#but my attention is too spread across several things

[sylphwing]

i rlly don't like how there's nothing i'm super into rn 🧍 it feels like i enjoy too many things, which i knowww is a stupid thing to complain abt but it's overwhelming. somehow. idk how to explain myself so mb i should just explode instead idk vote on ur phones now ig 🤳💥❓

[runa-falls]

something new

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+)

cw: smut, afab!reader, fluff :3, grinding/dry humping, pussy-job, creampie, 'outercourse', soft boyfriend!mig

w/c: ~2k

a/n: rewrite of my old fic bc i need it with miguel. if you read it before ignore it ;^) mig looks like this fanart by @xynnoix

----

You’re lounging on the sofa, legs resting in Miguel's lap and sitting in comfortable silence, when you decide to proposition him.

“I saw this video online and…I wanna try something with you.” He briefly looks up from his spider-pad, attention perked at your soft-spoken voice.

You beam at him from across the couch, an innocent smile slapped on your face as your lashes bat nicely against the tops of your cheeks.

Miguel simply shakes his head dismissively, “Cariño, we’re not doing any more MMA techniques.” He swiftly turns his attention back to his work, pointedly ignoring your childish pout. “You got hurt last time, remember?”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, “First, I didn’t even twist my ankle during the match! I literally slipped down the stairs when we left the training area. Secondly, that’s not even what I’m talking about!” 

“Ok, then what is it? WWE moves?” He asks teasingly, eyes still focused on the screen.

“Actually…I wanna try outercourse-- i-is that how you say it?” You talk about it so casually that he doesn't even realize what you’re saying until he plays it back in his head a few times. The finger that was working through several urgent emails slows down as you continue to ramble. 

“...Like pussy-jobs and grinding, I think. I don’t exactly know the technical terms that are involved, but it looked hot–” Your voice tapers off when you realize he’s looking at you.

His darkened gaze concentrates on your thighs that are unintentionally rubbing together as you recall your new interest. 

You know that look. His glaze-over eyes, furrowed brows, and tense body mean one thing: he’s interested too. 

Despite how worked up he is, Miguel manages to gently place his tablet on a side table before slowly wrapping his fingers around your ankles on his lap.

“So you want me to fuck you without actually fucking you?” 

“Y-yes...?”

He hums, turning his whole body to face you.

He fluidly pulls your body down to lay flat on the couch in front of him, barely leaving any room for him to sit. You feel his hand tap the side of your thigh.

“Open up for me, baby.”

Your loose shorts hike up your thighs as you obediently spread your legs for him, kneesbending to make space for him to scoot closer to you. The pale pink fabric displays a dark splotch over your center, evidence of your arousal and lack of underwear underneath. Miguel tauntingly raises an eyebrow when he notices.

“Aw, is your pussy already leaking for me?” Your breath stutters as he lightly glides his finger over your covered cunt.

“J-just a little.” Your thighs threaten to close when you feel him prod shallowly against your entrance. He groans, noticing how his movements encourage your slick to soak through the flimsy fabric of your shorts. 

You whine as you feel him pull away.

“Such a juicy slut for me.” He rasps, pushing himself closer to you so his head hangs over yours. Your head swims when you breathe in his comforting scent, he's so close, but you need him closer. Your body instinctively attempts to press up against him.

“Gimme a kiss, cariño.” 

You immediately obey, wrapping your arms around his neck and locking your legs over his waist, effectively pulling his warmth into your space. He leans in and gently brushes his lips against yours, taking time to breathe you in as your gaze locks with his. 

A breath is caught between you as you gaze into each other’s eyes, drinking each micro-expression on your face. Miguel lets out a soft sigh, "You're gorgeous."

And the intense mood breaks. 

You pull away to lightly giggle into his chest, a soft blush blooming from the edge of your neck to the tops of your cheeks. He matches your smile, watching with amused eyes as you react to his flattery.

Somehow he can still make you feel unbearably giddy despite the months you’ve been dating. 

You look back up with a crooked smile, “You’re pretty too, Spider-Man.” 

Miguel dips his head in and captures your lips in his. He’s gentle at first, slowly savoring your lips with small nips and caresses. He runs the tip of his tongue over the edge of your bottom lip, trailing a line over the sensitive skin, then pushing further against your mouth.

You whine when he licks into your mouth, coaxing your tongue to mingle with him, to taste your mixed flavor of lust.

Your back arches when he presses a finger flush against your throbbing clit. it simultaneously sends warm ecstasy down your legs and up your spine, and you can feel your center pulsing, craving more. 

Miguel leaves your mouth as he moves further up the couch to fit himself between your thighs. His forearms support his weight next to your shoulders as he gently lets his hips rest against yours. You can already feel his stiff cock twitching persistently between your bodies.

“Is this okay?” He asks, voice husky as he considers you under him.

Your eyes blearily blink up at him before you give him a shy nod, already looking thoroughly fucked out with your mussed hair and pink lips. He experimentally pushes down against you and starts to grind himself into your body with controlled strokes. 

The rough texture of his jeans digs deliciously into your softness, barely subdued by the thin fabric of your shorts. Pleasure zips up your spine as he involuntarily ruts against your clit with each shove of his hips. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, attempting to smother your cries into his skin.

“This what you wanted?” He growls, body hot and heavy against yours. 

You feel yourself grow infinitely wetter, warmth spreading over your inner thighs. You whine as he twitches against you, your body hypersensitive to everything around you.

“Mm, fuck.” He feels your slick slowly travel through the thickness of his jeans. 

He can barely hear your wrecked voice over the sound of his jeans rubbing over you and the couch rocking against the wooden floors.

“Wait.” 

His hips stutter to a stop, “Wait?” Miguel's eyes look worried as he searches your face, wondering if something went wrong.

“I-I just want more.” You bite your lip nervously as you stare back at him, feeling guilty that you scared him.

The tension in his body slacks quickly, like cool water rushing down his back. “More?”

You nod sheepishly, “Uh-huh.” 

He climbs off of you and kneels on the floor to your side, “Ok, can you show me?” His voice is soft and patient as he speaks to you.

He watches as you shove your hips upwards to tug off your shorts before throwing them to the side. You do the same with your tank top, then settle back into the couch cushions.

Your legs squeeze together as your sensitive nipples tighten when exposed to the cool air. You look over at Miguel who’s admiring your bare body next to you, “You too.” He immediately pulls off his shirt and shoves down his jeans before rejoining you. 

Miguel kneels on the couch and pushes your legs up to reveal your dripping pussy, leaking messily from your rutting session a few minutes ago. He slaps himself over your warmth, spreading your slick over your cunt and watching it drip down to your ass.

“Such a pretty pussy.”

Before you know what’s happening, he positions himself against your entrance and tries to push into your cunt, tip slowly slipping into you with ease. He groans as your cunt instinctively sucks him in, walls fluttering as he begins to stretch you. 

 “No–wait, that’s not what we’re doing!” You simultaneously scoot away and squeeze your legs together once you catch on to what’s happening. 

“What-”

“Outside, Mig, remember? Only outside.” You push up and lean against the couch arm, hair poofed adorably around you. “Here, I’ll show you. Lay down where I was.” You direct, moving off the couch to give him enough room.

“Okay.” He takes your place, cock bobbing with his movements as it stays desperately hard for you. You bite your lip as your eyes trace the happy trail that graces his lower stomach. God, he's delicious.

You straddle yourself over his hips, admiring how delectable he looks below you, hot and ready for you to climb on. He watches you with anticipation as you position yourself his erection that rests against his stomach. 

His breath hitches when you sit your full weight onto him, the pressure makes him throb against the seam of your cunt. You experimentally rub yourself against the silken skin of his cock, barely holding yourself up on your knees to make it easier to move. He groans as you spread your warmth over his cock and the bottom of his muscled torso. 

“So wet for me, baby.” He looks up at you with heavy eyes, his top lip barely covering his protruded fangs. His hand squeezes the top of your thigh when you lock eyes.

A small piece of your hair sways over his forehead with each movement of your hips. As you grind over him, the head of his cock nudges delectably against your clit causing you to clench around nothing every time it hits you.

You pathetically puff out breaths as your stomach tightens in heat, eyes already threatening to roll to the back of your head. Lewd wet sounds lick between your bodies as you fluidly slick yourself against him.

Your thighs shake as you get closer to the edge, hips slowing down as the white-hot pleasure ripples through your body. Miguel licks his lips and takes initiative, canting his hips upwards in sync with yours, slipping himself more firmly against you.

He pulls your arms off of his chest and gathers them behind your back. Your spine arches prettily for him, ass stuck out behind you. In this position, you’re forced to surrender yourself to every push of his hips and slip of his cock.

It’s electrifying. You cry out when your orgasm pulls you under its firey wave. Your thighs clench around his hips as your body trembles above him. The sparks refused to flicker off as Miguel continues to rut against you, body tenses as he meets his end as well.

He thrusts one final glide of his cock through the soaked petals of your cunt before abruptly pushing into you, overwhelming your senses with the painfully exquisite sensation of being stretched all at once.

He growls as your warmth wraps around him, fluttering prettily as he shoves himself deep inside.

He stutters inside of you, pushing himself incredibly deep inside of you as he cums and cums, filling you to the brim. A satisfying warmth pools at the bottom of your stomach as he paints your walls, soothing your weak body as it recovers from your orgasm.

You collapse onto Miguel's body, ignoring how unbearably hot it is as your bodies try to cool down. His heart beats heavily next to yours and everything slows down. He hums under you, gently stroking a hand against your back .

You don’t know how long you lay there, enjoying each other’s company, but you're half awake by the time Miguel gets up, with you, boneless, in his arms. 

“How does a bath sound, mi vida?” You lazily look up at him as he carries you to the bathroom with ease. His voice is still so...sultry.

“Am just I weak or something?” Your voice rasps harshly, “How are you not fighting the urge to pass out right now?”

He nuzzles his face into your body, pecking a kiss against your sweat-stick throat. “I could actually go again if you'd like..."

[rootedinrevisions]

Enough for You

SUMMARY: Heavily based on/inspired by Enough for You by Olivia Rodrigo. After months of chasing storms and harboring unspoken feelings, the moment of truth finally arrives. When Tyler returns to the team with someone new by his side, it shatters the hope you secretly held onto. In the aftermath of his abandonment, you're left grappling with heartache, wondering why you were never enough for him. As Tyler tries to make amends for leaving, the conversation takes a painful turn when he confronts the feelings he never knew existed. But some apologies can't fix what’s been broken, and all you want is to go back to the way things were—before you let him into your heart.

WARNINGS: Angst. Unrequited love.

WORD COUNT: 6.3k (sorry, not sorry)

Note: This is angsty as hell! I've been going through some heavy stuff in my personal life that has me feeling extra angsty. This fic is filled with angst and heartbreak so just be aware. This is how I'm coping with what I'm dealing with in my own life. Hope you enjoy xx

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87

The bathroom mirror reflected a version of yourself you’d rarely put on display. Your hair was curled just the right way, and your makeup, while subtle, was meticulously done. You hadn’t planned on going all out like this initially, but after scrolling through pictures of girls Tyler had been seen with—girls with flawless hair and expertly done makeup—you couldn’t help but wonder if that was what it would take for him to notice you.

Tyler Owens. The name that had taken up too much space in your mind for the past several months. He was more than just the leader of The Wranglers team or your boss; he was the man you’d fallen for. Hard. And you didn’t just want him to see you as a friend anymore.

The rest of the team was downstairs already, probably gearing up for the day’s shoot. Normally, you’d be there early too, grabbing coffee with Boone or discussing ideas with Lily. Today, though, you needed these extra few minutes. Maybe, just maybe, today was the day Tyler would finally notice you.

You gave yourself a final look, smoothing down your shirt, and headed out of the room. By the time you reached the lobby, the team was already gathered, discussing plans for the day. 

Boone was the first to see you, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Whoa! Look at you! You clean up nice,” he teased, though his tone was genuinely complimentary.

Lily turned at the sound of Boone’s voice and smiled. “You look amazing! What’s the occasion?”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but you shrugged it off. “No occasion. Just felt like switching things up.”

The compliments kept coming. Dexter, who was typically more reserved, gave you an approving nod. But the one person you hoped would notice? He hadn’t said a word.

Tyler stood off to the side, his focus on something entirely unrelated, fiddling with his storm-chasing gear on his truck. He didn’t even glance your way, and your heart sank a little.

Boone, always quick to read a room, smirked and nudged Tyler’s shoulder. “Hey, man, what do you think? She’s looking good today, right?”

Tyler paused for a brief moment, barely looking up from his equipment. His expression didn’t change as he muttered, “I’m not really the compliment type, Boone.”

Your stomach dropped at his response. You had been hoping—no, counting—on some kind of reaction, but his indifference stung more than you’d expected. You tried to brush it off, hiding the hurt with a forced smile, but inside, the disappointment was palpable.

Lily shot you a sympathetic look, sensing the tension. 

Boone, never one to let an awkward moment slide, gave Tyler an exaggerated look of disbelief. “Not the compliment type? Man, give her something. She looks great.”

Tyler shrugged as if the whole thing didn’t matter. “She always looks fine,” he said simply and then turned his attention back to his gear.

Fine.

The word echoed in your head, and for the first time that morning, you felt foolish for trying so hard. You had put in all that extra effort to be noticed, to be something more in his eyes, but apparently, "fine" was all you were.

You forced yourself to join in the conversation with the others, but the sting of his words stayed with you. As the group began to move toward the parking lot to load up the vehicles, you fell into step beside Lily. She bumped her shoulder against yours lightly.

“He’s an idiot,” she whispered, offering a small, supportive smile.

You tried to laugh, though it came out hollow. “Yeah, well, I knew that already.”

But knowing it didn’t make it hurt any less.

The Wranglers’ convoy made its way out of town, the early morning sun casting a golden hue over the horizon. The team was running on fumes, both literally and figuratively, so when Boone pulled into a gas station, everyone seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. While the others went about refueling the vehicles and stretching their legs, you spotted a small coffee shop across the street.

A chance to bring back some caffeine, but more importantly, a chance to do something for Tyler.

Without thinking twice, you hurried across the road, the familiar smell of roasted beans hitting you as soon as you stepped inside the shop. The bell above the door chimed, and the barista greeted you with a smile. You rattled off two orders: one for yourself and one for Tyler—black coffee, extra shot of espresso. You didn’t even need to ask what he wanted; you’d known his usual for months, committing it to memory in a way that only someone who cared a little too much would.

Within minutes, you were heading back to the gas station, clutching both cups in your hands. A tiny flicker of hope sparked inside you—maybe this would be the moment Tyler noticed. Maybe the fact that you remembered his drink order without needing to ask would mean something to him.

You spotted him leaning against the truck, his arms crossed as he waited for the tank to fill. His focus was elsewhere, probably already thinking ahead to the day’s chase, completely oblivious to the fact that you were heading his way with a small gesture of care.

“Here,” you said, holding out the cup toward him.

Tyler looked down at the coffee, momentarily confused before taking it from your hand. He raised an eyebrow, almost as if he hadn’t expected it.

“Black coffee. Extra shot of espresso,” you said softly, your heart picking up speed as you recited his order, hoping the words would register with him. Hoping that he’d realize you didn’t need to ask because you already knew.

He paused for a moment, his eyes flickering to yours briefly before he gave a slight nod. “Thanks,” he muttered, bringing the cup to his lips and taking his first sip.

That was it. Just a nod. No smile, no acknowledgment of the fact that you’d remembered his exact order, nothing. The flicker of hope you’d felt moments earlier dimmed into something closer to disappointment.

You stood there, feeling a bit like a fool for expecting anything more. After all, this was Tyler Owens—the same Tyler who never gave out compliments, the same Tyler who always kept his emotions locked up tight. Why had you thought this would be any different?

You shifted on your feet, holding your own cup a little tighter. “I thought you might need a pick-me-up,” you added, trying to keep the conversation going, hoping for... something.

He nodded again, glancing back toward the others as Boone finished filling up the tank. “Appreciate it,” he said flatly, his focus already shifting away from you and back to the task at hand.

You forced a smile, though the sting of his indifference was hard to ignore. You weren’t expecting grand gestures, but maybe just a little more than a nod. With the wind knocked out of your sails, you turned and headed toward the other side of the truck, sipping your own coffee, the bitter taste mirroring the feeling settling in your chest.

Lily caught your eye from where she stood talking to Dexter, and she shot you a questioning look as if to say, How’d it go? You gave her a small shake of your head and shrugged, silently communicating that it hadn’t gone the way you’d hoped.

The team loaded back into the vehicles, ready to hit the road again, but as you climbed into your seat, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of it all. The weight of always trying, always hoping—only to come up short.

And the worst part? No matter how much it stung, you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t stop caring, couldn’t stop hoping that maybe, one day, Tyler Owens would notice you the way you’d been noticing him all along.

The Wranglers team hit the open road, the small town shrinking behind them as fields stretched out on either side of the highway. You sat in the front passenger seat of Tyler’s truck, a map spread across your lap, though you both knew you wouldn’t really need it. Tyler had been storm chasing for years, and he could practically navigate these roads in his sleep. Your job as navigator was mostly just for show, a formality, but you took it seriously nonetheless—just like being the DJ.

Tyler drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the console between you, his gaze focused on the road ahead. The rest of the convoy followed behind, the team moving as one unit, always in sync, always chasing the next storm.

You unlocked your phone and scrolled through your Spotify library, stopping at the playlist you had saved specifically for moments like this. The one titled simply “Tyler.” A collection of his favorite songs, the ones you’d spent months curating, learning the words to, and playing on repeat just to feel a little closer to him.

You had watched him during countless drives, noting which songs made him tap his fingers against the steering wheel, which ones he hummed along to, and—on rare occasions—which ones he’d actually sing under his breath. The playlist was like a map of his soul, each song a clue to who he was beneath the surface.

You pressed play, the first song filtering through the truck’s speakers, a familiar beat that you knew he liked. Your heart raced a little as you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, wondering if he’d notice.

The music filled the space between you, the silence replaced by lyrics you knew by heart—not because they were your favorite songs, but because they were his.

Tyler’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t look over, didn’t comment. He just drove, his eyes fixed on the road as if the music were simply background noise.

