#but she's just looking at him and watching him disappear

[classyrbf]

SHE'S A SUCCUBUS! — CHOSO KAMO

SYNOPSIS...as a sex demon, she can always sense the horny virgin boy who’s dying to lose his virginity

INFO...choso x succubus!reader, sub!choso, virgin!choso, somnophilia, riding, overstim, creampie, oral (m!receiving and f!receiving), slight ass eating, cum eating, doggy, squirting, choso is super needy and eager, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

Choso always felt left out when his friend would constantly talk about all the girls they’ve been with, all the experiences they had and what crazy shit they always got into. He’d just sit there, silent. He couldn’t relate to them not one bit. The closest he’s ever to having sex is his right hand or a sex toy. No girl ever looked his way, and his confidence was crushed. They’d only go after his friends, practically drooling over them. Not one of them spared a glance towards Choso.

He was begging to lose his virginity, dying to know what real pussy felt like, how soft tits felt in his hands or even some ass. God, don’t even get him started on wondering what it feels like to receive head. His friends swear it’s the best thing ever as long as the girl knows what she’s doing. He always watches porn, the women on their knees, slobbering all over the man dick like it was some divine dessert. He loved watching the way their pussies wrapped around the mans dick, just imagining how wet and warm it is. He was a lost cause. At this point, he was ready to pay someone to take his virginity. Literally.

And just like any other night, he goes back home, ready to fuck his fist to another average porn video before dozing off to sleep. He’s been extremely horny lately, more than usual and he can’t understand why. Not to mention the wet dreams he’s been having, waking up to cum in his pants like he’s a damn teenager. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, feeling the need to cum more and more everyday.

Hours later, he’s fast asleep, tossing and turning as he has another wet dream of someone riding him. He can’t make out her face, but it feels so damn real. Everything does. Even her moans and the weight on top of him. “Mmm,” he hums. His brows furrow. He can even hear the sound of skin on skin. His entire body feels like it’s on fire right now, like he’s been hit with some sort of sex pollen. It’s more intense than ever.

Little does he know it’s not a wet dream, no, it’s you. The succubus who’s been watching him for weeks, feeling his urgency to cum, to lose his virginity. He’s summoned you without even realizing. And now you were riding him, gliding your wet pussy up and down his aching cock while he slept, waiting for the moment he wakes up and realizes he’s no longer a virgin. He twists and turns when you run your clawed nails down his pale skin, smiling at the way he moans and whimpers in his sleep.

Choso couldn’t take this overwhelming feeling anymore, forcing himself to wake up, prying his tired eyes open. But the feeling doesn’t stop. The sounds don’t stop. And certainly the woman is his dreams doesnt disappear when he opens his eyes. “Wha—ah—what? Who…? Oh fuck!” He rasps, eyes darting around the room and over your naked body. “What the fuck? Oh my goddd.” As confused and scared as he is right now, he can’t escape the pleasure coursing through him right now.

“Shhh, shhh, just let me make you feel good. You’ve been dying for this haven’t you? I’m here to give you exactly what you want.” You slightly lean back, spreading your legs to let him get a clear view of the way your pussy sucks his cock in.

He looks at you with awe and confusion, but he can’t help but give in, moaning so sweetly when you fully sink down. “Who…who are you?” He gasps, eyes widen when you clench your pussy around him.

“I know when cute virgins like you wanna lose their virginity. You summoned me, accidentally. You’ve been so worked up lately, huh? Well,” you smile, “that was because of me.” His cock twitches inside of you, your hips bouncing faster and harder, watching the way he mouth falls open.

“Fuck, fuck! It’s feels so good,” he heaves, breathing heavily. His cheeks dusted a light pink. “I don’t wanna cum just yet, please slow down. Please, please—nnghhh, fuckkkk.” Choso didn’t stand a chance, shooting sticky ropes of cum into your pussy, his entire body quivering with how intense his orgasm was. “Please, slow down—ah, oh my god. It feels too good—” His eyes rolled into the back of his head as you kept fucking him.

“I’ll keep fucking you till there’s nothing left.” You lean forward, pressing your chest against his, placing your lips on his while you kiss him with such fervor, with such sloppiness. His hands reach down, gripping the plush flesh of your ass. He swears he’s in heaven right now. This can’t be real. No way a sex demon was taking his virginity right now. His dick was so sensitive, but still so hard. He knew he had so much cum left, the only thoughts he had were to fill you up over and over until it was dripping out.

He felt like he was losing his mind, fucking him so hard, creating a sloppy mess where you two met just so you can get him to cum again. Your devilish yet sweet giggles send chills up his spine and straight down to his already throbbing dick. With labored breaths, and his heart rattling against his rib cage, he already knows he’s going to cum again. So soon. “Come don’t hold back on me. I want it all,” you growl in his ear. “I’ll do whatever it takes to empty you dry and fuck you stupid.”

His trembling fingers grip onto your ass harder as he cries out, broken moans swallowed by your kisses and he can’t help but cum again, filling up your tight pussy to the brim. You pull away from the heated kiss looking at the way his hazy eyes stare up at you with such desperation. You halt the movement of your hips and get up from his lap. “No, no, wait. Where are you going?! Please, keep fucking me.” He sits up, watching you get on your knees. Poor thing looks like he’s almost about to cry.

