#at least I didn't spend much time on this

[my85volvo]

I know this prompt is supposed to be cute and sweet, but I'm in some sort of mood so 🤷🏽‍♀️

Thanks @dereles for the writing inspo 🤗

Derek waited behind the tree line, watching the Beacon Hills Lacrosse team jog across the field. He took a deep breath, knowing that Stiles would be walking out, showered and smiling, in just under 17 minutes. He checked his watch and strained his ears to listen for the boy's heartbeat, still fast from the cardio of practice. He could make out the distinct cadence of his cleats against the cement of the locker room before they clattered to the ground when he began undressing. Derek shook his head and turned away, feeling a tingle of shame at his intrusive eavesdropping.

Sill, he couldn't help but perk up every time he heard Syiles'voice ring out, loud and clear against the backdrop of post-practice chatter. He talked about Lydia, and his new strategy to win her over, in quiet whispers to Scott in order to avoid Jackson's ire. Derek reminded himself that the boy was not his, couldn't be his--not yet, at least. As much as he tried to be worthy, his words always seemed to come out as angry, demanding, and full of spite. He worried every day that if Lydia realized how amazingly loyal, smart, and kind the boy was, she would steal him away. Thank god she cared so much about surface level appeal.

The minutes ticked by as Derek waited for Stiles to leave. He was desperate to see the wide smile that his well-placed gift would bring. Stiles always spared a glance at the free book bin near the school entrance whenever he passed, and Derek had left a small paperback he knew Stiles wouldn't be able to resist. 101 Dog Jokes. When Derek saw it on the discount rack at the drugstore, he immediately thought of Stiles. Flipping through the pages, the jokes were quite possibly the worst he had ever seen. But the sound of Stiles cackling with laughter at Derek's deadpan reception was too tempting to pass up.

Fifteen minutes had already passed, and Derek was getting more eager by the second. That's when he heard it--Stiles' heartbeat kick up a notch. It was Jackson, spouting something or other about staying away from Lydia. Derek heard the scuffle clear as day. The bang of bodies hitting old lockers, the slap of knuckles meeting a fleshy cheek, the rustle of equipment falling to the ground.

Derek felt his eyes shift blue and his claws extend into the bark of the tree he was gripping. He wanted to rush in and protect Stiles, put the fear of god into Jackson, and save the day. But also knew that it wasn't his place. This was something Stiles would have to work out for himself, as much as it pained the wolf to see him get hurt. The boy may not be strong enough to win a fistfight, but Derek knew he was strong enough to keep his chin up afterwards.

When the fight finally died down, Derek heard a few sniffles before the sound of Stiles' heartbeat returned to normal. The wolf tracked his movement out of the locker room, through the maze of halls in the school, and out the front entrance. He walked slower than usual, favoring his right leg ever so slightly. When he emerged through the large double doors, Derek saw that his left eye was in the early stages of bruising, and his face was set in a quiet frown. Scott was nowhere to be seen, since he probably ditched his so-called friend to spend time with the Argent girl. Derek's loyalty to Stiles was the only thing keeping him from tearing Scott a new one. If he can stay on good terms with Scott, then he can stay close to Stiles. Nothing else really mattered.

Finally, Stiles walked past the book bin. He cast a fleeting glance to the pile, but didn't seem interested in stopping to look. Derek deflated. But then Stiles stopped a few steps away, brow furrowed. He turned to give the book bin another look, as if he saw something interesting and his brain had taken a few extra seconds to process it.

When he immediately picked up the book of dog jokes, Derek's heart soared. Stiles' face softened, and a muscle twitched at the corner of his mouth in amusement. He thumbed through the book as he continued walking to his jeep, nearly falling after running into the guard rail on the stairs down. Derek finally felt his shoulders relax as he sighed in relief. He looked forward to being the victim of whatever horrible joke Stiles would surprise him with.

Later that night, Derek checked his phone and saw that he had a few new texts from Stiles.

Stiles: what do you call a wolf that meditates?

Stiles: aware wolf

Stiles: ha!

Derek couldn't hide the grin that took over his face.

Not enough fics where giving gifts is Derek’s love language. that man is emotionally constipated as hell and also part animal you know once he realized he was falling for stiles he’d be thinking of him every time he sees Star Wars merch at the mall or a jacket that would sit perfectly on his lanky frame. That book of dog jokes Stiles cackles over every time he reads a joke out to Scott or Derek? Definitely not strategically placed at the top of a ‘free books’ box outside the school just before lacrosse practice let out. Definitely not.

[rosy-hollow]

Toji...underestimates his own strength sometimes.

And you know this - the man has probably broken the furniture in your house far more times than you can count (by accident of course) but it still never failed to amuse you.

The two of you had met while you were on a business trip to Japan - and immediately the two of you hit it off after the burly man had saved you from some random drunk off the streets of Okinawa.

However, you were in Japan for a business trip - and thus once your time there was up, you were forced to move back to America.

It was a strange dynamic the two of you had, not fully long distance because you two always tried to fly in and spend time with each other as much as possible - and as much of a hassle that it was, you made it work.

Eventually, Toji had decided to move in with you in the United States, and to say the very least... it was a major culture shock.

Learning English was one thing (seriously, how many sounds can 'ough' make?!) but American life was a stark contrast to the Japanese way of living that Toji sometimes found it difficult to wrap his mind around.

You made it easier though. He would never admit it- but the only reason he went through all of this was because of you.

It was strange, Toji never thought he'd get so attached to someone that he'd uproot his entire life and move across the world just to be with the one he loved, but you made it worth it.

Your laugh, your smile, your kindness, your witty banter - Toji would move planets if he could just be with you a second longer. You were like a drug - addicting and euphoric. No amount of rehab could get him over you.

But the main thing about America that captivated Toji's interest? (other than you)

Football.

And by football, I mean American football. To Toji's knowledge, football was what the Americans called 'soccer', but here, football was a whole different story.

You had put it on one day, for the hell of it - you weren't entirely into sports that much, but you understood the basics of the game. Toji at first thought it was stupid, why the fuck would he give a shit about big beefy men throwing around a deformed ball?

But begrudgingly, your boyfriend got oddly into it, going so far as to buy you both matching jerseys and keep tabs on the progressions of each game.

You thought it was cute - how into it he got, yelling and pouting at the screen in ways that he would deny later on as if the players on the TV could hear him.

Tonight was no different, Toji relaxing on the couch with you pressed up against him, reading a book, with the semi-finals of whatever football tournament he was following - when suddenly:

CRASH!

You blink momentarily, beer dripping down your shirt as Toji stares what used to be his beer can, the can now completely decimated by your boyfriend's death grip.

You gape at him in shock - your boyfriend turning uncharacteristically bright red.

"Did you just-"

"Shut up."

"Toji, that's the third time this week-"

"I know-"

"You're so lucky it didn't get on my book or you'd be so dead right now."

A/N: in honor of the super bowl heh - toji would so be a football dad (he probably bets on the games all the time too)

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤

a/n: ——

summary: natasha romanoff x female!reader. based on the movie “the notebook”; you’re allie, nat’s noah

warnings: light smut—fingering (r receiving), weapons (is this something i need to mention? idk lol)

word count: 7k

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

Natasha meeting your family was not on your list of priorities.

In fact, imagining her at dinner with your parents or in your grandparents' living room was enough to make you shudder. The mere idea of her chatting with your mother over a cup of coffee?

Horrendous. A nightmare.

You try to keep her a secret. Your secret. Your summer love, your escape from reality, your something so impossibly out of place in the world you grew up in you're not even sure she's real.

But then, she's leaning against the gate of your grandparents' house again. You'd recognize the red hair and black leather jacket from a mile away. The way she sticks out in the uniform, boring normalcy of your neighborhood is almost offensive.

"No, no, no", you mutter under your breath, throwing the door open. You fly down the stairs and run up to her, silently praying nobody will see you. You grab her arm and yank her away from the gate. "You can't be serious right now-"

"Y/N", your father suddenly calls. You stiffen. "Who's that?"

Slowly, you turn around. Natasha follows your gaze until she's met with the sight of your father. It takes all of her strength not to crack a grin — the ironed pastel polo, the khakis, the loafers that look like he's never walked on actual grass. Way too pristine for a casual evening at home.

You elbow her side when you notice how she raises her eyebrows, but her expression doesn't waver.

"A friend", you say awkwardly, tugging at her arm again. She ignores you. "We're just, uhm..."

"Going for a ride", Natasha finishes unhelpfully.

"Around town."

"Maybe get some ice cream."

"No booze", you add. Your father stares at you, his expression both stoic and amused. "Even though I, uhm, technically-"

"Alright", he finally cuts you off. "What's going on? Is this a date?"

Your face flushes at the blunt question. If he figures this out, you're doomed — your parents insist on meeting every person you go out with. Then, they subject them to scrutiny sharper than police officers grilling suspects. Passing that test is nearly impossible.

You know better than to hope for their approval, especially when it comes to Natasha.

"No!", you blurt out. "She's just- we-"

"I'm a friend", she says, pinching your side. The noise you let out is completely undignified, but at least you stop rambling incoherent nonsense. "Nothing to worry about, sir."

"Right", your father says slowly. He lets his eyes run up and down your body, from head to toe, assessing your appearance. You didn't dress casually, and you know it. His eyes narrow. "Well, if you're going to spend time together, you should come in and introduce her. It's almost dinner time anyway. How does pot roast sound?"

She's enjoying your discomfort much more than she should. Smoothly, she replies that pot roast does sound good. Her eyes meet yours, twinkling teasingly. Suddenly, you envision it happening.

Natasha, surrounded by your parents and grandparents. She'll stick out like a sore thumb. No way are they going to endorse her.

You feel like ripping your hair out.

"We're good", you quickly say, grabbing Natasha's arm. "We'll just-"

"I insist", he says. "Come on."

With that, he opens the gate a little wider and looks at you expectantly. Natasha, ever-charming and professional when necessary, nods and intertwines her hand with yours. You mutter a quiet "traitor" as you're led inside.

The house smells like garlic and the lavender potpourri your grandmother keeps everywhere, which is a disgusting combination. You feel Natasha's fingers brush against your shoulders as she takes off your jacket for you. Your dad watches her as she does that. You can't quite figure out what he's thinking.

"Honey, we've got company", he calls out as you enter the dining room. Your mom pokes her head out of the kitchen, eyeing Natasha warily.

"You are?"

"Natasha, ma'am."

"A 'friend' of Y/N's", your father says. "We'll need another plate."

Your mother scrutinizes Natasha shamelessly. You know she can see every detail, from the scar above her eyebrow to the dirt clinging to her boots. She'll bring it up later.

"Friends", she repeats. Her gaze locks with yours. You lift your chin with an air of defiance. "You're staying for dinner, I assume?"

"Oh, she's not-"

"Nonsense. Sit down", your father says, shooing you to the table.

Natasha swiftly slides a chair back and gestures for you to sit. Cheeks burning, you avoid everyone else's eyes as you sit down. Her hand briefly brushes against yours. At least she's next to you.

Your mother offers Natasha some wine. She declines politely, saying she doesn't drink — a blatant lie, as you had vodka when you were staying at her house. But you're actually relieved. This should at least be something your parents will be impressed by.

Your grandparents don't pay much attention to Natasha. It hasn't even crossed their minds that she could be more than just your friend. You came out years ago, but they've been ignoring that piece of information expertly. It doesn't fit their narrative.

But your parents know what's going on. They keep their eyes on Natasha even as they're picking at their salad or sipping wine. Eventually, your mother clears her throat. A sound you remember from your childhood, one that usually meant trouble. You stiffen in your chair.

"So", she says, setting down her fork and knife. "What do you do, Natasha?"

"A bit of everything", she says. Her eyes don't give much away. You shrink into your seat as you realize that you don't exactly know what she does, either. "You have a lovely home, by the way."

"Oh, thank you." Your mother watches her, eyes narrowed with the realization that Natasha managed to evade her question. She purses her lips. "So-"

"Your daughter is lovely as well", she adds.

You want to sink into the floor.

You spend the rest of the evening trying to steer your parents' attention away from Natasha. Somehow, it works — soon enough, they're talking about friends they saw in town and upcoming church events. You catch your grandmother glance at Natasha's jacket, draped over her chair, repeatedly, but she doesn't comment on it.