You shifted in your seat, trying to hide your disappointment. Maybe he hadn’t realized yet. It was still early in the playlist, after all. You tapped your fingers against your knee, silently mouthing the words to the song, hoping that at some point, he’d notice. That he’d realize you weren’t just playing random songs—you were playing his songs. The ones that made him smile or relax, the ones that you knew by heart because of him.

Another song began, this one more upbeat. You couldn’t help but glance at him again, waiting for some kind of reaction—a nod, a hum, anything to show that he recognized the playlist as his own.

But if he noticed, he didn’t let it show. His face remained unreadable, his focus unbroken as the miles ticked by beneath the tires. He was calm, in control, as always.

You felt the familiar pang of disappointment settling in your chest, but you pushed it down, telling yourself not to get your hopes up. Tyler wasn’t the type to express things outwardly. You knew that. You’d known it from the beginning, but still... a part of you had hoped that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

You swallowed the feeling, keeping your gaze out the window, watching the landscape blur past. The music continued, your playlist running through the songs you’d carefully chosen, each one holding a piece of him. You wanted to believe that, at some point, he’d hear it. That he’d realize how much you’d been paying attention all along.

But for now, the road stretched on, and Tyler remained as distant as ever, his silence louder than the music that filled the truck.`

A week later, after a long day of chasing storms, the team had found their way to a small bar on the outskirts of town. The neon lights flickered in the windows, casting a soft glow over the worn-out booths and the dartboard that had seen better days. You followed them inside, but your mind wasn’t on the drinks or the games of pool and darts that the others had already started.

You slipped into a booth in the corner, away from the noise, with your bag slung over your shoulder. From it, you pulled out a book—the book. It was a self-help book you’d noticed Tyler reading last week when he thought no one was watching. You had immediately ordered a copy, telling yourself that it was purely out of interest, but deep down, you knew why. You hoped that if Tyler saw you reading it, he’d think you were smart. Maybe even that you shared the same interests. Maybe he'd even come over and talk to you about it.

The cover felt smooth under your fingers as you opened it, pretending to lose yourself in the words, but really, your eyes kept darting toward the team as they laughed and played darts a few feet away. Tyler stood at the dartboard, one hand gripping a beer, the other lazily aiming for the bullseye. His concentration was unwavering, just as it had been all day on the road, but you couldn’t help but glance his way every few minutes, hoping—wishing—he’d look over and see you.

You settled back against the worn leather of the booth, opening the book to where you’d bookmarked a random page. The words blurred slightly, not because you weren’t capable of understanding them, but because your mind wasn’t truly on the text. Instead, it wandered to the what-ifs, the scenarios where Tyler would walk over, slide into the booth across from you, and ask what you thought of the book. Maybe he’d smile, that rare but breathtaking smile you’d seen a hundred times, and the two of you would actually talk. Not just the usual team banter or logistics about the next chase, but really talk.

But as the minutes passed, the background noise of laughter and clinking glasses felt like a reminder of just how far away that possibility was. Tyler was still over by the dartboard, chatting with Boone as they took turns tossing darts. He hadn’t even glanced in your direction since they’d arrived at the bar.

You tried to focus on the book again, reading the same line twice before finally giving in and glancing at him once more. Nothing. No flicker of recognition that you were there, no acknowledgment of the effort you had put into reading his book, hoping it would make you stand out.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, and you leaned your elbow on the table, resting your chin in your hand. Maybe you were trying too hard. Maybe all the little things—the playlist, the coffee, the book—were just things he’d never notice. Or maybe, and this thought stung the most, maybe you were invisible to him in that way. A friend. A coworker. But nothing more.

You looked down at the book again, reading a few more lines as if they could somehow distract you from the tight knot forming in your chest.

A few minutes later, Boone called out to you, holding up a pool cue as if inviting you to join their game. You shook your head, waving them off with a small smile, holding up the book as an excuse. Boone shrugged and turned back to Tyler, who was lining up his next throw.

For a split second, Tyler’s eyes flicked toward you. Your heart jumped, but before you could even process it, he threw the dart and turned back to the game as if the moment had never happened.

The diner was warm, the kind of warmth that came from too many bodies crammed into small booths and the lingering scent of coffee and fried food in the air. You sat across from Boone, your hands wrapped around a mug of coffee that had gone cold, staring blankly at the chipped rim. The conversation around you was a low hum, drowned out by the thoughts racing through your head.

Tyler had left without a word this morning. Just gone. No explanation, no heads-up. Just a quick exchange with Dexter about her—Kate. The girl from Storm Par. The girl who’d seemed to have swept Tyler off his feet in the last two days. You hated to admit it, but the jealousy gnawed at you, each thought of them together, of him abandoning the team, felt like another crack in your resolve.

Boone nudged your arm, drawing you back to the present. “You alright?” His voice was low, concerned, but you just nodded, forcing a smile.

“I’m fine,” you lied.

Across from you, Ben, the British journalist tagging along with the team, was flipping through his notebook, occasionally scribbling something down. You could tell he was enjoying the chaos of American storm chasing, but his eyes kept flicking toward the empty seat next to you, the one Tyler should have been occupying. Everyone had noticed his absence, but no one had said much. Not directly, anyway.

Lily leaned over, her elbow brushing against Dani as they huddled together over their phones. “He’ll call,” Lily said with forced optimism, glancing at you. “Tyler sometimes does this—goes off on his own for a bit. He’ll be back.”

Dexter and Dani nodded in agreement, but Boone wasn’t so convinced. You weren’t either. Tyler wasn’t just gone. He was with her, and it stung more than you cared to admit.

Night came, and still no word from Tyler. You’d tried calling him once, your stomach twisted in knots, but there was no answer. No response. You wanted to believe Lily and the others, that he would come back, but every passing hour chipped away at that hope.

The next morning, the skies had shifted. Clouds churned ominously in the distance, the kind of promising sight that normally would have Tyler barking orders and loading up the gear. But today, there was just a quiet, palpable tension as the team stood in the parking lot of the motel, debating whether to head out without him.

“I don’t know,” Boone muttered, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at the horizon. “Feels wrong going out without Tyler.”

You felt the same. It felt like a piece of the team was missing, the driving force behind it all, but the skies were waiting. And so was Ben. You glanced at the journalist, who had been watching you closely, eager for the action he’d come all the way from England to document. You couldn’t let his time go to waste.

“We have to go,” you said, your voice steady, even though your insides were anything but. “We’ve got the van and the RV. We can still get some good footage, even without Tyler’s truck.”

The team exchanged glances, unsure. But you stepped forward, taking the lead. “Lily’s drone can get us the close-up shots we need, and we’ve still got the cameras. We can’t afford to wait. We’ve got to keep the channel going, and we need content.”

Dexter raised an eyebrow, impressed by your sudden shift into leadership, but Boone still looked hesitant. “What about Tyler?” he asked, voicing what everyone else was thinking.

You forced a calm you didn’t really feel. “Tyler will catch up with us when he’s ready. Right now, we can’t just sit around. The storm’s not going to wait for us.”

Boone finally nodded, and with that, the decision was made. You piled into the van with Lily and the rest of the crew, leaving behind the uncertainty of where Tyler was, or when he’d come back. Ben hopped in last, his camera at the ready, his excitement barely contained as you pulled out onto the open road.

As you sat in the passenger seat, guiding them toward the brewing storm, a familiar weight settled in your chest. You were used to being the one behind the scenes, managing social media, making sure the team’s content reached the masses. But now, as the makeshift team lead in Tyler’s absence, you couldn’t help but wonder—if he ever did come back, would things ever be the same between you two?

Your fingers hovered over your phone, tempted to try calling him again. But instead, you locked the screen and turned your focus to the skies ahead. You had a team to lead now. Tyler’s absence hurt, but it wasn’t going to stop you.

The morning air hung heavy, thick with the kind of heat that settled into your bones. You were leaning against the side of the van, arms crossed over your chest, trying not to let the frustration bubbling under your skin show. Boone stood beside you, his phone buzzing on the dashboard where he’d tossed it. You both glanced at the screen as Tyler’s name flashed across it.

Boone let it ring, his jaw clenched tight. After a few seconds, it went to voicemail. Neither of you said a word, but the tension between you spoke volumes. Tyler was trying to reach out, but neither of you were ready to hear him out just yet.

Moments later, Lily’s phone chimed. She didn’t hesitate, picking it up and putting it on speaker before Tyler had a chance to duck out. "Hey, Tyler," she greeted, her voice neutral.

"You ready for the next chase?" she asked, her tone deceptively light, but you could hear the undercurrent of curiosity.

But before she could say anything more, Tyler cut her off. “No, we’re gonna need you guys for something.”

Lily raised an eyebrow, and Boone shot you a sideways glance, his brow furrowing in confusion. You mirrored his look. We’ll? What did Tyler mean by that?

Lily pressed, “Do we need to drive all the way to Sapulpa?”

Tyler’s voice was quick to respond. “No, no. We’ll come to you.”

That we echoed in your mind, sinking deeper with each moment of silence that followed. You exchanged another look with Boone, but neither of you said anything. There was an uneasy feeling settling in, but none of you knew exactly what to make of it.

Minutes later, a text from Tyler buzzed through to your phone. You looked down to see the name and address of a trailer company. “What is this?” you muttered, sharing the text with Boone and the others.

“I guess we’re about to find out,” Dexter said, climbing into the van with a shrug.

When you arrived at the lot, confusion still lingered in the air as the team climbed out of the van. The parking lot was full of trailers, rows upon rows of them in every size and shape imaginable, glinting under the afternoon sun. The purpose of being here was still unclear.

Then you spotted Tyler’s truck pulling in. The familiar hum of the engine sent your heart rate spiking, but it wasn’t just him that got out.

Kate. She emerged from the passenger side, her face lit up with that same easy smile she’d been wearing ever since the two of them had met.

You felt the knot tighten in your stomach, the same one that had been there since she’d entered the picture two days ago. Dani was the first to break the silence. “You finally made it,” she called, a hint of relief in her voice.

Tyler gave her a smile as he stepped up to the group. “Ben, you stuck around,” he greeted the journalist, shaking his hand as Ben nodded.

“Turns out there’s more to this story than I thought,” Ben said, eyeing Tyler with curiosity.

Tyler grinned. “We got a new ending for you.”

Meanwhile, Dexter raised his hand in a mock salute toward Kate. “Look who it is. City girl.” He shot her a grin that was almost welcoming. Almost.

Lily wasn’t far behind. “What’s up, Kate?” she asked, sounding a little too casual as she strolled over to them.

Kate smiled, sliding easily into conversation with Dexter and Lily like she had been part of the crew all along. You watched as they started chatting about storm footage, Lily showing her clips on her phone from the chase the team had gone on without Tyler and Kate. It wasn’t just that they were talking, though. It was the way Kate’s eyes lit up at the footage, the way she leaned in closer, asking about Lily’s drone.

"Can you rig that drone to collect data?" Kate asked, her interest piqued.

Lily nodded, explaining how Cairo, her drone, worked and all the modifications she’d made. Watching Kate take such an interest in the team felt like watching her slip further into Tyler’s world. A world that, for so long, had felt like yours.

Tyler, meanwhile, was making his way over to Boone, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, buddy," he began, his voice sincere. "I’m sorry."

Boone didn’t look at him, his jaw set. "Man, you abandoned me," Boone muttered, his voice tight with hurt. "I don’t know nothin’ about no makeup-"

Tyler cut him off with a smirk. “How about we launch some new rockets?”

Boone’s expression shifted, the tension breaking as he perked up. "You said rockets?" His tone was a mix of surprise and cautious excitement.

Tyler nodded, a grin forming. “I did.”

For a moment, it felt like the old Tyler and Boone—the way they always found common ground no matter what. But that still left you.

Tyler turned toward you, taking a few steps in your direction, his face softening. "I’m sorry," he began, but before he could get out anything more, Dani and the salesman walked up.

The apology hung in the air, unfinished, as you stood there, watching him. He hadn’t called you, hadn’t reached out directly. And now, standing in front of you with Kate by his side, the apology felt... hollow.

The van's engine hummed steadily as you followed behind Tyler’s truck, the road stretching endlessly ahead. You hadn’t spoken a word since leaving the trailer lot. The silence between you and Lily was thick, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. Outside, the sky was bruised with the remnants of a setting sun, casting long shadows over the landscape. But inside the van, it felt like the world had dimmed.

Your eyes were locked on the truck ahead, on the faint silhouette of Tyler’s head just visible through the back window. You knew Kate was sitting there, right beside him, and the thought twisted in your chest like a knife. You blinked, trying to hold it together, but the tears came anyway, silent and hot as they slid down your cheeks.

Lily glanced over at you, her brows knitting together in concern. She didn’t say anything at first, just watched you quietly, giving you space. But you could feel her eyes on you, the way she hesitated before speaking.

“Hey…” her voice was soft, cautious. “You okay?”

It was a ridiculous question, really, but it was all she could say. You shook your head slightly, trying to wipe the tears away with the sleeve of your jacket, but they kept coming, harder now.

Lily sighed, her hand reaching across the seat to give your arm a gentle squeeze. She didn’t need to say it—you both knew. She had been the only one who knew. The only one you had confided in about how you felt about Tyler. She had believed, just like you, that maybe he’d wake up and see what was right in front of him.

But now... now it was clear. He had found someone else. Someone more exciting, more interesting. Someone like Kate.

The tears fell faster, and you pressed your fist to your mouth, trying to keep the sobs at bay. But your mind wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t let you escape from the reality of it. Tyler hadn’t just left you behind. He had abandoned you without a second thought, without even realizing how much it hurt. One second he was there, and the next he was gone. Gone like you meant nothing.

And you were left wondering what you’d done wrong. Why you were never enough.

Lily’s voice broke through the whirlwind of thoughts. “You know… none of this is your fault, right?”

You let out a shaky breath, but didn’t respond. How could it not be? You must have done something—been something—wrong for him to walk away like that, like you didn’t even matter.

“He’s a fool, you know,” Lily continued, her voice firmer now. “I really thought he’d pull his head out of his ass eventually. Realize what’s right in front of him.”

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “He never even saw me.”

Lily didn’t argue, and you were grateful for that. Because it was true. Tyler hadn’t seen you—not the way you wanted him to. You had spent so long hoping, waiting for him to notice, to realize that you loved him more than anyone ever could. But he didn’t. He found someone else instead, someone new and shiny like Kate.

Your thoughts spiraled further, the pain gnawing at you from the inside. You could barely breathe through it. God, Tyler couldn’t have cared less about someone who had loved him more. Loved him with everything you had.

“I’d say he broke my heart,” you whispered, your voice trembling, “but I think he broke a lot more than that.”

Lily’s hand was back on your arm, squeezing tighter this time. “You deserved better. You still do.”

You nodded, though it didn’t feel like that right now. All you’d ever wanted was to be enough for him. Just enough to be seen, to be cared for the way you cared for him. But that had been too much to ask.

The miles passed by, the road stretching endlessly ahead, just like this ache inside you. You watched the truck in front of you, the taillights glowing faintly as Tyler drove on, oblivious. You couldn’t help but wonder if he ever thought of you at all—or if he was too caught up in Kate’s orbit now to even notice the wreckage he’d left behind.

You turned to look at Lily, her eyes full of empathy. “I don’t think I ever stood a chance, did I?” you asked quietly.

Lily’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she shook her head softly. “No. I don’t think it was ever about you. He’s just… lost. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

You nodded, feeling that hollow truth settle in your bones. You weren’t sure what hurt more—the fact that he didn’t see you or the realization that you might have been waiting for someone who was never really yours to begin with.

The air was still, thick with the calm before the storm. The team had scattered, gathering near the RV to eat lunch and regroup before they moved on. Laughter echoed from where Dani, Dexter, and Lily sat in lawn chairs, enjoying the brief pause in the chase. Ben, Boone, and Tyler stood near Tyler's truck, their conversation drowned out by the low hum of the wind sweeping across the open field.

But you weren’t with them. You hadn’t been all day.

You sat alone in the van, the door open, your legs pulled up to your chest as you rested your forehead on your knees. Your eyes were closed, trying to block out the ache that had settled deep inside your chest. The tears had dried, but your face still felt tight from the tracks they left behind. You just wanted to disappear, to not feel the way you did.

Tyler’s laughter drifted over from where he stood with the others, and the sound made your heart twist painfully. He had no idea, no clue what was going on inside you.

Until Lily caught his eye.

She saw him glance toward the van, saw him hesitate, his body half-turned as if he wanted to approach but wasn’t sure if he should. She knew it was only a matter of time before he’d find out—before your carefully hidden feelings were laid bare. The thought of you sitting there, hurting like this, was eating her alive.

With a deep breath, Lily made the decision. She walked over to where Tyler stood, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Tyler, can we talk for a second?”

He glanced down at her, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

Lily glanced toward you in the van, then back at Tyler. Her voice dropped to a more serious tone. “It’s about her. I think... I think you need to know something.”

Tyler’s expression changed instantly. His eyes followed hers to where you sat, and he felt the weight of her words before she even said them. “What is it?”

Lily sighed. “She’s not just upset about the team. About you leaving. It’s more than that.” She hesitated, then spoke more quietly. “She’s been hurt by you bringing Kate on board. Especially without saying anything.”

Tyler frowned, confusion flickering across his face. “Hurt? Why would—”

“She cares about you, Tyler,” Lily interrupted. “More than you realize.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He stood there, frozen for a moment, processing what Lily had just told him. “Wait… you mean…?”

Lily nodded. “She’s had feelings for you for a long time. And when you left, it broke her. Then when you came back… with Kate...” Lily trailed off, not needing to finish the thought. The silence said enough.

Tyler felt the weight of it all settling on his shoulders. Guilt gnawed at him, the realization sinking in. He looked back toward you, sitting alone in the van, your back to him.

“Damn…” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know.”

“I know,” Lily replied softly. “But now you do.”

Tyler gave her a nod, his jaw clenched as he turned and started walking toward the van. His footsteps were slow, hesitant. The closer he got, the clearer it became—he hadn’t just hurt you by abandoning the team. He’d hurt you far worse without even realizing it.

He stopped halfway to the van, watching you. He could see it now—the tension in your shoulders, the way your head was bowed like you were trying to hold everything inside. It gutted him. But he wasn’t sure if approaching was the right thing to do.