And now he can get a real good view of you. The tail that swayed around and the small little horns that pointed from the top of your head. You really were a sex demon. Your hand took a firm grip on his throbbing cock, his tip leaking like it was begging you to make it cum again. “I can see your thoughts. Your nasty little thoughts.” You run a long stripe from his balls all the way to his tip, licking the excess cum off. Your tongue was freakishly long, but god did it feel so good on him. You spit on his cock, massaging it in as you stroke him, moving your hand in circular motions that make his hips jump. “Say it. I know what you’re thinking.” Your lips curl into a smirk, running the pad of your thumb over his slit.

“Put…put your mouth on it, please,” he says barely above a whisper, too shocked to even form proper words.

“Louder.” You massage his balls with your free hand, earning a guttural groan from him.

“Please, put your mouth on it! Fuck, I wanna know how good it feels!” His lip quivers, his breathing quickening the closer your lips get.

“Good boy.” You smile, darting your tongue out and wrapping it around the base of his cock, swirling it around the head before you take him in your mouth. You stare at him through thick lashes, bobbing your head up and down his thick shaft, spit spilling from the corners of your mouth. Glug, glug, glug.

The sound of you choking on his dick was like music to his hears, taking his all the way down your throat with no problem. How is he supposed to keep up? His brain is fried and his body already feels so weak from cumming two times in a row. But he can’t stop. It’s like you’ve put some kind of spell on him to make him want more. “Shit, I’m all the way in,” he gasps, fall back onto the pillows. You pull him out of your throat, string of saliva connect from your lips to his cock as you continue stroking him. You were so messy, so nasty, but he loved it so fucking much because this is always how he’d picture it.

You spit back on his cock before taking him down your throat again without warning. “Oh my—fuck me, I’m gonna fucking cum again!” He whimpers. His body jolts and his abs tense up at the sensation, pleasure shooting through his body like electricity. He’s so sensitive he can’t help it. His hips buck up into your mouth and next thing he knows, he’s cumming down your throat. “Nnngh shit!” He groans, each orgasm more intense than the last. It’s like as time goes on, he can’t help but get more horny, more greedy.

Within seconds he’s pulling you off his dick on bending you over, pulling your ass in the air. “I’m sorry, I can’t stop, I can’t stop, I can’t,” he’s muttering to himself, sweat dripping down his body. He pushes every inch into you with such ease, like your pussy was made for him. “Feels so good, feels so good I can’t stop stop,” he cries, rummaging his hips into you, fucking hard and fast.

“You’re learning so quickly.” You smile from below him, pushing your ass back against his hips. He watches the way your ass bounces back on his dick and he becomes mesmerized. “That’s it! Fuck me harder. Show me how badly you wanna cum in my pussy again,” you giggle.

Choso pushes your head into the mattress, broken moans falling from his lips. “I need it so badly, so fucking badly.” Your pussy grips him like a vice and he hisses at the tempting feeling.

“Make me squirt all over your cock! Come on, fuck me like you mean it!” You grip the sheets below you, feeling his swollen head press against your sweet spot over and over with each grueling thrust. Upon hearing your words, Choso remembers all those videos he’s watching of girls squirting, and to make you squirt just because of him makes his brain fuzzy. He keeps the same pace, huffing and panting when your pussy grows tighter. “Yes! Yes!” You laugh, sighing in relief when he pulls out and clear liquid shoots from your pussy, coating his cock and sheets.

His eyebrows raise in amazement. “Holy fuck,” he watches the way your pussy leaks before urgently ramming his cock back inside of you. “Do it again. Squirt all over me again! Please! It’s so fucking hot!” He begs as he pounds your pussy like his life depends on it. “Wanna watch you—nnngh—squirt again!”

As if on cue, your pushy gushes around him again, soaking his thighs and his cock and just the sight of it makes him cum so hard he’s toppling over you. “Fuck! I’m cumming!” He thrusts deep inside of you, making sure not to waste even a drop. “Yes, yes!” He huffs, bucking his hips. “I need to taste you, need to fucking—mmm.” He drops to his knees, pulling your ass back against his face while his tongue slurps every drop his cum and your juices, licking through your sloppy folds and sucking on your clit.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you? Such a good, good boy.” You praise, reaching behind you, taking a fistful of his hair and pushing his face deeper into your cunt. His moans at your taste, his free hand reaching down to stroke his swollen and sensitive cock. He moves his tongue up and down, running back and forth between your clit and your ass, and back down to your hole. You quickly pull him away before sitting up.

“Did I do something wrong? Why’d you stop?” He looks at with sad eyes.

“You’re done.” You look down at his cock.

“No, no, I’m not. I promise I still have more. Just keep fucking me, let me eat your pussy or something! Don’t leave!” He pouts, watching you crawl towards him.

“As much as I’d like to keep playing with you, you’re all out of cum, pretty boy.” You smirk. “I’ve got other desperate virgins like you to attend to.” You ghost your lips over his and Choso leans in for a kiss but you pull back from him. “You’re welcome.”

You disappear into a dark corner in his room, like you faded away into it. He runs to turn on his light and sees you’re completely gone. He’s at a loss for words, standing in the middle of his room completely naked. He looks towards his bed, seeing the wet spots you had left. So it was real? No? Yes? He didn’t know what to believe. He accidentally summoned a sex demon to take his virginity. If only he could do it again.