You know what's going through their heads, and you don't like it. Thankfully, Natasha is as smooth as can be. She's not too engaged in the conversation, but she appears just interested enough for it to be polite. She laughs at the right moments, she compliments the food, she asks the right questions and gives answers that are too vague to be judged easily.

Finally, you've cleaned off your plates of apple pie. Natasha helps stack the dishes and clean off the table, then you excuse yourselves.

Stepping outside feels like a huge weight falling from your shoulders.

"Dear god", you say, leaning against the trunk of the tree you used to climb when you were a child. Natasha smiles, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket. "I'm done. Seriously. This was a nightmare."

"It wasn't that bad", she says. "They like me, I think."

You raise your eyebrows. "I'm not even going to comment on that."

"Rude." She steps closer, brushing her elbow against your side. You smile faintly. "I think I made a good impression, no?"

"It could've been worse", you admit, though you're not too sure about the 'made a good impression'-thing. Impressing your parents? Nearly impossible. "I'm just glad we got this over with. Next time, pick me up somewhere else."

Natasha leans in, her hands still in the pockets of her jackets. She smirks, brushing her nose against yours before kissing you. A quick kiss, but you feel the thrill shoot through your veins. Kitchen window, you think, then peck her lips before pulling away. You rest your head against the rough bark of the trunk.

Your smile makes Natasha fall in love all over again.

. . .

"What do you mean you 'don't know'?"

You glance up from your book. Your eyebrows are furrowed, your foot is tapping a restless pattern against the firm cushions of the couch. This has been going on for twenty minutes and you're very close to hiding in your room.

"I just don't know, okay? I don't know what she does. She didn't tell me."

Your mother rolls her eyes and puts her hands on her hips. Something white and furry — your grandmother's devil cat named Thoreau — slithers past her legs and disappears into the hallway.

"Y/N", she says, stepping closer. "There's no way you've been going out with that...woman and don't know what she does. Who she is, in fact. I mean, have you looked at her?"

Oh, you have. You know what she's talking about. It makes your frustration spike.

"What's so bad about her, huh?", you snap, shutting your book abruptly. Her eyes widen for a split second. "She's nice. She treats me well. She's smart and funny. I really don't get why you dislike her so much!"

"Excuse me? I never said I-"

"You don't have to say anything!"

"Y/N!" Her voice cuts through the air, sharp and unrelenting. You feel yourself flinch. "Don't use that tone with me. I want to know who she is. Who she really is. Because even you seem to have no clue."

You go silent. Your face falls, revealing how accurate your mother's observation is.

You don't know Natasha. You know her, but you don't know her. What you gathered so far are little pieces of information, minuscule bits, knowledge that won't get you far.

You have no idea where she's from, or why she's in this town, what shes does.

But you know that she loves black coffee and braids, and movies and swimming. She loves falling asleep with her head on your chest, though she usually doesn't sleep through the night.

She counts stars when she doesn't know what to talk about. At night, she crosses streets without looking twice.

She can't draw to save her life. Her sketch of a mouse looked more like a gray circle with legs. But when she used a pen to draw on your arm, you wished the ink would seep into your skin so the drawing would never fade away.

Whether you know the things that actually matter is a question you can't answer.

You shift under your mother's gaze, slowly averting your eyes. Your bottom lip hurts from the way you chew on it. Your fingers lightly dig into your thigh.

"What do you want me to do?", you ask. You sound more petulant than you'd like to admit.

She exhales, willing herself to soften a little. Tentatively, she sits down next to you and takes your book. She stares at the cover as if gathering her thoughts. She tries to remind herself that this is nothing more than a summer romance — something that'll pass eventually. Rather sooner than later, she hopes.

"Talk to her", she says. "Make sure you know what you're getting into. Because you're not about to ruin your life because of one summer."

Her words hit harder than expected. You can tell she's serious, because she always is. You've started to think she's incapable of making jokes.

It all settles in your stomach, makes your thoughts churn. You nod, imperceptibly almost, but your mother notices. She reaches over to squeeze your hand before getting up.

Eyes glued to the cover of your book, you sit there. The image blurs, as does the title.

You've built a fragile, beautiful thing together — and you need answers from Natasha before summer slips away.

. . .

It's a warm summer night. You managed to sneak out at a little after midnight, carefully walking down the stairs and shutting the window behind you. The seat of Natasha's SUV had started to feel familiar as you sat down in her car.

Now, you're back at the lake behind her house. Its surface shimmers in the milky moonlight. The towel creates a barrier between your thighs and the wood of the dock you're sitting on, preventing you from getting splinters. Your toes dip into the water, which is definitely much cooler already. Summer is coming to an end.

She swims up to you so she's right in front of the dock. Her fingertips loosely wrap around your ankle and she presses a kiss to it, her lips cold and wet against your skin. You can't tell whether she knows how your thoughts are racing, how you've been trying to voice your fears for an eternity now.

"Join me", she says, rubbing circles against your skin. Her green eyes seem deeper than the lake she's in.

You tilt your head, your eyebrows raised skeptically. It's tempting, really, but the idea of getting all wet and cold isn't a pleasant one.

"I don't know", you hesitate. "I think I'm fine right here."

Natasha hums and squeezes your ankle. She tugs on it, lightly enough to not make you worry too much. "You say that now...", she then says, quickly causing you to change your mind about not worrying.

With one swift pull, you slip from the dock. The world tilts, you gasp, and suddenly, you're underwater. But you're pulled back up before your panic can take root, her arms around your thighs, the cold water a stark contrast to the heat simmering in your chest. Natasha's smile matches yours.

"Got you."

"I'm wet", you mutter, brushing wayward strands of hair out of your face. She presses her lips against your jaw. Your fingers grasp her chin and you give her a real kiss, a slow and all-consuming one, sweet from the lake water.

Your hands run into her hair, combing through it and untangling it. Her fingertips dig into your thighs. You feel the spinning sensation in your head slow down.

Finally, you part. Your lips hover close to hers, letting you swallow her breath. Natasha kisses your bottom lip and then trails her lips down your neck until she reaches your chest. Her tongue traces the seam of your bikini top.

You stop her before she can go further. Your fingers rake through her hair, making her pause.

"I need to talk to you", you admit. She looks up, worry crossing her features. "It's nothing bad. I think."

"Your parents?", she asks, slowly lowering you into the water. Her arms stay wrapped around your waist in a loose hold.

The smile on your face is bitter. You sigh and touch her jaw, fingers lightly drumming against it. "Kind of", you say. "But also...everything else. Us. This. I mean...summer is about to end. What happens then?"

She should've anticipated this conversation. Summer won't last forever — you'll leave, as will she. Responsibilities loom over her like dark clouds. Suddenly, she sees a future in which she never meets you again.

"I don't know", she murmurs. Her hand slides up and down your back repeatedly, fingertips slipping under the tight fabric of your bikini. "I didn't think about it."

Her words feel like a needle in your chest. You've been awake way too many times, tossing and turning, wondering what your future is going to look like. Whether she's in it as well.

There's no way she's this indifferent to what happens next.

"You didn't?"

"I mean..." She sighs and leans in, her lips briefly pressing against your temple. "Of course I did. In a way. But I've mostly been focused on the now. You're leaving, aren't you? You're going back to college. And I..."

Natasha doesn't say anything else. You look at her with your eyebrows raised, silently promoting her to keep going. You both know what you are doing once summer ends. Where you're going, who you're going to be with, all that stuff.

But Natasha? You have no idea. She won't tell you.

"Listen", she begins, letting go of you. The loss of contact is unbearable. "There are things you're better off not knowing."

"Are you kidding?" You swim closer, the water brushing along your body. Disbelief is written all over your face. "Natasha, please tell me you aren't serious. If it's that bad, you have to tell me. I need to know. I mean, my mom-"

"Is that's what this is about?" Her voice hasn't changed in volume, but the tone is so very different. Cold, biting, accusatory. It makes you stop in your tracks. "Your parents?"

"No!" You exhale and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, willing yourself to not start a fight. "No. Of course not. I don't care what they think. But sometimes, even they are right. Natasha, I need to know. You have to tell me if you want this to keep going."

"Of course I want to keep this going", she snaps. "But what if I tell you and then never hear from you again, huh? You ever thought about that?"

You shake your head and grab her hand. She recoils initially but then relaxes, her eyes locked on your face warily. "We can sort it out. I really don't believe it can be that bad."

Seconds of silence. Her hand twitches in yours and she frowns. When she looks away, it feels like everything has started to slip from your grasp.

"You're naive", she states quietly. Your chest burns with an odd mixture of shame and defensiveness. If only you knew that she isn't trying to insult you — no, this is her attempt at keeping you safe from whatever mess her life is.

She's seen your life. Has met your parents, heard about your upbringing. She knows you're wealthy, a top student at one of the USA's most prestigious universities. Your future is dipped in diamonds and gold, enhanced by glasses of champagne and dinner parties.

Natasha's life is bullets and blood. There's nothing else to be said.

"Stop pushing me away", you plead. She feels her throat constrict. "We can work this out. We can get through this."

"I'm not pushing you away", she argues. "I'm being realistic. There's a difference between the two."

"Maybe it's both", you say, wading closer to her again. "It probably is. But I want to know, Nat."

Stubbornness gives way to exhaustion. She shakes her head and pulls her hand away from yours.

"Not yet", she says weakly. You watch her swim to the latter attached to the dock. Her hands grab the metal bars and she pulls herself up, water dripping off her body. Her skin is smooth in the pale light. Trying to stop her seems futile.

She grabs a towel and wraps herself into it. Her figure retreats towards the house, getting smaller and less defined with each step. You wait for a moment, then you exhale in frustration and follow her inside.

The wooden floors feel slippery underneath your feet. You blindly reach for the light switch only to find out the electricity is gone — again. You don't even bother looking for the flashlight, as you've already memorized the layout of the small house.

"Natasha", you call, not seeing her in the living room. You peek into the bedroom, but it's empty. "For fuck's sake, don't do this!"

Something touches your spine. You whip around with a start. You aren't quite sure what you were expecting, but you should've known it'd be her. She stares at you, making no move to apologize.

"It's late", she says.

You blink, caught off guard for a moment. "What?"

"It's late. You're probably tired."

"Natasha-"

"Let's go to sleep", she says, sounding resolute. You give in.

The mattress is the same, but she changed the bedsheets. They're a navy blue and not as faded as the floral ones, but they're just as soft.

There's a distance between the two of you. Your back is facing her, she's staring at the ceiling. She tries closing her eyes, falling asleep, but it doesn't work. At some point, she rolls over. Her front is flush with your back. Her lips ghost over your shoulder as her arm tentatively wraps around your middle.

You find yourself scooting into the touch.

"Asleep?", she murmurs, her hand under your shirt now.

"No."

Natasha's lips press against the back of your neck. Her breath is warm on your skin and your eyes close automatically. Her hand cups your breast, massaging it gently. You feel goosebumps form all over you.

"Still mad at me?", she whispers, rolling your nipple between her cold fingers. You huff, but the sound morphs into a quiet moan.

"I don't know", you say breathily. Her thumb brushes over the sensitive bud. Suddenly, you're wet again, but this time not because of lake water. "Shit."

Natasha kisses along your neck. Her teeth graze your skin before she sucks on it, leaving love bites behind. "You want to?"

You turn your head, burying your nose in the soft pillow underneath you. It's petulant, in a way, causing Natasha to smile. She kisses your earlobe.

"Yes or no?", she asks. You sigh at the realization that you can either get over yourself and say yes, or disappear into the shower and take care of this yourself.

It's not a hard decision.

"Yes", you mutter. Natasha hums and leaves wet kisses behind your ear, her breath hot.

"You're sure?"

"I said yes, didn't I?"

"I like to double-check", she replies.

Lips against your skin, she slips the strap of your top off your shoulder. Your head lolls back, resting against her forehead. Her hand trails from your arm to your stomach. She undoes the drawstring of your shorts and the gentle pressure around your waist disappears. Her fingers press against your cunt and she breathes into your ear.

You stifle a moan when she slides her fingers through your cunt, gathering wetness. Her fingertips pinch your clit and you let a soft whine slip. Heat spreads on your skin.

