaking? Mom, that's a bit sudden, isn't it?"

Your mother smiled innocently as she was spreading jam on her toast. "Nonsense, dearest. You've had quite a bit of freedom lately, and I think it's only fair that I take charge of finding you a suitable partner."

You were taken aback by the revelation. "Mom, I appreciate your concern, but I can handle my own affairs. I don't need you picking a match for me."

She raised an eyebrow, her expression turning serious. "And where has that led us? It's time to consider your future. I've arranged for some eligible suitors to attend the party, and by the end of the night, we'll have a decision."

You felt a sense of frustration and helplessness. The control over your own choices slipping away yet again, replaced by the traditional expectations your mother seemed determined to enforce. As you finished your breakfast, a sense of foreboding settled in—the upcoming party was more than just a social gathering. It held the potential to reshape your life in ways you may not be ready for.

As the conversation about the upcoming party lingered, a maid entered the room, carefully placing a radio on the table. You couldn't help but notice that this particular maid was new, and a quick glance around revealed that the other servants bustling about the home were also unfamiliar faces.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you leaned in and asked your mother, "Mother, What happened to our usual staff?"

Your mother, engrossed in the morning radio, responded nonchalantly, "Oh, I fired them, dear. They simply weren't meeting my standards. Now, please hold your tongue; I'm trying to listen to the morning news."

You were left you speechless, a mix of surprise and concern washing over you. The familiar faces that had been a constant presence in your household were replaced without warning. You couldn't help but wonder what had transpired behind the scenes and what might be the real reason for this sudden change. Then you realized that maybe your mother knew of your outing with Alastor and she was acting like she didn't, and if she was, why was she acting clueless?

Your mind began swirling with questions about the upcoming party, the matchmaking, and now the unexplained dismissal of the longtime staff. The atmosphere in the room had shifted, leaving you with an uneasy feeling about the changes that were unfolding in your once-familiar surroundings.

"Oh, what a delightful morning it is! I trust everyone enjoyed a restful night, as I certainly did!" Alastor's voice resonated through the radio, carrying a distinct weight. Despite being the renowned radio show host, he seemed like an entirely different person. Though the broadcast introduced some static, his charm remained. "Let's kick off this morning with some smooth jazz tunes, shall we? I have Louis Armstrong & His Hot Seven's top hits ready to grace your ears! We'll return shortly after this brief interlude, folks!"

Alastor flipped off one switch on his microphone and activated another. The sounds of "Potato Head Blues" filled the airwaves, spreading throughout New Orleans. While the jazz played in the warehouse, Alastor rose from his chair with an irritated groan, heading towards a locked closet at the end of the hall. Using a key, he unlocked the door and descended the creaky wooden stairs. As he reached the bottom step, another voice in the room caught his attention.

"Mmmh!" The person, bound to a chair with a cloth in their mouth, struggled against their restraints, fear evident in their eyes as they observed Alastor approaching with a stoic expression. Tear-filled eyes followed his movements as he walked to a table in the corner, his fingertips brushing over an array of displayed knives. "Mmmph! Hmph!"

"Your grunts and stifled screams are growing rather tiresome," Alastor remarked, his hand hovering over one of his cherished knives with a sinister grin. Lifting it up, the blade gleamed in the light. "I understand it's rather solitary in this space. You were supposed to have a companion, but," Alastor pulled a wooden chair across the floor, creating an unsettling echo against the concrete. He positioned himself in front of the restrained individual, heightening the bone-chilling atmosphere, "plans change."

Alastor glided the blade deliberately across the person's cheek, the chilling touch of the metal causing involuntary shivers. Despite their struggles against the restraints, Alastor sighed, tapping the blade against their skin in a disturbingly mocking rhythm.

"This person, this woman," Alastor mused, tilting his head to the side, "is confusing me, and I don't like it." The sadistic atmosphere in the room thickened as he increased the pressure of the blade against their cheek, drawing blood. Suddenly, he halted, as if a realization had struck him.

"But I don't hate it either," Alastor declared with an unsettling calmness, leaving an ominous pause that lingered in the air. The duality of his emotions toward the captive person added a perplexing layer to the unfolding scene, intensifying the disturbing nature of the situation.

Alastor, maintaining his eerie composure, turned to the restrained person and asked, "What do you think? Is it true love?" A twisted amusement gleamed in his eyes as he awaited a response.

A cruel chuckle escaped him as he noticed the person's inability to answer, their mouth securely gagged. The absurdity of the question in the face of their silent predicament seemed to amuse the madman further. The room resonated with Alastor's unsettling laughter, creating an atmosphere of malevolence that hung heavily in the air. The captive, helpless and silenced, could only endure the scene unfolding before them knowing that this would be the last sight they ever see.

"One, two, three, one, two-" The ballroom echoed with the rhythmic counting of the waltz, your mother diligently guiding you through the steps. As you twirled with your elderly dance partner, your mind drifted to Alastor. The memory of dancing with him under the stars tugged at your heart, and an undeniable longing for him filled your thoughts.

In the midst of the waltz, you couldn't shake the yearning to be with him, whether listening to his radio broadcasts or engaging in casual conversations over coffee. The mere thought of Alastor sent your heart racing, leaving you flustered and questioning the nature of these emotions. Was this love? The answer seemed evident with each flutter of your heart, each bounce of the balls of your feet. Love, it seemed, had taken root in your heart.

The dance partner, an elderly servant, winced as your foot landed squarely on his toes. "I am so sorry!" you began to apologize, but your mother's sharp voice cut through the room.

"A woman must be graceful like a swan," she admonished, tapping the back of your thighs with a cane, the sting making you wince, "not a tumbling tiger."

"I—" You attempted to offer excuses, but your mother's stern gaze silenced you.

"You are distracted," she declared, shaking her head in disapproval. "I need you to dismiss whatever is taking over your mind and be present. The ball is tomorrow, and I can't have you embarrassing me on your big day." The weight of her expectations pressed upon you, urging you to set aside your personal feelings and focus on the upcoming event.

A heavy sigh escaped your mother's lips as she turned her attention to the elderly servant. "You may leave us," she instructed, her tone carrying a hint of disappointment. The servant bowed slightly, acknowledging the dismissal before exiting the ballroom.

Now alone, your mother circled you, her scrutinizing gaze causing you to shrink under her watchful eyes. The atmosphere grew tense as she examined you, her expression a mix of frustration and concern.

With each step, your mother's presence loomed, and the weight of her expectations seemed to intensify. The impending ball was not just an event; it was a reflection of her social standing, and any misstep could ruin her reputation. As she circled, you couldn't help but feel the pressure to conform to her ideals and expectations, the desire for personal connection and freedom momentarily eclipsed by the demands of societal decorum.

Your mother's gaze didn't miss the marks on your neck you tried to hide, remnants of the passionate night you spent with Alastor. She dismissed it with a grimace, a silent disapproval lingering in her expression.

As the tension in the room hung thick, your mother took a deep breath before opening her mouth to speak once again. "Did I ever tell you the story of how I was in love?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.

"Of course, you and father—" you began, but your mother cut you off with a firm gesture. "This was before your father. Before everything…before I became a woman of high society."

The weight of her words hung in the air, and you could sense that she was about to share a piece of her past, a side of her life that you hadn't even thought to acknowledge. As the ball loomed on the horizon, the barriers between you and your mother seemed to momentarily lower, providing a glimpse into a time when love and passion took precedence over societal expectations.

"I fell in love with a man during the summer months," your mother began, her voice carrying a bittersweet tone. She continued to circle you, sharing the intimate details of a past you had only glimpsed before. "He swept me off my feet quickly, and I was blinded by that love because, in my eyes, he was my happily ever after."

Your eyes widened as you listened intently to your mother's story. The ballroom, once filled with the echoes of waltz music, now held a poignant atmosphere as she delved into her personal history.

"I was merely a farmer's daughter, and he, a factory worker. It truly was a good match. But…" Her mother's expression darkened at the memory. "My dear, you can give a man everything, every ounce of your entire being, and he will still want more."

As the weight of her words settled, you could sense the bitter undertones of regret and heartache in your mother's story. It opened a window into her past, a time when love seemed boundless, yet reality had its own lessons to impart. The circling continued, each step a reminder of the complexities that love could bring.

"What I thought was love was nothing but a game to him," your mother continued, her voice carrying the weight of past heartache. The circling ceased abruptly, and her cane tapped hard against the ballroom floor as if emphasizing the gravity of her words. "He was gone with autumn, taking everything I had given him—my money, my body…my soul. I would've been truly ruined if it wasn't for your father."

She stood in front of you, gripping your chin harshly, forcing you to meet her gaze with glossy eyes. "I say all of that to say, do not be fooled by a wolf in sheep's clothing."

The words hung in the air, resonating with the tale she had just shared. The ballroom, once a place of elegance and grace, now echoed with the cautionary wisdom of a mother who had weathered the storms of love and loss. The vulnerability in her eyes and the firmness of her grip conveyed the sincerity of her warning, urging you to tread carefully in matters of the heart.

"I don't care what you do from this point forward but know this, you will attend the ball in your honor and you will marry the man who I deem worthy of you, understood?" After your mother releases her grip from your chin, tapping her cane once more, she steps aside, allowing you to pass. "Practice is over. You may go," she declares.

The aftermath of this encounter leaves tears welling in your eyes and a heavy weight in your chest. Unable to meet your mother's gaze, you hurry past her, fleeing the ballroom without a backward glance. In your rush, you even collide with a maid, but offer no apology as you hurry out the front door. Emotions swirl within you, mingling anger towards your mother with a deeper frustration directed toward yourself. The struggle between fulfilling family expectations and pursuing your own happiness weighed heavily on your mind. Are you truly prepared to forsake everything for Alastor? And more importantly, would he do the same for you?

Descending the stone steps of your home in haste, you decided to find Alastor and confront the questions you've been avoiding. Only his response would determine your next move.

"Mr. Ray?" You lean down to peer through the driver's side window, where your family chauffeur is taking a cigarette break. His complexion blends seamlessly with the setting sun. "Could you take me somewhere?"

"Without your mother?" He arches an eyebrow. "I believe you still require a chaperone, young lady."

"She allowed me out for the afternoon as long as I am back before curfew. Please, I'll be under your watchful eye. I promise to behave," you nearly beg, your puppy-dog eyes meeting his.

With a resigned sigh, the chauffeur relents. "Get in," he says, giving in to your plea and falling for your sweet lie.

With a sense of purpose, you climbed into the car, knowing that the journey ahead would be filled with uncertainty but you were determined in proving your mother wrong, you wanted to follow your happiness and Alastor was that happiness because in your mind— no, in your heart, you knew you loved him.

© POPAMOLLY 2024 all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, or repost on any other social media.

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[nadvs]

What if sleeping with the enemy rafe accidentally calls reader his gf but neither of them seem to mind 🤭

OBSESSED WITH THIS 🤭

based on this fic

rafe has had too much to drink. tonight’s game secured his team a position in the championship finals. they had to celebrate. one shot became two became however many it takes to make the room start spinning.

he’s sprawled out on the couch at a party at one of the student houses on campus. everyone’s loud and rowdy and excitable. he’s exhausted and sore after the game, but he’s just as wired.

at this point, he texts her anytime there’s a party because he likes her being around. she’s on the other side of the room with a couple of the friends she brought, laughing at how shit-faced rafe is.

“should you be here?” one of his teammates slurs with a drunk smile, approaching her and her friends.

“no,” she replies light-heartedly. they shouldn’t be at a party celebrating another team’s win, especially theirs, but she stopped caring about the rivalry a long time ago. “you’re the bad guys.”

“you’re the bad guys,” he responds, pointing at her, but he loses his balance and nearly stumbles on top of her.

rafe’s seeing stars but he’s conscious enough to realize his teammate almost just knocked her over. he stands and crosses the room, putting a heavy arm around her, shielding her from his friend.

“you tryin’ to tackle my girlfriend? the fuck’s wrong with you?” rafe drawls. his mind catches up with what he just said. he looks down at her. “i mean, uh… my…”

“you’re hammered,” she laughs. she doesn’t mind the slip-up. she knows they’re friends. but her mind has drifted to the possibility of being more a few times.

rafe falls into a fit of laughter, raking a hand through his hair.

“i’m hammered,” he echoes. “you see all those three-pointers i got tonight?”

“you’ve only mentioned it like a hundred times,” she says. really, she’s thrilled to see him so happy. he’s been working hard this season. he deserved the win. “let’s get you some water. follow me.”

when they reach the quiet kitchen tucked at the back of the house, rafe slouches over the counter as she fills a glass with water.

she watches him drink it, surprised at how far he’s come since they started hooking up. he was never the type to let people tell him what to do, but she just ordered him to follow her and he listened. she’s pretty sure that at this point, she’d tell him to jump and he’d ask how high.

at a party last weekend, he mentioned that she’s his best friend. she told him that he’s hers. but the term girlfriend sounded so good coming out of his mouth.

he drains the glass and then she turns to fill it again.

“i don’t need that much,” he complains.

“you need a lot to hydrate so you don’t feel like shit tomorrow,” she says. “you’re like ten feet tall.”

he laughs again.

“i don’t get hungover,” rafe says.

“that’s a lie,” she chuckles. she offers him the full glass, deciding to tease him. “you shouldn’t lie to your girlfriend.”

rafe rolls his eyes and swallows down the water, but her words sober him up a little bit. he lowers the glass, his lips gleaming with moisture. she stands in front of him, tempted to kiss him.

he stares down at her, gazing into her eyes, and the thought of her wanting some sort of commitment to him is oddly thrilling.