After a moment, he made the choice. He walked the rest of the way to the van, coming to a stop just beside the open door. You didn’t look up at first, didn’t acknowledge his presence. But you knew he was there.

He sat down beside you, careful not to sit too close. The silence between you was thick, heavy with everything unspoken.

“I’m sorry,” Tyler started, his voice low. “For leaving. For abandoning you guys. It wasn’t fair to put all that on you.”

You still didn’t look at him, but he saw the way your hands tightened around your knees.

“I saw the footage,” he continued, trying to offer something, anything that might make it better. “You did great. You really stepped up. Led the team better than I could have.”

You said nothing, just kept your gaze down, the ache in your chest only growing with each word. None of this was what you needed to hear.

Tyler let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look… I talked to Lily. She told me…”

At that, you finally lifted your head, your heart lurching at the sound of those words. She told him. You felt the sting of betrayal—Lily had said too much.

“Tyler, don’t,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

But he didn’t stop. He needed to say it, needed to acknowledge it. “I didn’t know, okay? I didn’t know you felt that way. And I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

You closed your eyes, your breath shaky as you tried to keep it together. “Please… just don’t.”

But he pressed on, his voice softer now. “I do care about you. I really do. But not in the way you want me to.”

Those words felt like a slap, and you swallowed hard, fighting the tears that threatened to fall again.

“I don’t need your apology,” you finally said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay strong. “I don’t need your pity either.”

Tyler’s brows furrowed. “It’s not pity. I just… I want to make things right.”

You shook your head, letting out a bitter laugh that was more of a sob. “You can’t fix this, Tyler. You can’t just… say you’re sorry and make it all go away.”

He watched you, pain flickering in his eyes. He hated that he had done this to you, hated that his actions had caused you this kind of hurt.

“I never asked for much,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I just wanted to be enough. Enough for you to notice me. To see me.”

Tyler looked away, guilt settling in his gut like a lead weight. “I’m sorry.”

The words fell flat. Meaningless.

You turned away from him, trying to gather the pieces of yourself that felt so shattered. “It was just a stupid crush anyway,” you muttered, forcing a small, hollow laugh. “I’ll get over it.”

But both of you knew that wasn’t true. It wasn’t just a crush. It had been so much more than that. And now… now it felt like you had lost something you couldn’t get back.

Tyler sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “If there’s anything I can do—”

“There’s nothing you can do,” you interrupted, your voice firmer now. “I just want to go back to before. Before I met you. Before I let myself believe there was a chance.”

He stayed silent, not knowing what else to say. He had broken something inside you, and no amount of apologies would fix it.

You wiped your eyes, standing up from the van. “I’ll be fine,” you said quietly, though it was more for yourself than for him.

And with that, you walked away, leaving Tyler sitting there, watching you go, knowing he had lost something he didn’t even realize he had.

[pathologicalreid]

Spencer x fem!reader fic based on “Work Song” by Hozier?? Whatever storyline or category you want!!

work song | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, near death experience, blood, gunshot wound, hospitals. word count: 1.77k a/n: hozier song request makes my brain go brr. i hope the people of tumblr enjoy this bc i most definitely enjoyed writing it.

boys, when my baby found me

Your hair whipped your face as you spun around through the labyrinth of a warehouse that your team had found themselves in. It seemed like an impossible task, trying to navigate this space, but you had already cleared over half of the space.

A small noise, like a shoe squeaking, caught your attention, causing your ears to rise like an animal hunting for prey. Turning a corner, you had your flashlight and firearm raised, coming face to face with Morgan. The both of you relaxed ever so slightly, no longer ready to pounce.

Ricocheting throughout the warehouse, you heard a deafening gunshot. The sound bounced off of the metal walls of the building, making it almost impossible for you to determine where the sound originated from. Meeting Morgan’s eyes, he nodded his head to the left, signaling for you to go that way while he went right.

You affirmed his tactics, turning slowly and making your way to the left. The rusted building was now so eerily quiet that goosebumps were sprouting across your body, even under your bureau jacket.

Continuing your way down the narrow passageway, you saw movement inside of a room. Sliding your back along the wall, you peeked into the room, seeing two bodies on the ground. You whispered almost imperceptibly into your radio, calling for medical. One of them was the local officer that the BAU had been working the case with.

The other one was Spencer.

You pivoted so that you were entirely in the doorway, facing the UnSub, he raised his gun at you, but you were already pulling the trigger, hitting him square in the forehead. Breathing heavily, you lowered your firearm before scrambling over to Spencer.

I didn’t care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her

In your ear, you could hear Morgan shouting, “Y/N, Reid, sound off, dammit!”

Something needed to happen. You needed to do something, but you had such severe tunnel vision that the only thing you could think about was Spencer.

He was gasping for air on the metal ground of the warehouse, lying in a pool of his own blood. You observed in horror as the red puddle spread with each passing moment.

Launching into action, you tugged your jacket off, stuffing the fabric onto Spencer’s side in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. Even Kevlar vests had an Achilles heel, and the UnSub had managed to strike him precisely where there was a gap in the material. All the while, you were muttering the words, “Stay awake.” Just those two words, over and over again, like a prayer.

You hummed, using one hand to apply pressure to his wound and lifting the other so that you could smooth his hair back. His skin was alarmingly clammy, and you knew that, even with your attempts, he was losing too much blood. “Y/N,” he muttered, sounding like he was using all of his strength to say your name.

Gently, you hushed him, “It’s okay, Spence. Don’t talk, you’re gonna be just fine,” you insisted as his blood soaked through the knees of your jeans. You weren’t sure who you were trying to console at that moment.

“It makes sense-“ he said, being cut off by a cough, sending blood spurting out of his mouth. If his lung was collapsing, there was nothing you’d be able to do. You tried to shush him again, but he had more to say – he almost always did. “That I’d see you while I’m dying.”

Choking on tears, you leaned your face onto your shoulder so that you could wipe them away without moving your hands. “I’m here, I’m really here,” you urged, he wasn’t hallucinating, and he wasn’t dying. Not on your watch. “It’s me, Spence. I’m right here,” you told him carefully.

He opened his mouth again to speak, and you wanted to tell him to save his strength. You also didn’t want to deprive him of his words. “You…” his voice trailed off as he searched for the words, “You’ve always been my favorite dream.”

Sniffling, you shake your head, “I’m not a dream, I’m right here.” You told him, watching carefully as his eyelids grew seemingly heavier, “baby, open your eyes.”

in the low lamplight I was free

His skin was pallid. Even in the dim, orange light of the warehouse, you could see a sickly sheen forming on his skin. His body temperature was dropping, and it was all you could do to not cover his body with yours as you tried to keep him warm. “Spencer, please,” you rasped, urging him to open his eyes.

Your only solace was that his chest was still rising and falling. His breathing was rickety, but he was still breathing, and that had to count for something. “Spencer,” you cried, watching as blood sept through your jacket, flooding between your fingers as you tried to keep him in one piece.

“Love, open your eyes,” you begged, your eyes flooding with tears until everything was just a blur of red.

His heart was beating, you could feel it beneath your hands. A weak, unsteady beat under your trembling hands. “Baby, please, oh my god,” you pleaded, verging toward incoherent babbling.

You were second-guessing if he was still breathing. If his heart was still beating. With that realization, you screamed.

when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

At first, you were just screaming, letting the vibrations of your vocal cords portray your emotions, and then you screamed for your team. You had never felt more alone, kneeling in a puddle of Spencer’s blood, and no one was coming to help you.

This couldn’t be how it ended. You refused to acknowledge it, even as you felt the life leave his body.

Leaning your head to the side, you spoke into your radio, “I need medical. I’m in the upper west wing of the building. The suspect is dead, I have an officer and an agent down.” Tears continued to stream down your face.

You heard footsteps behind you as people piled into the room, but you didn’t dare take your eyes off Spencer. Not when there was a chance that it would be the last time you looked at him while you were both still breathing. “Agent,” someone said, but it didn’t register. They kept repeating themselves until two strong arms wrapped around you, dragging you away from Spencer.

Now sat on the floor, you clocked the paramedics that were now frantically working on Spencer, packing his wound, and cutting off the Kevlar vest.

Breathing heavily, you watched out of the corner of your eye as Rossi approached the local officer, checking his pulse. Emily was hovered over the UnSub, collecting his weapon from his corpse.

You were still being firmly held back, trying to pry the tattooed arms of Derek Morgan off of your torso. “Stop, let me get to him. I need to get to him,” you struggled against his grip, but any attempts at freedom were futile. The medics were saying awful things about a weak and thready pulse and pneumothorax.

Clinging to any semblance of hope that you could find, you listened to them talk about Spencer’s pulse, knowing that a pulse meant he was alive.

Your breathing quickened as you looked up at Morgan, Hotch was hovering behind the two of you, “I should’ve called for medical sooner.” Your voice was miserable, you had sat there with your jacket to his side for far too long. He could’ve gotten help from professionals.

“You radioed almost five minutes ago for medical,” Morgan informed you. “The EMTs just couldn’t find you in this damn maze.”

While you had no recollection of calling for help when you first found Spencer, you also knew that Morgan would get no pleasure out of lying to you.

You heard one of the paramedics say there was no pulse, and you didn’t remember anything that followed.

no grave can hold my body down

Crumpled in a ball, you picked at the crusted blood in your fingernails as you focused on the steady beeping of Spencer’s heart monitor.

According to Emily, who had been there when you woke up in the hospital, you had passed out around the time that the medics lost Spencer’s pulse. The doctor said it was just a result of stress. Thanks to some IV fluids and hydroxyzine, you were able to be discharged.

Spencer had been out of surgery for several hours now. The doctors had been careful to use the term “if he wakes up”, while you had made sure to say “when he wakes up.” You were playing the most horrendous waiting game, and there’s nothing worse than playing a game you have no interest in.

You were now donning a pair of black sweatpants and an old Academy t-shirt. Being the only team member permitted to see Spencer while he was still sleeping – girlfriend privileges, as Morgan phrased it – you waited with only the noises of his monitor to keep you company in the ICU.

Nurses came in and out, trying to manage his pain without the use of narcotics, making sure his blood transfusions were helping, and every once in a while, they’d check on you.

At this point, you had been nursing the same cup of ice water for hours, remembering the last thing Spencer had said to you: You’ve always been my favorite dream.

There was something so peculiar about being with someone who read so much, especially when he said such eloquent things while bleeding to death. You sighed, slumping back in the chair, you looked back at Spencer, only to be surprised that he was looking right back at you.

You jumped slightly in the chair, leaning over so that you could look at him, “Hey,” you whispered, maintaining the reverent tones of the Intensive Care Unit. “How do you feel?”

He’d lie to you and tell you he was fine, but you could tell by the way his heart rate increased that it was a lie. His eyebrows furrowed as he clocked the white patient ID bracelet on your wrist and your bloodshot eyes, “You’ve been crying,” he observed.

Despite yourself, you smiled softly, “I thought you were dead.” Your voices were each raspy, yours from screaming and his from being intubated.

Slowly, he unfolded his arm so that his hand was extended to you. Without a second thought, you placed your hand in his. He hummed softly, “And leave you? Never.”

I’ll crawl home to her

[misswynters]

Princess Treatment

short drabble

Caitlyn x fem!reader

Caitlyn had always been the type of person to spoil those she cared about. Whether it was her friends, family, or most importantly, you. And she made sure to shower you with affection in her own little ways. Of course, you never asked for any of it, but Caitlyn was the type of woman who found pure joy in making others feel special.

It was a sunny afternoon, and the two of you were walking side by side through the mall. The air was warm and the crowd bustling with people doing their weekend shopping. You couldn’t help but giggle as Caitlyn, with her ever-present charm, held several shopping bags with ease in her hands.

"I told you not to buy this many things," you teased, looking at her overflowing arms. "I didn’t even want half of it!"

Caitlyn flashed you that perfect smile of hers. The one that made your heart flutter in the most ridiculous way. "You deserve it," she said simply, her voice soft and confident. "You work so hard, and you deserve to be spoiled. Plus you always look so cute when you get excited over new stuff."

You blushed at that. Caitlyn was always so genuine in her compliments, always making you feel like you were the most important person in the room, even when you were surrounded by crowds.

"Besides," she added with a mischievous glint in her eyes, "I get to spoil you, and you get to look even more gorgeous in whatever we pick out. It’s a win-win."

You smiled and took a moment to appreciate how thoughtful she was. Caitlyn’s wealth wasn’t the reason she spoiled you, it was because she wanted to. She loved seeing your eyes light up over something as simple as a new pair of shoes or a cute dress. It wasn’t the material things; it was the joy in your face when she gave them to you.

"You're so extra sometimes, Cait," you said, laughing softly as you linked your arm with hers. "… I love you for it."

Caitlyn squeezed your arm lightly and grinned. "I’m extra for you, darling. I’d do anything to see that little smile on your face."

You two stopped at a café in the middle of the mall, the warmth of the sun coming in through the glass. Caitlyn made sure you were comfortable in your seat, pulling out your chair and smoothing out your skirt for you before she sat down across from you.

As you sipped your drink, Caitlyn leaned in, eyes twinkling. "You know," she said playfully, "I was thinking about getting you a new bracelet. Something shiny. I know how much you love accessories." She wiggled her fingers in the air, mimicking a dainty gesture, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

"You are such a dork," you teased, but the warmth in your heart was undeniable. "Okay, fine. But only if you stop buying me everything in sight."

"Everything?" Caitlyn raised an eyebrow in mock offense. "I’m only getting you the essentials." She leaned back in her seat with her legs spread out, crossing her arms with a smirk. "Like that cute handbag you definitely need."

You couldn’t fight the smile that spread across your face. "You are too good to me," you murmured, shaking your head.

Caitlyn simply winked. "It’s because you’re worth it, sweetheart."

After you finished your drinks, Caitlyn insisted on carrying all your shopping bags, even though you’d tried to offer to help. "Nope. My job is to make sure you’re pampered," she said with a laugh. "You carry all the cute stuff, and I’ll handle the heavy lifting."

You rolled your eyes in a playful way but didn’t protest. You loved how Caitlyn was so attentive, so gentlemanly, always treating you like royalty. It was just how she was, and it made you feel so cared for.

As you continued to browse through the mall, Caitlyn kept pulling you over to different stores, each time picking out something she thought you'd love. And you loved it all. It wasn’t just the gifts themselves but the fact that Caitlyn took the time to pick things that suited you perfectly, always matching your style.

At one point, you spotted a dress in a boutique window. It was gorgeous, had an elegant shade of lavender with lace details that you couldn’t resist. You pointed it out to Caitlyn, and her eyes lit up immediately.

"That would look perfect on you," she said without hesitation. "You have to try it on."

You looked at her, hesitating for a moment. "But it’s kinda fancy, don’t you think? I don’t know if I really need it."

Caitlyn smiled, her voice low and sincere. "Trust me. You need it. I also want to see you wear it."

There was no arguing with that. You gave in with a smile, letting Caitlyn escort you to the fitting room. As you tried on the dress, you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. But when you stepped out and saw Caitlyn’s eyes go wide in admiration, you knew it was the right choice.

"Wow," she whispered, taking in the sight of you. "You look absolutely stunning."

Your cheeks turned pink, and you laughed, twirling slightly. "Okay, okay, I get it. I look good."

"You always look good," Caitlyn said with a soft chuckle. "But this—" She paused, looking you up and down as if she could barely believe how gorgeous you were. "This is something else."

You grinned, feeling proud, but more than that, you were just happy Caitlyn was there with you, supporting you in everything, even something as simple as shopping for clothes.

After you bought the dress (and a few other little things Caitlyn insisted on throwing into the pile), the two of you walked out of the mall, Caitlyn holding all the bags in her hands while you enjoyed the breeze that swept through the air. The entire day felt like a dream, and you felt like the luckiest person alive.

"I really don’t know how to thank you for all this," you said, wrapping your arm around her waist as you walked.

Caitlyn shrugged it off with that typical confidence of hers. "You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart. Seeing you happy is all the thanks I need."

You smiled at her, feeling your heart flutter. "You spoil me rotten, you know that?"

Caitlyn laughed softly, pulling you a little closer as you continued to walk through the parking lot. "I spoil you because you’re worth it. I’d do anything for you."

Then the two of you headed to a place that sold more intimate clothes. It was caitlyn suggestion to have you be brought her, she really wanted you to try some on for her. The boutique smelled of lavender and vanilla, a mix of soft luxury that instantly made you feel out of place. Caitlyn, however, strode confidently ahead, her hand intertwined with yours as she led you toward the racks of delicate lace and silk. You tried not to blush too hard when she started browsing through the selections, tilting her head thoughtfully while her fingers brushed over the soft fabrics.

“Cait, this is… a lot,” you whispered, glancing around at the other shoppers who didn’t seem half as flustered as you were. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“That’s why I’m here, darling,” Caitlyn replied smoothly, her posh accent dripping with amusement. She held up a pale pink lace set that made your cheeks burn. “What do you think of this one? It would look stunning on you.”

You sputtered, unable to form a coherent response. Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smirk as she leaned closer. “This whole shy act of yours is adorable, but I’m not letting you leave without something that makes you feel as gorgeous as I know you are.”

Your stomach flipped at her words, and you nervously plucked at the hem of your skirt. Caitlyn, ever patient, placed the pink set back and turned her attention to a deep red satin number. “This, perhaps? It’s bold, but I think it suits you. Something to match your daring side.”

“I don’t have a daring side,” you mumbled, crossing your arms.

“Oh, I beg to differ.” Caitlyn stepped closer, her blue eyes glinting mischievously as she leaned down to whisper, “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.”

Your breath caught, and before you could reply, she pressed a soft kiss to your temple and handed you the red lingerie. “Try it on for me.”

Fifteen minutes later, you were standing in the boutique’s plush changing room, staring at yourself in the mirror. The lingerie hugged your curves perfectly, and while it was definitely more daring than anything you’d usually wear, you couldn’t deny how… powerful it made you feel. A soft knock on the door snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Can I see?” Caitlyn’s voice was gentle, but there was a teasing lilt to it that made your heart race.

After a moment of hesitation, you cracked the door open. Caitlyn’s sharp intake of breath told you everything you needed to know before she even spoke. “Darling, you’re breathtaking.”