"You're so pretty", she mumbles. The kisses on your shoulder turn more feverish, peppered all over you, hot and wet and open-mouthed. You writhe against her, your flushing face hidden in your pillow. Her fingers slip into you, leaving you no time to get used to the sensation. "It'd be a shame if you stayed mad."

You don't respond. Natasha's fingers curl inside of you, hitting that sweet spot and making you even wetter. You're dripping down her wrist, ruining the sheets. Her fingers are slick with your arousal.

A third finger works you open. Waves of pleasure roll down your back and add to the coil in your lower belly. Heat floods your veins and your vision goes blurry. You see stars, but they're oh so different from the ones in the sky.

Natasha's movements slow down right before you're about to come. When you turn your head to look at her and protest, she doubles down and starts moving faster. Surprised moans tumble from your lips, your eyes wide. Her thumb rubs circles on your clit. Her expression remains the same, but you can see her pupils dilate.

Your eyes hold hers as you come, walls clenching around her and cheeks red. Aftershocks buzz through your body.

"Still mad at me?", she mumbles. You feel her lips drag across your jaw.

"A little", you admit, thought your voice, softened and breathy, betrays you. You can feel her smile against your cheek, the gentle curve of her lips, and, weirdly, it hurts not being able to see it. You pull away just enough to look at her.

Sometimes, it feels like her eyes are the only glimpse of her world you're allowed to see. A world she lived in long before she entered yours.

You roll over and rest your forehead against hers. You grasp her hand and bring it up to your lips, kissing her still wet fingers.

"I want to know you", you say quietly. "I don't know if you want me to know you."

"That's..." She hesitates, her voice cracking. "That's not true. It's just not that simple, Y/N."

You watch her with furrowed eyebrows. Slowly, you intertwine your fingers with her. She doesn't waver, doesn't pull away — which is something, at least. But it's not what you were hoping for.

Her green eyes meet yours again. Her world flickers in front of you, blurry and unsteady, too faint to decipher.

"I never asked for simple", you then say. "I'm not simple, either. None of this ever was. I told you from the beginning."

"That's different."

"It's really not."

"It is."

Her voice is louder this time. You let go of her hand and prop yourself up on your elbow, your eyes narrowed. Natasha's eyes are challenging, but she can't hide the vulnerability that shimmers through.

"Don't yell at me", you warn quietly.

"I'm not yelling", she mutters, her gaze shifting away from you. Her jaw tightens with both frustration and guilt. "My point stands. You have a pretentious family. So what? Not the biggest issue I can think of."

You raise your eyebrows and shift to fully sit up. Her words sting — downplaying your struggles is something you didn't expect from her. Apparently, Natasha notices the effect her words had, and she quickly sits up as well.

"You know what I meant. I know it's not easy for you, either, but you've got to understand that things are difficult."

"I can't understand until you explain it to me", you say, growing more frustrated with every second. "What is it, huh? Are you secretly married? Have a kid somewhere? Maybe you killed someone."

The last sentence — one you definitely weren't being serious about — makes her eyes widen.

Guilt. It hits her like a flash flood. Hands stained with blood, so many lives taken, a past she doesn't want to be hers. With you, she thought she could pretend. Push it all away, be someone else for once.

The thought that you may think of her like that — that she's someone who's capable of ending lives — hurts more than it should. Suddenly, she feels like you can sense the darkness she's kept buried for so long.

She sits up abruptly, jaw clenched, hands curling into fists. Seeing her like this does everything but soothe your worries.

"What?", she says quietly. She sounds anguished, hurt, and you're the reason.

Natasha and you stare at each other. You can hear the wind outside, the cicadas, and for the first time ever, the nightly noises don't manage to calm you down. For some reason, they make everything worse.

You don't know how to backtrack, so you don't. You grow more helpless by the second, until she finally speaks again.

"You have no idea what you're talking about", she says. "You don't get to joke about that. It's not funny. Not to me."

"Natasha..."

"I'm serious", she cuts you off. "You don't know who I am. You have no idea. I can promise you that. A few weeks spent with me don't fucking change that."

"Then help me! Explain it to me! But don't just leave me in the dark like this!"

"It doesn't fit into your world, Y/N", she says, suddenly getting up. She starts rubbing her neck — an anxious little mannerism you haven't seen her exhibit yet. "Explaining it won't do anything. It'll only change how you see me, and I don't know if I can deal with that."

"Then what's the solution, hm? You'll keep it from me forever?"

"Forever doesn't exist with us!"

Everything seems to freeze. You were about to get up, but your body seems to have changed its mind. You stay seated on the mattress, staring up at her with disbelief and utter, pure heartbreak.

"Is that what you think?", you ask slowly. Natasha almost winces. "That this will just end?"

"Most likely", she says, taking a step backward. Her hand reaches behind her until she finds the dresser. She grabs its edge, her knuckles turning white. "You don't know what you're asking for, Y/N."

"I'm asking for you", you say, finally managing to get up.

"You're being naive."

"Stop calling me that!"

"It's true!"

"You're yelling again", you warn.

Natasha turns, her back facing you. She rubs the back of her neck as she breathes unevenly.

You hesitate as you stand there. Then, slowly as to not spook her, you reach out. Your fingertips brush against her lower back and she flinches. But she doesn't pull away, so you press your palm against her back. You step closer and press your lips to her shoulder.

"I don't care if it doesn't fit", you mumble, though it's a lie — you do care. You want to be part of her world, whatever it may be like. "I just want to make this work, Nat."

She takes a moment to reply. Her voice is raw, her breathing ragged. She faces you again, her green eyes filled with something bitter.

"You think you can just fix everything?", she asks. "Just waltz in and make everything better? Because it doesn't work like that."

"I don't want to fix anything", you say quietly. Your other hand touches her waist, and to your surprise, she leans into you. You study her, wary and careful. "I just want to understand."

"You can't understand until you know everything", Natasha says. "And I don't think you want to know everything."

You stare at her, eyes flickering with concern. It's not like your life has been perfect, or that you've been shielded from everything that isn't all sunshine and daisies, but you can't imagine what could possibly be this bad.

"I don't want everything", you say. "I want you."

Natasha goes rigid for a moment. Then she relaxes, muscles loosening and shoulders slumping. Like a cat landing on a stretched out blanket, you catch her. She buries her face in your neck, her body held upright by your arms around her waist. You can feel her breathe you in.

You smell like her.

. . .

The rain is heavy. It soaks through your clothes and leaves the ends of your hair dripping. You barely make it into Natasha's car without slipping.

"You're wet again", she says, handing you a blanket. "No umbrella?"

You wipe the water out of your face and snort. "No. Forgot to grab it."

"Could've gone back inside."

The look you throw at her shuts her up. She starts the car and drives out of the neighborhood. Only the pelting of the rain on the roof fills the silence between you.

You've never been like this with each other. Until now, it was easy. But that's the way it is, right? Things are easy until they aren't anymore.

"Where are we going?", you ask, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders. You lift one corner of it to pat your hair dry.

"Just driving", she mumbles. Her knuckles are tight around the steering wheel, her eyes focused on the road, but you can tell there's more.

You don't say anything. You just lean back and enjoy being the one who gets to play passenger princess, even if your clothes are sticking to your skin. You drive through your favorite part of town — the cute little corner with the bookshop and the park full of flowers —, then Natasha suddenly takes a turn.

You recognize the neighborhood, but she hasn't taken you here before.

"Huh", you mumble, staring out the window. You're slumped into the seat lazily. "New location unlocked?"

"Something like that."

In front of a bed and breakfast, she stops. She unbuckles and gets out, nodding at you to follow her. Despite your confusion, you don't hesitate.

Inside the building, it's warm and quiet. It smells like cookies and flowers; freshly picked ones, sitting on the counter next to the staircase. The steps creak under your feet as you go upstairs.

Natasha fishes another key out of her pocket and unlocks a door. The room that appears in front of you is exactly what you expected — corny grandma-bedsheets on top of a wooden bed, with pictures of cats on the walls and a plush rug.

"I don't understand", you murmur, brushing your hand over little notebook on the desk. It's for the guests to write in. "What is this?"

"I'm staying here", she says, digging through a backpack, "until I leave."

You pause, your eyes flickering up. For some reason, you thought Natasha would always be here. Even after you go back to college. Like a safe place you could retreat to whenever the world becomes too much.

A very selfish thought, but a comforting one nevertheless.

"You...you don't live here", you say slowly, as if realizing it for the first time. Which may or may not be very accurate. "You're leaving. You're leaving?"

"I am."

Your eyes widen as she keeps pulling stuff out of the backpack and putting it aside. A gun. A taser. Some kind of earpiece. Your heart starts rabbiting in your chest, but you force yourself to stay calm.

"Uhm-"

"You said you wanted to know me, didn't you?" She turns around. Her eyes are cold and her walls are up. "This is me. This —" She pulls another weapon, which looks like an odd sort of bracelet, out of her backpack, "this is me. This."

You laugh nervously. Part of you won't believe this is real. It has to be some kind of joke. But Natasha is completely serious.

She wraps the bracelet around her wrist and clicks on it. It tightens around her wrist and lights up. You take a step back and bump against the door. Her eyes meet yours, and for a split second, the facade slips. You see it — a deep, unrelenting sadness, the kind that comes with inevitability, the quiet acceptance of something she knew would happen but hoped never would.

"Does it fit?", she prompts you.

You frown and take a stubborn step closer. You're trying hard not to let it show, but your heartbeat is still racing. "Natasha, don't-"

"You wanted to know who I am", she cuts you off. "This is me."

"I don't care", you plead, stepping closer once more. This time, it's Natasha who takes a step back. "I said I wanted to know you. I still do. I want to know you, whatever that means."

"Y/N", she says quietly. "Nobody wants to know me. I can promise you that."

"I do", you say, stubborn and frantic. "You've been keeping this from me for two months, and I still want to know you."

"I've been keeping it from you for a reason."

She has a point. If she'd pulled out a gun on your first date, you would've bolted.

But now? For some reason, you're still here. Still trying to get her to listen, despite the fact that there are multiple weapons scattered across the floor. Suddenly, the scars on her body make more sense. The bruises, the healed cuts. You've learned to love them. The way you trace them with your lips is proof enough.

But with Natasha, you didn't have to learn. It just happened — one day, you looked at her and loved her.

Even now, you do.

"Why would you do that?", you ask, both baffled and understanding her point. "Why would you keep something like this from me?"

"Because this?" She laughs, her voice tinged with bittersweet regret. "This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to fall in love, Y/N. Things usually end before I do, anyways. But I fell in love with you."

The words wash over you like waves. For a moment, everything stops — the rain outside, your thoughts, your pulse. All you can do is stare at her, her words echoing in your mind.

"So what?", you suddenly shout, even surprising yourself. "You fall in love and leave because it 'wasn't supposed to happen'? Is that it?"

You breathe heavily, the words burning in your chest. You bite back tears, your jaw clenching.

"We'll just walk away when it's too much?", you continue. You're no longer trying to control your voice, so it keeps rising. "Pretend it never happened?"

"You don't get it", she snaps. "This isn't a fairytale. Fuck, all I wanted was someone to help me take my mind off things."

"And you got that, didn't you?" Full of anger and frustration, you grab the backpack and shove it against her chest. She doesn't falter, even when you keep pushing your fists against her. Your tears and sobs are silent. "You got that damn fling. Now you can leave, huh? Leave everything in pieces!"

She recoils slightly, then she shoves the backpack off her with more force than you expected. It hits the ground with a low thud.

"That's now what this was!", she says, her voice cracking. "You're not just a fling, Y/N. Which is exactly why I need to end this."

"You're not making any sense!"

"I'm not?", she yells. She whips around and grabs her wallet. Suddenly, you've got an ID card in your hand. "Here! Am I making sense now?"

You're too stunned to speak. Your eyes are glued to the card in your hand, rereading the words, trying to understand what's going on.

SHIELD. Field operative. Special agent.

The words swim around in your brain uselessly. You're not sure you've heard of any of this before.

"You...?"

"I'm a spy", Natasha says sharply. She grabs the card and puts it away again, hiding it in her purse. "I'm an assassin."

That does the trick. Every word is wiped from your supply of smartass remarks, your knees seem to buckle for a moment, you go completely quiet. You grab the desk next to you for support, leaning on it.