“you’re going to be so embarrassed that you said that,” she laughs.

“no, i’m not,” he says quickly. he may be drunk but that, he knows for sure.

tension sits between them. the reason their whole deal works is because they’re direct with each other. honest. it’s a knee-jerk reaction of his to tell her exactly what he’s thinking. but what he’s thinking right now could shift things. maybe even break them.

she’s frozen. they say drunk words are sober thoughts, so maybe rafe really does see her as his girlfriend. they definitely act like a couple at this point.

“what kind of boyfriend would you even be?” she eventually says. instead of laughing off the prospect of being in a relationship with anyone like he always does, he answers after he takes another sip of water.

“a good one,” he says. “i’m good at everything.“

“your humility is so inspiring,” she replies sarcastically.

their words sound like jokes, but the looks they’re sharing are utterly serious. it’s unusual not to be laughing together, chiding like friends. the air is heavy. awkward.

but it’s also incredibly natural.

“you sleeping over tonight?” rafe asks, eyes traveling over her face.

she’s only slept over a handful of times, when the sex was so tiring she couldn’t imagine making her way home. sleeping over feels coupley. but here he is, asking her to.

and she could make a joke about him just wanting a private nurse for his inevitable hangover in the morning. but it feels cruel to tease him when he’s being so vulnerable, looking at her like she might actually have the power to hurt him. to hurt someone so strong and loud and unpenetrable.

“yeah,” she replies simply.

rafe nods, unable to tear his eyes off of her.

“finish that,” she says, looking down at the half-full glass.

“i don’t have to listen to you,” rafe tells her. but he brings the glass back up to his lips, mirroring her smile.

he definitely doesn’t have to let her boss him around. but he’s going to, whether he wants to or not, because that’s the effect she has on him.

(the next morning)

[shadowdaddies]

I have a request! Reader accidentally hurts themself in an embarrassing way and Rhys/cass/az(idc which one) sees the injury(bruise, cut, etc) and freaks out asking “who did this??” And reader has to awkwardly admit that they did it.

Idk if that makes sense but I thought it was a cute idea for a drabble and I really like your writing 🥰 Feel free to make any changes!

thank you love!💜 I went with Cassian for this one, as a clumsy person myself this resonated with me lol

Falling for You

Cassian x Reader fluff

warnings: mentions of injury, a bit suggestive

Lunging towards Cassian, you swung your sword in an arc, only for the wooden practice blade to hit the training mat. Cassian’s foot swiped your ankle, knocking you flat on your back as his own weapon found your throat. 

With a teasing click of his tongue, your mate smirked down at you. “I believe you yield, my love.”

Scowling, you swatted the wooden blade away, standing up to stalk over to the weapons rack, shoving your tools inside. Warm hands wrapped around your waist, Cassian smirking as he pressed a kiss to your neck. 

“Come now, sweetheart. Don’t be a sore loser,” he purred. 

With mock offense, you turned to face your mate, poking him in the ribs. “I’ll be sore if I want to be,” you retorted.

Mischief danced in hazel eyes as Cassian pulled you impossibly close, fingers tilting your chin so your nose brushed his. “Mm, but what if I offer you a massage, maybe a bath to help with that soreness?”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, the scent of your arousal instant at his rough voice. A dark chuckle left your mate’s lips, the general giving no warning before he tossed you over his shoulder. 

“Cassian!” you yelled, swatting at him with a giggle while he carried you towards your bedroom. Your only response was a light smack on your ass, drawing another gasp as you settled in his hold.

Carrying you into the bathroom, Cassian set you down on the tile floor, directing you to undress while he moved to turn on the bath water. 

You shucked off your boots, peeling your pants and shirt off when you looked up to see Cassian staring at you, horror etched on his features. Frantically looking over your body, your eyes found Cassian’s. “What? What is it?” you questioned.

Your mate visibly swallowed, his voice thick as he gestured weakly to your leg. “Did I... did I do that?” he muttered, silver lining his eyes that bored into your skin.

You looked down to where he was pointing, finding a bruise you knew all too well, the blackish-purple skin marring a large part of your upper thigh. 

Embarrassment flooded over you, blush rising to your cheeks as you scrambled for words. You had hoped the injury would heal in time for Cassian to never know, but the way that he was looking at you right now, you needed to tell him.

Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose. “No, Cass, you didn’t do that...” you whispered. The moment those words left your lips, his demeanor changed. 

The Lord of Bloodshed stood before you, eyes alight with fury. “Who did this to you? I will make them wish they were never born,” he growled, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his misplaced wrath.

“Calm down, love. No one else did this to me. I did it myself... on accident,” you muttered, lips pursed as you avoided eye contact.

Arching a questioning brow, Cassian’s hand gripped your chin, turning you to face him. “What happened, sweetheart?” he questioned, voice soft with concern.

You paced the bathroom, stopping at the tub where you dipped your toe into the warm water. With a smirk, you stepped into the small pool. “It doesn’t really matter,” you hummed, sending a playful splash towards Cassian. “Why don’t you come join me in the bath?” you purred, arching your chest above the water in an attempt to distract him.

Your mate smirked, and you knew that you had caught him as he removed his leathers, stepping into the tub with you. Wading to where you sat, Cassian’s broad hands found your waist, his neck dipping to your shoulder.

Warm lips found your sweet spot, sucking softly on the sensitive skin there as you sighed, rolling your hips against him. Suddenly he stilled his movements, lips moving against your neck. “Where did you get that bruise from, love?”

An exaggerated sigh escaped you. “Don’t laugh at me,” you muttered, gaze turning stern when Cassian pulled back, looking at you with a bemused expression. 

“Nyx tied my shoelaces together,” you pouted, arms crossing over your chest. “And I didn’t realize it, so when I tried to walk, I tripped.” With a huff, you glanced to Cassian, the male biting his lip hard to keep from laughing.

His joy and amusement spread through the bond, forcing a smile of your own at his happiness. A small laugh escaped you at the ridiculousness of the situation, Cassian bursting with booming laughter shortly after.

Your stomach hurt, tears in your eyes from how hard you both laughed, gasping for air as you finally settled down. Cassian moved to the edge of the tub, pulling you in his lap and pressed a kiss to your hair. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered. 

Leaning up, you pressed a kiss to his jaw. “I love you too,” you murmured. 

“Maybe we can buy you some button up shoes, something child-proof” Cassian mused, earning an elbow to the stomach as you giggled in his arms.

[myfictionaldreams]

Family // Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sirius Black, the usually happy prankster within Hogwarts, had a special skill for hiding his emotions. Until one day, he's forced to face the realities of the troubles with his family.

Requested by: @bullets-from-another-dimension Thank you so much for the request and for showing me that Sirius needs a little more love! I hope you like this fic, and thanks for your support with the poly!marauders ♥

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst (lots!), fluff (also lots!), emotional hurt, discussion of Sirius' abusive family, disowned, crying, hugs/kissing, polyamory relationship, nipple play, body worship, making out, oral sex (m receiving), happy ending

A/N: This is just a little PSA that I'll be going through my other Poly!Marauders fics sometime soon to change some bits to make sure that each of the boys is getting enough love! It won't be anything major for the overall story, just spreading the love equally as it appears Sirius may have been skipped a few times (and I don't want that!), so check for an 'edited' note on the story. Thank you for pointing this out to me!

Words: 4.8k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The last 24 hours had been an emotional rollercoaster, with both positives and negatives coming to light. It had started with the ultimate showdown game of Quidditch between Slytherin and Gryffindor; with both Sirius and James on the team. You and Remus had been nervous wrecks just for the game, let alone all the tension drowning within the two enemy houses. This escalated outside of the pitch, with wands having to remain in hands between lessons to prepare for sabotage attacks from either team.

It was endlessly tiring the days leading up to the events, and it was some kind of a miracle to be standing in the Gryffindors' stands without a single injury. Now, however, you and Remus had to live through the fear of watching your boyfriends fly around with their roles as Seeker and Beater.

You were sure you’d accidentally bitten your nail down to the cuticle by the end of the match, and your throat felt as if you’d swallowed sandpaper with how sore it was with the screaming and shouting you’d been doing in support. There was instant relief as James finally caught the snitch, and everyone cheered.

“Do you think he’ll be ok?” you shout up to Remus, who, with his height difference, could see over the crowd to where the commotion was occurring on the pitch. As James had dived for the snitch, so had the Slytherin’s seeker, who just happened to be Sirius’ brother, Regulus. However, in mid-dive, Regulus accidentally knocked into one of the goalposts, hitting his head and falling from his broom. Thankfully to the Slytherins, Sirius had been close by and caught his falling brother from gaining any further injuries.

Remus was nodding to your question, “Yes, he’s walking away, well - he’s pushing Sirius away, so I’m sure he’s just fine”, he explained, watching Regulus shove Sirius, so the man stumbled away. A pang of guilt settled heavily in your stomach at the thought of the brothers arguing. You knew that the relationship between Sirius and his brother was non-existent these days, and it only made you feel more awful for your boyfriend, understanding how difficult it must have been to lose his family in the way he has.

You couldn’t ponder on these thoughts as the entirety of Gryffindor and the vast majority of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff began celebrating the win. This included Sirius, who scooped you into an exaggerated hug, spun you high into the air, and carefully placed your feet back onto the floor.

“Was your brother alright?” You shout to Sirius over the noisy crowd forming around the winning team. For a split second, you witness sadness filling his grey eyes before he snaps out of it and a beaming smile replacing the momentary lapse in his emotions.

“Oh, he’s fine; I’m sure a quick knock to the head will bring some sense to him. Anyway, come on, let’s all go back to the common room; I have a special surprise for everyone”. Sirius was great at many things, and covering his emotions was one of them. Any attempts to open up about the situation regarding his family would change the subject within the blink of an eye. You respected that he didn’t want to talk about any of his family members, but you still kept a close eye on him, making sure that he didn’t pent up his emotions until he was at breaking point, which you feared would occur one day as there was only so much one person could go through.

The interaction with Regulus seemed to have been forgotten in the madness of celebrating, which ran into the early morning hours in the Gryffindor common room. It would have continued later, but Professor McGonagall arrived in her dressing gown and demanded everyone go to bed. Sirius needed the most help to bed, having drunk the ‘surprise’ fire whiskey he regretted deeply in the morning.

“I’m never drinking again. Who’s idea was it anyway to bring Firewhiskey?!” came the deep groan of the man lying face first beside you, his face thoroughly buried into the pillow. Your temples were pounding slightly; you’d felt worse hangovers, but it was still uncomfortable as you rolled over towards Sirius.

Your arm wrapped over his naked back, face pressed over his shoulder blade as you could feel the toned muscles adjusting to your presence as you melted into his warmth. “It was your idea. I’m never falling for your charms ever again, Sirius”, you mumbled against his skin, reminiscing on his sweet talking skills from last night that convinced you to have a drinking competition with him.

This pulled him out of the half-unconscious state as his mop of hair turned in your direction. The movement caused you to roll off him and witness the beautiful sight of his morning glow; even in his hangover, he was handsome with one eye squished closed as the room was too bright.

Sirius turned his body entirely towards you, huffing as he moved, and you refrained from trying to reach out and control the usually silky locks of hair that were now all knotted and tangled on the top of his head. “Oh yeah? I’m pretty sure my charms made you cum three times before the fire whiskey joined the party,” he commented confidently and admired the warmth that filled your face. You attempted to hide your smile at the memories but were soon fully scream-laughing as Sirius tried to break your facade by tickling your sides.

Pushing him away, you turned and nuzzled into the naked chest of James, who remained asleep even through your loud laughter, but his arms still wrapped around your shoulders protectively. Besides James, you could see Remus was awake, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Remusssss, Sirius is being mean to me”, you drawl childishly.

The man sighed, dropping his hands to give you and Sirius a pointed look, “Please, children, it’s too early, and my head is too painful for you to make this much noise”.

Sirius smirked as he spooned in close behind you, wrapping his arm around you and James as everyone tried to have a few more moments of beautiful sleep before breakfast, and class pulled the four of you from the safety of the bed.

The food helped to settle the hangovers that the majority of Gryffindor seemed to be nursing this morning, much to the displeasure of McGonagall, who was glaring at her house from the Professor’s table. Sitting beside James, you leaned across him for another slice of toast as Sirius sat opposite you with Remus next to him.

As everyone started to be rejuvenated with energy from the breakfast, the owls began to swoop in and deliver the mail for the day. An emerald-coloured envelope landed on Sirius's lap, which caught the attention of you and the fellow Marauders. You already had your suspicions about who the letter was from. Sirius mostly confirmed it, as he had hardly read the letter before shoving it into his bag and brushing off any attempts at discussing who it was from.

“It’s nothing, just some spam letter. So, who do we have first today? Is it transfiguration? I can’t imagine that will be fun with how angry McGonagall looks right now.” Sirius changed the subject, but it didn’t convince any of you as you eyed him sadly. He didn’t wait for a response as he stood, gripping his bag so tight that his knuckles turned white. “Come on, otherwise we’ll be late”.

You knew something was off just by the quipped tone of his voice, and the humour and light that always seemed to dance in his eyes had been significantly dimmed. Even as James tried to humour him with his usual party tricks and jokes, it only earned him a half-assed chuckle from Sirius. Remus even attempted to pull him aside before entering the classroom to see if he needed a moment alone to talk, but Sirius just distracted him with a quick kiss and said he was fine.

You were quick to sit next to Sirius near the back of the classroom, smiling brightly with the hopes that he would return it, but it seemed he was lost in his thoughts as he idly arranged his parchment paper and quills. Thankfully, as the class began, his hand rested on your thigh so you could link both fingers together, lifting it and kissing the back of his hand.