[dissapointu]

the Arcane characters cuddling with their s/o in the morning

————————————————————————

Jinx

You wake up to the soft sound of Jinx’s gentle breathing against your chest, the two of you tangled under a pile of blankets. Her messy hair is tickling your neck as she clings to you, her arms wrapped tightly around your waist like she’s afraid you might disappear. She’s still half-asleep, mumbling random things as she snuggles closer, her lips brushing against your skin.

“Mmm, you’re so comfy,” she mumbles, her hand moving up to lazily play with a strand of your hair.

You smile, brushing a hand through her hair and kissing the top of her head. Jinx giggles sleepily, her eyes barely open, “Stay here forever. I like you close.”

It’s not often that Jinx lets her guard down like this, but in the early morning hours, she’s the most relaxed, a playful smile curling at the corner of her lips as she pulls you tighter. You’re her favorite safe place.

Vi

The sunlight spills through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. You wake up to find Vi’s arm slung across your chest, her head resting on your shoulder. Her breathing is slow and steady, and her usually tough demeanor softens in her sleep. You try not to disturb her, but she stirs when she feels you shift slightly.

“Morning, sweetheart,” she grumbles, her voice rough with sleep. She tightens her hold on you, pulling you closer.

Vi chuckles softly as she nuzzles her face into your neck, pressing a kiss against your skin. “You’re too comfortable, you know that?”

You laugh quietly, one hand gently rubbing her back, and she sighs contentedly. “Mm… just five more minutes,” she mumbles, and you both drift off again, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

Sevika

You wake up to the feeling of Sevika’s strong, protective arms around you, her body curled around yours like a shield. Her head rests against the top of your head, and for a moment, she doesn’t say anything, just holding you close.

“Good morning,” she finally murmurs, her voice rough but warm as she presses a kiss to your forehead. Her hand slides down your side, pulling you closer into her.

“You’re always so warm,” you tease softly, feeling her smile against your hair.

She lets out a low, sleepy laugh. “I try,” she says quietly. Sevika’s thumb traces small circles on your back, the sensation soothing you even more. The world feels far away, and in her arms, you feel safe.

You’re not sure if she always knows it, but in moments like this, Sevika’s strength feels more gentle, her love softer than anyone could imagine.

Silco

The morning light filters in, and you wake up to the feeling of Silco’s body pressed close to yours. His arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you protectively as you lay in the warmth of the bed. You turn slightly to face him, his face relaxed in sleep, the coldness of his usual exterior melting away.

For a moment, you just watch him, tracing the lines of his face with your eyes, noticing how vulnerable he looks without his usual tense posture.

Silco stirs slightly, his eyes flickering open. He blinks at you for a moment before his lips curl into a small, sleepy smile.

“Morning,” he murmurs, his hand reaching up to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face.

You smile and lean into his touch, closing your eyes for a moment. “Morning,” you whisper back, and his grip tightens just slightly around you.

“You’re always so peaceful in the morning,” he says quietly, his voice low. “It’s… nice.”

You curl into him more, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart as you drift in the quiet of the morning together.

Vander

You wake up to the feeling of Vander’s arms wrapped around you, his body pressed against yours as you both lie tangled in the sheets. His breathing is steady, and for a moment, you just lay there, listening to the rhythm of his heart as he holds you close.

“Morning,” he mumbles, his voice deep and soothing as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

You stretch and snuggle closer to him, your hand resting on his chest. Vander smiles, one hand moving to rub circles on your back. “You’re so warm,” he says with a chuckle.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you reply playfully, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles under his shirt.

Vander grins, pulling you tighter against him. “You’re always welcome here,” he murmurs, his voice tender and protective.

For a moment, everything feels perfect as you lay in each other’s arms, the world outside feeling far away.

Ekko

You wake up to the sound of Ekko’s soft breathing, his arm draped around your waist as he sleeps next to you. His face is relaxed, and for a moment, you just admire the peaceful expression on his face.

When he stirs, he shifts slightly, pulling you closer as he murmurs in his sleep, “Just five more minutes…”

You chuckle softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper, and that seems to be enough to get him to wake up fully.

Ekko groggily opens his eyes, his hand running through his hair as he looks at you with a sleepy smile. “Morning,” he mumbles.

You smile and kiss him softly on the lips. “Good morning.”

He pulls you closer, his hand gently caressing your back as he nuzzles into your neck. “I love mornings like this,” he murmurs, and you hold him just a little tighter.

It’s easy to forget the chaos of the world when you’re wrapped in each other’s arms.

Jayce

Jayce wakes up slowly, his body pressed against yours as he stirs from his slumber. He lets out a small groan, rubbing his eyes as he pulls you closer to him. You can feel the warmth of his body against yours, and for a moment, he just holds you in comfortable silence.

“Morning, love,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he brushes a strand of hair out of your face.

You smile softly, nuzzling closer to him. “Good morning,” you reply, your voice still quiet with sleep.

Jayce chuckles softly and lazily runs his hand up and down your back. “You know, I never want to get out of bed when I’m with you,” he murmurs.

You laugh softly. “Maybe we don’t have to. Just a few more minutes.”

Jayce grins, his fingers gently tracing the line of your jaw. “I could get used to this,” he says, pulling you even closer as the two of you drift back into the warmth of each other.

Victor

You wake up to find Victor’s face just inches away from yours, his soft breathing tickling your skin as he lays beside you. His hand is gently resting on your waist, and you can feel the heat of his touch even through the blankets.