There's a silent challenge to the way she's looking at you. Chin slightly raised, her eyes filled with an unusual coldness. Her fair skin is even paler than usual.

"An assassin", you repeat, voice cracking.

"Yes", she says, watching you with a mixture of regret and defiance. "Former assassin, but...that doesn't change anything. It's what I am. What I've always been. I'm a trained killer, Y/N."

You stare at her as you try to wrap your head around this. Natasha, the woman you love — the one who kissed your forehead when you were sleepy, who read books to you — is a killer.

"You're a killer", you repeat, as if that'd make it easier to grasp. It doesn't. The words feel bitter on your tongue, strange and foreign.

Natasha doesn't move, doesn't say anything. Her mask falters. What you see now is raw pain.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this."

"You're sorry?" You let out a hollow laugh, but deep down, you want to sob. "How was I supposed to find out, huh? 'Hey, by the way, I killed people'? Fuck, Nat, I...fuck."

She crosses her arms and takes another step back. Her legs bump against the bed. Outside, the rain starts pouring heavily.

"I thought I could keep it separate", she admits, her voice quieter now. You close your eyes at the sound of it and resist pulling her into you like you've done so many times. "That I could pretend I'm someone else when I'm with you."

Your hands ball into fists. You squeeze your eyes shut.

"It didn't work", she continues, softening. "You made me feel more like myself than anyone ever could."

When you open your eyes again, they're glossed over with tears. You exhale slowly, shakily, and force yourself to look at her.

"This isn't fair", you whisper. "It really, really isn't. You don't get to make me fall in love only to do...this."

"I told you", Natasha says quietly, "I didn't plan for this to happen. I just didn't want to be alone."

"Well, there you are." You laugh bitterly and scrub a hand down your face. "All of this just to end up alone again. You happy now?"

"Y/N, I never wanted to hurt you."

"But you did!" You step closer, the anger pulsing through your body. You can feel how warm your face is. "You hurt me. You hurt yourself, too. You screwed up, just admit it!"

"Fine!", she yells. "I screwed up!"

"You did!", you shout. The tears start flowing, hot and damp. Natasha's heart gives a painful twist at the sight. "You screwed up, and you hurt me, and you, and I- I- god, fuck you!"

Her hand reaches out on instinct, but her outstretched fingers never even brush against your arm.

"Don't", you hiss, pushing her hand away. "Don't touch me. Not now."

She pulls back and swallows, her eyes darting away from you.

"I'm sorry", she says.

The words linger in the air. You stand there, trying to slow your breathing. You cover your face with your hands and inhale raggedly. The tears feel warm against your palms.

"This is it?", you ask numbly. "We're done?"

"I'm sorry", she repeats. You shake your head and wipe your face with your hands.

"Fuck you", you repeat. You step away from the door, open it, and slam it shut before Natasha can react.

She stays in the bedroom, frozen in place. Her eyes are glued to the door.

Gone. Gone are two months of whatever it is you two had.

The lake, the diner, the drive-in. Nights spent buried in each other, bodies so close it was unclear where one ended and the other began.

She should feel relief. At least she doesn't have to live a lie anymore — now, you know the truth. You've walked away and she's the one left standing alone. And worst of all?: She deserves it.

The rain continues to pour outside, but inside the room, there is nothing but the quiet of the aftermath.

[seat-safety-switch]

Everyone on the news is constantly screaming about how it's my duty as a citizen of Earth to stop working on my little projects, go outside, and kill some of the invading space bugs (from outer space.) And that's not true. Studies actually show that taking breaks makes you more productive when you get back to work. By spending some "me time" for a week or two, I'll be a much better bug-squashing soldier than before.

Which is not to say that my projects don't have value to the defence forces, either. I'm pretty sure that this radar-guided lawnmower could one day be used as a self-driving tank, and not just for YouTube clout. Nobody is really watching, anyway, because they're either enlisted in the military or hiding in one of the relocation camps after the bugs have taken over most of the urbanized world during their first strike. Put a big crimp in my view hours, for sure. My last couple of videos have been total dogshit, and there's some real gold in there.

Now, it is true that I didn't tell anyone where I was going. I just kind of assumed I could nip away for fifteen, twenty minutes tops. Extended bathroom break, can't deny that to someone working so hard. They wouldn't miss me while they were busy defending the outpost from the approaching waves of bugs, just too busy. Then I started to make some progress on the project, and before you know it, it had been a couple of days. Honestly, it would be kind of awkward if I went back there now.

Come to think of it, what has humanity done for me lately anyway? At least the bugs aren't going to bother me once they're done destroying our planet's energy and defence mechanisms, and rounding up most of the population to eat. They won't bother coming way out here for just one dumbass working on painting old Hot Wheels toys. Hey, this spray paint just killed a cockroach in my basement. Guess it's really toxic to bugs. I probably shouldn't be breathing so much of this stuff, but it's how I get my best ideas. What do you mean, "we have to call the president?" And ruin all this fun?

[lesmiix]

HELLO POOOKIE

Can i ask for hyun-ju with a partner who loves to buy her things? Like dresses, makeup, perfumes, you name it ;3

thank you 🙏🙏

Hiiii!! thank you so much for such a sweet request! 😭🫶

Summary: Your gf is broken so you buy her everything she wants (and more).

Warnings: Just fluff, no use of y/n, g/n reader.

author's note: English is not my first language so, sorry if there's any mistake😞 Hope you enjoy it!!

Hyun-ju x g/n reader!

Hyun-ju was never the kind of person who would spend a lot of money on herself, as she already spends a lot of her money on her transition, so she wouldn't give herself the gifts she would like.

You knew about that since you met, when you both went shopping you noticed how she admired the cute dresses placed on the mannequins.

Anytime you asked her if she liked it, she would always answer with a simple "it's cute" and look away, too ashamed with herself for not being able to buy it.

"Are you sure you don't want it? It'd look amazing on you" You said while looking at the tight black dress in front of her.

"I don't know my lov-" She started, but you cut her off. "Try it on at least? I'll pay for it" You said excitedly, at first she denied it, but you, being so insistent, finally gave in.

You knew about her economical situation so you offered to buy her the stuff she wanted so much, but she always denied. She didn't like the thought of you spending too much money on her.

One time you both were shopping at Sephora, because you really needed to buy some products. As you were looking around the shop trying to find them, out of the corner of your eye you saw Hyun-ju in the perfume section, spraying her wrist with a perfume bottle to smell them one by one.

"Any that you like?" You asked her, while hugging her by from behind, wrapping your arms around her waist.

"This one actually smells amazing, but it's way too expensive, maybe I'll come next month when I get paid". She said, putting the perfume back in it's place.

Some minutes later, when Hyun-ju was distracted, you picked it up and put it in your bag to pay for it later and give it to her when you got home.

...

"I have a little gift for you" You said while handing her the little box with a golden print. Her eyes widened as she opened the present.

"Honey, you didn't have to" She started

"Shhh it's okay, a little gift (40$😞) won't hurt"

I have the feeling that she would LOVE makeup, but like she would be obsessed with it, loving how she looks when she wears this thin black eyeliner (she'd be SO good at it btw) but of course, almost all of the good quality makeup brands cost like an eyeball, so she would have the most basic stuff. But you love her and want to see her happy, so ofc you would buy her anything she laid her eyes on.

"Darling, don't you think you already bought me enough stuff?" She asked while you picked a Rare Beauty lipgloss and two different blushes.

"You'll pay me when we get back home" You teased while letting a soft peak on her lips.

At the end of those little dates, you would be carrying thousands of bags filled with just gifts for your dear girlfriend.

When the two of you get back to your shared apartment, you would make her try all the cute dresses, skirts and crop tops you bought her.

"You look gorgeous my love" You said while admiring your girlfriend, who was looking at herself in the mirror with a little cute smirk on her face.

Of course she would thank you with a little make out session.

"Thank you for everything baby, I loved it" She muttered as she gently pressed her lips against yours.

a/n: It's 1 am and I'm so so so tired but I can't sleep 😭

Anyway, I hope you guys liked it!!!

Requests for Hyun-ju are always open🫶

[nightplvmes]

*.⊹˚ RAFAYEL | breakfast (valentine's day)

── ◜rafayel x fem!reader — ◜short special | specials from the rest of the LIs soon on my profile

She had been so tired the last week because of work. She spent all day out, only coming home at night to cuddle up to her boyfriend and sleep until the next day. When she woke up Rafayel was already doing something related to his work. The only moments they had together throughout the day were that hour in the mornings before she had to leave again.

The previous night had been no different. When she woke up that morning she was sure it was much later than usual and she had slept longer than she was supposed to. Rafayel was next to her in bed but unlike her he was dressed and staring at her.

"What time is it?" she asked, still somewhat sleepy, but Rafayel didn't answer.

"Do you know what day it is?" She shook her head as she rubbed her eyes. She certainly didn't know what day it was. "It's Valentine's Day." Rafayel got out of bed and walked to the other side of the room.

She couldn't see what he was doing as she shifted in bed and sat down before rubbing her eyes again. She was tired, she needed to sleep a couple more hours but she had work to do. Rafayel still hadn't answered her question about what time it was.

The weight of something on her lap distracted her. When she stopped rubbing her eyes and her vision cleared seconds later she noticed a tray on her lap with breakfast already made. She looked at Rafayel again without understanding, she would love to stay in bed and have breakfast but she still had work to do for her bad luck.

"did you make breakfast for me?" He nodded, pressing his lips against her forehead. "Is this a Valentine's Day celebration?"

Rafayel laughed and shook his head. "Well, I thought I could spoil my girlfriend and it turns out Valentine's Day got in the way," he answered in that carefree tone. Clearly what he was saying was a lie, at least the last part.

"But… I have to work. I can't stay in bed all day." She felt guilty at the thought of not spending Valentine's Day with him. She took a strawberry from the small plate of fruit, she wasn't going to waste breakfast, especially if her boyfriend had prepared it for her.

"About that… I talked to that girl who's always sending you more work and told her to go to hell." She almost felt the strawberry stuck in her throat. "I was joking. I just talked to her."

Rafayel slid back into bed until he was beside her. She still didn't know if she believed him completely. "How did you do that?"

"Well… let's just say an invitation to my next exhibition works pretty well as a bribe." She smiled when she felt his arm wrap around her waist.

"Oh… My famous boyfriend did it again."

He laughed as he moved closer to her, wanting to feel her body pressing against his. "You're mine for the whole day," he murmured, brushing the strands of hair from her face to kiss her cheek. Maybe it didn't sound that bad to spend the rest of the day in bed.

[spencerreids-wifey]

𝐈'𝐌 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 | 𝐒.𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐃

Category: Smut & Fluff

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warning: sub!spencer, inexperienced!spencer, oral (m and f receiving), virginity loss, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, light dom/sub, use of good boy but only like twice. (Let me know if I've missed anything)

You enjoyed being Spencer's first girlfriend, just because you loved the fact that you got to be the one to ever hold his hand romantically, the one to kiss him or spend the night at his place.

Now, this was not your first relationship, but it was the first time that you didn't have to worry about whether or not they genuinely liked you because sex was the last thing on Spencer's mind, at least as far as you could tell.

Tonight was just like any other night. Spencer had gotten home from a case pretty early and asked if you had wanted to spend the night in which you accepted and packed an overnight bag.

You'd spent the night eating takeout and some documentary that Spencer had put on, but you weren't paying too much attention, you rubbed Spencer's knee which then gained his attention.

Spencer smiled and hesitantly leaned closer to you, and the two of you began to make out on the sofa. It was just a small little moment but then it started to get heated and before you knew it, you were on his lap.

The two of your lips moved in sync, and his hands were on your waist, then you began grinding against him, which had then had caused a shaky moan to fall from his lips.

"Mhm...was that a moan?" You giggled.

Spencer realized the noise he'd just made, and his eyes widened a bit, and he placed his hands onto your waist to stop you from moving any further.

You furrowed your brows. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry, Spencer...I didn't mean to overdo it." You quickly climbed off of him and took a seat beside him, hoping you didn't make him uncomfortable.

The two of you had been dating a year now, and while Spencer was a lot more comfortable when it came to you, he still was hesitant when it came to talking or doing anything intimate.

"No!" Spencer quickly said. "You didn't make me uncomfortable, just...wasn't expecting it."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I wasn't expecting that, but it very clearly had an effect on me." He said with a sheepish tone, and that's when you could see the outline of his cock in his pants.