As McGonagall began to teach the class, you leaned closer to Sirius, savouring the warmth that radiated off him and smelling the citrusy scent from his aftershave. “Is everyone ok, Sirius?” Your voice was barely audible so as not to disrupt the class, but you knew he heard as his posture stiffened, and he nodded his head, fake smiling for a second before returning his attention to the teacher. “I know there’s something wrong. Talking might help; I mean - I want to help-”

“Excuse me at the back. Is there something more important than my lesson?” McGonagall demanded with a passive-aggressive raised eyebrow as all other eyes turned to look at you and Sirius.

As your mouth opened to take the blame, your boyfriend beat you to it, “Sorry, Professor. That was my fault I was distracting her”.

“You’re already on thin ice after last night's antics, Mr Black. See me after class to arrange a detention”.

Your mouth drops open to retort to her and tell him it wasn’t Sirius, but the hand holding yours squeezes, stopping you from saying anything. As McGonagall turns back to write on the chalkboard, you lean close to harshly whisper, “You didn’t have to do that, Sirius! That should have been my detention!”

“It’s only one detention, I don’t care”, he shrugs nonchalantly, releasing your hand to begin writing his notes. You frown so deeply that a line forms between your eyebrows as you glance towards Remus and James, who have similar expressions of worry, especially as Sirius hasn’t even attempted to have any sort of friendly banter with McGonagall like he usually did.

At lunch, Sirius had somehow managed to slip away from the group, and your head seemed to be fixated towards the entrance to the Great Hall, neck straining to see over the other students as you waited for him to walk in.

“I mean, it’s not just me, right? There’s definitely something wrong with him”, you say before nervously nibbling on your lower lip.

Remus’ hand cups your shoulder, gripping gently as he agrees, “It’s not just you. I tried to talk to him before the lesson, but he just pushed me away. He just wants to be by himself; I’m sure he’ll be just fine”.

You nod to yourself but don’t believe his words. Yes, Sirius was strong and had been putting on a strong appearance for years, but he never pushed himself away from the three of you. It was like an invisible angel on your shoulder, trying to nudge you towards him, knowing something wasn’t right.

“Have either of you got the Marauder's map?” you ask Remus and James, who then check their pockets and school bags but cannot find the map.

“Sorry, Love, he’s probably got it with him”, James reports, appearing as deflated as you felt.

Standing from the table, the anxious causing your stomach to clench with unease and unable to eat, you inform the two of them, “I’ll be back later; I just need to make sure he’s ok and safe”.

Remus and James nod in understanding and watch you go. As you stand in the entrance to the Great Hall, you’re unsure where to start and what's worse is that he could be in his Padfoot form, which means he’d be able to hear you coming and run away. There were the grounds to search, Hogsmeade, the entirety of the enormous castle; there were plenty of places for him to be.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you decided to search the dormitory first, hoping the map had been left in a draw up there.

Opening the door to the dormitory room that you shared with your boyfriends, you were welcomed to the sight of Sirius, lying face first on the shared bed, his head turned away from the doors but from the noticeable sniffling noises and his shoulders shaking, you knew he was crying. Your heart felt like someone had reached inside your chest and squeezed as the sight rocked you. Silently as you could, you slipped your shoes off and placed your school bag onto the floor.

You knew he was aware someone else was in the room as his cries softened, and he subtly tried to wipe his face into the pillow. As you began to crawl onto the bed, you could see he was spooning the pillow you usually used to sleep on, clutching it desperately close to his chest. You had to remember to breathe through your nose, remain strong, and not descend into your emotions.

Kneeling next to him, your hand gently met the centre of his back, rubbing slow, comforting circles into his white shirt, hoping the action would comfort him. “Sirius, what’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing's wrong” he tried to brush it off, but you could hear the thickness of his voice as he tried to hide his face further in the pillow beneath his head.

“Is it about the letter from earlier? Who sent it to you?” Even though you knew he didn’t really want to talk about it, you knew he’d also built a wall around his emotions and wanted him to feel like he was in a safe enough space to talk, like the many times he’d done the same for you. Reaching over with your other hand, you ran your fingers through the long strands of dark hair, brushing them out of his face that was still turned away from you. “Talk to me, my love, please. I want to help you”.

Reluctantly, Sirius turned over and began to pull you down to lie in the centre of the bed. You did so and spread your arms wide as he moved to lie on your chest, the top of his head resting beneath your chin as you hugged him closely.

“No one important sent me the letter, it’s fine. I just want to cuddle”, he admits with a sigh, relaxing into the hold, the pillow he’d been spooning now forgotten about as he had the real thing instead, finding comfort instantly. In this position, you could hold him close and do the same actions as before, stroking gently up and down his back whilst also playing with his hair.

You want to tell him that you knew who the letter was from, but he seemed content with being held instead for a couple of minutes until you felt dampness seeping across the column of your neck and down your chest as his shoulders began to shake once more.

“Sirius-?”

“It was from my parents. The letter, I mean. Fuck! I don’t know, it's so stupid.” he sits up abruptly, aggressively wiping away the leaked tears he’d been desperately trying to stop.

Sitting beside him, you rubbed his shoulders while trying to calm him down from his overwhelming emotions. “It’s not stupid, my love.” As you talk, you grip his twists to pull them away so he can look into your face and hopefully see the love there. “Your parents, they’re awful people, Sirius, and anyway, you’re perfectly within your right to show emotions every once in a while; I just need you to know that I’m here for you, we’re all here for you, no matter how you are feeling. It’ll be ok”.

Even though it was comforting for him to hear the words, it still seemed to break something within him. Like a crack had formed in the dam as he relented with his cries, openly sobbing into his hands. Whilst trying to swallow the lump that had developed in your throat, you pulled him close, kissing every part of him that you could reach whilst wiping away the cascading tears.

“You don’t have to tell me what was said in the letter, but I just need you to know that they’re not your real family; you know we’re all your family”. Sirius pulls back from the hug, and your bottom lip trembles at seeing how heartbroken he looks. The area around his eyes is swollen and red to match the shade at the tip of his nose as wetness covers the length of his cheeks.

His mouth opens to say something, but he’s interrupted by the door opening and James and Remus stepping into the bedroom. The two men pause, not expecting to find either you or Sirius here, but as they see the sadness and pain on Sirius’s face, they immediately drop their school bags.

“You missed it”, Sirius chuckled, trying to hide his upset behind humour, “She called me an emotional prick, and the waterworks started”. James and Remus gave him sad smiles, but neither fell for the attempt to change the subject as both sat either side of him on the bed. Remus reached for him first, stroking his scarred fingers through the strands of dark hair that had fallen over Sirius’ face, but only so he could kiss the area beneath. Sirius closed his eyes at the touch and leaned into it, releasing a deep sigh through his open mouth.

James grabbed each of his hands, lifting them to his lips to kiss the palms lovingly and rest them on either side of his cheeks, nuzzling into his hands. “Whatever is going on, you know we’re always here for you, Sirius”, James mutters against the palms on his face.

Sirius sighs even heavier as if trying to will the anxiety away through the breaths. “It’s my parents. I mean, should I even call them parents when they’ve already disowned me? But they’ve just sent me more threats today after what happened with Regulus yesterday. They say things like I should have let him win and wish that I had been hurt.”

He takes a moment to compose himself as you grab one of his hands from James, needing to link your fingers together and squeeze to know that it is a safe place for him to continue and talk. Sirius looked into his lap as he spoke, “They’ve burnt my face off the Black family tree. Not that I care; I expected it, but it just all feels so real now, you know? I feel like I shouldn’t even be using the surname Black with how much they detest me. I also kind of expected Regulus to have my back a little bit, but he’s young; I can’t expect that from him, especially as I know what my parents are like, but he doesn’t even say hi to me in the corridors anymore. I don’t know. I guess I’m just a little all over the place, and with the positivity yesterday, just to have my family metaphorically kick me to the curb again, I should have expected the joy wouldn’t last long”.

Sirius sounded empty and emotionless as he expressed how he was genuinely feeling, struggling to come to terms with the repercussions of the events that occurred with his family that continue to affect him.

“Fuck them”, James says with all the venom and confidence that he could muster. Sirius grunts half-heartedly at the declaration, not seemingly convinced, so James turns his face towards him so that he is looking into the stormy hazel eyes. “I’m being serious, fuck them. You’ve been my family for years now; you know my parents consider you their son as much as I am. Nothing has changed. You live with me and my parents because that is your home. Wherever any of us go is your home because we love you. We wouldn’t make you feel half as rotten as those scumbags, do you understand?”

Sirius nods, swallowing thickly, causing his Adam’s apple to bob. Before he can respond, Remus once again holds onto his face, turning him in the other direction to look at the calmest Marauder. “Sirius, next time you receive a letter from them, don’t open it. They are cruel humans who have no love for anyone but themselves and the prejudices that they live by. You had so much joy and love in your heart; don’t let them destroy you and ruin everything you cherish. And that is exactly what James has said. You’re our family. We’re each other's family. You’re ours, just like you’re mine. Get it?”

Sirius’ eyes have dried as he looks up at Remus, and briefly, a genuine smile welcomes across his face as he leans in to kiss him deeply but then pulls back.

Squeezing his hand, you draw his attention towards you. “You deserve the surname Black more than anyone because it’s what makes you, you—breaking the stereotypes of those evil people and making it mean something that doesn't symbolise hatred. However, if you want to have another surname, you can! Sirius, you’re your own person, and your surname doesn’t define you. You could even make up a whole new name! Maybe you could have one of our surnames”, Sirius laughs at the possibility of a name change. “I love you so much. Your family's opinions of you aren’t how anyone else in the castle sees you. You’re perfect the way you are, Mr Black”.

You couldn’t wait any more time to kiss him, needing to feel his lips against yours and reassure him further with these intimate touches.  Thankfully, to your pounding heart, he smiles into the kiss.

“Maybe we could put all of our surnames together”, he jokes as you move to kiss each of his cheeks. 

“If that’s what you want, I’d do it”, you reassure him with a kiss on his temple.

“Almost sounds like a proposal”, he casually mentions, causing your heartbeat to increase rapidly. Sirius smirks at your face but reassures, “Maybe we’ll sort out surnames once we’ve finished our exams”. You press your lips against his once more for reassurance until he looks between the three of you. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do if it weren’t for you three. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed before coming to Hogwarts, let alone feel love like this”.

Remus could see the tears pooling along Sirius’ lashline, so he gently cupped the side of his head, wiping away any that fell. “No more tears for them”. The gap between their lips was closed as Remus kissed him passionately, holding the back of his head carefully as they breathed each other in.

Sirius’ head dips slightly, but only to whisper against the man’s lips, “Can you make me forget? Please?”

“I’ll do whatever you want me to do, Sirius”. Remus kisses him again but with more urgency, pushing his body back until Sirius is lying in the centre of the bed with the taller Marauder hovering above him. Their mouths moved together as one, tongues twirling together, heads tilting one way and then the other.

As Remus distracts and devours him with his mouth, Sirius’ hands move around the back of his head, holding him close, which gives James the freedom to move his hands to Sirius’ shirt. With a simple flick of his fingers, James could undo the buttons down the centre of his chest, releasing the toned chest and abdomen of the man whose legs you were sitting between.

You watched with the sadness seeping away and becoming replaced with arousal as James leaned over and licked the nipples of the man who moaned into Remus’ mouth. James was calculated with his movements, making sure to leave teasing licks and bites over the areas that Sirius was most sensitive whilst then worshipping the perked nipples on his chest, his hands caressing the areas where fine dark hair was beginning to grow back from being previous shaved, mainly the snail trail leading beneath his trousers.

Smiling whilst watching them all move together, you were gifted the view of watching the tightness forming in his trousers as his cock grew hard and thick. Without any rush and admiring the desperate moans coming from the man on his back, you began to stroke up his thighs, over his crotch and pausing over his zipper.

Undoing it slowly, you waited to see if Sirius was even aware of what you were doing as he was so distracted with James and  Remus. However, with the sudden lift of his hips to help you pull the material down his hips, you knew he was very much aware of your intentions.

Freeing his cock from the restraint of his trousers and boxers, you watched as Sirius lowered his hips back onto the bed, and his member now throbbed on his abdomen, thick and hard. A pearly drip of precum had already formed at the tip, and you were quick to hold the base, lifting the cock until your lips were wrapped around him.

Your movements continue to be gentle and soft. Licking and sucking without any rush to build the tension and hopefully show how much you worship the ground he walks on by paying particular attention to him when he needs it most. James continues to tweak his nipples, and Remus devours his mouth, absorbing every little moan until Sirius needs to pull back to suck in air.

“Fuck, you’re all- Fuck!” Remus distracts him with his mouth once more, dominating him entirely and causing more whimpers to burst from his chest. The veiny length that was being leisurely sucked in your mouth began to harden further, throbbing as you knew he was approaching closer to his orgasm as your hands fondled his balls.

“So good for us, aren’t you, Sirius? Say it, tell us you’re ours”, James demands, pulling on the back of Remus’ hair so that Sirius can tell the group how he is feeling.

“Yes! I’m yours, I’m all of yours! I’m cumming, holy shit!” he shouts out desperately, face scrunching up like he is in pain but is actually experiencing the opposite as overwhelming pleasure pooled in his abdomen.

You moan around his cock, causing it to vibrate slightly against your tongue as his hot seed begins to coat your throat. You swallow every salty, thick liquid drop until you’re popping off and looking up at his half-lidded, satisfied grin.