As you shift slightly, he stirs and his hand tightens around you instinctively. “Morning,” he whispers sleepily, his voice soft and groggy.

You smile and run your fingers through his hair, brushing it from his forehead. “Good morning,” you reply, your voice calm and gentle.

Victor opens his eyes, blinking at you for a moment before a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “I could stay like this forever,” he murmurs, his voice full of quiet affection.

You snuggle up against him, closing your eyes for a moment, both of you content in the shared warmth and silence. It’s a peaceful start to the day, and for once, the world feels quiet and still.

Caitlyn

You wake up with Caitlyn’s arms wrapped around you, her head resting softly on your chest. She stirs when you move, and her eyes flutter open. For a moment, she just looks at you, her gaze soft and full of affection.

“Good morning,” Caitlyn whispers, her voice still a little rough with sleep. She presses a gentle kiss to your lips, lingering for a moment before pulling back with a smile.

“Morning,” you reply, your hand gently stroking her hair.

She stretches, still holding onto you, before letting out a content sigh. “I could get used to mornings like this.”

Caitlyn rests her head on your chest again, her arms tightening around you. “Just a little longer?” she asks softly.

You nod, smiling as you pull her closer. “Of course.”

In that moment, with her warmth and the quiet of the morning, everything else fades away, leaving just the two of you.

[just-aake]

A Feline Connection Part 7

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha has to face the harsh reality that she can’t help everyone.

Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, light fluff

Words: 3790

“Whitney Frost, daughter of Byron Frost—a typical Wall Street tycoon,” Tony’s voice echoes through the phone as he reads out the details FRIDAY managed to dig up.

On Natasha’s screen, she can see multiple files and articles pulled up on Tony’s monitors, the holographic images casting a blue glow on his face as he continues.

“There are plenty of articles about her earlier years. Standard socialite magazine garbage—life of a spoiled rich kid, extravagant parties, lavish vacations. You get the idea.”

Natasha lets out a dry scoff at the irony, her lips curling slightly. 

“Coming from the playboy billionaire who once blew up half of his mansion?”

Tony gasps theatrically, placing a hand over his chest in a wounded gesture. 

“Watch it, Romanoff. I’m helping you here.”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha nods. “My bad. Please, continue.”

Tony huffs, turning his attention back to his screens. 

“After her father’s death, she goes dark for a couple of years. No public appearances, no sightings—nothing. Coincidentally, around the same time, reports start cropping up about a new leader rising within one of the East Coast’s major crime families. Descriptions of the leader consistently include one distinct detail: a golden mask, giving them the title–”

“Madame Masque,” Natasha finishes for him, her tone flat.  

“Bingo,” Tony confirms. “Over the years, she’s pulled off some pretty big moves. Arms deals, arson, major heists—she’s dangerous, Nat.”

There’s a shuffle of papers in the background, and Peter’s voice chimes in. 

“I don’t get it, Mr. Stark. If she was already rich, why turn to crime?”

Natasha doesn’t hesitate to answer. 

“It’s not always about money,” she says. “Sometimes it’s just about power and control.” 

A brief silence follows, the weight of her words sinking in. 

Tony’s expression darkens slightly, and even Peter doesn’t offer a rebuttal. They all know Natasha is right. 

People like Whitney thrive on domination, bending others to their will. 

Natasha’s frown deepens, her thoughts drifting back to the night before—the memory of you leaving with Whitney still fresh and raw. She exhales slowly, the sting of hurt in her chest flaring again, though she pushes it down. 

Suddenly, Tony’s voice cuts through the quiet. 

“Okay, I can’t ignore this anymore. What are you doing?” 

Natasha’s brows knit in confusion as she glances at the screen. “What do you mean?”

Tony leans closer to the camera, pointing a finger at her with exaggerated disbelief.

“Why are you bottle-feeding that cat like it’s a baby?”

Natasha pulls Widow closer, cradling the tiny feline protectively against her chest. In her free hand, she holds a small baby bottle filled with water, offering it near the cat’s mouth. 

“She still won’t eat complete meals,” Natasha explains defensively. “At least this way, she’s staying hydrated.” 

Widow lets out a faint, sad meow, turning away from the bottle and burrowing deeper into Natasha’s arm. 

Natasha sighs softly, her expression tinged with disappointment as she looks down at the cat.

Peter’s voice pipes up from off-screen. 

“Miss Romanoff, I could go pick up some different kinds of cat food if you’d like?”

Before Natasha can respond, Tony waves him off. 

“Great idea, kid. Take my card and have at it.”

“Awesome,” Peter replies, his excitement evident as he disappears from view. 

As soon as Peter is gone, Natasha raises an eyebrow at Tony. 

“Was that really a good idea?”

Tony shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “Eh, it’ll be fine.” 

“So, what is it?” Natasha asks knowingly. She can tell Tony got rid of Peter so that he would not hear whatever it is Tony was holding back. 

“Some tough love,” he says bluntly, his relaxed demeanor shifting into something more serious. He leans forward, fixing her with a pointed look. “Look, Nat, if your friend is running with people like Whitney Frost, you might need to face the facts.”

“Which are?” Natasha’s tone grows colder, her jaw tightening.

“She’s a criminal,” Tony states flatly, the words landing like a stone.