You tried not to stare but you couldn't help it and you just simply said, "Oh..."

Spencer spoke, "I think I'm ready."

"For what?"

"For you to have me." He took your hand and looked into your eyes. "Completely."

You looked into his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"I am." Spencer nodded. "I trust you, and I don't want to keep you waiting for so long."

You placed your bend back on his knee, this time in an assuring way. "Spence, baby, you don't need to worry about keeping me waiting, I'll only want this if I know you're ready."

Spencer knew you wouldn't rush him into anything he didn't want to do and that was something he appreciated about you.

But now it was time, he needed you and wanted you.

"I promise, I'm ready."

You smiled softly and reached over to slip your hand behind his neck, pulling him into a kiss to which Spencer immediately reciprocated.

Spencer pulled you back onto his lap as you two made out, his hands found your waist, his fingers dug into your waist, digging into your soft flesh as he got lost in the feeling of your tongues dancing together.

With his trembling hands, Spencer trailed down to the blouse that you were wearing. His fingers fumbled quickly with the buttons on her shirt, and you couldn't help but giggle about against his lips.

You pulled back and replaced his hands that were on your shirt with your own hands. "It's alright, let me do it for you."

One by one, you began to unbutton your shirt until you were simply left in your bra.

Spencer's eyes didn't look away, the way your tits were pushing up in the bra you were wearing, it was just too mesmerizing.

A small groan left his lips as his hands reached out to cup your breasts. They were so round and heavy in his hands, and he couldn't help but squeeze as much as he could, and occasionally, his fingers would run over your already head nipples through your bra.

You reached behind you so you could unclasp your bra, and you threw it somewhere on the floor.

Your bare chest was now fully on display for Spencer, who looked like a kid in a candy store.

Spencer leaned down and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples which caused a moan to fall from your lips and your back to arch.

That sound, it was like music to his ears, and he continued to suck gently on your nipple. Your hands went to his hair, tugging a bit, which caused him to moan around your nipple and send vibrations throughout your body.

You tasted so good. You were a perfect mixture of sweet and salty, and Spencer couldn't seem to get enough.

You couldn't stop yourself from moaning and groaning as Spencer paid a good amount of attention to each one of your nipples.

"I think..." You took a deep breath. "It's time for me to give you a little treat." A small smile had played onto your lips as you helped him out of his shirt, Spencer got goosebumps with how cold the room had suddenly felt.

You climbed off his lap and dropped down to your knees, and Spencer's lips parted. He was already hard, but he now he was really hard knowing what he was about to do to him.

Your hands reached for the zipper on his pants, and you smirked. "Now let's see..." Spencer lifted up his hips as you had helped him out of his pants and boxer briefs.

Wow, that's all you could think as he cock sprung free, not wanting to waste anymore time your hand wrapped around him, you began to purposely stroke him slowly.

He gasped as she wrapped her fingers around him, feeling the softness of her skin against his.

"Do you like this?" Your hand twisted around him and went up and down in all types of motions, drawing relentlessly moans from his lips.

Quickly Spencer nodded. "I-I do, yes..."

You were barely doing anything, and already it felt like too much, Spencer's nails dug into the couch, and his eyes squeezed shut.

"Uh, uh." You stopped and looked up at him. "If you don't look at me, I'll have to stop, do you understand?"

Spencer opened back up his eyes and looked at you and answered. "I-I understand."

"Good boy." Those words made him twitch in her hands. "Your cock is so pretty Spencer and I'm so glad I'll be the first and only girl to see this."

Spencer gulped and sheepishly spoke. "Can you, um..you know?"

You knew what he was asking for but you wanted him to directly ask you.

"I don't know, what do you need?"

Spencer hesitated. "Do I have to say it?"

"How can I know what you want me to do if you don't ask me specifically?" You smiled softly.

"Can you...use your mouth?" He asked.

You chuckled, "We'll work on that." And then you leaned in closer, your warm breath against his skin as you had taken his cock into your mouth.

Spencer's eyes widened at the feeling of your warm and wet mouth around him.

You ran your tongue up and down him, licking his tip and trying to take as much as you could down your throat. Spencer's head back against the couch, and his eyes rolled back. You sucked him off with eagerness and whatever you couldn't take in your mouth, you just jerked it.

Spencer could feel the tension building up within him. With everything you were giving him, he could feel himself getting closer.

But he didn't want to come just yet, so he spoke up. "Wait- wait..."

"Whats wrong?" You asked.

"Nothing, I just...I don't want to come so quickly."

You smiled softly. "It's okay if you do, that just shows I'm doing a good job."

"You definitely are." Spencer said, breathless. "I just...want to return the favor, please?"

You rose to your feet so you could pull down your pants and panties and then took a seat down onto the couch. Now it was Spencer's turn to be on his knees for you.

He pushed your legs apart, and his heart raced at the view of your glistening cunt before him, he licked his lips and looked at you. "Let me know if you don't like it, okay?"

You nodded and gasped as he leaned down, and his tongue had flicked out to taste test her. A groan left Spencer's lips at how good you tasted, so sweet.

Your hands went to his hair as he began to lick her like she was his last meal.

While Spencer had never touched a woman a day in his life, he had done a lot of reading, waiting for this moment and he did not want to disappoint you.

Your hips bucked up to his face as he wrapped his arms around your legs, holding you close as he didn't let a drop of you go to waste. His tongue wrapped around your clit and he gently sucked.

"God, Spencer!" Your back arched. "So good, how are you so good at this?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Spencer still wanted to answer. "I've done a lot of reading, although reading about it isn't the same as doing it, you taste amazing." He said as he returned back to what he was originally doing.

Moans filled up the living room, and your legs began to shake. "Don't fucking stop, Spence!"

Your thighs tightened around his head as you got closer and closer with every lick and flick against your clit.

Within seconds, you were left shaking as Spencer made you come harder than any man.

It took you a while to catch your breath, but when you did, you looked down at him and helped him up. "Let's go to your room."

Spencer quickly stood up and the two headed to his bedroom. "Get in the bed, lay down for me." You had instructed.

Spencer climbed into the bed and laid on his back, watching in awe as joined him in the bed, straddling is hips.

His cock brushed against your clit which made the both of you moan. "I'm going to make you feel so good baby..."

Spencer whined, "Please do."

Your hands ran over his chest before lining him up at your entrance, your wetness dripped onto the tip of his cock as your lowered yourself onto him completely.

"Ah.." Spencer shuddered.

"Look at me." You said as you began to rock your hips against him, Spencer's eyes snapped up to you, holding eye contact.

You were so tight around him, and it made it so hard for Spencer not to come on the spot.

"Oh, baby..." His hands went to your hips.

Spencer's cock only got harder with the many movements against him. You moved up and down, your ass and thighs slapping down on him.

You spoke, "Fuck me back baby."

His grip on your waist got more firm, and he began to help guide your movements. Spencer thrusted upwards to meet your movements at the perfect time.

Your eyes grew wide as he managed to find the perfect rhythm. With each thrust, her tits bounced, and he could feel her walls tighten around him. It was such a magnificent feeling that, he could sense you were close

Spencer reached down to her clit, his fingers trembling with anticipation. He needed her to come before he did. His thumb circled the sensitive nub, applying just the right amount of pressure. Your eyes shot open, meeting his with a look of surprise.

Your hips began to move faster, your breath hitched in your throat as you felt the beginnings of your climax building. Spencer could feel it, too, the way your walls fluttered around him, the way your muscles began to quiver. He knew he had you, knew he could give you what she wanted.

Spencer's thrust started to become more and more deliberate with each movement. With every moan that came from your lips it caused him to want to give you more.

His head fell back into the pillow at the feeling of your walls clenching around him.

Then you leaned forward, your hands on his chest as you began to ride him with eagerness.

Spencer watched, his eyes glued to the sight of how well your pussy swallowed his cock, your clit grinding against his pelvis. It was a sight that made him feel like he was going to combust at any given moment. He then reached up, his hands cupping your breasts as he squeezed and pinched your nipples in time with the movements.

"Do you like this?" You asked. "Do you like how well I'm taking your cock, babe?"

In response to your question, he moaned. He was starting to feel his release draw near as you didn't slow down the pace. The pressure in his balls grew with every stroke. All he could do was moan at your filthy words.

You threw your head back. "I'm so close."

"Me too, baby...me too."

Your movements were becoming erratic. You needed to come, and you weren't about to slow down until you did. Spencer could feel you tighten around him, your pussy clamping down onto him.

And then, a loud moan and desperate cry left your lips as you came. Your body shook with the force of your orgasm. The sensation was like nothing he had ever felt before, his own cock pulsing.

Your pussy was so tight around him and he was ready to let go. Spencer looked up at you as you rode out your pleasure, watching you come did something to him, knowing that he made you come, threw him over the edge.

And then, with a final, desperate thrust, Spencer came. His eyes rolled back in his head, his back arching off the bed as ropes of cum shot from his cock, filling you up.

Never in his life had he ever come that fast and hard.

You moaned softly, feeling his release inside of you. Both his and your juices mixed together leaked out of her as she pulled off of him and dropped to lay beside him, catching her breath.

There was a long silence that made Spencer feel uneasy, so he turned to look at you. "Was that good?"

You looked at him. "Was that good?" She repeated. "That was more than just good."

Spencer smiled.

"You sure that was your first time?" You joked.

Spencer chuckled. "It was, I've just done enough reading and watching to know a good amount."

You raised a brow. "Watching, hm?" You knew Spencer was a man, but you never really thought that he might've watched porn.

"Only for research purposes."

You chuckled. "Right....Right"

You laid your head onto Spencer's chest, still trying to catch your breath, Spencer looked up at the ceiling, really pleased with himself.

"Can we do that again?" He asked.

You looked up at him. "Sure, just.. let me catch my breath."

Hello, I hope you guys enjoyed it. This was my first time writing smut, and as you can see, I'm not too good at it, but I'm learning, and if you have any feedback, don't hesitate to give it.

Also, thank you too, you all who sent so much love and reassurance about my first post, I'm glad it reached people, and you all enjoyed it!

[byhawthorne]

Nightmares.

– Grayson Hawthorne x fem!xreader : she always seeks comfort in Grayson when she has nightmares.

an : hi!! finally i stopped fighting the fact that i want to write Gray one shots, so here i am. i wanted to write something cute and comforting, i'm not the best writer but i promise to improve and i will write other things where i include the other characters. important: i still don't know if i should use (Y/N) so sometimes i won't mention any name but in other one shots I'll add (Y/N) enjoy! 🫶🏻

She opened the door somewhat hesitantly. Everything was dark and it was clear that he was sleeping, maybe she should turn around and... No, Grayson wasn't going to bite her. Besides, it wasn't the first time she'd been there.

She closed the door behind her and walked over to Grayson's bed. The Hawthornes had offered her a room for a few days and by the Hawthornes she meant Grayson had insisted. It wasn't that bad, Xander had actually talked to her a lot and shown her his experiments. It helped distract her and it was actually much better to be there than in her own house.

"Gray..." she murmured but he didn't move. She was nervous, why was she more nervous than other days?

Well, Grayson wasn't her boyfriend. She wasn't entirely sure if they were a thing but she knew they weren't just friends either, she was too scared to ask. By the way, Xander had said it was stupid and that everything would be fixed by asking, he almost opened his mouth for a second.

The last few nights she had been having nightmares, too many nightmares and so horrible that it was difficult for her to get back to sleep. He had helped, he let her get into his bed and hugged her. She was pretty sure she'd never seen Grayson hug people all the time, but she wasn't just anyone. She had a different side to him.

"Gray..." She muttered one last time and decided that if she didn't get an answer she was just going to leave and get something to drink in the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" He opened his eyes and for a second he was scared to notice that it was still nighttime. But then he saw her there, next to his bed and immediately knew what was happening. "Another nightmare?"

She nodded embarrassedly. She liked seeing him like that, sleepy and with his hair disheveled. It was almost unusual to see him without his suit, she never said it out loud but seeing him like that was her favorite thing.

"I'm sorry..." She sighed and regretted being there in the middle of the night, but she felt calmer when she saw Grayson shake his head and make room for her on the bed.