You opened the door fully, feeling both exposed and exhilarated under her gaze. She stepped closer, her fingers trailing over the edge of the satin strap on your shoulder. “We’re definitely taking this one,” she murmured, her voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. “Though I doubt I’ll let you keep it on for very long.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and when she caught your wide-eyed expression, her lips curled into a knowing smile. “Let’s pay for it and head home, shall we? I have a feeling tonight is going to be unforgettable.”

As the two of you drove back home, the quiet hum of the car filled the space between your content smiles. It wasn’t just the shopping or the gifts that made your heart swell—it was Caitlyn’s care and attention. She made you feel special, not just in material ways but in ways that mattered more than anything else. Every little gesture, every thoughtful word, every time she made you feel like you were her world, was everything you could ever want.

And as she glanced over at you with a soft smile, you knew, without a doubt, that you were the luckiest person in the world to have Caitlyn by your side.

"Aren’t you excited?," Caitlyn whispered as she reached over, squeezing your hand gently.

"Words couldn’t describe how much i am feeling right now," you chuckled slightly, leaning in to kiss her cheek, feeling utterly spoiled and loved.

[naffeclipse]

Bloody Mess

Reader x Sebastian Solace

Commission Info

I'm rattling @o-cinnamonstickz so hard right now for requesting Sebastian with an injured reader! This is my jam, and I'm eating it up! The hot fish continues to plague us both. After an unfortunate turret encounter, the reader requires serious medical attention. It's a good thing Sebastian's shop isn't too far. A medkit or a helping hand could do the trick.

Content Warnings: Injury, blood, and stitches.

———

You hobble down the hallway with a hand pressed to your side. Sanguine oozes between your fingers, shining in the harsh light of the Hadal Blacksite. Every breath draws out a searing shot through your ribs. Every exhale teases your vision with blots of black. 

A mindless urge draws you forward. The room spins and dips as if rocked by waves. Another ribbon of agony cuts deep through your side, lacing through your rib cage and back to the bloody hole taking up your jumpsuit. Dark crimson freely soaks into the fabric. 

Turrets. Why did it have to be turrets in the other room?

You heard the mechanical whir as it trained its barrel on you, the red dot marking its target. The split moment you had to run and escape the line of sight was followed by several ear-drum-shattering discharges. 

The soft metallic fall of shell casings echoed like the drizzle of rain. 

Lacking a medkit on hand, you do, however, have dozens of flash drives and a few thick documents tucked into the pocket opposite your wound. What little good it does you now.

You stumble, almost dropping to your knees but you grit your teeth. A locker brushes your shoulder as you titter dangerously close to collapse. Your hand clenches over your slick and hot injury, wondering how much blood loss is too much. 

If you go down now, you’re not getting back up.

You attempt to push your hair out of your face but only succeed in smearing blood along your temple. Growling quietly, you endure another searing strike. It radiates through your torso as if the bullet had a fine time ping-ponging off of your internal organs.

The tremors working down your limbs spell an inevitable outcome. You force yourself to straighten. A dollop of blood falls to the floor by your feet and you stare down at the splatter for a moment too long.

You are not expected to return. The sharp and constant legal print pierces you with a narrow-straight tip.

A loud, high-pitched sound echoes distantly. Your heart stalls, caught between reserves of adrenaline and what pulsing fear assaults your waning consciousness. 

Pinkie.

The screaming grows. Surging with the last of your strength, you drop your hand from your bleeding side. One step after the other, you throw yourself into forward momentum, fueled only by the absolute terror locked in your veins. Your boot almost catches on your other in your dizzying dash.

Your eyes land upon a vent. The opening emits a light and muscle memory takes hold. 

The wail climbs until a ringing in your eardrums. The world whirls between red and gray and pink. Throwing yourself to the floor, you dive headfirst into the ventilation shaft. Knocking your injured side, a wretched gasp leaves you as stars burst across your vision. Pain roars and gouges at your bullet wound in time with Pinkie’s scream. The lockers lining the hall rattle with the angler fish's force before you scramble the last of the distance into Sebastian’s shop.

Dropping to the cold, gray floor, you sprawl out much in the way a chalk outline of a murder victim would be drawn. The pain rolls over you, pushing you deeper and deeper down. The heat of fresh blood spills over your side and onto the floor, freely flowing into a slowly expanding puddle. Your lungs heave to catch your breath. The darkness spreading around your vision threatens to take you completely under.

You can’t pay the ferryman again. There are only so many coins you can find in this abysmal place. Your life is worth only how much jingles in your pocket, and you’re starting to become dirt cheap. 

A deep snort echoes. Using the last of your strength, you turn your head to the one responsible for the sound, and glower.

Sebastian Solace stands tall in the corner of his shop. His anglerfish lure brightens the gray and gloom with a warm flare. His hands clasped together in front of him. His third waves his claws in a flippant greeting.

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re not much safer here with me.” He surveys you, his teal eyes glowing sharp. They upturn with equal disgust and amusement. “Nice diving technique. Ten outta ten.”

If it were any other moment, you would be roiling with anger and offer a rebuttal of preparing him to be made into a fillet. Furious, you have no energy to give to his usual taunts and threats. 

The floor is the most gracious safe haven you have known. The hot spread of blood along your ribcage continues to grow. Deep gulps fill you, but every motion of taking in air tears at the pain digging between your ribs. Silently, you lie in your own crimson.

A mighty shift of Sebastian’s tail slips along the wall. He peers closer, his third eye crinkling while he regards you like a toad that happened to get run over in the street. Repulsion sweeps across his features.

“You’re bleeding in my shop,” he growls low in his throat. “Do you mind?”

Exhaustion clings heavy to your skull. The weight of your eyelids grows tenfold. The wound racks your body until a groan threatens to slip past your lips. 

A scoff of abhorrence leaves him. The heavy thump of a trail begins to drag over the floor. The light shifts, and you stare upwards. Sebastian looms over you, his hands pressing in on either side of you, carefully avoiding the pool of blood your body is making on the floor of his shop.

Good. If nothing else, he’ll remember you by the stains you left behind. You’ll win by being the final nuisance. Hah.

You tense with a tsunami-level crash of agony against your nerves. Everything burns every last sensation. The heat and sear go on endlessly through your bones and along your flesh. 

“Hey, are you going to buy a medkit and fix up the mess you’re making?” his voice comes from far away and all too close as if your head is submerged in water. The tip of a large finger prods at your jumpsuit. “You’re making me hungry.”

Your fuzzy brain finds it funny how the anglerfish lure upon his head douses him in a halo-like glow. As if he’s anything less than a devilish fish coming to torment you in your personal purgatory. 

Not that even angelic light could wash out his disgust with you. 

You try to speak. A faint moan trickles from your lips, “You’re… not gonna… eat me.”

A chuckle echoes, raspy and mischievous. The urge to smack him sends tingles down your hand, but no strength.

“You’re looking pretty tasty.” Sebastian, however, grunts a noise of aversion. 

If you had the strength to laugh derisively, you would.

Flukes swish just in the corner of your dark vision. 

“What happened?” Sebastians’ gaze turns downward. You become aware of more hands roaming your jumpsuit. A large, slick palm presses to your wound. The pressure ignites every pain factor you thought might have settled with rest, and you flail fruitlessly before weakness pins you in place.

“Turret,” you utter, barely coherent. 

“Idiot.” He rolls his tongue. “Should I put you out of your misery? I will charge you for the bullet.”

You groan again. Your hands, slick with red and cold, try reaching for the arms moving you from the floor. 

“Bite… me,” you utter. Your head grows heavy with fog. The fish merchant falls farther away from you as your vision becomes long tunnels.

Light touches you. Warm and yellow, then teal of an unnatural glow. 

“On second thought,” Sebastian declares mockingly, “shooting you would make a bigger mess. I have a well-reputed establishment to run.”

The gurgles of disagreement flowing from you are met with a dismissive wave of claws. His hands, however, fall underneath you. Keeping away from the gaping hole in your body, he secures you in his grasp. In a haze of agony, you float, lighter than air as Sebastian lifts you off the floor. 

“This costs extra,” he mutters.

Your fingers weakly slip off of his arms. The argument in your mouth stays behind your teeth as you watch the shop bleed into grays and slants of light. The blots of warm yellow grow bigger and bigger until darkness inflicts the center. Then, all you understand is a black hole eating all.

Consciousness is fickle. It visits you only to slip out the door just when you think you are now well acquainted.

You hear movement, heavy and slow. The briefest breaths. You even feel a sigh against your temple as someone rubs away dry blood from your face.

Occasionally, you hear yourself. Pained moans fill the room like the hauntings of a ghost. An answering voice shushes you gently. You’re being too loud. Someone thinks so, anyway.

The hands upon your body never leave. They shift, lifting away from the injury that has sent you on this downward spiral into a black nightmare or drawing over your rib cage to secure something tight around you.

Two small pills are pressed to your lips. A voice urges you to be good and take it. You struggle, your eyelids too heavy as if drizzled in sticky sap to open, but your defiance is useless. Claw-tipped fingers clamp your nostrils shut. The immediate need for air answers, and someone shoves the medicine into your open mouth. Despite your incoherent panic, you swallow and gasp.

In a blissful immersion of relief, whatever it was takes hold. You dream of blood and Pinkie’s screaming face, intermingling into one, brightly hued nightmare. Then a void takes its place, and you drift endlessly in a dark sea.

For one brief moment, you truly wake.

Your eyes hardly open. Peering between your eyelashes, you find the light. The warm glow of Sebastian’s anglerfish lure, and his eyes. The teal pierces the darkness beyond where he and you are. He’s bowed low, tucked close to your torso. You lie flat on a cool surface. 

In half-consciousness, you find where his hands touch your side, prodding delicately with a thread and needle at your torn-apart flesh. You don’t feel a thing. Most of the blood is cleared away with an ever-attentive third hand clutching a rag now smeared in crimson. His gaze locks onto your bullet wound. A few mutters fall from his mouth. Curses, you think, for you.

Why would he bother with this charade? He should have left you to die for the simple fact of bleeding all over his shop.

You can come back. You’ve done it before: died, that is. You have been torn apart and chewed up and drowned. Each time didn’t take anything less than a ferryman coin. But each time, you awoke with a dread deep in your chest and a heaviness in your middle.

Does death linger? Sebastian didn’t say either way, but he frowned when you did manage to reach his shop again, and you mentioned how wrong it feels to remember dying.

This must be another dream. Strange but not so horrifying, if not a touch too raw for your heart.

Whatever exhaustion holds you down is back once again, and you slip away without a sound.

The next time your eyelids flutter open, you’re strangely still in Sebastian’s shop. You are curled into the coil of his tail, leaning on your uninjured side. The smooth, blue-gray scales touch you with a warmth you didn’t think the experimented fish guy was capable of giving.

Groggy and slow, you come to in the soft light. You squint up at the shopkeeper. He casually flips through a document, but a flick of his finned ear gives away his awareness of you. A low hum rolls in his chest. The faintest vibrations slip down his serpentine body and touch you. 

A needy want infiltrates you. How long could you stay here, pretending to rest? Maybe it’s not safe here, but it’s safer. You could sleep for a few more minutes.

The dull ache in your side gradually sharpens to a piercing, acute point. Less so than before. It's more contained, and less frightening to feel the hole in your side.

Slowly, you draw your hand down to your jumpsuit. To your amazement, your jumpsuit is still bloody and torn through with a bullet, but through the hole in the fabric is a white bandage. Your fingers roam in a crawl. Bandages wrap over your chest, concentrating on a thick wad pressed directly against your wound. 

You turn a squinted gaze upon Sebastian. He lowers the document with a huff. Faintly, you can smell iron and a strange cleaner. A disinfectant maybe. A glance down to the floor where you previously laid and let your blood spill everywhere is now spotless. 

“Welcome back,” Sebastian cocks his head in your direction. Teal eyes search your expression in a lingering look. “I thought you would never wake up. The sweet sound of your insults was beginning to fade in my memory.”

Your answering groan is all you can give. Stretching your arms slowly and wiggling your toes, you realize you are, in fact, alive. 

And not one ferryman coin is lost from your pocket. A strange concoction of relief and confusion pools into your middle.

Sebastian’s third arm unfurls its claws. The bandages wrapped around the appendage are fresh and less bloody. You suppose he must know a thing or two about medical procedures.

“What did you do?” you ask, less accusatory than perhaps you intended, but all the same, curious. 

“Let’s not worry your pretty head about what I did,” Sebastian growls low. A warning sits in between his teeth. “Next time, don’t get shot.”

You glare up at him. “Not even gonna charge me, huh?”

A wicked grin crosses his mouth, set like a shark about to catch a minnow in its mouth. You stiffen, then cringe at the slight pain. You look down to find a medkit tucked into the waistband of your jumpsuit. Interesting. You haven’t bought one recently. There must be a painkiller or two in there, right? You’re starting to mercilessly spin with pain. 

Popping open the lid, you find just what you hoped for—worth far more than buried treasure. You quickly pop two pills into your mouth and swallow them dry. The weight of Sebastian’s eyes is inescapable. He follows the gulp down your throat.

“Unless you're going to buy anything else, you should get going, sweetheart. Shop’s closed.” His flukes slowly slip along the floor, unwinding his tail from where it keeps you secure in his grasp.

“Right.” A weariness clings to your edges, but your mind is aware. How long have you been resting?

Before you can truly pick yourself off the ground, Sebastian uses the flat of his flukes to scoot you across the floor and into the vent—all without aggravating your bandaged wound.

You don’t offer resistance, too bewildered by how he all but tosses you out. You scurry through the vent and out into the hallway. For one moment, almost breathlessly, you smile smugly.

What a soft-hearted bastard.

You straighten and take a step down the hallway, patting your pockets. Perhaps you’ll give him a few extra documents as a thank you—

But your pockets are empty, and your documents and every single last USB drive are gone.

[miraculousmultifan]

The months following Steve's fight with Billy and the excursion through the Mind Flayer’s tunnels found Steve at a bit of a loss. The animosity between him and Hargrove had only grown exponentially, but it didn’t bother him as much as it used to. Sure, Hargrove sucked ass, and he had definitely taken over as the newest reigning douchebag, but that kind of stuff just didn’t matter to Steve anymore.

So at school, he found himself sitting with Nancy and Jonathan during lunch. It was a bit awkward considering Nancy and Jon were dating, but he didn’t exactly have any other friends, and he really didn't want to sit alone.

It was early February, and Steve was picking at his cafeteria food, barely listening to the conversation Nancy and Jonathan were having. He was lost in his own thoughts, staring into space blankly.

Across the cafeteria, Eddie Munson was jumping onto a table and taunting several different cliques as he went on a long monologue about society and social norms that most students tended to tune out. Steve watched him with a small smile, pushing his food around his tray. Then, Eddie was throwing barbs at Hargrove, Tommy H, and Carol. Steve winced slightly, knowing the words probably applied to him too, but he couldn't help feeling that Eddie wasn’t exactly saying anything untrue about them.

Before he could tear his attention away, Eddie was turning to face him. Steve's eyes widened. He hadn't even said anything! He’d been laying low ever since their last run-in with the Upside Down, just trying to graduate. So why was Eddie putting his attention on him now?

Eddie jumped down from the table and sauntered over to where Steve was sitting, throwing a leg over the bench to straddle the spot next to him. “Harrington.”

Now that Eddie was so close, Steve could see a slight red tint to his eyes, and he relaxed a little. He was just high.

“Hey, Munson,” Steve replied, giving him a weak smile in response.

Most of the attention on Eddie had dispersed, but Steve could still feel the piercing gaze of Hargrove on the side of his face. That jackass just would not leave him alone, even if he was trying to avoid altercations for Max's sake.

Eddie leaned an elbow on the table to hold his head up with his hand. “How's the fall from grace treating you, my liege?”

Steve blinked. “Huh?”

Jonathan leaned over from where he was chatting with Nancy. “He’s calling you a king. Asking about how you're doing after everyone dropped you for Billy.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie smirked. “With more dramatic flair than that, but yeah, essentially.”

“Oh.” Steve floundered, looking between Nancy and Jon as he tried to think of an answer. “Well, it’s been nice not having as much attention, I guess. Nothing all that interesting has happened to me.”

Nancy hid a snort behind her hand, turning to bury her face into Jonathan’s shoulder. Eddie raised a curious eyebrow but didn’t comment on her reaction.

“Surely the life of a king has to have some frivolities. Raging parties, swooning ladies, the like…”

Steve scrunched his nose. “Nah, man. My parents cut off my allowance after my last concussion, so I don’t exactly have the funds for that kind of thing anymore.” He didn’t know why he was confiding that kind of information in Eddie, but it wasn’t like he cared that much about what people thought of him anymore. Eddie could spread it around if he really wanted to. “I just babysit Nancy and Jon’s little brothers and their friends. I promise it’s nothing interesting.”

Smirking, Eddie tilted his head to the side. “I'm sure you could make anything interesting, Harrington. Especially looking like that.”

Steve blushed bright red from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck. Oh god. Was Eddie flirting with him? “Oh. Um, thank you! I'm sure you're pretty interesting too.”

That seemed to snap Eddie out of whatever weird flirty persona he had let settle over him. “Right. Good talk. I'm gonna go now. Have a good lunch, Steve.”

And then Eddie was gone, back to his table as he ranted at his friends with increasingly frantic gestures. Steve stared after him for a bit, biting his lip and trying to make sense of the feelings stirring in his chest. On the other side of the table, Nancy let out a pointed cough with a smug smirk.

“So…” She started. “Wanna tell us what that was all about?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “You witnessed the exact same thing that I did, Nance. I don't have any insider information.”

Nancy giggled. “No, not that. I’m talking about how you blushed like a little schoolgirl when Eddie called you interesting. You wanna tell us about it?”

Shooting another look at Eddie’s table, Steve started to reply before he noticed that some of Eddie’s friends were looking at him. His eyes widened and he whipped back around. “I have no clue what you're talking about. Jon, back me up here.”

“Sorry, dude.” Jonathan winced with a sheepish shrug. “You were pretty red. I mean he did call you hot, so I guess I get it…”

Steve sighed and let his head drop to the table. “I really don’t appreciate the psychoanalysis, Nance. He came over here, talked to us, called the way I look interesting, and left. Sure, I may have gotten a little red, but he was leaning really close.”