James and Remus give you room to crawl up his body to kiss him sweetly. The three of you watch and admire as he comes down from the high, carefully tucking his half-hard cock back into his trousers and doing up the zipper once more.

“Thank Merlin that we have no classes this afternoon”, Sirius jokes as he rests back on the pillows with his arm behind his head. You laugh and collapse onto his chest, hugging him closely as the four of you sit in comfortable silence. You listened to the thump of his heart beneath your ear, but after a while, it increased in speed as he became restless.

“Can I tell you all a secret? I’ve um… I’ve kept all of the threatening letters they’ve sent to me, " Sirius admits as he carefully pulls out of the hug to climb out of bed and dig his way through the suitcase with his name on the side. From within, he pulls out a large stack of letters that are all opened and in the same shade of emerald as the one earlier this morning.

“You kept them all? Oh, Sirius”, you say in shock, only guessing what horrible, hateful words are written on those pieces of paper.

Sirius awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed, “Yeah. I don’t know why. Some weird part of me thought that if I burned them all, they would know and come to the school or something. But, I want to get rid of them if you’ll all help me?”

Neither of you have to answer as you climb out of the bed. After dressing appropriately, the four of you walked down to the lake, where Remus carved a hole into the soil. Sirius chucks the letters within as you all form a semi-circle.

Holding onto his left hand, Sirius raised his wand to the right, pointing it towards the letters and shouting ‘Incendio’. The four of you stand together as the letters burn. Sirius sighs shakily as he holds back tears. “It’s weird. I know people say it’s like a weight off your shoulders, but it genuinely does feel like that”.

“That’s because you’re free, Padfoot!” James shouts enthusiastically, grabbing the boy around the waist and lifting him into the air, hollering and whooping until Sirius laughs. The two crash to the ground as Remus throws his arm around your shoulders, watching the pair finally have some fun today as the smoke billows into the air surrounding you, the ash from those horrible words written on the paper disappearing across the Scottish mountains.

[peachdues]

After care prompts -12 with rengoku

Like I feel like he would be just so gentle and sweet but when he gets carried away… you’re definitely not going to be able to walk the next day 🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️

Prompt: "I'm sorry if I got carried away."

A/N. MDNI. Explicit. Not proof read at all lmao.

Panting hard, Kyojuro slowly peeled himself away from where he’d been pressed flush against your back, pushing himself to his knees as he slowly slid his softening cock out of your leaking, slightly sore cunt.

You winced at the loss of his warmth, that stinging cold which always followed him pulling out and away making you flinch against the bed. A thin stream of his seed slowly trickled out behind his cock, staining the blankets below you.

Any lingering discomfort was chased away as Kyojuro’s strong, warm hands positioned themselves gently at your hips and eased you flat against your bed. His fingers then slid behind your knee, gingerly straightening your leg back out from where he’d bent it up near your hip so that you could take more of him as he’d ruthlessly pounded into you from behind.

“Are you alright, my flame?” Kyojuro’s voice was rough but quiet, his fingers gentle as he trailed them up your spine to where your hair had fallen in front of your face, delicately brushing the strands back. “I’m sorry if I got carried away.”

The Flame Pillar had been in a stormy mood upon his arrival to your small cottage. You’d suspected he would visit soon, given the way his crow had landed in your small garden earlier that afternoon, his eyes wide and expectant.

You’d intended on waiting up for him, but the hour had grown late, and you’d accidentally fallen asleep in your bed. You’d been awoken by a sharp grumble of thunder as a late-night storm rolled in, jolting awake in your bed right as a bolt of lightning flashed outside.

You had been trying to quell the pounding of your startled heart when a soft knock had sounded at your door. The moment you’d wrenched the front door open to see your beloved Flame Pillar, standing there in the rain, you’d known what he needed.

Kyojuro was normally so jovial, always sweeping you up in his arms, peppering your face with his loving kisses as he asked after your welfare, all while carrying you back to your small bedroom so he could undress you before spreading you out across your blankets and tenderly having his way with you.

But tonight, he’d shown up with dark clouds in his eyes, much darker than which had brought forth the storm raging outside, his face uncharacteristically stoic as he informed you there had been loss of life on his mission that he’d been unable to prevent.

He was angry. Angry at himself; angry at the demons he fought.

He’d stepped past the threshold of your home, asking you only once if you were prepared to handle him for the night. His voice had been gruff, but the hardness in his eyes had softened for a moment, and you’d known that had you said no, he would’ve simply left, or slept slumped against your wall.

Instead, you’d only taken one step back from him to unfasten the belt of your sleeping kimono from around your waist, letting the material fall open to reveal your nude body before it dropped to the floor in a puddle.

At the first sight of your bare skin, Kyojuro had pounced; one hand had firmly gripped your jaw while the other tangled in your hair, wrenching your head back slightly to meet his ferocious, hungry lips as he kissed you with the fervor of a starving man.

It did not take long for Kyojuro to strip himself of his uniform; before long, he’d had you straddling his lap, hands braced on either side of your waist as he impaled you over and over upon his cock, jerking you up and down his length so fast, you gave up trying to match his pace.

Just before you felt yourself about to cum, Kyojuro’s hands dropped from their grip on your sides, resting instead on the curve of your ass before giving you a firm slap against your rear.

“Ride me,” he’d ground out through clenched teeth.

There was a second sting against your backside as Kyojuro slapped your cheek again to get you moving. For what felt like an eternity you rode him, pushing and grinding and dropping your cunt down on his length at a steady rhythm until your thighs quivered with the effort. Only when it felt like your legs were about to give out entirely, only when you whined his name so desperate and needy, did Kyojuro move.

He’d spent the rest of the night with you on your hands and knees, railing into you from behind with a ferocity that left you choking for breath. Over and over, Kyojuro rammed his hard, demanding length into your dripping cunt, the room filling with sounds of your cries and the squelching of your cunt with every fierce thrust of his hips. When your thighs began to shake once more, and you’d fallen forward against the bed from the force with which he fucked you, Kyojuro hadn’t relented. Instead, he’d only pushed one of your legs further up, bringing your knee level with your hips, and pressed his chest flush against your back as he chased his release.

He kept one hand on your bent leg, pinning it in place, and only moved the other from its bruising grip on your bicep to shove it between your legs, his rough thumb pressing harshly down on your clit until you came hard enough to see stars, your subsequent cry of pleasure loud enough to rattle the windows.

Kyojuro’s own release followed not long after that, though he’d fucked you right through it, until his seed was spilling over where the two of you were connected as he tried to fuck more into you.

But now, the Flame Pillar had exhausted all his aggression — and it seemed that he’d only just realized how pent up and frustrated he had been.

His steel-like arms slid under you, lifting you from the mattress to cradle you bridal-style against his chest. “Let me take care of you now, my flame.” He whispered, his lips grazing the sweaty expanse of your forehead. “Allow me to run you a bath.”

You nodded sleepily, turning your face to press your nose against his skin, inhaling deeply. “I’m glad you made it back,” you murmured between lazy kisses against his skin. “Stay here tonight.”

He usually did, but you always asked — just in case he didn’t know how much you wanted him beside you.

Kyojuro smiled softly, arms tightening around you in gratitude.

“I will, my love.”

Thank you for the banner @benkeibear !

[pearlfeline]

sore loser

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

word count: 1,450

summary: reader gets jealous and draco falls harder during a practice duel. reader can be interpreted as any house but uses she pronouns.

a/n: i haven't written in years like before the pandemic. i deleted my old blog and had no inspiration until months ago lol i started this blog just to read but i started writing this a while back and i finished it last night. not proofread. if the beginning is horrid i apologize i didn't want to delete it and start over because i know i'll never start up again. enjoy the little fluff i threw together.

Dueling was an essential part of the Hogwarts curriculum. Every other week, there was a practice session down in the dungeons. Mats laid out on the floor and splayed on the walls. You hated it. Especially when it was in teams. Seriously, in what circumstances did students need to fight in pairs?

You weren’t known for your dueling skills and when your duels prolonged the average amount of time, you panicked and tapped out immediately.

Today was especially nerve wracking. Dueling in pairs, against Draco, and he’s partnered with the obnoxious girl who has it out for you.

She was clearly eating this up.

Draco was not. He did not like how obvious her intentions were. The shoving him every time she laughed, the raised pitch in her voice only when speaking to him, the way she says his name differently, all of it made him grimace internally. She was like a fly in his ear. Insufferable.

“An easy win.” She looks you up and down, smirking.

She looks over to Draco, attempting to exchange eye contact, but he was looking at you, with anguish. He didn’t hold his gaze for long as he adjusted his sleeves before getting in position.

Neville was your duel partner today. You could tell by his face he was utterly terrified. You kind of felt bad for befriending Draco, seeing what he did to the students around you and how he talked about them. But the side of him you’re not sure anyone else got to see, they don’t know about, the one you stumbled on accidentally while trying to use the washrooms and ended up staying on the cold floor for an hour after curfew just listening.

“Remember what we learned Neville.” You nod at him curtly. He sends you a look of appreciation under his worried gaze. Where would you two be without the extra training?

During the duel, you mostly try taking your anger out on the girl who targets you constantly for no reason. You didn’t even remember her stupid name. There are lots of girls like her. She was just the one who decided to be bold for the semester. Defending yourself makes you a target around the school for certain, but you didn't care enough to stop.

Dueling admittedly can be therapeutic when you have the right attitude. She was knocked down on the mat, clearly taken aback. You had shot spell after spell at her, almost to see how quickly you were able to possibly and properly get spells out of your wand.

Draco had to assist his dueling partner by default, but it made you unexpectedly feel sick seeing him trying to heal her.

“…Get up.” He holds her up by her arm. His gaze is anywhere else but around you.

You were searching for answers inside his eyes, growing more irritated the further he avoided you.

Neville gets his shot at revenge as well, continuously shooting at Draco while he tries to assist his dueling partner.

It was one of those matches that were long and painful. Both sides were equally as good, even if you hated to admit it.

It wasn't long until you’ve seen enough.

“Confringo!” You counter with a spell that bounced off the two of them back and forth until they’re both on the ground.

When the smoke cleared, your eyes flickered to the other end of the platform. Draco didn’t even look upset that he lost. Just surprised you would even use such a spell.

“I was getting sort of tired of using expelliarmus so frequently…” Neville blinked a few times, finally drawing his wand down.

“Freak!” The girl lays for a little too long expecting Draco to pick her up from the floor. He doesn’t.

“Is that even allowed?” She haggardly gets up on her own, dusting off her robes.

“It is.” Draco mutters before sauntering back to the group of students.

It was honestly one of the first duels you had won in a while, there was a newfound confidence in your stride.

It was free period. You decided to take the scenic route. To just relax outside,

“Came out to frolic in the grass did you?” Draco’s hair was completely restyled back to normal, despite the duel having just ended. He replaced his tethered robes with fresh ones and had enough time to wipe his complexion clean.

There was a playful smile on his face, one he didn’t show to most.

“After you lost, shouldn’t I be saying all these snobbish remarks now?” You look up at the sky to avoid his glance. Because if you did, you knew your smile would grow bigger than you would’ve liked.

He scoffs, setting his bag down on the ground.

“Don’t get all excited about this now,”

You watched as he sat down to reach your eye level.

“next time I won’t let you win.” Draco confidently sighed.

“Your pride would never let you purposefully lose.” You remark.

“Maybe it would for certain people.” He argues.

If this is what you thought it was, what an awful attempt at flirting.

“Either way, I won fair Malfoy.” You brush off his last statement.

Draco liked how you said his name. It sounded so familiar and genuine. It wasn't used in a hostile way.

It was hard to hide his growing smile.

“Why are you smiling…” You turn away.

“Is it so fun being a loser?” You say, back completely turned around to face him.

“I only lost because you flung me and that girl across the room!”

“She’s stupid! Of course I’m going to fling her away! You’re stupid too! Stop picking on people.”

Draco looks down while grinning at his feet.

“I’ll try.”

“Don’t just say it. Really do it.” You kick a rock in his direction.

“I get enough criticism for talking to you. Even though it’s all from you not being able to just leave me be.”

“Obviously you don’t care for what others are saying about me.” Draco shuffles the rock in between his feet, passing it back to you.

“Because I’ve seen otherwise to disprove the rumors.” You remarked.

“Before I start telling people you’re actually nice, you should start giving people a reason to believe me!” You toss the rock, watching it bounce off Draco's shoulder.

"Ow! You're the violent one!"

“I’m not going around claiming something that nobody will believe me for. I will not make a fool of myself Malfoy, not in that way. I'm already being prejudiced around here, no thanks to you.”

Draco was not known for his emotional intelligence. In fact, he might be the least comforting person you had ever talked to, but he had a feeling in between the insults, you were telling him how he really was capable of being a good person.

Draco let out a little smile, trying his best not to laugh at you.

Which was difficult because he had a habit of laughing at whatever or whoever he wanted to laugh at.

"This school is tolerable with you around." He said while swallowing whatever dry chuckles were left in his system.

"I'm only around because you follow me everywhere."

Draco slumped over, pushing his weight on your bag. Were his advances, seen as bullying? Of course it was. He was rude to everyone. How were you supposed to figure out he didn't mean it as much when it came to you? He didn't even really know he liked you not that long ago. Though, ever since that epiphany, he can't get you out of his head. There's the urge for more. To see you more. Sneak in more of you throughout the day.

"Keep bothering her, it makes you happier than when you bother others."

"I can't wait to see how she reacts to what I say next."

"I need her to see my new quidditch uniform."