She slid into bed next to him and immediately her arms went around him. She sighed clinging to him, she could feel how warm he was.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she heard him murmur. He always asked her if she wanted to talk about it and she always said no... For Grayson it was just a nightmare, for her were memories. Saying it was just a nightmare sounded much better, at least until she was ready.

"No... just hold me." She sighed. She didn't want to lie to him but there were things she wasn't ready to say yet, especially since they were only fragments of her memories.

Minutes passed and she began to hear Grayson's heavy breathing again. "Gray?" She lifted her face only to notice that he had already fallen asleep again. She smiled, she loved seeing him so peaceful every time he slept, she could spend hours watching him just sleeping.

She pressed her lips against his cheek and snuggled back into his side feeling calmer. He always made her feel calm.

[untitlednerd]

Why is he so cold?

Fred Weasley x female reader

Summary - The battle of Hogwarts ended like none of you thought it would, with a greater loss than you could have ever imagined.

Warnings - Sadness, and my very crappy writing. I also didn't check for spelling errors.

Wow, the last post was in 2023. Writer's block is crazy. ANYWAY, please give tips and respectful criticism only. Other than that, enjoy!

_________________________________________

You honestly thought that you'd gone through all of the pain that someone could go through in their life.

Well, in your time at school, that is.

You survived a troll entering Hogwarts castle in your third year, courtesy of Percy directing you back to the common room.

You survived the chamber of secrets being opened in your fourth year, and many muggleborns being petrified. Along with Ginny, a girl who was like a little sister to you, going missing.

You survived dementors being sent to Hogwarts grounds in your fifth year when a supposed mass murderer escaped from Azkaban.

You survived the school-wide grieving loss of Cedric Diggory in your sixth year, along with attending the difference events for the Triwizard Tournament.

You survived an insufferable DADA teacher in your seventh, and final year at Hogwarts, who looked like the textbook definition of a pink toad.

And once you graduated from Hogwarts after Fred and George made their early, and rather glamorous, departure, you went on to being hired for the career you dreamed of ending up in during your time in Hogwarts. In your free time, when not spending time on your favorite hobbies, you loved to help Fred and George out with their shop.

Life had been good. So good. You and your friends had been through a lot together, and yet you persevered together. Shouldn't that be all their is to it? Shouldn't the chaos end there? There should be nothing more than marriage in the future, maybe kids if you and Fred decide you want them. You'd attend the wedding of whoever George decided to marry, as well as Lee and your other friends and family. You'd meet up with your friends from Hogwarts often, as well as colleagues from work, and You'd never be separated from those you love.

At least that's what you thought as you stared down at your boyfriend's body, fiddling with the promise ring around your ring finger.

You remembered the moment Fred had given it to you. It was around the time you graduated Hogwarts, and when you were hired for your new job.

He knew that proposing would be a bit too soon. He and George had just begun to grow their business, and he knew how hard you had worked to get into the career of your choice, and he'd never try to get between you and that. So, you both agreed to getting each other promise rings. A promise that you'd be there for each other. Grow together. Love each other, and support each other. A promise that you'd both help the other become the people you were meant to be for when marriage finally felt right for the both of you.

Now the ring was a reminder of what you'd never have.

You'd never marry the love of your life. The boy who was nice to you along with his brother during your first year at Hogwarts, when you were still trying to find good people to be friends with. The boy who wiped your tears and made you laugh whenever another student was mean, or a teacher made you sad. The boy who, over time, began to show just how infatuated with you he really was. The boy who eventually got the courage to ask you to the Yule Ball, and then ask you out during the summer after that school year ended, before your seventh year was to begin. To him, Cedric's death was a reminder that we should live every day as if it was our last, and to him, he wanted his last day on earth to be a day filled with fun, laughter, and love. And most of all, he wanted to be with the people he loved. You included.

None of it made sense. Was he really dead? No, he had to be just sleeping. Or playing one of his pranks that he loved so much. Sure, playing dead took things a bit far, but he always did commit to the pranks that he pulled. Right?

You were frozen in place, not knowing if you were numb, or about to fall to the ground in tears. When did you stop screaming? It was obvious you were in shock, but the moment felt so real and yet so fake at the same time. The only detail that you could process in that moment being the color of your boyfriend's hair, and a few drops of a liquid of the same color residing on a stone nearby.

A voice. A distant one. Or maybe multiple distant ones? You couldn't figure it out, but it sounded like maybe your name?

A tug. Or maybe a push. All you know is the world began to shift until you were facing. . . Fred? No, George. Merlin. They looked so similar. You never realized how painfully so until only one of them was alive.

George said your name again, and your eyes focused enough to see the visible tears filling his eyes, although he did his best to keep them from falling.

"We have to move him," he spoke softly, as he tried to stop another round of tears from falling himself, explaining that Voldemort had told them all to dispose of their dead after commanding for his death eaters to retreat for the time being.

"Move him." You repeated slowly, the words and the way they formed sounding confusing coming out of your mouth.

George only nodded, gently brushing some of the dirt on your face away from a cut that you had received on your forehead. "Yes, move him. We can take him to the Great Hall where the others are being brought, and then I promise that we won't have to leave his side for awhile. We can spend time with him, and. . . say goodbye." Through the fog in your mind, you could hear him trying to not choke up on the last word he said.

"Okay." It took you a moment to form the word, and without realizing it, you were helping one of your best friends carry the love of your life into the Great Hall, were many other bodies were already scattered.

It wasn't until after you and George gently set Fred's body down that it finally hit you. Not until after you stood up, and slowly looked around, the sight and sound of grieving families, friends, and partners seeping into your mind and grasping onto your heartstrings until it felt like it was squeezing the life out of you.

Your eyes finally found their way back to Fred, every piece of the mental puzzle you had been trying to solve settling into the picture of the truth that lied on the ground before you.

Fred Weasley was dead.

You heard a noise of pure pain and anguish before feeling what seemed like raindrops falling from your eyes down to your cheeks. Were you crying? Definitely crying, as no one else around you was wet, and you were inside the Great Hall with everyone else.

It wasn't until you saw how people were looking at you that you realized the noise of pain had actually came from you.

The ground started to appear like it was coming closer until you felt loving arms wrap around you, and what sounded like a soothing voice began to become clearer as you listened.

"It's alright, dear. It's alright." The voice of Molly came from beside you as she hugged you tightly, tears of her own falling down her face as Arthur stayed close to her. And as you looked around, you saw George hugging Ron, and then Ron hugging Fred's body.

You didn't know when Ginny took you from Molly to hug you, but you were grateful for every hug that you got, as it reminded you that you were still alive.

Soon, another pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, and Lee came in to focus in front of you when Ginny had stepped away to hug Harry.

You didn't want to intrude. They were his family, and they all deserved to say goodbye to Fred first. At least that's what you told yourself so that you wouldn't cling to him in an instant.

"Go," Lee murmured, gently brushing your hair away from your tear streaked face, still taking care of you as one of his best friends just as he did in Hogwarts. "You're his family, too. We all are." He kneeled next to Fred's body with you, and gently took your hand, placing it in Fred's.

"His hand is colder than it usually is." You spoke in a whisper, tears clouding your vision at the newest reminder of the ghost of him before you. "His hands were always warm." You held Fred's hand tightly in your own. "Why is he so cold?"

Lee responded only by putting a hand on your shoulder in consolation. He didn't know what to say. He'd never done this before. Never, in his whole life, did he think he'd be so young and consoling one of his best friends about the death of another best friend. He never thought any of them would lose each other so soon.

It felt like days, when in reality it was only a fraction of that time. The war had been won, but you could barely recall the events of anything past losing Fred. You knew Harry was alive, but you didn't remember how, nor how he eventually defeated Voldemort. Other than flashes of memories of George making sure you returned safe with him and the rest of his family to the burrow, nothing more happened.

You made your way into the twins' old room with George, the both of you laying on Fred's old bed, just wanting to feel close to him.

Mrs. Weasley tried to encourage you both to eat, but the two of you didn't move. Moving made things real, and neither of you wanted them to be.

[kamospeach]

i make music that electrify 'em .ᐟ

plot: producer!zoro who helps his best artist make award winning music and helps her relieve stress

content warning: oral m! + f!recieving, plain ole missionary, breeding, very vanilla

peachy's yap: short drabble to clear out my drafts! i really didn't know what to do with this but i wanted to write something for zoro. i have a new and better idea for him lol. i hate how short this is tho.

music was your therapy if you couldn't make it you weren't sure what you'd do. but now you had to figure it out. your label was bitching about your last album saying that you were creating too fast.

they offered you take a break or just spend some time outside of the studio. but that's not what you wanted, you need your stress reliever. zoro understood well at least he tried to. he loved taking off and getting out of the studio sometimes. so you asked him for his help.

"show me something i can do instead of being in the studio 24/7."

and that he did. you spent the day with zoro going shopping and out to eat. you were having fun until the only thing your mind let you think of was new song lyrics. zoro was tired of hearing work ideas and decided to shut you up by shoving his cock down your throat.

it wasn't the first time the two of you had fucked but he needed to do this. he was doing this for you, so you wouldn't think about the studio. he even helped you relieved stress by eating your pussy spit on your pussy lips. making out with them as his spit mixed with your essence dripped down his chin.

he love the way you tasted and his eyes rolled to the back of his head at your smell. he made a mental note to pocket your underwear from today. his ring cladded fingers gripped your thighs as he lined up his red and leaky cock head with your cunt.

pushing his meaty cock into your tight virgin like pussy. bullying your poor cervix as he pounded into you. your moans bouncing off the walls of your bedroom. it was all too much you were overwhelmed by the feeling of him in you.

"fuck baby im gonna breed this sloppy cunt. gonna cum all in that pussy." he grunted and groaned as your jaw hung open moans and squeals flying out even time he stroked into you.

"zo, m'gonna cum!" you squeaked as your nails dragged down his back surely leaving scrapes.

"me too baby shit cum all over my cock." he grunted as he thrusted one final time cumming in you. after you both cuddled as he slowly ran his fingers up and down your back. leave soft touches and kisses along your body. he was hands down your favorite stress reliever.

[true-blue-sonic]

*pointing at Sonic* I need to know more about how this man expresses love

because I just realised that I my writing is 100% physical touches in my ships, but Sonic does not do that. At least, not as overtly as I tend to write it. I honestly struggle to remember a time wherein he was the one initiating physical contact that can be taken as romantic, haha! He's not averse to touches and stuff: he shakes Blaze's hand no problem in Rush, he holds and hugs Elise and also strokes her shoulder when she is upset... but it not at all overt, either. Tails comes bursting in after thinking Sonic was dead for 6 months and Sonic's hug is literally restrained to just holding him by his sides for a bit; not to mention he looks quite startled by Elise hugging him the first time and doesn't/didn't always seem so eager about getting glomped by Amy. So Sonic's clearly not much of a hugger, and thus I can't imagine him being a cuddler either!

So then, how would Sonic express love to someone he's in a relationship with? Sonic's shtick is kind of that he runs off a lot and likes doing things on his own, though he's also always happy to spend time with friends and share his adventures with them. So... quality time or something? Maybe words of affirmation, since he's the living embodiment of "My Friends Are Cool And Awesome"? I'm looking into this for a Sonilver fic, and I'm struggling a bit with seeing how they would bond into a relationship🤔

[m0usehouse]

~☆screaming just to see who's louder

k.bakugou x tough!reader

based on why try"by Ariana Grande

"I've been living with devils and angels"

You grew up in a harsh environment. Paying bills was always a scramble. Mean kids at school were never interested in your company or the social rejection that would come with it due to your 'ratty and disgusting' used clothing. It didn't help when you had to go without a shower cause the water bill was too high the previous month. The daily stress fights didn't help soothe your young mind either. You grew up quick, knowing that you either own the world or the world owns you

He grew up in a nice home, two parents who loved each other, constantly being praised and adored. He was strong and secure in what he wanted to be. He eventually had to process the weights such perfection came with, but his blonde hair always had a halo glow from the bright sparks in his palms. .

"Realize you and I are in the same boat"

After meeting at the entrance exam, both of you had a resolved hatred for the other. you were kind and gentle, a contrast to what you always knew. He was harsh and abrasive, a trait developed from his mother's firey personality and his own inflated ego. The first interaction was an immediate clash of heads when you politely asked him to lean over so you could see the presentation better. He took that as you trying to insult his existence and that you decided he didn't deserve to be there. It ended with you both in the same arena.