Natasha’s frown deepens, the label grating against her as she reflexively clutches Widow a little tighter. “And?” 

Tony sighs, shaking his head as if she’s missing the obvious. 

“You need to start treating her like one.”

Natasha’s eyes narrow. 

“Did you forget I used to be an assassin?” she counters, her voice tinged with sarcasm.

“And now you’re an Avenger,” Tony fires back without missing a beat. “Not everyone’s like you, Nat. Not everyone wants to change.” 

The silence stretches between them, tension simmering as Natasha processes his words.  

Seeing her still hesitant to accept the fact, he adds softly, “You can’t help someone who doesn’t even want it.”

Natasha frowns, her eyes drifting down to the little cat in her arms. She strokes her fur delicately, and Widow returns a faint purr in response, though she still refuses to move much more than that. 

“Send me everything you have on Whitney and Madame Masque,” Natasha says, her determination resolving. 

She’s not going to give up on you so easily.

Tony studies her for a moment, his expression knowing before he sighs and leans back in his chair. 

“Already done.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

A deep sigh escapes Natasha as she rubs her tired eyes, trying to dispel the exhaustion. The hours have stretched into the late night, a glance at the window and then at the clock on her tablet confirming just how much time has passed.

Beside her on the couch, Widow is curled into a small ball, her tiny body seeming to shrink further with every passing moment. 

The meal Natasha had prepared for her earlier sits barely touched—a few nibbles at best.

Though, in her tired mind, Natasha can’t help but let a stray thought creep in: maybe her cooking is bad enough to deter a cat. 

The self-deprecating humor makes her sigh again, a sure sign of just how drained she feels. 

Setting the tablet on the table, Natasha leans back against the armrest of the couch, her head tilting to rest against the cushion. She raises an arm to cover her eyes, allowing herself just a brief reprieve, not planning to sleep but needing the darkness to ease the strain from hours of research. 

For a while, the silence wraps around her like a blanket. 

Natasha focuses on her breathing, the steady rise and fall helping her ground herself. 

Eventually, she debates whether she has it in her to dive back into her work for the night when a sudden movement shifts at her side. 

Tiny paws pad up her torso, and then a soft weight settles against her stomach.

A familiar, distinct meow breaks the quiet—a chirping, happy sound Natasha hasn’t heard from Widow in days. 

She freezes, her body going rigid as suspicion blooms in her chest. Breathing slowly, Natasha tries to maintain her sleeping position so as not to give herself away.

Widow’s sudden shift in mood—it could only mean one thing.

“I know you’re awake,” your voice cuts through the stillness, warm and teasing from just above her.

Realizing she’s caught, Natasha exhales softly with a mix of both relief at your presence but also mild frustration at the fact that you were able to sneak up on her again. 

She removes her arm from her eyes, blinking up to meet your gaze.

You’re leaning casually against the back of the couch, your head tilted and resting atop the cushion, a small smirk on your lips. 

“It’s way too early for you to have fallen asleep,” you tease lightly, your voice carrying that familiar playful lilt. 

Your attention shifts to Widow, who’s now eagerly leaning against the cushion to lick at your outstretched hand. 

“Isn’t that right, Widow?” you coo, your tone softening as you address the little cat.

Widow chirps again, louder this time, in agreement and nuzzles against your hand with obvious affection. 

Natasha can’t help but scoff, shaking her head at the way the two of you seem to operate as a perfect team.

Carefully, she sits up, trying not to disturb Widow perched atop her. 

However, the movement brings her face unintentionally close to yours. She stills as she realizes the proximity, her lips parting slightly as the quip she intended to deliver gets caught in her throat. 

Instead, all that escapes is a soft exhale. 

Your smirk falters, replaced by a small, almost sad smile. Your eyes search hers, lingering as if you can see something more beyond her carefully maintained exterior. 

The intensity of the moment steals Natasha’s breath, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you. 

Breaking the tension, you lift a hand into view, holding up a bag of takeout containers.

“I brought dinner,” you say softly, the warmth in your tone cutting through the charged silence.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha sits cross-legged on the couch, a takeout box resting limply on her lap as her attention drifts away from the half-eaten meal inside. 

Instead, her gaze falls on the two of you. 

You’re seated on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, also cross-legged, with Widow nestled comfortably in your lap. 

The little cat looks more content than she has in days, her tiny paws resting on the edge of the table as she eagerly eats the torn-up pieces of meat you prepared for her. 

A wave of relief washes over Natasha at the sight of Widow eating normally again, her movements lively and natural. It eases the knot of worry that’s been sitting in her chest, but as always, her focus inevitably drifts to you. 

It’s a pull she can’t resist, her gaze lingering on the subtle details in your expression, the quiet ease with which you handle the moment. 

Natasha absently stirs the noodles in her box, her mind turning over the question she’s been holding back since you arrived. It gnaws at her, but finding the right way to ask feels like navigating a minefield.

“How…” she begins, her voice hesitant, but the words falter. 

Natasha bites her lip, uncertain whether she has the right to pry into your life any deeper. 

You glance up at her, catching on to the unfinished question. Setting your takeout container on the table, you tilt your head slightly, offering her an easy opening. 

“How am I here?” you ask knowingly, your voice gentle.

Wordlessly, Natasha nods, grateful but wary of the answer.

“You didn’t look at the USB?” you ask, a touch of curiosity in your tone. 