Smirking, Nancy leaned over the table to flick the back of Steve’s head. “You’re wrong about one thing. He didn’t come over to talk to us. He only talked to you. I think he finds you more than just interesting.”

Standing up from the table abruptly, Steve shook his head. “We’re not talking about this. It’s not like it matters that much anyway. He was probably just trying to mess with me. I’ll see you guys later.” Steve grabbed his tray and walked off, trying and failing to stop himself from sneaking a glance at Eddie’s table.

Much to Steve’s surprise, Eddie was looking right back at him. When their eyes met, he smirked and waggled his fingers at Steve in a wave. Steve blushed, his eyes wide, and he stumbled, almost bumping into another student in the process.

[drabblesandsnippets]

Drabble #4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female character (unnamed)

Background: What would Bucky do if he overheard his girlfriend talking negatively about her body?

Summary: Bucky likes to remind his girlfriend how beautiful she is, especially when she has a hard time remembering.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Explicit sexual content. Mention of body image. Slight domination. Affirmations.

---------------------------

A shopping spree with Yelena was actually something on her list of fun things to do. Until Yelena insisted on choosing several new outfits for her, most of the items far out of her comfort zone.

But, at least Yelena didn’t make her try them on at the store. She was able to wait until she was in the safety of her home, where she could laugh at how ridiculous she looked.

She had been so preoccupied with trying on the way-too-revealing clothing that she didn’t hear Bucky come home. And as she stood in front of the mirror, silently critiquing her figure - that Yelena had tried to convince her she needed to show off - she didn’t even realize he was watching her from the doorway, his eyes on her new outfit. 

A high-waisted skirt and cropped shirt. The combination showing just a hint of soft skin at her waist. Her beautiful thick thighs on display.

He’d never seen her in anything like it, and it instantly made him hard, his mind filled with all sorts of dirty images of what he wanted to do to her.

Just when he was about to announce his presence, his sensitive ears picked up her quiet voice. The silent critique that had been in her head had turned vocal, and she mumbled something about her body that made Bucky immediately growl.

“Princess.” 

The single utterance of her nickname made goosebumps spread across her skin, and she knew no excuses would get her out of this.

She was in trouble.

She’s not allowed to talk negatively about herself - about the woman he loves - and she’s especially not allowed to talk about her body like that. A body that he worships every chance he gets.

That’s how she ends up in front of their large mirror, leaning back against Bucky with her skirt hiked up, showing him how wet she is. Her legs are hooked over his thighs, his body keeping her spread wide for him, not giving her a chance to hide any part of herself from either of them.

Every time her eyes drift away from the mirror, he forces her to look again, whispering every bit of praise that comes to mind, making sure to pay attention to all the places she’s insecure about, refusing to let her think one bad thing about herself.

It’s not long before she’s a mess, dizzy with need, her body on fire, and he’s barely even touched her. 

Her eyes meet his in the mirror, and she squirms as best as she can, rubbing back against his covered erection as his hands move along her thighs. The teasingly tender touch of his fingertips makes her whine, and she arches her back, almost at her breaking point.

“Bucky,” she breathes, her eyes fluttering at his gentle touch. “Please.”

It’s useless, she knows. She hasn’t given him what he wants yet.

“Hmm?” he asks, his voice sending shivers down her spine. “I need to hear your words, Princess.”

He knows exactly what he’s doing to her, but until she says what he needs to hear, he’s not going to do anything but this.

Slow teasing strokes of his fingers, tracing a path along her inner thighs, getting closer and closer to where she needs him most. 

And just when he’s close enough to feel the heat of her, he pulls away, dragging the back of his fingers along her trembling thighs.

For a moment, all she can do is whimper, already on the verge of tears, the intensity of the moment catching up to her. She’s overwhelmed, but they both know she can do this.

She needs this.

With one more encouraging look from Bucky, and another teasing pass of his hands, she finally finds her voice.

“My body deserves respect.” She whispers the words, but they immediately make Bucky smile, and his chest swells with pride.

“Good girl,” he growls, placing his palms flat against her, sliding them slowly along her inner thighs. “Keep going.” She makes a soft noise of appreciation and nods her head, wanting this just as much as he does.

When she utters the next phrase, “my body deserves love” his hips shift subtly against her, his cock seeking friction.

He’s so proud of her, of the woman she is and everything she’s capable of. Seeing how much she wants to believe the things she’s saying makes him want to reward her.

“That’s right,” he tells her, his breath heavy against her neck. “You’re doing so good for me.” He inches his fingers ever closer to her pussy, and she can’t tear her eyes away from the mirror, her body growing still.

She doesn’t want to give him any reason to stop, and it makes the next words even easier to say.

“My body is a gift.” The last word comes out broken, a soft strangled noise, because Bucky’s fingers are finally touching her, spreading her obscenely, allowing him to see just how turned on she is for him.

Her hands grip his forearms, but she knows better than to try to control him. Not that she wants to, no matter how vulnerable she feels.

She barely processes what’s coming out of his mouth, but each word he says makes her that much more desperate for him, that much more desperate to make him proud.

“Look at that. Such a pretty pussy. Just dripping for me. Wanna make you come just like this.”

The pad of his finger teases over her exposed clit and her entire body shudders, her thighs almost closing in response. Bucky doesn’t let her move though, his own legs spread wide to keep her in place, reminding her who’s in charge.

She’s too far gone to immediately answer him, but he takes pity on her, sliding his finger along her soaked slit to tease at her entrance. “Do you want that, Princess? Do you wanna watch while I play with your pretty pussy?” 

This time when his finger grazes over her clit, she moans and quickly nods, her body seeking out more of his touch. There are so many things she wants to say, to please him, to show him that she wants this just as much as he does. But, all that comes out is a soft, “yes, please.” 

It’s more than enough for Bucky though, and he leans back just a bit more, giving them both the perfect view of her body.

At his instructions, her eyes stay on the mirror, watching his hand as he starts to bring her more pleasure. There’s no teasing this time, Bucky reminding her how good she did for him as his fingers start to move against her clit in firm circles. 

It’s not long before she’s breathless, her arm curled up around his neck, holding onto him as he brings her closer to the edge. Her eyes keep threatening to close, the pleasure starting to overwhelm her, but Bucky won’t allow her to look away. Not yet. 

“God, you drive me crazy, do you know that?” he asks her, his vibranium hand sliding underneath her shirt, lifting it until her bra is exposed, her nipples hard against the fabric. “Just look at you. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

His fingers quickly pull her bra cup down, letting her breast spill out, and his hand greedily grabs at her, his fingers seeking out her nipple. She immediately whines his name, her hips bucking against his touch, her orgasm quickly approaching.

She’s only vaguely aware of what he’s even saying to her, but each word adds to her pleasure, making her body shudder. Her gaze flickers from her own body to Bucky’s face, and even though she can already feel how turned on he is, what does her in is the way he’s looking at her, like he can't get enough of her. Like she’s truly a work of art. 

She barely has time to gasp out that she’s going to come before he growls her name, telling her to. Demanding it. “Yes. That’s it, Princess. Come for me, right now.”

His hand moves down to hold her waist, keeping her held against him as her body tenses, watching as the pleasure takes over. The pleasure he’s giving her. It’s enough to almost make him come with her. 

After what feels like an eternity, she starts to slowly return to reality, Bucky’s hands now sliding along her soft skin as he moves her into a more comfortable position. He continues whispering soft words of praise, telling her how proud he is of her as she meets his gaze in the reflection of the mirror, a soft smile on her face. 

Her shirt is still pulled up over her breasts, her skirt bunched up around her waist, and she’s suddenly struck by how hot she looks. Her body pulses at the image, Bucky’s strong arms wrapped around her, his hands touching every part of her he can reach.

It’s like she can see herself the way he does.

Bucky senses the shift in her and immediately grins, his eyes roaming over the vision of her, flushed and needy. “How about you try on some more of these new clothes?”

She immediately giggles as he helps her to her feet, and she makes a joke about how she might have to critique each one if this is the consequence. 

“Just think what the reward will be if you compliment yourself instead,” he laughs, playfully smacking her ass.

---------------------------

Main Masterlist

[yanderefarm]

Emil and Nephite me underrated loves

How do you think they’d both react to like extreme dirty talk outside of the bedroom? Like whispering filthy things into their ears when they’re supposed to be doing something (ie, Emil attending to kingly duties and Nephite helping at the church)

Also can I be 🐙 anon?

cw;; public sex, dirty talk, religion, omegaverse

this is so funny I've talked to you several times already now but i hadn't done this request yet. the same is true for mousey.

"you look so good tonight."

you allow emil to lead your body through the dance, your attention far more focused on the way his cravat made his chest pop. he can clearly tell you're distracted but he just smirks instead of commenting on your lingering eye.

"i appreciate that. you look exquisite yourself."

he turns you both as the other couples do so, the dance is light and relatively easy. your hand takes the opportunity to grip his muscles firmly, earning a choked breath from your husband.

"oh oops. is that where i grabbed you last night?"

his smile widened devilishly, a smile that made normal people tremble.

"yes, i believe so."

"what were we doing again..."

you heard his breath hitch.

"riiiight~" you squeezed the bruise again. "i was fucking you stupid."

"... dear."

he says it like a warning but you know it's empty.

"you looked so pretty and slutty with drool and cum dripping down your stupid face."

"(y/n)."

"your outfit would look even better stained in my cum too wouldn't it?"

his ears were burning and his golden hair fell further into his eyes like it was naturally trying to hide his embarrassment.

"can't wait til this stupid party is over... you're gonna gag on my cock like you love."

"please."

his dancing slowed as it became harder to move.

"please?"

".... i need you."

"we're at a party."

"i don't care."

you smiled and leaned your head against his chest. "I'll be nice and fuck your face after this dance. dirty slut."

that song seemed to last forever.

———

god, this cult event is so boring. nephite, your beautiful wife, is completely enraptured by the elder's words. and of course he had to pick the seats at the front so you had no hope of sneaking out. you let out another sigh, the third in as many minutes, before laying your head on your wife's shoulder.

"honey... I'm trying to pay attention."

he whispered like a scolding parent. you leaned your head the other way a pout on your lips. you heard the elder say something like "you need to let him come inside."

"that's what she said." you whispered to your wife with a little smile.

"what she said?? honey, im trying to listen."

he brushed you off again but instead of getting dejected you decided to tease him. make him regret picking the front row seats.

"y'know... like she wants him to cum inside~"

you watched your wife's cheeks burn a bright pink but he folded his lips pressing them tight against his teeth. oh he was gonna try to ignore you.

"y'know like last night... you begged for me to cum inside~"

your hand traveled from behind his back to brush across his thigh. you could see him jump his blush spreading further.

"you like it when he cums inside huh? filthy boy~"

"stop-"

he squeaked loud enough to draw some eyes to you two but you quickly pulled away from him and acted like you weren't even near him. luckily the deaf old man on the stage didn't notice. once the eyes wandered back to being bored you closed in around your wife again.

"don't be noisy... you want them to know you're being a perv in this sacred place?"

"y-you-! you're-you're the one being a p-perv!"

people looked at him again this time you pulled him closer to your chest and gave them a look to say you were sorry he was being noisy.

"c'mon, honey. be quiet or i won't cum inside when we're done."

you watched the dichotomy between his face looking at you incredulously and his thighs rubbing together.

"we could leave early... we could go to the bathroom. wanna sit here with my cum trailing down your thighs? your neck all marked and messy... your poor c-"

"please. please. (y/n), please."

you could see tears forming in his eyes as his face was completely red.

"please what?"

"wanna go home."

you smiled, proud of yourself.

[verbenaa]

air so deep and sweet

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: “You’re just utterly shameless, aren’t you?’ He tsks, “Seducing me away from my work like this.”

Astarion’s eyes rove your form laying beneath him in reverence, the silken strands of your hair spread like a halo around your face and your dress a mess around your waist.

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𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Astarion/Reader 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut, fluff, slice of life! 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 7.1k 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: body worship, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, hand jobs, vampire bites, mentions/discussions of anal, vaginal sex, vampire sex, soft dom astarion

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

𝑎/𝑛: This is my first ever fanfiction despite a literal 20 years of reading them LOL i truly have lost the plot. Find me on ao3 too, my username is leadii 💕

ao3 here

masterlist

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Dim candlelight plays along the walls of Astarion’s studio, illuminating the discarded bolts of fabric leaning against the wall with haphazard grace, the threads of linens, silks, and cottons a riot of color against the muted walls. Spools of silken thread and tangles of ribbon lay sprawling across the work table, interspersed with pincushions and stray needles waiting to be threaded.

The studio itself is small, humble in its nature. Set aside on a small street within the city walls it wasn’t a far walk from your shared home, making it an easy decision to join him on the nights he decided to work.

Lush velvet draperies hang heavily across several leaded windows, while multicolored rugs layered themselves over the floor. Fat pillars of candle wax sit haphazardly upon several surfaces, filling the room with moving pockets of light, their dance helped along by the light summer breeze blowing through the open windows. It was undeniably one of your favorite places to be.

Despite Astarion’s initial claims to the contrary (if you could even call his half-hearted condescension to the concept such a thing), he was decidedly well suited for a life of domesticity. Much like a spoiled cat, he very much enjoyed his luxuries. Vials of scented oils, a soft bed covered with blankets and quilts, piles of books in the corners of rooms waiting to be read at his decision. You were very quick to learn that Astarion was nothing if not a creature of comfort. And he made it so very easy to spoil him, accepting your love and affection with open arms.

You nestle deeper into the nest of pillows that made up the corner you had decided to call your own, novel discarded beside you and your goblet of wine long emptied of its contents resting against the floorboards. With a small huff your attention turns from your surroundings to said owner of the studio, watching him weave the needle in and out of the fabric in his hands, focus intent on his art.

He had such beautiful hands, you couldn’t help but think. Hands as well-versed in sowing chaos as easily as they could thread a needle to create the tiniest of embellishments upon a single piece of silk. Hands as intimately versed in the art of death as they were in the art of drawing pleasure. Sometimes, you think, he is secretly desperate to prove that his hands no longer have to steal, cheat, or seduce for others and instead were capable to creating something soft and vulnerable for himself instead.

With a small stretch you sit yourself upright, adjusting the lovingly embroidered straps of the light linen dress you wore to compensate for the overbearing warmth of summer. You were always content to accept any creation Astarion made for you and your dress was no exception, tailored to perfection to sit on your curves perfectly with small decorations of lace and embroidery as he saw fit.

As though drawn by your thoughts, his carmine gaze glances up to meet your own. Astarion’s eyes linger upon your form as you slowly stand and stretch your arms high above your head, back arching slightly with the motion before you step to the nearest open window. A light breeze ruffles your hair as you rest your elbows on the sill, careful of the several plants currently residing there as your eyes move to watch the people below weave through the streets in the darkness.

“Dearest, do you mind lending me those ever-so-lovely eyes of yours for a moment?” His voice is a casual drawl. “I wish to seek your opinion on this particular color scheme.” 

You turn to face him from your spot at the window as he gestures to the work in his hand with a small movement of his wrist, and quickly step across the floor to stop at his side. You glance down to see the wooden embroidery hoop he holds with measured regard in one hand, the other carefully grasping a small, sharp needle. You lean in slightly to see better, your breasts adding the barest of pressure against his arm.

You focus your vision upon the delicate pattern of his needlework, the threads weaving together to create an intricate pattern of scrolling vines and abundant spring blossoms in a warm milky white adorning the collar of a cream colored linen shirt, the colors almost ethereal together in their similarity. 

“I hate to break this to you, but…I do believe it is simply cream upon cream,” you say with a small smile gracing your lips. “What ever is there for me to even give my opinion on?” 

“It’s called monochrome, my dear.” Astarion gives you a look of affectionate exasperation before continuing, “Despite what everyone seems to think, I am capable of subtlety when the occasion permits.” You briefly turn to look at him, an elegant eyebrow arching in amusement. 

He rolls his eyes and scoffs slightly before murmuring, “Certainly those pretty eyes of yours can see the differences despite the similarity of color?”

Sure enough, upon further inspection you could pick out the slightest hint of metallic gold threaded throughout the creamy colored delicate flowers and surrounding vines, the only detail differentiating the colors from one another. The subtle shine of the golden threads were mesmerizing to follow with your eyes, the candlelight bouncing off of them creating fiery highlights on the raised embroidery. Like everything Astarion touched, it was undeniably beautiful.

“I suppose it looks decent.” You tease, pressing your chest further into his arm while your attention shifts to the elegant planes of his face. He was simply so easy to admire, the way his hair always seemed to fall so perfectly into place, his mouth held soft in concentration looked so inviting.

A noise of protest leaves his lips at the mere thought his creation was only ‘decent’, and you can’t help but laugh at the reaction while leaning in to press a soft kiss to his pale cheek.

“It must be so hard to have such artistic merit, Astarion. I’m afraid such a talentless individual as myself can’t fully appreciate such craft and workmanship.” You playfully lean your body back and throw a hand up your forehead in mock distress, earning a short laugh from him. 

“Despite such questionable opinions, you are far my talentless, my dear.” Astarion sets aside the hoop and needle to the far edge of the worktable and turns in his chair, settling his full attention on you.

“In fact, I would be more than willing to remind you of the several of the talents you possess.”

Slowly, he draws his eyes from your features to glance down at the twin pinprick scars decorating your neck before slowly continuing lower to finally rest on a spot above your breasts. He brings his fingertips to brush lightly against the skin, pressing against the delicate lace trim of the neckline, sweeping slowly and softly back and forth against the swells. He watches the sudden intake of your breath with interest before his eyes glide up to meet your own again. 

A slow, feline smile graces his lips. “Such a distraction, dearest. Especially when you press these lovely breasts of yours into me.” 

You match his smile with a sly one of your own.

“Can you blame me?” You give a half-hearted shrug, hardly caring that you had been caught in your so-called crime. “It’s quite hard to not want to be close to such a beautiful individual like yourself.”

“Ah yes, there it is. Talent number one: flattery.” 

He moves the hand tracing patterns against your skin upward, glancing touches against your neck, before curling his fingers underneath your chin to bring your face closer to his own. 