Over time, being in the same class softened spikes enough to realize you both were just hungry to become the best versions of yourselves for yourselves. Weighed down by desperation and a lack of patience.

"Kills me how you love me, then you cut me down, I'll do the same"

No one knew how to handle you two. Even teachers were conflicted. At the USJ incident, and the camp attack, you and Bakugou worked in perfect sync. Almost crazy looking smiles on your faces. The Pussy Cats even assumed you were "mates".

When Katsuki was kidnapped, you were the first to agree to saving him. You had been right alongside Midoriya when he had been taken, reaching out with that same desperation. The desperation was what burned you alive.

You two spent so much time together, bickering but with smirks and sweet smiles thrown in. Then, he'd say something cruel, and you wouldn't put up with it, always spitting a vile reply back in his face. Once the dorms were established, you both got into so many violent screaming matches that Aizawa had to switch your rooms. The fights always ended with you crying and him overworking himself because, as agonizing as the other could be, you both wanted each other close. You wanted to burn, and you wanted him to burn with you.

"We've been living like angels and devils"

He was powerful, smart, talented, and attractive. He was worshipped like a God, but crumbled like false idols always do. His wings slowly lost their pristine whiteness as he clawed for success. His anger was a weak cry for 'more, more, more'. Yet, Angels can never be God, and he wasn't even God's favorite.

You were strong but never shiny enough. Always in the shadow of bright halos, electric bolts, shining smiles, and golden hearts. You spend hours every day after class, wrecking your body to gain at least a little more strength so you'll finally be able to own the world instead of being a slave to its bitterness. Everyone knows devils work in secret. otherwise, they're cast out entirely. Devils have to steal every bit of recognition and success they get. Their hard work will never be acknowledged or seen as worthy because their desire is deemed as ugly.

"I'm loving the pain, I never want to live without it"

You and Katsuki finally became official when you both realized your anger was passion. It was that same fire inside, and it was being mutually stoked by your similarities and drive. You fought constantly. Over stupid things that would turn into big things. A regular back and forth, tit for tat but with bursts of rage that left your ears ringing. However, the fights always ended in a rough kiss. Both of you are just so pent up with existence and goals that you have nowhere to put your uncontrolled anxieties onto each other. It always ended with Katsuki making you both an overly spicy dinner to irritate you while you huffed and found a movie you knew he hated, falling asleep in each other's arms halfway through.

"Through it all, you could still make my heart skip"

Sometimes, there'd be days on end of cold shoulders, silent treatment, passive aggression. It was confusing for everyone watching, but you always ran back to him because you knew he loved you more than anyone ever could. Anyone who has a lot of love could give you more, but he gave you all of his everything. He gave you his flaws, his attention, his support, his adoration, and his respect. He saw how capable you were and the strength you earned through hard work. Those quiet days were never lonely. Other people were blind to the quick love filled glances, the random dinners left in front of your door, and the perfectly prepared protein shakes left on his nightstand when he got back from training. They didn't see the single text you'd get during those times, "still love you, pretty."

"So why do we try?"

You asked him this question once during your post-fight ritual, and he looked down at you with an incredulous smile, his furrowed brows making the playful disbelief clear.

"Baby, look at us. You drive me insane."

[lola-theshowgrl]

"Star-Crossed Blades" - Writing Update #2

Month: January Stage: First draft Word Count: 7785 Currently Listening To: Ep 3 of "Monty Don's British Gardens" Beverage: Chai latte Mood: Anxious

It's going well! In the past week I've written the prologue, chapter one, and about half of chapter two. I've got almost the whole novel plotted out, which is very strange for me (I'm usually much more of a "pantser" than this!) and I even have the two main characters' voices very strongly in my mind. I've been bombarding close friends with all my little thoughts and ideas, and, at the risk of sounding immodest, I really think I have something here. I really do.

There are two problems I'm facing right now. The first is that with such a clear story in my head, practically screaming in my ear to get out into the world, I simply can't write quickly enough. I'm not a very fast writer in general, truth be told. I enjoy writing - I'm not one of these people who complains about the act unless I'm burnt out or dealing with an awkward scene. Generally speaking, I love doing this and actually writing is just as much fun as sharing the finished result. Still, I wish I could be quicker this time around, or at least I wish I didn't need a day job so I could spend the bulk of my energy on SCB instead of data entry and wearing a bra.

The second problem I'm dealing with, is that I'm coming fresh from the fandom space. I'm used to posting chapters as I finish them, and having people to talk to about characters and plot developments. That sense of community is very difficult to do without, especially when I'm practically boiling over to talk about what I'm doing.

I'm part of a few servers on Discord, and I'm trying to spread my excitement across them so I'm not being a huge bore by talking constantly about my WIP. It's difficult, though! I'm so torn between wanting to sit on it, to keep it all secret so I can get people's reactions when the whole thing is finished, or to just blurt it all out like a fog horn to anyone who will listen.

I've been going backwards and forwards about finding a platform I can post it chapter by chapter, as I have no plans to traditionally publish or go via KDP, but with the rise of plagiarism and pirating and AI scraping, I just don't think that's the best idea right now. There's Patreon, but I don't know how I feel about that, either.

It's a shame, really. If nothing else, all I ever want for my writing is for it to be read. At the moment I have a lovely, small but dedicated little group of people who are interested in my scribbles, and I worry that they'll have lost interest before I'm ready to share the whole, finished thing.

I'm in the unusual position of having a good idea how long this story will be, and it's going to take me a while to finish, I imagine. I can't see it'll be ready this year, and right now I'm aiming for September 2026 - that's a very long way off!

For now, I suppose I can only keep chugging along, and reminding myself how much I love this part of the journey. The rest I'll figure out as it comes!

[ae-azile]

Fadel/Style "One-Shot" (or probably longer 🙄) Idea

Impulsive one-shot idea that I should not start because I am that person with 59496492 WIPs. But here is the general idea:

Three years into Fadel's and Bison's sentence, their relationships with Style and Kant are still surprisingly strong. Style and Kant visit every Wednesday, volunteer on Saturdays and Sundays, and write and send packages so often that they rarely come back to their cell empty handed when the mail arrives. It's hard, but they are past the halfway point and this is finally starting to feel doable.

And then - on visiting day - Style doesn't show up. Fadel doesn't get called back to the visitation room like he always does. Bison does, but Fadel is left alone. He tries his best to not be upset. He has told Style countless times he does not have to come every single visiting day, especially now that he's volunteering. But it's the first day he has ever missed and he never even gave Fadel a head's up. When Bison comes back, he just says that Kant told him Style isn't feeling well and that he's very sorry he couldn't be here. That worries Fadel enough and makes him feel guilty. He spends the rest of the week beating himself up over not being able to tend to Style while he gets over a virus. He's hoping that Style will call. That way, Fadel can let him know to just take it easy until he is completely better and to not feel guilty if he can't visit until that happens.

But he doesn't call. When Fadel gets a turn with the phone, Style doesn't answer. He tries again the following day with the same result. He tries not to assume the worst. Style is sick, so maybe he just isn't up for talking. He just wishes Style would tell him that, even if it is croaked out and they aren't on the phone for more than thirty seconds. Fadel would take it, because he is now jumping to other conclusions.

Maybe Style met someone else. Fadel always told him he could and that he would understand. That always resulted in Style throwing a fit and calling and writing even more, just to tell Fadel off for undermining his love and devotion. Sometimes, Fadel will get multiple letters in one day when Style is riled up like that. He finally got to a point where he understands that Style isn't going anywhere.

But if he isn't answering Fadel's calls, maybe that has changed.

When Saturday comes along and Kant arrives to volunteer, Style is nowhere in sight. Since he can't talk to Style, he corners Kant. He does his best to be reasonable. He even tells Kant he won't be mad if Style found someone else. He just needs to know so he isn't left wondering.

Kant doesn't tell him much of anything. All he does is look at Fadel sadly and hand him a letter. As soon as Fadel finds a private area so he can read it and not become targeted if he bursts into tears, he's glad that he did. It's a single page, just one, long paragraph. He's used to Style writing at least three pages front and back. But he still gets his point across.

I was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia last week. Same as my ma. My 5 year survival rate is about 30%. I am in the hospital now, but I will come back as soon as I am out if you still want to see me. If you don't, I completely understand. I'm sorry I'm not telling you in person, and I'm sorry I didn't answer the phone. It just isn't looking good, and I didn't know how to say it without trying to make light of it. That pisses Pa off, and I figured it would piss you off too. I don't know when I will be discharged. I also don't know when I will lose my hair. Probably soon. Fuck. I don't know if I can pull it off. Whatever. My sex appeal had a good run. Kant can give you updates on that and everything else if you get curious. Again, I understand that you probably don't want to be a part of this. Just write, tell Kant, or give me a call. As long as I am awake, I promise to answer this time. I've been sleeping a lot, but I told Pa to watch my phone Saturday and Sunday in case you do call so he can wake me up.

I love you,

Style

Or...

Style gets diagnosed with cancer while Fadel is in prison and has a bleak prognosis. Fadel feels like his world is completely falling apart as he becomes more and more desperate to find a solution.

I hate it when I get one-shot ideas, especially depressing ones like this LOL. And also, idk if I could make this work as a one-shot. It will probably be very angst heavy if I ever do start it, and I have several KinnPorsche fics I need to get back to. But if anyone is interested in seeing where this could lead, feel free to let me know!

[dawnoftime22]

tent.

| T.S

INTHAF series, Chapter 1

Warnings: None!

Summary: With the thought of being away from Taylor for such a long time, you finally decided to call her up, and with the idea of spending your time in a recently built tent — inside your house…

Word Count: 2.1k

Category: Fluff!

A/N: so...who could write a short series on a song that barely has lines? me. yes. don't expect much, but this is all FLUFF <333 enjoy!!!

P.S, this is a series that was originally from 2023 but never got worked on :] i won't mind if anyone will like it or not, I'm just really proud of it and actually finishing it, but love you all, hope you enjoy anyways<3

| Started on 26/11/2023, 8:33 AM |

| Finished on 29/12/2023, 11:13 PM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

INTHAF Masterlist

"It's nice to have a friend."

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

It was quiet as you were sat on your bed, relishing in the feeling of a peaceful atmosphere. The windows emitted daylight from outside, and the sheets of your bed kept you warm despite the cool air.

Currently, you were free to do whatever you wanted, having no plans for your day to do.

...Or, well, you had no other plans that could get in the way of your one singular plan for today. It was very important to you.

Taylor, your best friend since high school, has been busy in her music business, and you've been thinking of a way to spend time together once she gets a big break from her work. A tent was casually sitting in your living room as your finger lingered on her contact name. Oh. Yes. The living room— only in reason due to all the rain thats been outside.

Your thumb taps on the name eventually, and the screen changes to a calling one, a rhythmic tone sounding out from the phone. You put it against your ear, awaiting for the beeping to stop and a familiar voice to come through.

"Y/N!! Hi!!" Her voice comes out softly. From all the time you've spent away from each other, your mind plagued with worry, but the softness of her tone calmed it right down.

"Hey, Tay," You respond right back, her name coming from your mouth just as gently. A smile rose on your face, and she could hear it in your voice.

"We haven't talked in a while. What's up?" As you listened, her voice sounded happy, or excited. There was no background noise at all, and it didn't seem like she was stressed. At least relief flowed through you, with the hopes that you caught her at a good time.

But in her side, her face and day had brightened up the second she saw your name pop up on her phone screen, and now she was fidgeting with her necklace as she waited for your response.

You took a breath in. "Nothing, really, I just thought...are you busy at all today?" You were about to mention the plan of hanging out right away, but since she's been so busy, you didn't want any expectations of either of you being disappointed, so you asked her first.

You hear her hum through the phone, like the gentle melody of her songs as you waited. "No, I'm free all day," she said softly. With a soft sigh, you let yourself lay down comfortably on your bed, knowing that if you stood up, it would only make you pace the room as you talked.

You pressed your phone against your ear, making sure your grip wasn't too loose. "Wanna have a sleepover or something?" a pause went by, but then you simply blurted it out. "I have a tent in my living room."