All were stupid thoughts, yes, but they all worked. You were never mean enough to be hostile towards him, and honestly seeing him slip up and forget to keep his tough exterior up every once in a while was rewarding. You would never say it out loud but it made you feel special.

Draco lazily picks off blades of grass peaking through the cords attached to your bag. He had finally run out of things to say to bother you.

"...You aren't going to defend yourself?"

He glances up at you for a moment before shaking his head.

He thought, one day he'll be able to just confess and maybe pull you into a swift kiss right after. Of course, you'll say yes and kiss back and all of that stuff. He'll worry about it later.

[talesofesther]

late night blues

Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Tara is often plagued by the memories of what she's been through. Luckily she has you to remind her that life can still be warm and sweet.

A/N: This idea was given to me by my dear @iamnicodemus, I really hope you like it. It is my first time writing for Tara, guys, so be nice to me. Requests for her are open, just be mindful of my guidelines. <3

Masterlist

The TV was talking to itself. It was late at night already, too late for you to not be in bed.

But you were starting to get used to the constant noise of the cars on the streets, and the couch was so comfortable.

After the days you've been having, the short walk to the bedroom felt like too much of an effort.

Though it wasn't the smartest decision, because when you stirred awake with the sound of erratic knocking on your door, your neck and back were complaining in pain.

You opened your eyes slowly, lazily blinking away the sleepiness and adjusting to the bright TV in front of you. It was some poor reporter who was talking, forced to say the less exciting news at — with a frown, you felt around on the couch until you found your cellphone — 2:47 AM, great.

Leaving your phone on the coffee table, you stretched your sore muscles, basking in the eery feeling of having only the TV and street lamps from outside as your source of light in the small hotel room.

It was a temporary situation, only until everyone could get properly settled in New York. A cheaper hotel in the outskirts of the city, the rooms weren't huge — just a small joined living room and an excuse for a kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom — but it was enough, cozy in its own simple way.

The knocking came again and brought your still drowsy body back to reality. You got up from the couch with a groan and dragged yourself to the door.

Upon turning the lock and opening the door, you regretted not doing a quicker job of greeting your late-night visitor.

Tara stood in front of you, shaking like a leaf. She wore her fluffy pink jacket, hugging it impossibly closer to her body the best way she could manage with her bandaged hand; shifting awkwardly on her feet. The dim orange light of the hallway reflected against her cheeks, allowing you to see fading tear tracks on them. Her eyes, red-rimmed and wide, were looking at you with a silent plea.

"Hey," you whispered gently, tentatively. You peeked outside to take a one-second glance to the right where the door to her and Sam's room was, "is everything okay?"

Tara's lips hovered yet she couldn't speak, a lump formed in her throat that she had to gulp back. The nightmares — memories — remained all too vivid in her mind, blurring her sight and forcing her to stifle a sob.

She came looking for her source of comfort before even fully waking up, in nothing but a mess of unsteady feet and shaky breaths.

It was unfair, that someone so innocent took the worst of it.

You reached out a hand for her with the encouragement you knew she needed, "come here."

Tara limped forward, a lone tear rolling down her cheek. Maybe because walking was still painful. She said nothing as she threw herself into your arms, soft sobs being muffled by your hoodie.

You did your best to hold her tightly and stay mindful of her still-healing injuries. One hand cradling her head, your lips brushing the shell of her ear as you whispered promises you hoped to keep.

There was an unbearable weight to your chest whenever Tara came to you in nothing but shreds of herself. Barb wire wrapping itself around your throat like a constant reminder of the permanent scars.

Sometimes you wish you could take her pain to yourself.

You felt her tears trickling down your neck when Tara buried herself into you. She sucked in a sharp breath when she accidentally pressed her injured hand too forcefully into you — yet refused to let go despite the bitter sting.

Keeping one hand around her, you used the spare one to close the door. Turning the lock, just in case.

"Let's sit down, I can make you some hot chocolate if you want," you suggested, gently swinging your bodies together from side to side.

With a sniff, Tara pulled back, using your arms for support to ease the tension on her bad leg. She gave you a soft nod with an even softer smile. It was bittersweet to see her glistening, swollen eyes trying to convey some happiness.

You took her to the couch, sitting her down on the same spot you were previously occupying. There was a fuzzy blanket that instantly became your favorite when you checked in the hotel for the first time a few nights ago; you brought it around Tara's shoulders, making sure she was all snug and warm before you turned to go to the kitchen.

Tara's eyes widened the slightest bit at the mere idea of you putting distance between you and her, it tugged at your heartstrings that something so simple got her so terrified.

You kissed her forehead and promised to be back in less than five minutes. And you did, holding a warm mug of hot chocolate between your hands.

She deserves nothing but sweetness and warmth anyway.

Before sitting down beside Tara, you took a second to yourself to take her in. She looked adorably small between the mountain of blankets and cushions; her hair was a bit of a mess, up in what was supposed to be a bun, a few strands still clinging to the cold sweat on her forehead; she was looking at the TV, but you could tell her eyes were unfocused.

Tara offered a piece of the blanket to you as soon as you were beside her, carefully taking the mug you offered. She hummed appreciatively after the first sip, allowing the sweetness to calm her nerves.

She had one hand around the mug, the other feeling between the blankets until she found yours and gingerly took it, closing her fingers around yours the best she could with the bandage on her palm.

Unbeknownst to you, you became Tara's anchor. You were the person she sought out when the memories became too much to bear. It's not often that she wants to talk about it, trying to avoid at all costs to relive all that happened — all that panic, the pain, the fear of trying to crawl away from death but knowing you're not fast enough. So most nights, you hold her, you warm her up, you try to get her to smile, you make her hot chocolate. Warm and sweet.

And it was just your mistake, that your cellphone was not muted.

Its ringing was loud in the middle of the quiet night, vibrating against the coffee table as the screen lit up with Sam's name.

Tara flinched back so forcefully that even you got startled, she spilled a bit of the hot drink on her fingers but didn't really react to it, her eyes glued to your phone. Her breathing was suddenly all over the place, too fast as she couldn't get enough air in.

You mumbled a string of curses under your breath, getting up so fast that you almost fell face-first on the floor when your feet got tangled in the blankets.

Firstly you took the mug with hot chocolate from Tara's hand, she was shaking violently and you didn't want her burning herself. Then you answered the damn phone.

"Hey… she's here, don't worry," you comforted a worried Sam, keeping your eyes on Tara.

Your heart broke all over again.

With unsteady hands, Tara scrambled for the inhaler in her pocket, doing her best to ease her breathing. The images of the TV highlighted the path her tears left behind, with more still pooling on the bottom lid of her dark eyes.

"Yeah, of course," you spoke, setting down the mug on the coffee table, "I will, bye Sam."

You sighed, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you, "hey, it's okay," you turned off your phone, making sure to put it on silent mode.

Tara tried drying off her cheeks, quiet sobs making her shoulders shake.

Your feelings escaped you and you sat down beside her, taking her into your arms, "it was just Sam, she didn't know where you were." You spoke against her hair, moving your hand up and down her back to try and ground her. "I'm so sorry," you whispered.

Tara had a white-knuckled grip on your hoodie, her lips brushing your collarbone. "I keep getting back there," there was a sudden rawness to her voice, it broke by the end and she could taste the salt of her own tears, "every time I close my eyes, or- or hear a damn phone ringing, I'm back at the hospital, at my house-" a sob interrupted her, but the feeling of your arms tightening around her kept her going, "only this time, I can't get away."

Each beating of your heart hurts against your ribs, it wants to leap out of your chest and into her hands — even this close is not close enough; even with her in your arms, you still want to protect her more. Your thumb found the corner of her lip and moved up her cheek, brushing away her tears with the pad of your finger like a promise of safety.

"I can't sleep. I'm terrified of being alone," Tara melted against you, her good hand sneaking under your hoodie to feel the warmth there, "it's almost as if I- I see her-" she cut herself off and you knew she was talking about Amber, sometimes you wondered what hurt her more; the wounds or the betrayal.

Tara took in a shaky breath, her lips quivering, "I see her in dark corners, and it- it hurts-" she cradled her bandaged hand close to her chest, striving to chase away the hurt, the memories. The small act got you holding back tears.

"Because we were- we-"

"I know," you reassured her, feeling how it was becoming increasingly harder for her to speak. You cupped her face as your lips found her cheeks and you lightly kissed away her tears. "You never deserved any of it, and I'm so sorry I couldn't stop it from happening."

The back of your throat was burning. You brushed back loose strands of her hair, admiring how the freckles over her nose took in the glow of the street lamps that sneaked through the windows; thanking every possible entity that she was here for you to do so, "I'm so sorry I wasn't there. You have no idea how scared I was of losing you."

Tara blinked her eyes open, teardrops still clinging to her eyelashes. "You're here now. As am I." She said as a reassurance both to you and herself.

Your heart bled for her and her only. It hurt just how much you felt for her, how much you loved her. Though it was the good kind of pain.

You smiled, ever so gentle with the way you took hold of her hand — because gentleness is all she deserves — and placed a kiss on each of her knuckles, your lips brushing over the white bandages on her hand.

"I hope you know you're never getting rid of me."

And Tara chuckled, all teary-eyed and fragile, the smile finally somewhat reaching her eyes. "I'm counting on it."

It felt a lot like healing. And truth was, maybe you were both a bit of a mess, but existing together made it feel like you didn't need anything else to feel whole again.

A beat passed where you two just looked at each other, both wondering if the other is feeling the same, yet not having the courage to ask.

Tara's chest was rising and falling more steadily now. Without the weight of — for lack of a better word — your trauma, the hotel room held an intimacy to it.

Her eyes drifted down to where your hand held onto hers. Where others hurt, you cared. She was looking at you as if you were everything she'd ever thirsted for; as if no one else made sense.

"You think it's already cold?" Tara tilted her head to the mug on the table, if anything, to clear the sudden timidness growing between you.

You hummed, stretching forward to grab the mug, "I don't think so," you brought it to your lips and took a sip, the sweet beverage still warm on your tongue.

Tara took it from you with a smirk threatening to appear; she leaned back on the couch, hugging the covers closer to her chest and drinking from the same spot your lips had just been.

You're not sure why it raised goosebumps on your skin.

On the TV, a random movie had been playing for a while now, you didn't care much for it as long as it worked to take Tara's mind off of things — which seemed to be working just fine. She snuggled up to you as soon as you leaned back as well, her head finding your shoulder as she kept her eyes on the pirates braving the seven seas in front of her.

You could get used to this, you decided.

"Can I stay here for the night?" Tara asked hesitantly, glancing up at you, "the rest of the night, that is."

You bumped her knee with yours. As if you'd ever say no. "Only if you promise to stay tomorrow too."

And every day after.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Tara’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us

[littlefanficprincess]

K.O in Arcadia

Trollhunters x fem reader

Chapter: 0.5

Word count: 3k

Synopsis: A girl from the 12th century accidentally falls through a portal and finds herself in 21st century Arcadia.