Natasha shakes her head. 

“I was busy worrying about more pressing matters,” she says, her eyes flicking meaningfully to Widow, who’s still munching happily in your lap. “And anyway, it didn’t seem like she wanted me to have it in the first place.” 

You huff lightly at her words, and with an amused shake of your head, you turn Widow to face you, your fingers gently scratching behind her ears. 

“You were supposed to give it to her,” you chide playfully. 

Widow lets out a small, sassy meow, as if to argue her point, and then wiggles free from your grasp. 

Natasha watches with mild curiosity as the little cat pads over to the side table, where the USB has sat untouched for days. Widow grabs the small device in her mouth and trots back toward Natasha. 

Stopping at her side, Widow drops the USB onto Natasha’s lap with a decisive plop before looking up at her with a smug little chirp, her tail swishing behind her. 

Natasha raises an eyebrow, her lips twitching with the faintest hint of a smile as she picks up the USB. 

“Thank you,” she remarks dryly, her tone soft but teasing.

Widow lets out a pleased meow, circling once before hopping back into your lap, her little body nestling comfortably against you. 

Natasha’s gaze shifts to the USB, her fingers brushing over its surface thoughtfully, before lifting her eyes to meet yours.

“So,” she says, her tone calm but tinged with curiosity, “what exactly am I going to find on here?” 

You glance down at Widow, stroking her head absently as you answer, your voice steady but carrying an undertone of something more. 

“Whitney had a scheduled meeting out of state with some buyers tonight.” 

At the mention of the other woman, Natasha narrows her eyes slightly, reading between the lines. 

“So this is…?”

“Everything you need to finish your original mission,” you reply evenly, meeting her gaze with a serious expression. “The buyers’ identities, their locations, the details of each weapons deal. Enough to track them down and stop the weapons from being used in the wrong hands.” 

Natasha studies you closely, her sharp instinct catching on to the underlying reason for your sudden assistance in her original mission. 

“To shift my attention from Whitney.” 

Your silence at her pointed remark is telling. 

Natasha’s lips press into a thin line, the unspoken truth hanging between you. She tilts her head, her voice firmer now. 

“Why are you protecting her?” 

You flinch slightly at the accusation, your hand pausing mid-stroke on Widow’s fur. After a moment, you let out a sigh, your gaze drifting downward. 

“You know, it wasn’t always like this between us,” you say quietly. 

Natasha stays silent, letting you continue.

“Her dad—her real dad—was the original leader of the organization,” you explain, your voice tinged with something softer, almost nostalgic. “I met her when she was training to take over his position. Or, rather, she found me. I was just a simple thief back then. But not to her.”

You pause, your hand resuming its slow strokes over Widow’s fur as you collect your thoughts. 

“She made me an offer—something I never expected. Another opportunity for my life. To join her. She saw something in me. Something…more.”

The words hang in the air, and Natasha feels a pang of understanding, recalling her own experience from the past. 

“It felt good,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Having someone look at you like that, like you’re worth something. Like you could be more than you ever thought of yourself.” 

You let out a soft, bitter chuckle. 

“She’s always been good at that. Making you feel special. Like you’re the only one who matters.” 

Natasha’s gaze softens slightly, her arms folding across her chest as she listens. She doesn’t interrupt, sensing the weight behind your words.

“No matter what she did—how far she went—I always found a way to forgive her,” you continue, your tone darkening. “Until I couldn’t anymore.” 

There’s a long pause, the quiet broken only by the faint sounds of Widow’s contented purring. Finally, you lift your gaze to Natasha’s, the vulnerability in your eyes stark, unguarded, and disarming.

“And then I met you,” you say softly, your voice carrying a bittersweet edge. “And for a while, I felt that same thing again. That feeling from the beginning—when it was just lighthearted, fun, and flirty, intoxicating even.”

Natasha’s breath catches, her chest tightening at the quiet admission. The honesty in your words cuts through the usual banter and teasing, leaving her unsure how to respond.

“But I already know how this ends,” you add, your voice softer now, tinged with resignation. “I’ve seen it before. And I can’t…” You trail off, shaking your head slightly, the words left unfinished. 

Natasha watches you closely, her sharp gaze softening despite the weight of your rejection. She leans forward, her voice low but steady in understanding. 

“It’s okay. You don’t owe me anything.” 

Her tone shifts, gaining a quiet intensity and insistence.

“But you don’t need to stay with her either. We can figure out a way to disengage the bomb without you returning to her. A way to keep you both safe.”

Your gaze lowers, regret flickering in your expression. When you finally speak, your voice is heavy with sorrow.

“I have to go back.”

Natasha’s lips part in protest, her brows knitting together in frustration, but before she can speak, you cut her off, your tone firmer now.

“Not because of the bomb,” you clarify. “But because of what I did to her.”

You rise slowly, retrieving the tablet from the table, its screen still displaying the research Tony sent on Whitney. Sensing the shift, Widow hops into Natasha’s lap, purring softly as Natasha strokes her fur, grounding herself.

Sitting down beside her, you scroll through the files until you find what you’re looking for. Wordlessly, you turn the screen toward her. 

Natasha scans the report, her frown deepening with each line. 

It details a failed raid on a Stark Industries facility, ending in a catastrophic explosion. Operatives were killed or gravely injured. Their leader, however, was not discovered among those found.