A moment of silence went by. You could almost imagine her expressions. "What? What led you to doing that?" Her surprise was present in her voice, a soft laugh echoing over the call, and you giggled yourself.

"Well, I was thinking of going camping with you but...since you've been busy lately, I thought we could do a short and easy way to feel like we're camping without having to." You explained, trying to give her reasons to come over.

Another silence goes by as she processes your words. Either that, or her brain may have short-circuited. You thought the first one, because your own brain might be dealing with the latter. "It's also just been very rainy, and who doesn't like feeling like a child again, sleeping in tents?" you add in, although a slight grimace rises on your face at even the thought of a tent sitting casually indoors rather than outdoors.

"You...are so random sometimes." She breathes out a laugh, then goes quiet. You hear a small meow coming from the background, and it was obvious her attention had gotten distracted by a certain cat.

"And...?" You added, having not gotten an answer to your question yet, and your fingers brushed over your bedsheets to find something to soothe your own heart.

"Yeah, sounds like fun!" She says, her voice going up a bit at the end of her sentence, saying it with full honesty and excitement, while another meow sounds out again.

"Who is that in the background?" You asked with curiosity, the noise being adorably small like a kitten.

"That's Benjamin. He jumped on the piano keys." You hear some distant sounds of the piano keys being played, presumably, his paws hitting them as he walked.

Taylor had picked up your call while at the piano, that's for sure. You caught her in the middle of a practice or songwriting session.

Then you blinked after process of realizing she stopped playing to pick up your call, but another thought went by of this new cute friend.

"You got a new cat while you were gone?!" She hears your gasp through the phone, and breathes out a chuckle. "He sounds so cute and small..." you murmur, a smile upon your face. Some shuffling came through before she spoke up again.

"Yeah!! I saw him while filming a music video, so I thought why not..." she says, keeping watch on the small little kitten walking on the keys. You couldn't wipe the smile off your face, and you shook your head. She could have 50 or more kittens if she wanted to, and in another universe, she probably did have that many.

"So, your place, I'll be there in 20 minutes?" Taylor asked. Since you two were close, she had once focused to getting a house near yours, just so you could go to each other's places easily.

"Yeah! I'll see you later, then." You said, sitting up. She could hear the movement, but couldn't see them since you were on a voice call, and you could hear her keys jingling in the meanwhile, a small laugh going by. "Okay, see you."

"See you- And don't forget snacks! Specifically marshmallows!!" You manage to get your words out as you giggled. You already had your snacks ready, all you had to do was just put biscuits and chocolate, or put the marshmallows over a fire. Or well, in this situation, your stove.

"Okay, okay. Bye, now!" She said, almost urgently, and you had to stop yourself from questioning on if she had things to finish up first, or if she was excited. On the other side, she was first petting Benjamin's soft fur, smiling.

"Bye!" The end call tone sounded out, and you pulled your phone away with a smile as you laid back to your bed, content with the conversation you had.

A sigh leaves your lips. It had been so long, but the time went by like the ceiling fan spinning from your ceiling, fast and full of bustling wind. There was nothing else to do but wait.

You turned on your side, then got up, (although regretting it and cursing yourself for how fast you went), you decided against continuing your comfortable position on the bed, for the risk of being too comfortable, or sleep creeping in to the corners of your mind.

Your legs led you off to your already open door and to the living room, where the lights were dimly lit with an orange color, and the curtains were closed, leaving a cozy atmosphere in the room.

The kitchen was your target. There, the snacks were already sitting beside a backpack upon the kitchen counter. Opting for an easier way rather than getting them all in the tent later with your hands full, you instead pick them up and place them all in the bag.

There were books in the tent too, ready to read with a small reading lamp. After gracefully setting down the bag, you went back out and laid down on the couch, not wanting to get bored of the small space while waiting for Taylor.

You fiddled with the couch's material, fingers brushing against it before a sigh escapes. Your phone was an option for distraction, sitting face down off in the corner of your vision, but you had already spent far too much time on it when you were trying to decide on calling Taylor or not.

You grabbed a book instead, going to get youreelf lost in a world of fantasy to pass the time. It was only you inside the house, but for now, you focused on Taylor's arrival that will soon come.

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

Once 20 minutes or so passes by, you soon hear the doorbell echoing through the front door. You nearly jump from the couch in eagerness, the ceiling having turned to be entirely the most dull thing you've stared at your whole life.

Walking to the door, the air was cold from the rain that had started dropping down just a bit ago. Your hands go to the doorknob, and when you get it open; behind it, reveals the blonde standing with a gentle look on her face, her eyes brightening at the sight of you.

"Hi. I brought Benjamin." She smiles, turning her body slightly to show you the small black, brown-ish eared kitten. You giggle, loving how she sometimes brought along one of her cats, although this was a new addition.

"He's very welcome to join," you say, noticing how the sky behind her had gone dark. Not only from the rain, but the sun having gone down. You didn't even realize the time was evening when you called her.

You move to stand aside, letting her enter your home just as she used to so many times before. She quickly notices the tent sitting in your living room, and her eyes were set on it. The warm atmosphere wrapped her in a comfortable feeling.

"You really did go all out," she says softly, but giggled, stepping in and admiring every aspect of your living room, and the way the tent actually seemed quite comfy.

"Anyway, great news that he's welcome, because he's been wanting to meet you." You could see the kitten stare up at you from the peekhole of the bag. She takes off her shoes, leaving them on the shoe rack before turning to you.

"Meet me?" You ask, slightly confused, walking towards the tent with her following off with you after she was done.

"Okay, this sounds silly, but he's seen pictures of you on my phone, and I kid you not, gotten my attention with meows and paws on the screen multiple times!" This time, a bright laugh comes from your lips, making the corners of hers, turn up softly. The two of you manage to arrive at the tent, it safely (and nearly silly looking) sitting at the living room.

You had prepared by leaving the zip closed before, so when you arrived, you take a glance at her with a corner of your lip going up. She looked at you with raised eyebrows, but also an amused smile. Your hands go to open it, a smooth sound coming from the zipper until it fully opened, and the sheet flopped down to reveal the inside.

You crouch to go into the tent, settling down at your own spot as you watch her get in too, her face awestruck. Inside, was a small camping lamp you had bought a few days ago, and a projector that shoots up a picture of the night sky up the ceiling of the tent, leaving it glimmering with stars.

"I can't believe you did all this." She breathed out, sitting down next to you as she stared up at the scenery above her. She shook her head, a growing smile on her face when she glanced at you.

She took off her cat backpack and opened the zipper, Benjamin jumping right out and beginning his new curious adventure of inspecting everything in the tent, including you.

"Aw, he's so tiny." You watched the kitten's paws pad around before their directions turned to you, and its beautiful blue eyes shined your way. It certainly reminded you of a certain someone, that's for sure.

Your hand reaches out, and Benjamin lightly sniffs your hand before walking in, making your hand touch his head. Your face melted into pure adoration completely when you felt his soft fur.

You continue petting him, ending up entirely with him in your hands, while Taylor was watching the interaction gently. Her eyes held a somewhat calm, loving look in them. You didn't see, because you were too caught up in the new friend you had gotten.

You held Benjamin in your lap before going to grab something in your bag at the side of the tent. Both the kitten and Taylor had looked, practically sharing the same face as your hands searched. Eventually, your hand got back out with two vars of chocolate.

Taylor let out a small "ooh!" when you set it down in between the two of you, her eyes tracing every movement of the sweet treat, realizing what the marshmallows was for.

She reaches back to the cat backpack, opening another zipper to the further back, and brought out her own treats; the bag of marshmallows you asked for. "Got the marshmallows." Her hands gently open the pack and grabs one...(four) and eats it, her face brightening at the delicious taste.

You smile at her, grabbing one for yourself and opening the chocolate bar, too, setting hers beside her. If anyone saw you, they would've thought they were seeing kids hanging out. But, who cares? The treats were quite delicious, after all.

As you were unwrapping the chocolate, she had popped the other marshmallows in her hand, off into her mouth, and now was grabbing Benjamin off your lap, holding the purring kitten close to her chest to pet him.

She waits until she's swallowed the food in her mouth to lay down on the floor, placing Benjamin on her stomach. As the relaxation started to sink in, he had his eyes closed, curled up comfortably. The warmth of everything was making up the most coziest atmosphere.

Her eyes searched the ceiling with the made up stars, as if looking for a type of constellation. You didn't even know if this projection had the actual night sky, but it would be impressive if it did.

You bit into your chocolate, letting it melt in your mouth as you looked at her every movement. The soft skin of your hands brushed against each other ever so slightly when you moved to lay down fully, letting your head rest against the floor.

A crinkle sounds out as she cracked open the chocolate pack too, casually eating it with the marshmallows— a sweet chaotic taste that can either be teeth rotting or delicious in your mouth. Probably both. The least is, you both will remember to brush your teeth very thoroughly later on, and drink some water.

You both watched the beautiful stars with a comforting silence that came over the moment, all of everything, finally, seeming to slow down for just a minute. Maybe an hour. Her guard was lowering down, and you could slowly see the work starting to get taken off her shoulders.

You soon moved to prop yourself up into a sitting position, looking over to your side once more. It didn't take much for Taylor to notice, and she turns her head to look at you, her eyes curious on what you were doing.

You grab a piece of a post-it note from the small pile of items, along with a pen that sat next to it, writing down something without letting her look. She smiles, her mind wanting her to move to see, but she waited patiently for you.

You lay back down, the paper with ink handwritten on it in your hand. Slowly, you put it on her lower stomach, right below where a sleeping Benjamin sat, as if she didn't just watch you do the entire thing.

She tries her best not to smile and instead put on a curious face, her hand going to delicately grab it. She holds it up to the ceiling, since she was laid down, and read the words. It was, 'I miss you :(', and her insides filled with warmth. The blonde looks to you, who's been waiting in anticipation.

"I'm right beside you!" She exclaims playfully, laughing. But in her heart, she knows what you're trying to point to is that she was missed by you, so very dearly in the time of her absence.

Her teeth caught her bottom lip, but the corners of her mouth was raised up in a smile. "I missed you, too." she says, her voice being so soft.

You didn't see it, but she had slipped the note into the pocket of her sweater...for safekeeping.

end of chapter 1. <3

INTHAF Masterlist

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[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

For your thirty years cat Stan chapter, after thirty years would Stan just, y’know, prefer being a cat? Like, would he spend more time in cat form, or just feel a little uncomfortable as a human? I can imagine being human comes with a lot of different expectations and anxieties that it would make sense that Stan would just, not wanna deal with it, lol.

Or, like, if we wanna get angsty about it. Stan spent thirty years as a cat, creating and maintaining human relationships must be very hard after that. And even before he was turned into a cat, he wasn’t very good at it and was incredibly self destructive.

Or being human comes with social expectations and rules and all this stuff Stan was never good at in the first place. Now having to live by them again so suddenly must be anxiety inducing. In a way, being a cat freed Stan from a life he felt he was failing at anyway.

Being turned back into a person, with person expectations, would be rather traumatizing I imagine. Especially when he’s been dehumanized by others and, at least subconsciously, dehumanized by himself as well.

Plus, Stan has been dead to everyone else for years at this point and I imagine that Ford wouldn’t talk about him too much seeing as he’s emotionally repressed as hell. So Stan feeling insecure about whether or not he’s still lovable as a person would def be interesting.

Idk, I just wanna rotate this man around in my head, y’know? Sorry that this is so long😔

Stan definitely prefers to be a cat now. He was a cat for about as long as he'd been a human, and now all his human habits and conversation skills are toast. He blurts out whatever he's thinking constantly, tries to do all the same things he did as a cat, and doesn't know how to talk to people anymore.

And he doesn't know how to talk about any of it, so it becomes frustrating for everyone else when he's given the option to be human, and he doesn't.

Ford has talked about Stan occasionally, in a very bittersweet way, but Stan's still not actually sure he wants Stan around. It's one thing talking about your brother you think is dead, another to actually have that brother around. What if Ford didn't actually miss him? What of he's angry about Stan lying for so long? What if all the affection was just Fords guilt?

The moment Stan can, he def tries to run away, at least a few times. He doesn't know how to handle everything happening, and Fords obviously going to kick him out when the kids leave. Ford is not doing that. Ford is freaking out because he can't find Stan. He can't lose the brother he just found!

It's a very stressful time for everyone.