A/n: A chapter for a fanfic I'm possibly gonna make when I'm finished with 9th grade Ladybug, if the fandom is still alive.

~~~

You in- and exhale, closing your eyes. You were sitting on the hard wooden floor, holding your arms stretched out infront of you. On the floor before you was a spell circle, written with chalk.

"Eaptia epe obaprrr sef tmemlo"

The words escape your lips, they were almost burned into your brain. Your body gets a light white glow, objects around begin to float.

Morgana had given you the book to practice, as she herself was busy. Magic was forbidden in the kingdom. Morgana's use of it was only allowed, because she was the sister of king Arthur.

You slightly open one your eyes, peeking from behind your eyelid. Before you was a blue warpgate, where the spell circle used to be.

"Yes!" You cheer, you had been practicing that spell for a month. But your celebration was cut short by tugging at your dress. You grip the fabrics, trying to hold it back. Thing pulling on it was the warp gate, slowly pulling everything towards it.

In a blink of an eye, you get pulled in and fell through. Your (h/c) hair wave past your face as your body decends through...the sky? You could reach fast enough to land on your arms and legs, your body hits a field of grass.

You push your self up onto your knees, rubbing your sore arms. Your eyes scan the surrounding area, instead of your cozy home, you were met with a town filled with things you didn't regonise.

You stumbles into your feet, brushes the dust off your dress. You wander off the patch of grass and onto a big path of stone, above it was hanging a machine with colored lights. You wondered with green light mean, did it mean you could walk over.

Not even looking both ways, you walk across. You were able to get a glimpse of something heading your way, before it hit you. The next moment your vision went black.

{3rd pov}

The drive instructor's mouth falls open as the car stops, he had watched a teen hit the front of the car and falls onto the road.

"Oh no...Does this mean I failed?" The boy who was taking his exam asks, gripping the wheel tightly.

"Maybe I should fail you for being a worried about failing and not the person you just hit" The instructor scolds the teenage boy. He gets out of the car, checking on the unconscious girl. "She is just knocked out with a bruise, now your exam is to drive to the hospital".

(Your pov)

My eyes flicker open, being met very a very bright room. After I adjust to the brightness, I notice I was laying in a metal bed with white sheets. ‘Where am…’ suddenly the image of that machine entered my mind, reminding me what happened before I blacked out.

The door opens, grabbing my attention. Turn my gaze over to see a kind looking woman enter the room, holding a plank of wood with paper attached. She wrote something down on it, before looking at me. “You’re awake, that’s good. How are you feeling?” She asks.

I read the piece of paper on her coat ‘Dr. Lake’. “A bit light headed and sore, but I’m alright. Thank you, doctor Lake” I answer with a small smile.

“We weren’t able to find any ID on you. Can you tell me please your name?” Doctor Lake asks me, gripping the cillinder thing in her hand.

‘What is ID, does she mean idea?’ I think to myself. “(Y/n) (L/n)” I respond to her question.

{3rd pov}

Barbara writes down the girl’s name. Noting in her head that the girl’s attire seemed a bit odd, perhaps she does theatre. The ginger haired woman leaves the room and enters her office. She writes (L/n) in the hospital search form, surprised to see no results. Then she looked the girl’s name on a regular search engine, blank aswell. It made her question what was going on, so she returned to the hospital room.

She was met with (Y/n) sitting patiently in the bed, her left hand on the other. She was staring out the window, seeming to be looking at the sky. Barbara clears her throat, making (Y/n) turn to her. “I wasn’t able to find any files about you. Do you have your parents’ number?"

(Y/n) pauses, things rolling around in her mind. She didn't believe she was in a different country, or atleast a country that was close to England. The doctor spoke the same language as her, just with a different accent. She must've been brought to the future because of the time warp gate, most likely atleast a hundred years.

"I... don't remember, I only remember my name" She lied, it was beter than trying to explains that came through a portal.

'Did the blow of the car give her Amnesia?' Barbara theorizes, writing it down on her clipboard. "I'm going to organize something, I'll be back" She walks out of the door once again.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

For the time being, (Y/n) was placed in a program to reside with a family. The hospital hoped that she would recover her memory or that they were able to find anything about her.

{Your pov}

I stand infront of the house I was told to go. Doctor Lake had told me I was going to live with the Nuñez family, Mrs. Nuñez being a council woman of Arcadia. I was just hoping that they were friendly.

Slowly reaching towards the front door, I knock onto the door. I watch as the door opens, revealing a woman with short dark brown hair and brown eyes. She greets me with a smile "You must be (Y/n), come in".

Doing as she requested, I walk in. I hear her close the door behind me, as I turn my gaze around the home. It felt sleek and more one whole than I am used to.

I look over to see a baby jumping up and down in round swing looking thing. Walking over to them, I crouch down to get to their level. I couldn't help but chuckle when I see the baby reaching their chubby hands towards me. I had to stop myself from kissing his cute little face.

"That is my son Enrique, he is only a few months old" Mrs Nuñez introduces the small baby boy, walking to the kitchen. "My daughter and husband are at school and work right now, they should be back soon. You can find your bedroom, it is the white door. You came earlier than I was expecting"

I couldn't help but be curious on how my room would look like. I snuck upstairs, stopping at the white door. It was right to a purple door, which I assume belongs to the daughter.

Opening the door, I was met with an almost empty room. There was a bed with white sheets, an empty closet and a desk. I take a seat, it was quite comfortable. My fingers trace across the wrinkles of the sheets.

I could hear down below the door opening. "Mom, I'm home!" A voice calls out. The person and Mrs. Nuñez talk about something, but I wasn't able to understand clearly what they were saying. Not long after that, someone came walking upstairs. The person gently knocks on my room.

I open it, peeking out of it. Standing there was a teen girl, with dark brown hair with a dark blue streak in it. There were different colored accessories in her hair, reminding me of a rainbow. She was wearing a dark purple jacket, a lighter purple sweater with a skull on it. Under it she wore a skirt, with leggings under it.

"My mom didn't tell me someone was going to stay with us. My name is Claire, by the way. You must be (Y/n)" The girl introduces herself, holding out her hand for me to shake.

"That's me" I push the door further open, grabbing her hand and gently shaking it. "I hope you don't mind me having around. You already have your parents here and your little brother""Not really, I would be nice having another person around my age here" Her eyes lowers, inspecting my outfit. "Is that a twelfth century dress?"

I pause, realising I have to come up with an excuse. "Well...um, I don't remember a lot. But I think I liked theatre, maybe I was in a play" I like through my teeth, fiddling with my loose sleeve.

Claire's face lights up at the mention of it, she leaned in closer to me. "I love theatre! What is your favorite? Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet..." She trails off when she was my confused expression. "Right, you don't remember much. I got a little over-excited"

"It's nothing, I also get pretty overjoyed when hearing one of my interests. If don't mind asking, what time period are we in currently?" I question the girl.

"It's 2016, why do you ask?" Claire's expression becomes worried, her eyebrows furrow. "Are you feeling alright? You look pretty pale"

'Nine-hundred years...I am that far into the the future?' My head begins to feel light as I feel the shock. I feel myself falling back, until my head hit the floor.

BONK

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

After that embarrassing accident. Me, Clair and Mrs. Nuñez had gone to shopping to get clothes appropriate to this century. It was getting used to wearing softer and lighter fabrics, it felt easier to move.

[Keeping it vague on purpose]

I was inrolled into school, Arcadia Oak High. I stroll over the sidewalk, a bag slung across over my shoulder. Claire walked next to me, talking about a book she had read. From what I've seen, she was pretty responsible, even with all the pressure her mother puts her on.

I noticed two girls standing not that far away from us, seeming to be waiting for us. One had medium black hair, while the other had brown curly hair. "Hey C-bomb" The girl with curly hair's eyes shift to me "Who this? She seems new"

"(Y/n), pleasure" I chime, holding my hands togheter. They seemed a bit confused, was I too formal?"

"She is staying with me for a bit, I hope you don't mind her hanging around us" Claire mentions, breaking the akward tension.

"Not at all, I am Mary by the way" The black haired girl pulls out a 'phone'. Mr Nuñez had given me one not to long ago. I don't fully understand what it does, a feature was it could call upon a person from a far distance.

Mary pushes the phone in my face, on it were images of food and herself. "Can I get your Instagram? So I can add you" She asks.

My eyebrows furrow. "Insta...gram?" I mumble, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Perhaps it was the thing on her phone, it was something that formated images in a certain way.

Noticing that the confused gases has return, I clear my throat. "I just got a phone for the first time, I'm not really familiar with that" I explain myself.

"No way!" Mary slings her arm around my shoulder, pulling me along towards school. "During break, I am going to teach everything you need to know about the internet. You have a lot to catch up on"

"I think she is going fit right in" I hear the other girl say to Claire behind me, I hope she's right.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

While the girls had head to class, I had to go to the 'principle's office'. He was a nice man, he was throwing around slang I don't even think he understands. He gave me directions on where my first class way, along with s sheet with all my classes. Luckily I was in the same class as Claire, Mary and Darci (who's name I learned), first class was history by Mr. Strickler.

I stand before the classroom door, waiting for the right moment. I calm my nerves, knocking on the door. I hear a calm voice respond "Come in", my cue.

Pushing the door open, I was met with an older man and a bunch of teens staring at me. It felt a bit akward, It isn't a usual thing to have that many eyes on me.

"Introduce yourself, they don't bite" Mr. Strickler jokes, snapping me out of my train of thoughts. His remark made me relax more.

I walk over, standing before the class. I noticed Claire sitting near the front, who gives me a small wave. I smile, waving back. I look up, ready to talk. "My name is (Y/n), it's nice to meet you all" I greet, keeping the smile on my face.

"Now that wasn't too hard, was it?" Mr. Stricker chimes in. "Since you seem already acquainted with Ms. Nuñez, you can take a seat next to her" He instructs.

I nod, sitting down at the desk next to Claire. It went a lot easier than I was expecting, let's hope the rest of high school will be this easy. My lips purse as I feel a pair of eyes at me, but I ignore the feeling.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Toby and Jim walk out of the classroom as the lesson had wrapped up. Toby was talking Jim's ears off about a game he began playing.

They walk outside, heading towards their lockers. Jim spots the new girl talking to the principal, he couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"Can't Ms. Nuñez show you around?" The principal questions the (h/c)nette.

"She is busy with practice, it's really important to her" (Y/n) answers, fiddling with her fingers. She didn't remember exactly what the girl was practicing for, she thought it was a play.

It seemed like Toby was listening aswell. He jabs his best friend in the side, whispering "Dude, I have the greatest idea right now. If you give her a tour, you get good in Claire's book"

Jim scratches the back of his head. "I don't know, Toby. Isn't it a little shallow to just use her to get close to Claire?" He asks the shorter teen.

Toby didn't seem to listen. He grabs Jim by the arm, dragging him along. "We'll do it, principal" He says, raising his hand.

Turning towards the two students, a pleasant expression appears on the principal's face. "Ah, Domzalski, Lake. I'll be leaving her in your hands, don't get her in trouble" The old man laughs, before walking off.

(Y/n) looks at the two students, smiling innocently. She had to make sure to not accidentally reveal something she shouldn't, the fact that she was from a whole 'nother century or her magic.

'This is going to be a piece of cake' Toby thinks confidently, crossing his arms.

'Lord, have mercy on me' Jim tries his best to not palm his own face off.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"English, Math, Biology, Spanish, History, P.E and lunch is my favorite" Toby jokes, getting a chuckle out of (Y/n). "Never forget to do your Spanish homework, or you'll be facing the wrath of Mr. Uhl"

(Y/n) looks over to the blue eyes boy, who seemed to be in deep thought. She wondered what could be going through his mind. "Do you anything to tell me about this school?" She spoke, snapping him out of it.

"Um, well...Mr. Strickler is pretty cool, I guess" Jim mutters. He didn't have much time to think of something to say. He was too busy wondering what was so off about the new girl, she seemed pretty normal. He squints his eyes as he notices something, he swore a spark in her in her eye.

"Do I have something on my face?" (Y/n) tilts her head, seeing that he was staring a little too long.

Jim shakes his head. "Nothing, it's nothing" He answers, just pushing away the thought.

The two boys notice (Y/n) looks at something. Follow her gaze, they see Steve doing his usual locker stuffing. They were thinking of walking away, but (Y/n) had other plans. Toby tried to grab by the sleeve, but was too late.

Steve was busy taunting Eli, then he feels someone tapping his shoulder. He turns and looks down, seeing (Y/n) infront of him. "What is it, Newbie? Can't you see I'm busy"

Poking his head out of the locker was Eli, his eyes widening at the sight of her. "I saw you before! You were falling from l-like the sky. Like an alien or a-an angel!" He points at her.

Steve bashes his elbow against the locker, making Eli hold his tongue. "Shut it, Pepperjack" Steve threatens the nerd. Then he leans forward, a smirk on his face "Now that I look at you, you look pretty cu–"

"Hey, Steve. New hair you got there? I gotta borrow her for a second" Toby akwardly smiles, pulling (Y/n) back. "The second most important thing is that you don't mess with Steve"

Letting put an annoyed huff, crossing her arms. "I am sorry, but I just really hate bullies" she chews her bottom lip, it already was a bit damaged.

"(Y/n), if you don't mind me asking. Are you perhaps from England" Jim asks her, seeming to grow suspicious of the girl.

"Why do you ask that?"

"Your accent"

(Y/n) tenses up, realising that she is possibly cornered. She had hoped that they wouldn't notice it. Telling him the lie she told Doctor Lake could be questioned once she accidentally do or say something suspicious. But saying she was, would contradict her lie.

She let out a relieved sigh as the bell rings. When she needed it most, the bell saved her. She gives the two boys a quick wave, before walking off.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Her (e/c) eyes stare at the ceiling as she later in her bed, her arms stretched out besides her. She turns her head, looking at the corkboard hanging on the wall. In the middle of it was a sticky note with drawing of a book. Red yarn connected it with other sticky notes, one of it was a sticky note with a drawing of the school. It was crossed out with red marker.

"Where is it..?"

[mj-iza-writer]

Old leaves and twigs broke under Whumper's feet as they ran barefoot through the woods. He had no idea where he was running too, but anywhere was good as long he didn't catch them.

"Whumper you're just making this harder on yourself", Whumper heard through the trees. They sounded uncomfortably close.

Whumper stopped to get his barings, "that fucken caretaker, how was I even found. Whumpee wouldn't have known where this place was."

Whumper took off again, trying to change directions. He couldn't let Whumpee's caretaker find him. There's no telling what he'd do, especially out here with no witnesses.