“I abandoned her that night,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “None of that would have happened if I had stayed.” 

“You don’t know that,” Natasha counters firmly, her gaze snapping to yours, her hand reaching out instinctively to rest atop yours.

A faint, sad smile tugs at your lips at her touch, and you shake your head slightly.

“I appreciate the thought,” you reply, your voice tinged with bittersweet humor, “but we both know that’s not true—especially considering how I’ve managed to sneak past Stark’s defenses twice now without any problems.”

The smirk you add at the end is small, almost fleeting, but it carries a sting of truth that Natasha can’t ignore.

You’re exceptionally skilled. She can’t deny that.

Your fingers brush hers lightly, tracing the bandages covering her knuckles. A contemplative sadness crosses your face.

Then slowly, you lift her hand to your lips, pressing a soft, almost apologetic kiss against her skin before lowering it back onto Widow’s fur.

“I’m not innocent here, Natasha,” you continue resolutely, your voice low, as if the words are for you as much as for her. “I never was.”

Natasha’s jaw tightens at your words, but she doesn’t interrupt as you continue. 

“I owe her a lot,” you admit, your voice heavy with the weight of your past. “She gave me a chance when no one else did. She saw something in me that I couldn’t. And yet…” Your voice falters slightly, but you press on.  

“I still betrayed her in the end.”

Your gaze shifts to Natasha, your eyes meeting hers with a depth of emotion that makes her chest ache. 

“You deserve more than to wait for me to eventually do the same to you,” you say softly. “More than I already have.” 

Natasha’s chest tightens, the quiet ache spreading as she watches you, her gaze taking in every flicker of pain and regret etched across your features.

But this time, it’s not sadness that rises within her—it’s anger. Not at you, but at everything else.

At Whitney, for manipulating you. At the circumstances that have pushed you to this breaking point. And most of all, at the invisible chains of guilt that hold you hostage, preventing you from seeing a way out.

Her hands twitch, the urge to reach for you almost overwhelming. She wants to close the distance between you, to grasp your shoulders and shake you free from the weight of your past, to tell you that this isn’t your only option.

But she hesitates, her fingers curling into fists as she forces herself to stop.

Forcing you to accept her help, no matter how badly she wants to, would make her no different from Whitney. It would just be another form of control, another pressure you don’t deserve.

And Natasha refuses to become that.

Instead, after a long pause, she speaks with quiet determination.

“What will happen to Widow?” 

You look down at the small cat, curled up peacefully in Natasha’s lap, and sigh. 

“I can’t bring her back with me,” you admit, your voice thick with regret. “But I’ll stay with her as long as I can tonight. Make sure she’s okay, and I’ll explain it to her—let her think it’s like last time, when she stayed with you while I was away.” 

You glance at Natasha, searching for her response. 

“If…you’re still willing to take care of her?”

Natasha straightens slightly, her expression softening as a small smirk forms on her lips.

“I promised, didn’t I?”

Your lips twitch into a faint smile at her answer, gratitude flickering in your eyes. 

But Natasha isn’t done. She leans forward, her tone resolute as her gaze locks onto yours.

“You don’t have to keep punishing yourself,” she says, her words deliberate and carefully chosen. “If you feel guilty about what you’ve done, you can always make it right for yourself. You still have that choice.” 

Her words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, an unspoken plea woven into her steady tone. 

Natasha’s expression holds no judgment, only quiet insistence and something deeper—hope.

The silence that follows feels fragile, as if it could shatter at the wrong move. 

Widow shifts slightly in her lap, her tiny body curling closer as her soft purring fills the space between you. 

It’s a faint sound, but comforting nonetheless, grounding you in a moment that feels far too heavy for words.

For a fleeting second, Natasha sees something in your eyes—an almost imperceptible flicker, as if her words might be reaching you. 

But then your gaze drops, breaking the connection, and the moment slips away. 

Without a word, you gently lift Widow from her lap, cradling her with the same care Natasha has come to associate with you, and rise to your feet. 

Natasha sits up a little straighter, her sharp eyes following your movements as you step toward the hallway, your figure outlined by the dim glow of the room.

“Try to get some rest, Miss Black Widow,” you say softly, your tone steady but carrying a subtle finality that roots her in place. You pause just before disappearing from sight, your head turning slightly as if debating whether to say more.

“You, out of everyone, deserve it.” 

The words linger in the air long after you’ve gone into your bedroom, wrapping around Natasha like a quiet echo. 

She stays where she is, her fingers drifting absentmindedly over the fabric of the couch where you’d been sitting just moments ago, as if tracing the memory of you.

The warmth of your presence is gone, replaced by an emptiness that spreads through the room, making it feel colder, quieter. 

Natasha exhales slowly, leaning back against the couch and staring at the space where you had disappeared from her view. 

She knows you meant those words for her, but the ache in her chest tells her they’re something you’ve denied yourself for far too long. 

“So do you,” she whispers into the empty room, her voice barely audible but filled with a longing that she knows you’ll never let yourself hear.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

a/n: Fair warning, I believe there’s only a couple parts left in this series. But don’t quote me on this cause we all know I’ve never been good at predicting the number of chapters left. Again thanks for reading!

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it or if the tag did not work for you, please let me know.

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[anundyingfidelity]

CLAWS & SHIELD — Wolverine, Soldier Boy

Summary: Logan, Ben, and you sharing a motel room. That's it, that's the fic.