You knew he could easily see the effects of his relatively innocent ministrations, could view the inevitable pink beginning to decorate your cheeks. 

Could smell it in the blood beginning to race through your veins. 

Astarion had always known exactly what to say made you breathless and had never held back on using that knowledge to his advantage to make you weak to his whims. 

“Now be a good girl and take a seat.” His voice is low, hungry; he leans forward and both his hands find your waist and pull. 

You feel your body relax easily into his touch, letting him smooth your skirts out of the way as he brings you towards his waiting lap. Your hips instantly connect together, fabric the only barrier between you. You feel a telltale twitch beneath you, signaling his pleasure at the slight friction created by the connection and your hips grind against his own instinctually, the friction and pressure adding to the growing warmth deep in your belly. 

Astarion leans forward, connecting his mouth with your own in a scalding kiss, moaning into your mouth as his hips roll against your own, his growing erection pressing closer to your covered center. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull yourself even closer to him as your hands card through the silver curls sitting at the back of his neck. Opening your mouth, you lick against his lips hoping he will open them for you. Astarion obliges, meeting your tongue halfway. 

Your tongue brushes against a sensitive fang, drawing another moan out of him and he slowly pulls away from the kiss, lightly nipping at your bottom lip as he leaves before moving to press small, sweet kisses across your jaw. 

“Would you indulge me a snack, dearest?” He presses a quick kiss followed by a small lick to the skin behind your ear, sending a shiver of pleasure down your skin.

“I suppose I could be convinced…” Breathy sighs fall from your lips as he peppers kisses down the elegant column of your neck. “Quite easily perhaps, too.”

“Will you give me a small taste, my dear?” he mouths the words against your skin, lips hot.

Your eyes fall closed at his kisses. “You know you don’t even have to ask to have my blood. I give it to you, freely, and I always will.” With a tilt of your head you grant him more access to continue his search.

“I don’t deserve you.” “Absolutely false. You deserve everything.” The words roll off your tongue with quick ease, certain you’ve never spoken truer words.

As Astarion moves the straps of your dress aside to hang off your shoulders and free the expanse of your neck and collar he finds the spot he had been looking for, laving the area with his tongue briefly before he bites down.

A split second of burning heat as his fangs dig into the flesh of your neck with as much delicacy as he can manage before he finally begins to suck, the pull of the blood leaving your body as he drinks brings a decidedly indecent moan to your lips, the heat of your core growing wetter with every draw of his mouth.

As Astarion drinks in your lifeblood in slow gulps, you feel his hands moving to the neckline of your dress and he grabs at it, pulling the fabric down across your chest, exposing more and more of you with every pull of the fabric. You had forgone a corset today in an attempt at comfort in an unending battle against humidity, trusting the bodice of your dress to instead keep your (somewhat questionable) modesty in tact. 

The rush of cold air combined with the sudden brush of his chilled hands against your breasts as he lets the dress fall to hang freely around your waist draws a surprised gasp from your lips. You move your arms out of the straps before burying them again in his silver locks.

He quickly brings a free hand up to grasp a breast, brushing his thumb over a newly hardened nipple. Extricating his fangs from your neck, his tongue moves to lick up the blood tracing down from the wound, not letting a single drop go to waste.  

“Such a delightful little treat,” he murmurs against your skin, lips brushing with every movement as your hips grind downward against his growing erection in slow rolls. 

His lips move further down your chest, no longer following the trail of fresh blood but that of the blood in your veins leading to your heart. 

Astarion presses a chaste kiss over the place where your heart beats, your back arching with the movement of his lips as he moves lower to capture a hardened peak. A soft cry at the touch of his mouth falls from your lips, the motion of his tongue drawing circles around the bud sending a flash of heat straight to your core. 

He laves at the bud, alternating licks and soft bites in a bid to stoke the fire inside you even higher, his free hand coming up to massage its twin with delicate motions.

Astarion cants his hips up into yours as he sucks hard at your breast, his prominent erection pressing into your growing wetness before his mouth moves to your other breast, continuing his ministrations.

“Astarion, please, I need more.” You whine, attempting to press harder against his erection in hopes the touch will grant a reprieve from the building heat between your thighs.

“As you wish, my love.” He grants your request with a whisper, his hands falling on your thighs to support you as he moves to stand, bringing you with him. Chair pushing back with the movement, he places you on the desk in front of him as his hips spread your thighs. 

Desperate to keep the connection between the two of your bodies, Astarion stands between your legs, pressing close. His hands skate up your body to land on your cheeks, tilting your face to look up at his own as a thumb brushes absentmindedly against your bottom lip. He leans down to press his lips to your forehead, your eyes, cheeks, nose, and finally your lips. 

“Lay back, love,” His words are a whisper as one hand makes it way from your cheek to rest on the back of your head. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

His eyes never leave your own as your body relaxes, trusting him, and he leans you back onto the tabletop with care until your body meets the wood. 

Barely breathing, you watch as his hands made their way teasingly downwards, skating over your bared breasts to find the skirt of your dress, moving to push the thin fabric tantalizingly up your thighs to settle around your waist and out of the way. Astarion’s eyes settle upon a tiny, lacy pair of panties, the fabric the only thing keeping you from being completely bared to him. 

“You’re just utterly shameless, aren’t you?’ He tsks, “Seducing me away from my work like this.” Astarion’s eyes rove your form laying beneath him in reverence, the silken strands of your hair spread like a halo around your face and your dress a mess around your waist.

He was so beautiful it made your heart feel like it was going to beat out of your chest. 

With bated breath, you raise a hand to draw your fingers softly over his cheek, capturing his attention. 

“Promise me that you will tell me if this gets to be too much for you,” Your eyes meet his as you watch his expression fill with sudden affection at your request. 

“What a sweet thing you are,” Astarion brings a hand to cover the one you had placed over his cheek. “Thank you for always taking care of me so.” With a small movement, he turns his head to bring his lips to press against your palm. 

“I promise you that anything and everything I do with you is my choice.” Astarion moves the hand that covers yours to flit down your body, teasing touches over your peaked nipples, down your belly, before brushing against the line of your underwear. A sudden intake of breath escapes your lungs as he watches your stomach jump with the touch. 

A smirk graces his face as he moves those same fingers lower, brushing lightly against the gusset of your underwear before pressing harder against the growing damp of the lace. His touch creates a sweet friction, your wetness mixed with the texture of the lace and the pressure of his fingers drawing a soft moan from you.

You whine as his fingers pull your underwear to the side, Astarion moving to slide his fingertips up and down your exposed slit, spreading your wetness. He makes teasing passes around the small pearl that rests above; close but never quite touching where you need him, your arousal aiding the smooth glide of his motions.

“I’ve barely touched you and you’re already this wet for me, darling?”

“You know I always aim to please.”  The words are hard won but you manage to  give him a haughty smile nonetheless, trying to maintain the last shred of willpower you have left to pretend to be unaffected.

He moves to pump a finger shallowly inside you, not nearly deep enough to provide any relief. You gasp at feeling, attempting to roll your hips in hopes to bring his finger deeper. But just as quickly as he enters he leaves, eliciting a noise of frustration from you.

“Patience, patience.” He tuts, hands moving to your hips to tug at the lace resting over them. He yanks at the fabric, and you raise you bottom to aid him in finally removing them. Astarion pockets the pair with a smug look as his hands move to spread your thighs further apart.

With every push of your thighs Astarion bares you to him, your arousal glistening against your center in the low light.

“You know, dearest, I think I would maybe like to have a taste of something else as well.” You feel your cunt clench at the prospect, adding to the building heat deep inside you. 

“Consider me at your mercy, then.” A smirk from him at your blessing as he slowly lowers himself to his knees before your spread legs.

Astarion is supplicant before you as he rests his head on your upper thigh, unfairly close to where you want him most. Your hips jump in anticipation as he begins pressing tantalizingly soft kisses into the crease where your hip meets your thigh.

You feel his fingers touch you finally, delicately spreading your folds as he watches your most intimate place open for him. His thumb comes to rest against your clit, rubbing lightly at the small bud and you release a contented hum at the warmth of the pleasure inside your body growing with the movement of his fingers.

Your eyes fall shut at the sheer relief of his attention, his expertise in knowing exactly how and where to touch to drive you wild drawing a moan from you. Your hand falls from its place in his hair to land beside your head, jostling errant sewing supplies from their resting place next to you.

“Careful, darling. Watch those lovely hands of yours to not catch on a needle. I would so hate for you to bleed so needlessly.” A roguish smile alights his lips as he lowers his mouth to lick a slow stripe up your center, intent to collect as much of your wetness on his tongue as he can.

Your hand immediately finds its way back to his hair, gripping his silver curls mindlessly as he begins to work his tongue up and down your center, tracing patterns against your sex as he goes.

His tongue moves to finally circle your clit with small movements, intent to drive your pleasure higher and higher with every pass. His mouth moves lower, licking across your folds as he finds your entrance, tracing around it with agonizingly slow motions.

Astarion is quick to move a hand to rest over your belly as your hips jut up, applying soft pressure as he grows bold in his motions and his tongue moves to push inside of you. Your grip on his curls grows harder with every thrust of his tongue inside your body, head thrown back and moans growing louder as he brings you closer and closer to completion.

The hand resting on your stomach moves to press lightly at your clit, once again resuming the small circles round and around as his tongue continues its exploration deep in your core, eating you out with fervor. 

Astarion continues to lave inside you, his soft tongue whorling against your walls as his fingers expertly work your clit in tandem with your cries as your hips ride his face, thighs shaking as your orgasm barrels towards you. 

And it’s just like that when you cry out and finally come, his tongue moving deep inside as his finger strums your clit with practiced motions and the feeling is white-hot as you plunge into your ecstasy. He licks up your come greedily, tongue never stopping its endeavor as you ride the wave of your orgasm, breathy cries leaving your lips and hips rolling until your body finally relaxes. 

Shaking in the aftermath of your orgasm, your hand falls from Astarion’s hair to rest over your eyes as your breathing begins to even out and you finally come down from the high, Astarion cleaning up your cum until you can take it no longer, hips jerking in overstimulation away from his mouth.

Astarion places a light kiss over your clit before raising up from his knees back to his full height, your slick glistening on his chin and lips in the light of the candles as his still clothed cock brushes against your empty center.

Astarion leans forward, arms caging your head as he leans down to nuzzle your cheek whispering ardent words, “Out of all the beautiful things in this room, you are by far the most gorgeous.”

His admission momentarily stuns you. Astarion had never been shy in his admirations of your beauty and while you had grown more used to them during your time together he still managed to catch you off guard with such compliments from time to time.

“Can I please touch you? Taste you?” You pant, desperation coloring your words in the wake of his earlier admission as you begin to push yourself up onto your elbows. Astarion’s hand comes down and gently presses on your chest instead, and you lower yourself back down at the gentle command in the gleaming red of his eyes. 

“You can put that clever mouth of yours to use later, my dear. I have other plans for you, I think.” His eye rove your features before pressing his mouth upon yours in a fevered kiss, his tongue licking against your lips asking for entry. You can taste the essence of yourself on his lips and groan at the taste, opening yours to tangle his tongue with your own.

Astarion deepens the kiss as his hands find your own and grasping them gently, he brings them down his body to rest upon his still-clothed cock. 

“You said you wanted to touch. Indulge me, lover.” His lips never leave your own as he speaks the words, tongue sneaking out to lick at your bottom lip.

Your hands spring to action immediately to palm his cock through his leather pants before you find the laces holding him and undo them with deft fingers familiar with the task.

Astarion’s thick cock springs free of the confines of the pants and your fingers find the beads of precum decorating the tip and spread the wetness down his length. your fingers glide from top to bottom in smooth motions over the veined velvet of him, his essence aiding your ministrations as his mouth falls open from the sheer indulgence of your touch. His head falls heavily onto your shoulder and his lips move over the spot he fed from earlier, kissing and licking the area as your hands work him closer to closer to the edge. 

Lifting a hand from him you bring your fingers to your own wetness, drawing your fingertips through your slick before pumping two of them inside yourself in an imitation of his own motions earlier as you moan at the feeling.

Astarion glances down to see your fingers buried in your own cunt, the sight making him go impossibly harder as he watches you briefly pleasure the both of you. With a whine, your fingers leave your body to return to Astarion, a mixture of your arousal and come coating your fingers as your spread it onto his waiting cock, increasing your rhythm to rub him faster.

“Gods Above, you really are something else.” His pupils are blown out in lust as he groans at both the sight and feel of your hands working his shaft, one hand massaging the crown of his cock while the other works him closer to the base in quick motions.

A wicked thought strikes your mind, and you almost feel badly for even entertaining the idea. Almost.

You can feel his breath fanning your neck with every pass of your hands, his moans growing more unrestrained as your ministrations draw him to edge of completion. Without warning you withdraw your hands from his weeping cock, cruelly denying him the climax he was so close to.

Astarion’s head flies up from where it rests on your shoulder as a noise of disbelief leaves his lips and he shoots you a look of pure shock. The knowledge you caught him so unaware has you riding another kind of high, one you rarely had the privilege of reveling in.

“You little minx! Who knew you were capable of such cruelty. You’re going to pay for that, you know.”

Mischief settles on your features. “Maybe that was the goal.”

“Ask and you shall receive, little love. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” His lips curve with a devilish grin, eyes glinting in the candlelight as his hands move to grip your waist, fingertips pressing hard into the soft skin.

“How should I make you pay for it, then?” He muses. “Should I shove my cock into that tight, sweet cunt of yours and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to stand? Or maybe I should make good use of that wicked little mouth of yours and fill it instead?”

His darkening eyes bore into your own, your cheeks heating at his suggestions as you shift under his contemplation.

“You do look quite beautiful like that, you know. Mouth stretched around me as I fuck your throat. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You give an enthusiastic nod at the prospect, excited for whatever punishment he deems appropriate to hand out.

Without warning, you feel the hands upon your waist move to lift you up and flip you over, your stomach making contact with the table as your bare breasts press tight against the wood grain. His hand comes to rest in the center of your back, pushing you further into the surface. You move your head to rest your cheek upon the table, the coolness of the wood a welcome sensation to the quickly rebuilding heat inside you as your eyes glance up to meet his own in curiosity. 

“Too bad. I have another idea instead.” His voice is deep with promise.

Such trouble you had gotten yourself into, it seems. 

Cool hands move from your back to the forgotten skirt of your dress to flip it upward to rest around your waist once more, exposing your ass and glistening center to the warm air. 

Astarion brings his hand down hard against one of your cheeks, the sharpness of the spank making you cry out as surprise and pleasure mingle into one. He rubs the growing red mark left on your skin before bending down to press a his lips to it, soothing the area with barely-there kisses. 

He brings both hands to your ass now, rubbing soothing circles over the area before moving to pull your rear cheeks apart, allowing Astarion to see absolutely everything.

A wave of embarrassment hits you to be put on such display for his vision despite his knowledge of your body, and you fidget slightly under his intent gaze of your most intimate areas. 

“Astarion…” you let out a moan and he is quick to shush you as he moves a hand off your asscheek to brush his thumb in light circles over your asshole. 

“Maybe I should take you here instead, I know how much you love when I play with your pretty ass.” His voice is deep, eyes impossibly dark. 

“Oh fuck,” His words draw a ragged moan from your lips at the mere thought, setting your neglected pussy on fire with need.

“Prove to me you can be a good girl.” His thumb applies soft pressure before it leaves you to be replaced by his lips. He presses a soft kiss to the tight hole before kissing downwards and licking deep into your cunt without warning, lapping at your waiting wetness.

“Gods, Astarion…” your hips press backwards towards his waiting mouth. “Whatever you want, wherever you want, my love. I’ll do anything. I just want you inside of me.” Your voice is hoarse with need, no longer caring to win this little game you had started.

You feel Astarion’s mouth leave your pussy and whine at the loss, but he is quick replace your empty cunt with two of his elegant fingers instead, sliding them in and out at slow, measured pace. 

“Do you think I should let you come one more time before I fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk properly?” You are helpless to do anything other than nod your head in insistence, hoping he won’t rob you of your orgasm the way you had done to him. “I don’t know if you deserve it yet.”

Astarion slowly pulls his fingers out of your body only to add a third finger on the plunge back in, drawing a cry from your lips at the sudden fullness. 

His fingers push deep and curl inside of you pressing against that special spot over and over again, driving you to new heights as the lightest veil of tears begins to dust your lashes at the sheer bliss of the feeling.

Noticing the tears, you feel Astarion immediately stop his ministrations and lean over your back to look into your eyes with concern, a noise of protest at the lack of motion falls from your mouth as his fingers slowly leave your body to rest on your hip, brushing calming circles on your skin.

“Is this too much, love?” Any trace of his teasing dominance is gone from his voice as he speaks the words to you clearly, looking intently for any indication you needed him to step back from the scene the two of you had created. “We can stop, darling, if you need to. I don’t want you to push yourself too far to please me.”

You smile at genuine concern evident on his face, blinking away the sheen of tears. 

Pushing your hips back into him with as much motion as you can manage in your prone position against the table, you lean your body up in hopes to press a kiss to his lips. Astarion leans in, mouth quick to meet you halfway in a kiss as his spare hand moves to cup your cheek.

“The only thing you are pushing is my patience, love. Please don’t stop.” You beg, hoping he will acquiesce to your desire to continue as you lower your body back down onto the table. “The only thing I want in this moment is to come so hard I can’t think straight and then to have that beautiful cock of yours inside of me in whatever way you wish to give it to me.”

“Insatiable. Who taught you such language?” His body follows yours down, back pressing against your own as his lips brush against yours as he speaks the words, the concern leaving his eyes replaced with mounting desire.

“Believe me, there is nothing I want more than to be buried deep inside you,” The hand on your hip makes its way back towards your center. “Make me the same promise I made you earlier.”

The words come to your mouth effortlessly.

“I promise you that anything and everything I do with you is my choice.” You recite the words softly, with ease. 

Quieter now, you whisper. “I trust you, Astarion.”

You know how much your words and trust mean to him, can see it in his unguarded expression. Astarion didn’t put much trust in the Gods, but he would never stop thanking whichever one it was that brought your paths together. His fingers gently graze your pussy, ringing around your entrance with soft, teasing touches.

“I love you.” Astarion says before pressing his lips firmly to your own, those same three fingers finally slipping back inside.