Whumper accidentally rolled his ankle with a large stick that slid through the wet leaves. He slid along with it and fell into the muck of leaves.

"Shit", Whumper groaned.

"I heard that", Caretaker yelled, "that means I'm close to you.

The sound of a shotgun being pumped gave Whumper a boost of adrenaline.

"I can't run like this", Whumper tried to stand, but definitely had a bad sprain.

Whumper looked into the trees and found one that he could climb.

Once situated on the limb, he tried to catch his breath. He was sore all over. Caretaker had snuck onto the private property and knocked at his door. Whumper didn't even have a second before the door was kicked in. He dodged Caretaker and ran.

The sound of someone approaching sent chills down Whumper's back.

Caretaker examined the skid mark, "wow you must have gotten pretty hurt here, I bet you twisted maybe even sprained an ankle", Caretaker laughed, "definitely no way you kept running on that."

Whumper held onto the trunk of the tree, he was shaking uncontrollably.

Caretaker leaned against a different tree, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. "I know you're close. I can wait as long as you need me too. I am very patient."

Whumper rolled his eyes, 'great', was his only thought.

He heard Caretaker laugh again.

"I had hoped to catch you off guard, I don't even think you had shoes on when you ran. Your feet are probably killing you from the forest floor", Caretaker blew out some smoke, "we can wait all night if you want, I'm dressed to be out here. I know you are going to have a rough time though."

Whumper looked down at his feet, sure enough they were a bloody mess. He groaned silently when he moved his ankle slightly.

"I want you to pay attention to the fear you feel right now. Knowing that I have the upper hand, and you are at my mercy. This is how you made Whumpee feel all day, every day", Caretaker continued, "you've done some twisted things to them, but don't worry, they are in good hands now."

Whumper looked down at Caretaker. This man was absolutely terrifying. It shook Whumper even more thinking about what Caretaker had planned.

"I know you're up in that tree", Caretaker stated ominously not even looking up.

Whumper's whole body jolted at the thought. Caretaker was aware of them being up there this whole time.

"Do I need to shoot you down, or are you going to get down here willingly and pay for what you've done to Whumpee?", Caretaker dropped the remaining part of the cigarette and stepped on it, "you get a minute before I start shooting, keep in mind I won't miss."

Whumper sighed.

"I can't get down. It was hard enough to get up here", Whumper called down.

Caretaker looked up, "and do you think I care?"

Whumper sighed, then moaned and groaned all the way down the tree.

Once low enough Caretaker yanked him off the tree and threw him to ground.

Whumper lay face down into the dirt. He didn't want to look up.

Caretaker circled, "you know Whumpee is an open book. They were so desperate for love and attention, once they got it, a wealth of knowledge. Get up and kneel."

Whumper groaned as they got up, kneeling made their ankle throb.

"Do I, do I have to kneel? My ankle..."

"You made Whumpee do stuff when they were in pain", Caretaker interrupted, "you didn't care, so why should I?"

Whumper looked down.

"I'm not sure what I want to do with you yet. I can't do something overly illegal, or I risk being taken from Whumpee's care team. I don't trust the justice system though, they won't give Whumpee closure. I think you deserve worse than jail honestly."

Whumper listened.

"Whumpee says to let you go, but I don't trust you. You'll probably go find someone else to hurt or come back for Whumpee. I'm not chancing it", Caretaker frowned.

"You'll never see or hear from me again I promise", Whumper pleaded, "just let me go."

Caretaker circled Whumper, "nice try but Whumpee wouldn't be completely free knowing you were out there, and what if you do strike again. I could be allowing you to go screw with another person's life."

Whumper begged, "no, please, I'm done I swear."

"Get up", Caretaker commanded.

Whumper stood as quickly as they could.

"What was that one thing you did to Whumpee, oh I remember", Caretaker smirked, "let's go back to your house and replicate it."

"Uh no please, just kill me if you must", Whumper fell back down to the ground, "I don't know what you are implying, but I don't want it."

"I'm sure Whumpee didn't want to do it either", Caretaker replied sharply, and pulled them back up, "I can't just kill you, they'd trace it back to me, I can cause an accident though."

"What?", Whumper stumbled as Caretaker shoved them.

"How many situations do you have coursing through your mind right now, hmm?", Caretaker pushed Whumper through the woods, "what exactly do you think I could do to you?"

"I don't want to find out", Whumper replied.

They finally made it back to Whumper's property.

"Let's go inside", Caretaker pushed them forward with his gun.

"I'm serious, can we not do this", Whumper turned toward Caretaker.

"How many times did Whumpee ask you for mercy. After they were found, you went into hiding. You hurt someone, and you don't want to deal with the repercussions", Caretaker frowned.

"I'm sorry, I'll do anything, just please don't do what you are planning", Whumper pleaded.

"Okay, you come back with us, confess to the court, and take whatever they give you. I'm sure you'll receive more mercy from them, then from me", Caretaker frowned, "unfortunately."

"Did you say us?", Whumper questioned.

A police siren sounded making Whumper jump.

"You tricked me", Whumper looked wide eyed at Caretaker, "you did all of this... and for what?"

"Satisfaction. Trust me, if I could have killed you, I would have, but like I said, I don't want to be taken from Whumpee's care team", Caretaker sighed and cleared the gun before handing it to the police, "I received permission to do this so you would confess, and give me some satisfaction. Plus, I was recording so Whumpee could watch you piss yourself", Caretaker grinned, "give them some justice."

Whumper's hands were pulled behind them, and cuffs were clicked tightly around their wrist.

Caretaker pulled out a cigarette box and lighter, and watched as Whumper was arrested.

A police officer stepped up beside them, "how hard was it to not pull the trigger. You had two bullets. I would have had a hard time."

"It was easy, I kept reminding myself that Whumpee was waiting for me. I have other responsibilities to attend to", Caretaker put the cigarette to his lips to light it, "I didn't have time to waste fighting the justice system. The same courts that will let them walk free, would put me in jail. That's why I requested the camera, in case things didn't go my way. Whumpee also begged me not to kill him. I keep my promises."

Caretaker walked into the house a while later, and was met by a curious Whumpee.

"Whumpee you shouldn't be out of bed", Caretaker kicked off his boots and frowned at the trail of my mud, "I thought I got it all off, I guess not."

"H-how did it go?", Whumpee poked their fingers together shyly.

"It went well, they are still alive if that's what you mean", Caretaker smiled, "I scared them, and they confessed. The police were able to arrest them."

Whumpee looked down.

"You seem unhappy", Caretaker knelt down in front of Whumpee, "why?"

"I'm sorry, I am happy, really. Thankyou for everything you've done for me", Whumpee faked a smile.

"But", Caretaker grinned, "you wanted something to happen, you wanted Whumper to have fought back a little, you wanted him to have experienced even a little of what he put you through."

Whumpee looked at Caretaker fearfully, but nodded, "am I bad for that?"

"No Whumpee, you're not", Caretaker ran his thumb across Whumpee's cheek to wipe a tear away, "you went through a lot. It's not wrong to wish that on the person who did it."

Whumpee whimpered as more tears started to fall.

"Aww Whumpee you've been holding in a lot of this, haven't you", Caretaker sighed, "it's okay, how about we go sit down. I do have a video of what happened if you want to watch that. I think it was really funny."

Whumpee nodded.

Caretaker wrapped a blanket around Whumpee and got the video started.

Caretaker smiled as Whumpee giggled at Whumper's begging.

Whumpee wiped some more tears away and looked at Caretaker, "they looked terrified."

"They were very scared", Caretaker nodded, "did that make you feel a little better?"

"A little", Whumpee grinned, "but what's going to happen now?"

"For right now, we have to wait. The lawyers and court will have to deal with it. Whumper didn't look good running away and hiding", Caretaker sighed, "you are under the protection of your care team so no matter what you will never go back to him again."

Whumpee nodded, "can I, can I watch it again?"

"Of course you can", Caretaker winked, "I'm going outside for a smoke while you watch it, okay?"

"Okay", Whumpee grinned at Whumper falling to the floor as they scurried out of the house, "thankyou Caretaker", Whumpee turned to them, "thankyou so much for doing this."

Caretaker winked, "you're welcome Whumpee", he grinned, "I'm glad I was able to do it."

I don't want to talk about how long this has sat in drafts. I hope you enjoyed. -MJ

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109 @idontreallyexistyet

[strawberrycheeks-and-glasses]

Happy Birthday, Kei

Since it’s our favorite boy’s birthday, I was finally able to celebrate him this year! I love him so much and i just wanted some cute fluff for his bday 🥰 please enjoy~

Tsukishima x reader | rated G | 2k~

Summary: You’ve recently started dating Kei and found out that his birthday was coming up. Wanting to celebrate him, you decide to surprise him, but things don’t go according to plan.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You’ve only been dating Kei for a few months, but when you found out it was his birthday from his best friend Tadashi, you knew you wanted to do something special.

You’re not a very outgoing person, but you’re also not so shy that you hate any ounce of attention you might attract. Honestly, you don’t seek it out, but you always happen to be what people are staring at, because you make a mess wherever you go, with your terrible luck.

Unlike Kei.

He’s shy, and quiet. And he hates when people notice him, even though he’s six feet tall and blond, so he sticks out like a sore thumb. But he never wants the attention.

Why he started dating you, you have no idea. You’re a clutz, an accidental attention magnet and to be dating a guy who hates people looking at him, it makes no sense why he’s with you.

But he is.

How did your awkward pairing happen? You can thank Mother Nature for that. Because while you were you on your hands and knees in the middle of the quad, chasing after the papers the wind blew away from you, the very last one landed under Kei’s shoe.

“Excuse me, you’re stepping on my assignment,” you squeaked up at him from the ground.

Peering down at you from his height, through his glasses, he lifted his foot to allow you to grab the sheet of paper.

“Don’t you turn things in electronically?” He asked, pushing up his glasses as you stood up from the ground.

“Yes,” you stated, brushing down your skirt and patting your hair down. Finally, looking up into his golden eyes, you smiled at him. “But I prefer the feeling of writing my assignments by hand.”

After that, he noticed you everywhere he went. Something always happened while you were around, making him catch a glimpse of your sweet smile as you apologized to the librarians for knocking over a stack of books, or running back to the Chem lab with a mop after spilling some sort of chemicals.

Please read the rest on ao3

[somber-sapphic]

Hi! Can I request 1, 35, and ill timed with Yelena and sick reader? Love your writing!

Old Wives' Tales

This is my first Yelena fic! This is also unedited! Mostly because it's 2am!

[[Summary]] Most of the avengers would kill to get out of a press conference. Not you. You would do whatever you could to make sure you got to go. (yelena x reader)

-----

You had been looking forward to the press conference all week. Most of the others absolutely hated dealing with the media. Natasha voiced her hatred outright and had even recruited Clint and Wanda (who were clearly only supporting the assassin because they were dating) to boycott any sort of press event. Fury had shut it down, insisting that it was a part of the job and that people needed to view all of you as a unit. 

Tony loved the attention, Bruce didn’t really care about any of it as long as the big guy didn't come out, Cap was, of course, all about the people, Strange enjoyed showing off his intelligence in any way that he could and Thor always looked bored. Yelena only went because she had little choice. Natasha decided that if she had to go, so did her sister. 

You, Tony, and Cap were the three who truly loved the conferences. It was fun for you, it was some of the only times that you could snap back at the public for the way that they saw some of you, mainly when it came to the three women. For some reason, they were more okay with the men destroying cities than with the rest of you accidentally knocking down some statues in a battle. Calling them out on it and watching faces go red was quite entertaining. 

Imagine your dismay when you woke up three hours before the conference with a blocked nose and full sinuses. Your throat felt like someone had force-fed you gravel and your body was unnaturally heavy. Damnit. You were sick. You hadn’t been sick in years but could recognize the feeling anywhere. It went without saying that you were no longer looking forward to dealing with reporters. 

With a hacking cough, you heaved yourself out of bed, swaying when your feet hit the floor. All of the blood rushed from your head, leaving you dizzy and vulnerable. You fell back onto the bed and clutched your head in your hands, groaning quietly. This was going to be an incredibly long day. Suddenly the idea of sitting under harsh lights and arguing with misogynists sounded like a nightmare. 

You took a final deep, bubbling breath and stood up again before shuffling to the bathroom to get ready. Despite knowing that there would be someone to do your makeup you applied a small amount, simply enough to make yourself look less like a walking zombie and more like a semi-living human. 

It was difficult to do proper makeup with shaky hands and blurry vision, but you pulled it off with minimal screw-ups. You’d thought for a moment that you could handle doing mascara and eyeliner but after accidentally drawing a dark black streak on your cheek. Then you’d had to do the makeup again, leading you to give up on doing anything close to your normal look. 

You threw back a shot of cold medicine and chased it with two Tylenol tablets swallowed with a gulp of water. Your throat burned and you coughed into the sink, wincing at just how much worse that made it. The fever you could deal with, but the sore throat was really getting to you.  

There was this old wives tale that you only vaguely remembered, but you knew that it had something to do with salt water. After a quick Google search, you found yourself in the kitchen mixing a teaspoon of salt into a glass of warm water. The internet had recommended less salt, but your logic said that more would make you feel better faster. 

You took a sip and nearly gagged as you attempted to gargle with it, the salt burning your throat even further. You only managed to keep it in your mouth for a few seconds before needing to spit it out. Wrinkling your nose you did the same thing with the rest of the glass, managing to keep the disgusting water in your mouth for longer each time. 

When it was gone you rinsed your mouth with clean water and took a big sip, thoroughly annoyed when you found that your throat seemed to hurt even worse than it had before. So that had failed. Of course, it did, why would it have worked? Why couldn’t it just make you feel better?

You checked your phone and sighed, wondering what you were supposed to do for three hours. If you had thought it over better you may have waited to do any sort of makeup and instead set an alarm that would let you sleep for a little bit longer. But no. Now you had to figure out what to do with yourself. 

Then, it came to you. Some people swore by exercise to cure minor illnesses and you needed to train anyway. Screw the makeup. You made your way down to the gym and changed into a tank top and leggings, pulling your hair up in a tight bun before you entered the actual training area. 

You made your way over to the punching bags and began to hit one, growing tired after only a few seconds. That didn't matter, it was good for you. It would be good to sweat out the germs and you’d get in a bonus workout. 

Twenty minutes later you had moved onto the obstacle court and were drenched in sweat, struggling to avoid said obstacles. You had fallen on your ass twice and there was a fresh bruise on your cheek which would of course hurt much worse when that was the only pain that you’d have to focus on. 