Astarion renews the pace of his fingers right away, pressing and curling with precise motions meant to bring you to the brink.

You give into the sensation of every movement of his fingers, mouth open and eyes falling shut at the feeling and it’s not long before he has you once again close to your orgasm. 

“Please, don’t stop,” you whimper as your thighs begin to shake.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Astarion brings his other hand down your body to brush lightly against your clit. He sounds as lost in desire as you feel. “Want to feel you come on my hand. Can you do that for me, sweet thing?”

His words have you clenching hard on his fingers, the pressure of them against your insides combined with the fingers of his other hand brushing light, concentric circles over your clit have you coming within moments of his request.

“Such a good girl to give me what I want so easily.” You barely hear the words that fall from his lips through the haze of your ongoing orgasm, the feeling of his breath on the skin of your ear serving to only enhancing the moment.

Your body spasms around his fingers and cries of ecstasy fall from your lips as he continues, working you through your orgasm while his lips press soothing kisses anywhere his lips can reach—your face, your neck, the tip of your ear. 

“That’s it. You always look so beautiful when you come for me.”

Slowly, finally you feel your body begin to relax through the haze of your orgasm. Your mind comes back to you and you release a small laugh as your breath starts to even out, feeling him leave your body. Without breaking eye contact, he brings the fingers that had filled you so deeply to his mouth and licks them clean. The sight of it sends a wave of heat right back to your cunt, a shudder of anticipation running through you.

“I think you already succeeded in your wish to make me unable to stand.” You pant.

“And to think I haven’t even fucked you yet.” His cock is hard as his eyes scan your form from the flesh of your core to the flush of your cheeks, your eyes glassy with a haze of lust.

“I think I want to fuck you just like this.” He whispers into your ear as his hands run soothingly over your back. “I like you this, on display as you wait for me.” You desperately attempt to push your hips back to brush against his uncovered cock, looking for any bit of friction.

You watch him from your place on the table, the lithe way his body moves as he takes off his luxurious silk shirt to expose his chest.

His beauty was almost otherworldly as the dancing candlelight illuminates the carved marble of his skin, light and shadow creating a moving chiaroscuro upon the planes of his body.

He looked like a god.

“You are so beautiful.” Your words are a mere whisper as he moves his thick cock to finally brush against your center, slicking himself in your spend as the tip catches against your clit, drawing twin moans from you both.

Grabbing your hips, Astarion positions himself at your entrance and begins to slowly push inside, so familiar with your body he barely needs to guide his cock.

His head drops to press a kiss to your shoulder before righting himself again, hissing in pleasure at the feeling of your walls closing around him as he slides in, your wetness aiding him as he bottoms out and his hips press hard against your own. 

Low moans escape you at the sheer feeling of his cock stretching and sliding home and your hands move grasp for purchase on the desk as he slowly begins to rock back and forth. 

“If only you could see yourself now,” His voice is deep as he watches himself pull his cock out of your body almost completely, only the head left resting shallowly inside you before pushing forward with a hard thrust, hitting a place so deep you let out a ragged cry at the feeling.

“Gods, Astarion, just like that.” He fucks you hard, the force of his thrusts pushing you back and forth with small motions, breasts pressing hard against the wood of the table as one of your hands finds his own still holding your hips. You grab at his wrist in hopes he will take it, needing to touch more of him. Sensing your need Astarion takes your hand, bringing it to his lips to press a soft kiss on the back of it before resting your joined hands on your lower back. 

“No one takes my cock like you,” He pants through his thrusting. “You were made for me, weren’t you?” 

Supplications fall from his lips as he moves in and out of your body, showering you with worship as if you were his own private deity. His words further kindle the rising flame inside your belly, every touch of his cock against your walls serving to push you closer and closer to your third orgasm. 

“Only you,” you pant, hips canting back into his own to match the rhythm of his thrusts. “No one else.”

You feel so incredibly full with your body positioned like this, every movement of his cock has him pressing hard against your sweet spot, the feeling like heaven as cries fall from your lips.

“I love how wet you get for me, darling,” Astarion can feel you tighten around him as you grow nearer to your orgasm, your body trembling and cunt pulsing with pleasure as your hips drive back into his own. The feeling of you so close to your orgasm has hips losing their rhythm, his eagerness at the two of you reaching your end together driving him to move harder with every press inside you.

You love seeing him, feeling him like this. His hips finally moving with wild abandon, chasing pure instinct as he moves fast and deep inside your body. A hand comes up to settle in your unbound hair, softly gripping the silk-like strands in his fingers and in his passion he pulls softly, the motion lifting your head. His lips lower to your ear as his back presses fully against your own, the feeling of his cock moving even deeper inside you unmatched. Between his chest against your back and his cock moving so deep he was practically rutting inside, you were almost certain your cunt had never felt so full. Breathless whimpers escape your mouth at the feeling, eyes closing in complete ecstasy as the sound of his own moans against your ear leaves your cunt clenching hard as he hits your g-spot over and over again with each deep thrust.

“Beg for it. Beg for me to let you cum.”

And beg you do.

“Please, Astarion!” A chorus of pleas rise from your throat voicing your desperation as his tongue licks the shell of your ear, the hand in your hair tightening slightly with every word and moan that falls from your lips. 

You can barely think as you feel your orgasm careen towards you, unintelligible in your words as you lose yourself in the feeling of your bodies. Astarion’s cock hits that deep inside spot at your front wall once more, and you finally let go, orgasm taking over your body, stars behind your eyes in all-consuming pleasure. You recognize Astarion nearing his own end, his hips rutting into yours as you ride out your orgasm on his cock, cunt squeezing him in a vice. He comes with a drawn-out moan as he paints your insides with his cum, hips shuttering until his thrusts slow down.

Astarion stays inside you, cock softening as he rubs his hands up and down your sides as you both come down from your high, his cold cheek pressed against your shoulder. With deep breaths you take air so heavy and sweet with your shared lust into your lungs, the weight of Astarion on your back an anchor to the world.

With one final pump Astarion pulls himself from your body, watching as your empty cunt weeps with a mixture of his and your own cum. Before he can stop himself, he reaches two fingers up to catch the cum on his fingertips, gently pushing it back inside you before it can fall out onto the table resting below your hips. 

“Wouldn’t want you to waste a single drop, my love.”

You whine and buck your hips, overstimulated after coming so many times in a row. With one last press of his fingers, he leaves your cunt, leaning forward to place a kiss on the small of your back.

Astarion grabs a discarded piece of silk off the table beside your head and he gently wipes at the mess that threatens to leave your body before cleaning his own spent cock. As your breathing returns to its normal pace, you push yourself up slightly. 

“Silk. Really, Astarion?”

“Only the best for you, my love.” Astarion is quick to help you off the table, steadying you as you sway slightly after being in the same position for so long. He presses a kiss to your lips as he helps pull your dress back up over your breasts and into place. 

“I would ask if I was too rough, but I know you better than that.” His remark makes you laugh as you lean into him, throwing your arms around his neck with a wide smile.

“You know, I think I’m missing a tiny piece of my clothing,” Your eyebrows raise as you gesture to his pocket where a tiny piece of darkened lace sticks out from. "You wouldn’t happen to know where it is, would you?”

“Why bother?” Astarion gives a casual shrug as he waves off your query. “I’m just going to take them off of you again when we get home.” 

He stuffs the underwear in question deeper into his pocket, patting it securely before flashing you a crafty smile.

“After all, I haven’t even had my dinner yet.” He leans in, setting your heart aflame with a passionate kiss before grabbing your hand to lead you out the door and into the waiting night.

[disasterofastory]

Fate (Ivar x Reader)

Fate Ivar x Reader Warnings: smutty, but no sex

Summary: Wedding night.

A/N: You can read it as a part of The Wanderer and Valkyrie, but works as a standalone too.

The moon is bright and round at the top of the dark sky. It covers the city in a silvery hue, cascading down the roofs and highlighting the drunk idiots who found sleep in different places on the streets. They are lucky it's not cold enough to freeze them by morning. The weather is peaceful and clear, letting you see the stars glinting down at you as you pull the heavy doors shut.

The Great Hall is quiet and calm. The celebration is long over. The air is still heavy with smoke and ale. It fills your nostrils. The alcohol still pumps in your veins, making your chest light and your mind a bit dizzy. A lazy smile plays on your lips as your attention turns to the man sitting on his throne. He watches you too. The paint is smeared all over his face, but it is still not enough to hide the pink blush that spreads across his cheeks when your eyes meet. "I think I saw Hvitserk hugging a goat to himself outside," you tell him. "I hope it eats his hair," he replies, and you laugh. Ivar smiles at the melodic sound. "Don't be mean," you tell him. "He outdid himself today." Ivar can't argue with your statement. His brother really did everything to make your wedding memorable from the start to the drunk ending. "You are beautiful," he says instead. He didn't drink enough to admit his brother's surprisingly amazing wedding planner skills, but now as he looks over you, he starts to regret his decision. The smile you send his way is full of mischief. The white dress hides your curves but still shows off your breasts. He can see the hard peaks of your nipples. Necklaces hang from your neck, glinting in the dim lights. And the crown on your head fits among your braids perfectly. You really look like a queen. His queen. "What are you thinking?" You ask him. "A man who just married should look happier," you add, placing your thumb between his brows to smooth out the frown on his face. "I'm happy," he says. "I'm just... I still can't believe you chose me." "I told you, Ivar," you tell him. "Our future is written and sewed together by the Norns." He really wants to pay attention to what you say, but it gets harder and harder with every movement you make to get rid of your clothes. Soon, your dress pools around your legs, and you are bare in front of his roaming eyes. "Leave everything else," he says after you kick off your shoes. The blush deepens on his cheeks at his sudden order. Maybe he shouldn't give orders while clearly, you are the one who knows what you are doing. But he still doesn't wish you to get rid of the jewelry that adores your skin, highlights your eyes, and makes you so ethereal in his eyes. "Can I untie my hair?" You ask for his permission, smirking. "These braids are really tight." "I-I will do it," he says, clearing his throat. "If you come here." "How nice of you, my husband." The smirk is still on your face. You are mischievous, cheeky, and happy, while Ivar falls from awe to awe the whole time. Climbing up on his lap, you adjust your position above him until his hips are between your knees. "Is it okay?" You ask, letting some of your weight on his thighs. It's not enough to hurt him, but enough for you to be comfortable. "Yes," he croaks.

He is gentle and unsure. Your eyelids fall shut every now and again at the feeling of his massaging fingers on your scalp. You relax on his lap while Ivar is all tense and taut. His gaze wanders down your chest every time he is sure you don't watch him. He doesn't even know why he is so sneaky about it. He saw you naked several times, and you are his wife now. He can look at you all he wants. "Thank you," you sigh when he is done, and your wavy hair is free from the ties and decorations. The only thing he left in its place is the crown at the top of your head. "You are welcome." "How are your legs?" You ask him. You are so calm and content it almost drives him crazy. How can you be so collected while he falls apart with every passing minute? "They are fine," he replies. His every sense is so focused on you that he doubts he would notice if his legs were in pain. He doesn't care about his useless legs. He cares about your weight on him, your sweet smell, your soft touch, and the heat that radiates from you and cocoons him into relaxation. "What are you waiting for, Ivar?" You ask him, smiling. "Kiss your wife."

His kiss is familiar by now. His tongue traces the line between your lips until you open your mouth and let him in. His large hands land on your hips, squeezing your flesh while you nibble on his bottom lip before letting him push his tongue into your mouth again. Your chest is pressed against his. You can feel the heavy thud of his heartbeat. Your hands slip up on his arms, playing with the ends of the braids at the back of his neck. Your back arches to get closer to him. His low moan vibrates in your throat. "Wait," you giggle. Your word fan over his lips. "It tickles." "Sorry," he grunts, not knowing what else he should do with his hands. Your giggle turns into a smirk. "It's fine," you tell the man, grabbing his hands on your sides. "But here would be better," you add as you place his palms on your breasts. His fingers squeeze the globes in reflex. His eyes are wide as he watches his own hands. "You are so pretty," he says, flicking his thumb over your nipple before taking the hard peek between his fingers to pinch and pull on it. "Ivar," you gasp out his name, leaning against his shoulders. "Did I hurt you?" He asks with a hint of worry in his voice. "In a good way." Seeing the confusion on his face makes you smile again. "I will explain it later." Your lips meet in a kiss again. It's hurried and burning. His hands are still on your tits. They fit perfectly in his warm palms just as he thought they would. "What did I tell you once? When will we have sex?" You ask him. Your breath is hot against his lips, and he needs a few seconds to register your words in his mind. "We will be together when I know who you are." "And who am I, Ivar?" You ask, cupping his face with both of your hands. "Tell me." "You are my fate." Your lips meet again in a searing kiss.

[gin-juice-tonic]

book of bill discussion ish post about a single line in the book. Despite it being one line, its a bit long and rambly

So. Ford's "hes making it all up as he goes along" line. Is what I will be talking about

If you read the whole book, you already know this, but just as a recap:

In the book of bill, Ford has placed several pages of messages written by him addressed to any possible readers. These first set of messages offer an explanation of what the book is, and why you should not read it.

In the middle of the book he adds in another set of messages, this time chastising the reader for making it this far and then warning the you to stop reading further.

At the end he stops chastising you and admits he read it too, and how the books presence has been agonizing and embarrassing to him, and how he felt the need to hide it from his family. He goes onto explain how his family finds it anyway, and they laugh at the contents of the book, and at how desperate Bill is for attention. They all reiterate to Ford how they of course care about him despite his past of being manipulated by Bill, and Ford finds comfort and strength from his family and seems more ready to put his shame about Bill behind him.

The above "He's making it all up as he goes along." line is part of this last set of pages.

Something that is notable about its placement, is that the last sort of "story" that Bill tells the player in the book is the "missing journal 3 pages". After that, Bill tries to make a deal with you and is interrupted by Ford's final message here.

As you all know by now, i think the missing pages are fakes. I also think this line and it's placement, if the pages are not fake, would hurt Ford's arc in the book.

One thing we know about the book is it changes contents based on the reader, so I do not actually think Ford *read* the "missing journal pages" in his own version, nor do I think his family saw them in theirs. However, I think the placement of the journal pages being basically right before Ford's final message is supposed to connect the two in our minds as the reader.

Like I have said above, Ford's arc is about being able to move toward putting Bill behind him:

If the journal pages are real, to me, Ford's comment ends up coming across as a sort of Denial (though likely inadvertent) of these pages. This flies in the face of the arc that's been built up for Ford. If he does not care about what Bill has to say about him anymore and is ready to start moving on, and these pages are real, I genuinely believe this line should not have been included.

Rather, if the pages are fake, his comment is more of an acknowledgement. Ford does not care about what Bill has to say about him, he does not care that Bill may be spreading lies about him, he knows Bill is nothing but an attention seeker and Ford is not going to waste his time worrying about what he has to say anymore.

So I think, from the perspective of how the book was written regarding its structure and Ford's arc, this line only makes sense within the context of those pages truly being "made up" by Bill. Whether you agree or just think Alex made a poor writing choice there is up to you.

...but that's my two cents on that.

[coyotelip]

rosekiller microfic: dressed || @rosekillermicrofic || wc: 417

“Where are you going dressed like that?” comes the irritated voice of his father behind him as Barty is about to leave the house for the night. 

The thing is, he's not even wearing anything really weird or indecent. Simple black skinny jeans with holes in the thighs and knees, a white t-shirt and an emerald jacket over it with a loose Slytherin tie around his neck with several silver chains. His nails are painted black and green, and he has fake tattoos on his fingers that he started drawing out of boredom a few months ago during boring lectures. 

Barty finishes lacing his heavy boots and turns to his father, shrugging. “I don't know what you're talking about, all the young people dress like that nowadays. So I don't think I care what a conservative old man thinks.” 

Bartemius Senior comes even closer to his son and grabs his tie. “What is this? You're not even in Slytherin!” 

Without restraint, Barty pulls the tie out of his father's hands and turns on his heels toward the door. “I'm tired of talking to you, go on with your own business and let me have my fun.” 

Without waiting for an answer, the boy slips out of the house, heading for the crossroads, where a tall shadow is already waiting for him in the dark arc of the garden. Evan leans against the stone archway, smoking his cigarette in boredom, but a fire flashes in his eyes when Barty comes into view. 

“Ho ho," the guy whistles, looking Barty's figure up and down. “You look good in green.” Evan tosses the cigarette butt away to wrap his own tie around the boy's neck in the palm of his hand and pull him closer, exhaling hot air into his lips.

“And the blue on you brings out the color of your eyes.” Barty smiles against his lips, inhaling the sharp smell of tobacco and grabbing at his own tie around Evan's neck. “My old man almost made a scene. What about yours?” 

“Hmm.” Evan shrugged. “Mother looked at me with displeasure but didn't say a word, she was too tired to do anything. But we had the dear Black cousins visiting, and Bellatrix was fascinated,” his plump lips spread into a wide smile and draws the attention of the boy across from him. 

They stare at each other for a few seconds, blue and green eyes, and finally lock in a kiss, slow because the night has just begun

[writer-freak]

JJK x reader | Nice Pants. Can I test the zipper?

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami and Choso

Warnings: Gn reader, suggestive, pretty short, probably ooc, trying to get back into writing, english isn't my first language

A/n: I saw a post with this idea and I just wrote this scenario for several different fandoms but I decided to post this version first. I haven't written since last month so I feel a bit rusty but I hope you guys enjoy.

Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated and really motivate me to write more <3

Gojo Satoru

Gojo’s lounging on the couch, flipping through channels, looking for something to watch when sit down next to him and casually drop your question.

“Nice pants, Satoru. Can I test the zipper?”

Gojo freezes for a split second before his signature grin spreads across his face his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Oh? Testing the zipper, are we?” he teases, his tone playful. “What’s brought this on, hm?”

He sits up, giving you his full attention, clearly amused by your boldness. Gojo’s always been one to push boundaries, so he’s more than ready to play along.

He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Go ahead, test away. But don’t blame me if things get... out of hand.”

He chuckles, the sound low and dangerous, as he watches you with a mix of curiosity and anticipation waiting for your next move. Gojo’s never been one to back down from a challenge, and you can tell he’s eager to see if you will give in.

Geto Suguru

Geto is sitting at the kitchen table, sipping on a cup of tea, lost in thought. After seeing this idea earlier in a TikTok, you became really curious to see how he’ll react.

“Nice pants, Suguru. Can I test the zipper?”

Geto raises an eyebrow, a slow smirk spreading across his lips. He sets his cup down, turning his full attention to you.

“Testing the zipper, hm?” he repeats, his voice smooth. He leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly as he studies you.

There’s a brief silence as he contemplates your words, and then he gestures for you to come closer. “You always have the most interesting ideas,” he says, his tone laced with amusement. “But be careful. Once you start, I might not let you stop.”

There’s a dangerous edge to his words, but it only adds to the shiver running down your spine. You can see the spark of interest in his eyes as he waits for you to make the next move.

Nanami Kento

Nanami was in the middle of organizing some paperwork, that really needed to be done. He’s always so focused, so serious, that you can’t resist the urge to tease him a bit. You quietly walk behind him before dropping your question.

“Nice pants, Nanami. Can I test the zipper?”

Nanami pauses, the pen in his hand stilling as your words register. He slowly lifts his head, giving you a long, measured look. His expression is the epitome of “Are you serious right now?”

“What did you just say?” he asks, his tone a mix of disbelief and mild exasperation.

You repeat the question, and he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’ve been spending too much time with Gojo,” he mutters, shaking his head.

But then, to your surprise, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He sets the pen down and crosses his arms, regarding you with a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“If you insist,” he says, his voice steady but with a playful glint in his eyes. “But don’t think I’ll just let you off the hook. I expect you to finish what you start.”

Choso

Choso is sitting quietly, waiting for you to finish whatever you're doing. You love seeing his reactions, so you couldn't wait to see how he would react to your bold question.

“Nice pants, Choso. Can I test the zipper?”

Choso’s eyes widen slightly, clearly caught off guard. He stares at you for a moment, processing what you just said, and then his cheeks start to tint a faint pink.

“What?” he stammers slightly. He’s not used to this kind of teasing, and you can tell he’s flustered.

You repeat the question, and he fumbles for a response, his eyes darting away as he tries to regain his composure. “I... I don’t know aren't you busy right now” he says quietly, but there’s a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Despite his initial hesitation, there’s something in his gaze that suggests he’s not entirely opposed to the idea. He shifts slightly, clearly unsure of how to respond, but there’s a part of him that’s definitely open to your proposition.

“Are you... serious?” he asks, his voice softer.

You nod, and he swallows hard. “Okay,” he finally agrees, his voice showing his eagerness. “Come over here” You didn't need to be told twice, making your way over to him eagerly.

Divider by: @thecutestgrotto

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

No Big Deal

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: You refuse to bring up your stomachache to your brothers, but what happens when it turns out to be bigger than you thought?

It had started out as just an ache at first. You had woken up yesterday with random occasional pains hitting your gut. You’d ignored it, figuring it was just some sketchy diner food that wouldn’t settle.

Then today, it just got worse. The pain was constant, and the dull ache had upgraded to a stabbing sensation that hit you whenever you moved. There was no way it was just indigestion, but it still hadn’t reached the point where it felt like your brothers needed to know.

They were working on a case, and the last thing they needed was for their little sister distracting them with the whole, “my stomach hurts”. It was way too wimpy for a Winchester.

“Hey N/N, can you clean some weapons while Sammy and me check out the scene?” Dean spoke up. You stood to make your way to the table where the weapons were laid out, but a sharp pain to your side caused a harsh breath to leave you, and you couldn’t hold back the wince that flitted across your face.

“You alright?” Dean’s voice snapped you back to attention, and you pretended nothing was wrong.

“Yeah, fine.”

Dean hesitated for a moment before shrugging and following Sam out the door.

…

It got worse as the week wore on. Every day the pain got worse, and every day you convinced yourself that it would go away eventually. Your brothers still didn’t know, although you were almost certain that they suspected you. Dean was keeping an annoyingly close watch on you, and Sam kept asking if you were ok.

One day, the three of you were returning from a hunt when it finally happened. You had just stepped into the motel room when a sharp stab to your cut had you doubled over, a cry escaping your lips before you could even think to hold it back.

“Y/N!” Dean’s hands on your shoulders snapped you out of your panicked daze, and you took a few deep breaths to try to stabilize yourself, but the pain just got worse. “Y/N, baby talk to me, what’s going on? What hurts?”

You couldn’t answer, couldn’t focus. The pain kept getting worse and worse, until darkness lined your vision, spreading like spilled water across your eyes until you couldn’t see anything at all.

And then suddenly, it didn’t hurt anymore.

…

“She’s incredibly lucky. If her appendix had burst, this would be much harder.”

“Dean?” You awoke to find yourself surrounded by strange sounds, strange voices, and strange smells, but when you called for your big brother he responded immediately.

“Hey sweetheart.” Dean’s face was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes, and you felt his hands gripping yours. “You feeling any better?”

“Not really,” you mumbled. “What’s going on?”

“We should get her into surgery as soon as possible, her appendix could still burst.”

“Surgery?” You tried to sit up, but Dean held you down.

“Hey, kid, don’t. You’ll make it hurt worse.”

“Are you sure she needs surgery?” Sam cut in. “She can’t take antibiotics?”

“It’s too severe,” the doctor responded. “We’ll have to remove her appendix.”

“I don’t want to have surgery.” Your hand tightened around Dean’s.

“It’s not a complicated surgery,” the doctor assured.

“See kid? You won’t even notice it’s gone.” Dean’s easygoing smile tempered the butterflies fluttering sickeningly in your stomach.

“And we’ll be waiting for you when you get out,” Sam said. “Promise.”

As soon as the doctor left to consult a surgeon, Dean’s hand squeezed yours, catching your attention.

“How long have you known?” Dean asked.

“Known what?”

“That something was wrong.” You sensed a shift in Dean’s voice; he was angry.

“I-I thought it was just a stomachache.”

“Don’t,” Dean huffed. “It hurt way more than that, it had to. Why didn’t you say anything?”

You just shrugged, turning your focus to your shaking hands.

“I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“You didn’t think at all!”

“Dean,” Sam cut in. “Easy.”

“This could’ve gone so much worse, kid. Do you get that?”

“Yes,” you mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care,” Dean said honestly. “I just care that you don’t do that ever again. If you’re hurt, you tell us. Understand?”

You nodded, and that seemed to satisfy Dean. The three of you lapsed into silence for several seconds, and in that time the nervous butterflies returned to your stomach in full force.

“I don’t wanna have surgery, Dean,” you whispered. You closed your eyes, gripping his hand, as he leaned over and kissed the side of your head.

“I know kid, but it’s not a dangerous one. You’ll be out before you know it, it’s no big deal.”

“And you’ll be right here?”

“Me and Sammy won’t move a muscle, I swear.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Ok then. No big deal.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy

@mrvlxgrl

[starbright349]

Beautiful Angel (Adam X Female Angel Reader)

In the celestial realms of Heaven, where ethereal beauty and eternal joy abound, lived Adam, the first man, and his heavenly bride, (Y/N). Their love was a reflection of divine grace, a union that transcended time itself. Today marked a special occasion—the anniversary of their celestial marriage.

(Y/N) woke up early, her luminous wings fluttering with excitement. She decided to surprise Adam with his favorite breakfast, a celestial feast that radiated with the essence of love. The aroma of ambrosial delights filled the air as she floated through the heavenly abode, preparing the breakfast with celestial ingredients.

She wasn't worried too much. She had left a lot of small hints about their anniversary for the past few days, so Adam wouldn't forget.

As the sun began to cast its golden rays across the heavenly realm, (Y/N) glanced at the mirror and decided to add a touch of celestial charm to her appearance. She decided to wear her favorite outfit that had her favorite colors on it. With a subtle touch of makeup that accentuated her otherworldly beauty, she felt ready to captivate Adam's heart once more.

Downstairs in the kitchen, (Y/N) placed the heavenly spread on a table adorned with flowers that emanated a fragrance only found in paradise. The aroma wafted through the air, and the anticipation of their anniversary celebration filled her with joy.

Feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness, Adam ascended from their bedroom to the kitchen. "Morning babe." Adam yawned with sleepy eyes as he walked to his wife. "Good morning, Adam." (Y/N) and planted a kiss on his cheek. He smiled softly and went to take his seat that table. Once his eyes were adjusted to being awake. Adam noticed his favorite breakfast on the table.

"Whoa, you made my favorite? What's the occasion?" Adam knew that you only severed his favorite breakfast on special occasions... or when you really, really wanted something. "Oh, no occasion, just wanted to make something special for my special husband."

(Y/N) smiled and fluttered her eyes at Adam, but all he did was shrug his shoulders and dug into his breakfast. Prior to this day, (Y/N) had been dropping hints for days, hoping that Adam wouldn't forget their special day.

As they both ate together, talking about random things. (Y/N) didn't bring up the topic of anniversary's since she wanted to see what would happen if she just let the day happen and not make anything happen.

Once Adam was done with his breakfast, he placed his dishes in the sink and washed them off. "I wish I could stay here longer babe, but I gotta get to Sera, she needs something important. I don't fuckin know I wasn't paying attention." (Y/N) looked at Adam with a little disappointment, "Aww, but you've been working with Sera for weeks, and I was hoping you would clear you schedule today. I wanted to spend some time with you."

Adam gave (Y/N) a smile and walked up to and lead to her level. "I know baby, but Sera needs this, according to her 'I need to do my part, in my Heavenly responsibilities." Adam said trying to imamate Sera, but it was really bad. "I'll be home in a few hours." Adam kissed her forehead and flew upstairs to get ready.

Sighed disappointedly and picked up the leftover dishes on the table and put them in the sink, but she had hope that Adam was going to do something special for her when he came down stairs.

As (Y/N) was cleaning up breakfast, Adam was about to walk out the door. "Later babe." Thats all he said before a shut the door and flew away. He didn't even say 'I love you.' or 'Happy Anniversary.'

Now instead of feeling sad, she felt angry and sad. She had a whole day planned for them, after breakfast (Y/N) wanted to their favorite cafe for their favorite trats and drinks, then go to the park where they had their first date. It was a picnic date, then they would come home and watch the first movie they watched together, and after words. (Y/N) would make Adam his favorite food, ribs, and maybe some nightly action in the bedroom. ;)

Having these feelings inside her, jumble up into a big mess. She fell to her knees and cried. (Y/N) didn't know why, maybe it was because he forgot, or because she thought that Adam didn't love as much anymore.

Either way, she was still very upset at Adam.

*A few Hours Later*

The whole day, until nightfall. (Y/N) spent crying or feeling sorry for herself and her marriage. She remembers how things were so much simpler then when they first got married, Adam used to make time for her and only her.

He would always shower her in love, attention, and affection. As she would do the same thing to him. But with these past few weeks, and Adam disappearing for hours, gone for entire nights even. (Y/N) feared that her and Adam's marriage was dying.

As she was on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her, watching the movie that her and Adam were meant to watch together. The door suddenly opened to reveal Adam, with a smile on his face that used to make (Y/N) melt, but instead she saw it as a stupid boy look.

"Hey babe." Adam said and walked up to (Y/N) to leaned down to kiss her. But the damage was done, and (Y/N) felt a wave of frustration wash over her as she pushed his face back with her hand. "Piss of Adam." (Y/N) said, clearly annoyed.

Adam looked at (Y/N) in confusion but he changed the look on his face. "Look (Y/N), I know that is short notice and your pissed off at me for something. But I really need you to and get dressed for an event." (Y/N) looked at with her 'death stare.' More annoyed than ever that Adam not only forgot their anniversary but also had the audacity to ask her to an event, possible one that would make him look better.

"I would rather choke on a sandpaper cock than do that, but then again. Being married to you, there really is no difference since you are quite a dick yourself." (Y/N) said as put on half on the blanket on her head for warmth.

"Babe listen, the clock is ticking here, and we don't have much time. So, I need you to get dressed right now." "Piss off!" (Y/N) said while filling her husband off. At the point, Adam was getting really annoyed with his wife's actions, he walked and stood in front of her, then tore the blanket off (Y/N) and leaned Infront of her face. "I am giving you one more chance wifey. Go and get ready for the event, otherwise I'll make you."

(Y/N) stood up and stared at Adam for a moment before she slapped him.

Adam held his face for a few seconds before he grabbed her waist and picked her up and put her on his shoulder. "Adam what are you-" "Sorry babe, but we don't have a lot of time." Adam said while holding (Y/N) tightly as she struggled and yelled. Adam led (Y/N) out of the house and flew away.

*A few minutes later*

Adam had taken (Y/N) to a dark spot in Heaven, she didn't care where she was, she wanted to get out of Adam's grip. Once Adam landed on the ground, he finally put (Y/N) down after what seemed like hours but it actually 15-20 minutes' worth of flying.

(Y/N) landed hard on her ass, but once she got up, she started scolding Adam, as he had a stupid smile on his face, almost like a smirk. "What the fuck Adam?! If you couldn't tell already, I'm very pissed at you. And you wanna know why? It's because you forgot our-"

Before (Y/N) could finish her sentence, the lights suddenly turned on to reveal a bunch of her and Adam's friends dressed up, fairy lights, a bunch of her and Adam's favorite food and alcohol on a table in one corner and a stage.

"Surprise!" Everyone said. (Y/N) covered her mouth in shock, finally figuring out what was going on. Adam still had that smile on his face as he leaned down. "Happy anniversary babe." He said and kissed (Y/N)'s cheek, she then turned her head to him. "You did all this for me?"

Adam nodded and snaped his fingers that changed (Y/N)'s outfit into a beautiful dress, transformed her hair into her favorite style, and gave her some light makeup on her face. "No-one else but for you. You're my angel (Y/N), and I love you." (Y/N) smiled at her outfit and Adam's beautiful words. She jumped up and hugged him then kissed his lips.

Adam wanted to take a step further and decided to dip (Y/N) in the process. Their clapped and cheered for the couple. Once they pulled away, (Y/N) whispered to her husband. "I'm sorry for slapping you." "And I'm sorry for dragging you out of the house like that." They both chuckled and had one more kiss.

*A few more hours later*

(Y/N) and Adam were having a great time at their party, some friends giving them gifts, others sharing funny stories about them before/after they got married.

As (Y/N) talking to one of her friends, Adam stood up on the stage. Grabbing everyone's attention; including (Y/N)'s.

"This is my biggest gift for my beautiful wife, I love you (Y/N)."

(Adam): Hey. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful angel.

(Y/N) walked slowly to the stage with a look of shock on her face.)

(Adam): Love your imperfections, every angle. Tomorrow comes and goes before you know. So, I just had to let you know.

(Adam pulls (Y/N) on stage and held one of her hands.)

(Adam): The way that Gucci look on you amazing.

(He then twirls (Y/N) around making her back face him, as he slides his free hand up her back)

(Adam): But nothing can compare to when you're naked.

(Y/N) blushes and turns around to playfully slap his hand away from her)

(Adam): Now a backwood and some Henny got you faded. Saying you the one for me, I need to face it.

(Adam starts walking around (Y/N) while giving that look that made her melt again.)

(Adam): Started when we were younger. Swear to God that I loved her. Sorry that your mom found out.

(Y/N) tried to hide her red face.)

(Adam): Guess that we just really had the thunder. Ain't nobody else that I'd be under. Beautiful, beautiful life right now. Beautiful, beautiful night right now. No no nooooo.

(Adam removed (Y/N)'s hands from her face and put his hand underneath her chin to make her look him)

(Adam): Hey. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful angel. Love your imperfections, every angle.

(Adam brushed some hair behind (Y/N)'s ear as they both stared into each other's eyes)

(Adam): Tomorrow comes and goes before you know. So, I just had to let you know.

(Adam leaned into kiss (Y/N) on the lips again, but she stopped him, took the microphone from his hand.)

(Y/N): Oh, my God, where did the time go? I wish the hours would go slow, how is it 6 a.m?

(Y/N) started to dance seductively Infront of Adam, not caring about the other angels watching her.)

(Y/N): Your touch is heaven-sent. Beautiful, beautiful sight right now. Beautiful, beautiful life right now.

(Y/N) came close to Adam as she continued dancing.)

(Y/N): Got the angels singin' ooh-ah, right now like (ooh-ah). And this is why we got to touch (ah). Sometimes words are not enough (no)

(Y/N) put her finger up to her tongue and licked it, making sure to have some saliva on it)

(Y/N): Painted in your golden kiss. Honey dripping from your lips.

(Y/N) wiped her saliva covered finger on something that wasn't her dress.)

(Y/N): I thank God and my lucky stars. Darling, don't you know what you are?

(Y/N) fluttered her eyes at Adam, who was blushing but also smiling.)

(Y/N): Yeah, baby, you are. ~

(Adam put his one of hands on (Y/N)'s waist as she put one of her hands on his neck, and they both held the microphone together.)

(Adam/(Y/N): Hey (hey, baby). Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful angel (ooh).

(Adam and (Y/N) began to dance romantically, Adam even spinning (Y/N) in the air.)

(Adam/(Y/N): Love your imperfections, every angle (oh, no, yeah). Tomorrow comes and goes before you know (you know). So, I just had to let you know.

(Adam and (Y/N) continued to dance with each other, not taking their eyes off each other.)

(Adam/(Y/N): The way that Gucci look on you, amazin'. But nothing can compare to when you're naked.

(Adam and (Y/N) let go of each other for a moment before they clanged on to each other again.)

(Adam/(Y/N): Tomorrow comes and goes before you know. So, I just had to let you know (ah-ah, yeah). I just had to let you know. Swear to God, you're beautiful, yeah.

(Adam and (Y/N) started into each other's eyes again, before Adam dipped (Y/N) again and they both shared a passionate kiss.)

*End of the song*

Adam and (Y/N) continued to kiss each other until the claps and cheers of their friends interrupted them, they pulled away and looked at the audience for a moment before looking at each other again.

They both couldn't contain their laughter and put their foreheads together. "Thank you, Adam." "Your welcome babe." they stayed quiet for a moment. Before she spoke.

"I have your present back at home. And you get to unwrap it in bed, if you know what I mean."

(Y/N) winked at Adam. And once he heard that, he smiled.

"Oh, fuck yes."