“Y/n! What on Earth are you doing?” You stopped and turned around to find Yelena stalking toward you, wearing a nice dress and a scowl. You opened your mouth to respond when the blonde’s expression turned to one of worry and you felt something slam into your back. The breath was knocked out of you and you fell to the ground, curling up to protect your head. 

You stayed in that position until you felt calloused hands on your shoulders, coaxing you out of your protective ball. 

“Idiot.” The young widow grumbled, pulling you to your feet. She held you steady and glared into your eyes, her face softening as you felt yourself wanting to cry. She could tell, of course, she could. There was no bullshitting Yelena Belova, especially when you didn’t have the energy to put on a mask. 

“The germs aren’t leaving.” You complained, your voice a mere whisper. The woman raised an eyebrow and nodded, pressing her hand against your forehead. You whined and pulled away, swatting at invisible bugs as you did. 

“Okay weirdo, you sure are delirious. Come on, let's go.” She ordered, wrapping an arm around your waist. You sniffled and put your head on her shoulder, nearly letting the tears fall when she pulled you closer. 

It wasn’t often that Yelena would show affection where others might see the two of you, it simply wasn't the kind of person she was. But in private she was incredibly loving and attentive, she was an absolute sweetheart who would quite literally kill to keep you safe. Well, she may also kill for fun. The woman had a violent streak. 

“We’ve gotta go, Lena. We have-”

“Shut up.” You shut up. It just wasn’t a fight that you would win, nor a fight that you wanted to start. You’d rather just let her do what she wanted and maybe she’d cuddle with you. She’d definitely cuddle with you, it was a matter of whether or not you’d get a lecture about neglecting your health or not before the cuddles. 

Yelena half-carried you to your shared bedroom, not complaining about how much work you were making her do. It wasn’t intentional, but it seemed that forcing yourself to train had sapped every ounce of energy that you had left and you were struggling to make your body move the way it was supposed to. 

Your clear lack of strength came to a head when your knees gave out under you and you found yourself crumpled on the floor of the hallway containing everyone’s rooms, Yelena unable to keep you standing any longer. 

“Damnit, Y/n, are you alright?” The Russian woman asked, maneuvering out of the tangle of your combined limbs. That was it, that was all that you could take. You had been doing such an okay job at keeping yourself steady, making sure that your illness was on the sidelines, hyping yourself up for the press conference that you had been so excited for but now you were starting to break down. 

Tears slipped down your cheeks and you hung your head, body beginning to shake as you let yourself give up. Yelena cupped your face in her hands, her striking emerald eyes searching every part of your face for anything that could tell her how to help. 

“Hey, hey why are you crying?” She murmured, quickly rearranging the two of you so that you were leaning against her instead of the wall. You knew that your nose was running and that you looked absolutely disgusting, you were amazed that she was willing to be so close to you. She usually shied away from sick people. 

“Talk to me kotenok. Tell me what’s wrong, let me help.” Her kind words just made you want to cry harder. Rather than forcing you to answer Yelena held you tighter, pulling your head down onto her chest. She pressed her lips into your hair and whispered to you in Russian, promising you that everything would be alright. 

“I-I don’t f-f-feel good.” You finally managed, speaking into her shoulder. 

“I know Y/n, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this sick. But that’s why I’m here, I get to help. Even though you’re kind of an idiot.” You let out a waterly laugh and smiled, sniffling thickly in an attempt to get rid of some of the snot. Gross. 

“Gross.” Yelena echoed your thoughts and pulled a tissue from her pocket to wipe your nose with. Where she had gotten a tissue and why she had one you didn’t know, but you were grateful. 

“Thanks, baby.” You mumbled, giving her a weak smile. She snorted and kissed your forehead, rolling her eyes at you. 

“Alright germ bag. Ready to get up again?” The blonde helped you back up and the two of you went back to stumbling down the hall, your tears subsiding slightly.

Maybe you could convince Yelena to let you join the press conference via Zoom. Then at least you’d get to be a part of it. If not though, at least she was there to remind of you of your bad decisions all while making you feel like the most loved human in the whole world.

[goldenempyrean]

the new prompts are so fun 🤩 can i ask that yiy write one with sick reader x alex at gamenight with lena and kara where reader is hiding it “You better not complain when you catch this.”  “Somebody’s certainly sneezy today.”   

Having A Good Time

〚 Notes - I got whole bunch of new request so I'm still getting through them! Anon my dear this request was actually really fun to write, I got it done in like one sittings so yay! 〛

〚 Pairing - Alex Danvers x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - When you're sick during game night you try your hardest to get through without causing a fuss but maybe you weren't as subtle as you thought 〛

〚 Wordcount - 2100 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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“I’m just gonna shower quickly and get this alien gunk out of my hair.” Alex smiled warmly, kissing your forehead before making her way into your bathroom. 

Tonight, was game night which meant a night full of laughter, jokes and fun. It was your turn to host this time and in true Danvers fashion, Alex had set out a pretty awesome snack board filled with plenty of treats, and you’d put some beer and wine on ice too. 

You just wished you’d be able to enjoy it a little more. Normally you’d be super excited and bursting with energy but honestly you just felt drained. Your throat had been sore all day and now it on the verge of hurting, that in combination with frequent headaches, chills and seeming endless sniffles it was safe to say you weren’t exactly bubbly for tonight. For now, though, you were enjoying the silence, well near silence - Alex was humming a tune in the other room as the shower came to temperature. 

A friendly knock the door came soon enough, and you pulled yourself from the sofa, grimacing a little at the surge of dizziness it sent through your body. You made sure to put on a smile as you opened the door. 

“Y/N! Hi!” Kara beamed, pulling you into a hug before you could object - it’s fine. It’s not like you could get her sick anyway. Lena smiled beside her, and you offered her a hug too, albeit very brief. 

“Hey you two.” You welcomed, your voice coming our raspier then intended, “Alex is here too, she’s just showering.” You added seeing Kara’s eyes looking around for her. 

You stepped aside to let the two of them in, Kara bounced in, instantly sneaking over to eat an Oreo from the snacks. Lena also came in, but she hesitated a little, her eyes seemed to be looking over you, her face unreadable. Maybe if you’d had a chance to think you could’ve realised what she was thinking but- 

“Hh’itshu!” You quickly ducked down into your elbow with a sudden sneeze and when you’d pulled your head back up, Lena’s expression had changed again but she said nothing, only reaching over to gently rub your shoulder. 

“Bless you.” 

“Thanks, Lena," you replied with a grateful smile, touched by her caring gesture. You led her into the living room where Kara was already helping herself to some more snacks, her eyes shining with excitement. You couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt knowing you wouldn't be able to match her enthusiasm tonight. 

You coughed a little as you sat back down, quickly masking it by clearing your throat, “So, what did you two bring to play this time?”  

“Well, we didn’t know exactly what to bring, Kara wanted to do Twister but considering how that ended last time.” She trailed off with a laugh as the Kyrptonian giggled, “So we went with the classics: monopoly, pictonary and such.” She explained, taking off her bag and bringing out numerous board games. 

You couldn't help but chuckle at the memory of the Twister mishap from the last game night. It had been hilarious to watch Kara accidentally bend the Twister mat into a pretzel shape with her super strength. 

As you all settled around the coffee table, the board games spread out before you, the three of you fell into friendly conversation as you waited for Alex. The water had stopped a few minutes ago so she was probably just changing. 

“So, anything exciting out there today Supergirl?” You asked Kara, prompting her to go into a spiel about some bad guys she’d taken care of. About half-way through Lena went to go get everyone a drink and whilst you tried to pay attention to the happily babbling blonde, you couldn’t help but get distracted by an insistent itching in your sinuses. 

It was hard to ignore and you’d honestly tried to hold it back as to not interrupt her but it had gotten the better of you as you weakly threw up your hand to tell her to pause before bending to the side as you muffled two quick sneezes into your arm, “Hh’itshoo! Hh-Hh’tshiew! Ugh, sorry Kara, excuse me.” 

“Oh, bless you! Someone’s certainly sneezy today.” She smiled, hopefully oblivious as she rubbed your back before continuing her story. Lena quickly returned with your drinks, and it was impossible to miss the look of sympathy in her eyes as she handed yours to you. Shit. She knew. She was always the more perceptive one out of the two.  

As if on cue, Alex had wandering in just as Kara finished her story. Her hair was still a little damp, but she was dressed in fresh comfy clothes, and she offered both women a warm embrace as she came to join everyone. 

“Kara, Lena, it’s so good to see you.” She said as she eyed the games already set out, “So I see we’re going with the classics?” 

“How was your shower sweetheart?” You coughed a little, trying to clear the frog in your throat as Alex came to sit by your side. 

As Alex settled down beside you, she wrapped her arm around your shoulders, giving you a comforting squeeze. "The shower was nice, finally got all that alien goo out of my hair," she chuckled, leaning in to give you a gentle kiss on the cheek. "You okay though? Your voice sounds worse than earlier, I was meaning to say something.” 

You paused for a second before waving off her concern, “It’s fine, don’t worry. Just a passing thing.” You excused, pretending to miss the way Lena was subtly raising her eyebrow at you. 

The evening continued with the four of you playing board games, laughing, and having a good time despite your declining energy. Alex seemed to be enjoying herself, and you were grateful for her presence, knowing she could always lift your spirits. 

As the night wore on, you couldn't ignore the increasing discomfort in your throat and the persistent sneezing and sniffles. You tried to downplay it, not wanting to ruin the fun for everyone else, but it was becoming more challenging to hide. 

During a one of the breaks between games, Lena excused herself to the restroom and Alex left to pour herself another drink. Kara took the opportunity to lean in, her super hearing having caught your last 3 stifled sneezes you’d managed to hide from the rest of the group. "Y/N, are you sure you're feeling alright? You sound really congested to me and I was blaming that on my hearing, but you've been sneezing a lot too.” 

Double Shit. You knew Lena wouldn’t say anything about it, she was one to stay back and silently offer comfort when needed. But Kara was different, she’d actively want to help, and attention was the last thing you wanted right now.  

Tonight, was about having fun together, not a group nursing session. Not only that, but you also wanted tonight to be a break for Alex too, becoming Director of the DEO was taking a lot out of her and you wanted her to be able to relax and not have to worry about her girlfriend’s silly cold. 

“Kara, it’s fine.” You tried to give her a genuine smile, “I’m a little congested but it's just the weather changing, that’s all. Please don’t worry about it.” 

Despite your insistence that you were just dealing with seasonal changes, Kara didn't look entirely convinced. Her brow furrowed with concern as she studied you closely, her super senses probably giving her a clear indication that something was off. You knew it was futile to hide anything from her, but you didn't want to disrupt the fun-filled evening. 

Kara opened her mouth to say something, but just then, Alex returned with her drink in hand, and Lena followed suit, returning from the restroom. The momentary distraction gave you a chance to change the subject, and you steered the conversation toward another board game, hoping to divert Kara's attention. 

"Hey, let's play Uno next! That's always a blast," you suggested with a smile, grabbing the box and setting it up. Everyone agreed, and soon you were all immersed in the hilarity of how awful Lena was at Uno, the laughter filling the room once again. 

As the game progressed, you couldn't help but sneeze a couple more times, despite trying to stifle them. Kara glanced at you each time, her worry evident, but she respected your wish not to make a fuss. The evening went on with games and snacks, and you kept pushing through, even as your symptoms seemed to worsen. 

At one point, you excused yourself to blow your nose in the bathroom, and when you returned, you found Alex talking quietly to Kara and Lena, her expression a mix of concern and determination. They all fell silent when you re-entered the room, but you pretended not to notice. 

The four of you continued playing for a few minutes before Alex offered to refill everyone's drinks. She quickly brought Kara and Lena another wine and went over to grab a beer for the two of you. 

It was when she went to pour yours into a glass that she had an idea. She reached into the cupboard and took out a labelled bottle and took a moment to slip some cold medicine into your glass. It wasn’t a lot by any means, just enough to take the edge off. It was something you’d done for her in the past. Alex wasn't the type to confront you in front of others, but she wanted to make sure you had some relief. 

When she returned, she handed you the drink with a loving smile, "Here you go, love. Stay hydrated." She said warmly, brushing her fingers softly against yours briefly as you accepted the glass gratefully. You couldn't help but smile at Alex's thoughtfulness, appreciating her discreet gesture to help ease your discomfort. Taking a sip from the glass, you subtly noticed the slight taste of the medicine, and you felt a glimmer of relief already. 

You reached out and squeezed her hand, letting her know that you knew about what she’d done, and she leant over to kiss your forehead in reply. 

It was a small, private moment of connection between you and Alex, and it brought you comfort knowing that she cared for you and wanted to help in her own way. With the cold medicine starting to take effect, you began to feel a bit more relieved, and you were able to enjoy the rest of the evening without feeling as drained. 

As the night continued, you all played more games, laughed, and shared stories. Kara and Lena, though concerned, respected your desire to not make a big deal out of your illness and kept the mood light and enjoyable. Alex stayed by your side, offering her silent support. 

Eventually, it was time for Kara and Lena to head back home, “You need to learn to look after yourself properly.” Lena had whispered quietly as Kara and Alex were saying goodbye, “Tonight was fun though, I hope you feel better, if you need anything don’t hesitate to call.” 

“Thanks Lena, I will.” You smiled as she pulled you into a hug before going to take Kara’s hand. With a final round of hugs and goodbyes, Kara and Lena left for the night. After bidding them goodbye, you and Alex cleaned up the game boards and snacks. As you both settled into bed, Alex wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close. 

"You're so stubborn, you know," Alex teased gently, kissing the top of your head. "You should've told me earlier that you weren't feeling well." 

You let out a soft chuckle, burying your face in the crook of her neck. "I didn't want to spoil the night for everyone. Besides, I had you taking care of me anyway." 

Alex chuckled, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. "You don't always have to be the strong one, I'm here for you, no matter what. Next time, just let me know, okay?" 

You nodded as she pulled the back of your neck towards her, her soft lips came to meet yours as she kissed you. You wished that moment could’ve lasted forever but you had to pull away to duck away as you sneezed, “You better not complain when you catch this.” You laughed as she pulled you closer again. 

“I would never.” 

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