Pairing: Logan x fem reader x Ben.

Warnings: pwp smut, threesome, unprotected everything, oral (male receiving), hair pulling, cum play, cream pie, facial, mentions of marking, dirty talking, pet names, sub!reader, female pronouns.

Notes: I know no one asked but here you have because I can't stop thinking about them sharing like the good assholes they are. Soldier Boy and Wolverine are their own warnings in general so😫

GEN MASTERLIST!

“I- I’ve never done this before,” you gasp, hands and knees on the ground as Soldier Boy sits at the edge of the mattress with your head between his thighs. The tip of his cock is red and he’s aching to be sucked, and you want to. Fuck, how much you want to, but you feel kinda anxious as the mutant pulls your hips towards his own.

His cock is also hard, veiny and throbbing already to feel your walls wrap around him. You whine when he teases your entrance with his dick, covering himself with your slick and you moan. Logan takes a messy grip of your hair and rubs his cock once, twice, before his tip buries inside your needy cunt.

“Oh, but how you’re enjoying it,” Logan remarks with a dark chuckle, followed by the supe, who wipes your mouth with his thumb.

And you suck on his digit, swollen lips wrapped around him as if your life depends on it.

“Dirty little slut, can’t wait to be filled up, can you?” Soldier Boy teases as Logan pounds mercilessly into your aching pussy. You whine at the feel of the mutant gripping on your hips now, sure it’d leave more marks into your skin by tomorrow.

Your knees already hurt, your palms are bruising on the carpet of the dirty motel room. It was true, you never had been in this situation before. But being shared by these two piles of muscles and strength, manhandling you around and ordering you to take what they could give to you was more than you ever dreamt of.

Soldier Boy pulls his thumb away from your mouth, and takes your jaw with his fingers.

“Open,” he orders and you obey, sticking your tongue out, fucked out already as Logan continues his rut from behind you.

He spits on your mouth and you flinch a little, but he doesn’t hold back, instead guides his cock between your lips and you happily take him, humming and gagging at how far he had reached inside in just a matter of seconds.

“Fuck, yes, that’s it,” Soldier Boy moans, watching his cock disappear into your mouth.

“She’s fucking close,” Logan warns, the rhythm of his thrusts increasing by the moment, and he grabs your ass cheeks, spreading them to see right in the spot where you two connect as he keeps fucking you to bliss. He hisses at the view of his cock sliding out, covered in the wetness of your abused cunt. “God, that’s a perfect pussy right there, look at you…”

Logan hits your sweet spot and you moan and cry around Ben’s cock, the soldier never giving you the easy time. He fucks your throat hard, as if he was on a competition with the other man fucking your cunt right now, and you do your best to suck on his cock, tongue tracing his veins and your throat creating a wet cave for him to use.

With a hand, Soldier Boy grabs onto your hair and guides your pace to a more brutal one, feeling himself close.

“Keep sucking me off, sweetcheeks,” he groans, thrusting up his hips until your nose meets his pelvis.

You blurt incoherences, pussy clenching around Logan’s cock, and god, does it feel so damn good to you, being filled by both men at the same time, used for their pleasure and however they want… If this was heaven you wouldn’t want to leave the room ever.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Soldier Boy grunts and quickly pulls out of your mouth. He is jerking himself and holding your pretty, fucked out face with the other hand.

“Open for me, yeah, that’s it,” he praises and he finally cums, white ropes painting your cheeks as you hold your tongue out, his hot cum all over your nose, lips and cheeks.

“Keep her there, I’m gonna fill her up real good,” Logan darkly whispers and is no longer for him to get there, when he empties inside your needy cunt balls deep with a beautiful moan of his. Though, he already has come, the stamina and strength is enough to keep fucking his seed into you and a chain of moans and pleas leave your lips and sore throat.

“Fuck, yes! Right there, that’s the spot, please keep fucking me-”

His orgasm triggers your own climax and you finally come, crying so loud and milking his cock as he thrusts to meet your hips.

Soldier Boy wipes the cum off your face before offering his fingers coated and forcing them into your mouth. You lick them obediently, longing eyes on him.

“Fuck, best pussy I ever had,” Logan praises and he finally stops, lazy and sloppy hips against your ass.

“And wait when you have her ass,” Soldier Boy smirks, you moan unwittingly at the thought. “Hole is even better.”

Logan groans and he feels himself getting hard again, pulling out of your cunt, seed leaking out and rolling down your thighs. He plays with your sensitive folds and clit with calloused fingers.

“Yeah, well, I’m ready for round two,” Logan says, leaning towards you, his strong chest pressing against your back. “Bub here as well. But are you ready, baby?” he whispers over your ear.

You shiver at the thought, and you know they know you want it bad. It’s become a need at this point. Their high senses tells you they fucking know, and they enjoy having this control over you.

“Whatever you want,” you respond, holding the soldier’s lustful stare as you try to catch your breath.

Soldier Boy smirks and Logan chuckles on your back. He roams his hand over your breasts, kissing your shoulder, his beard leaving a sweet burn on you. Their dicks are already hard, and oh, you know you’re so fucked in the best way you could dream of.

[pandapetals]

Our Shirt

You stole Logan's shirt.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

Ororo chuckled as you and she walked through the entrance of the mansion, her arm looped around yours as you stumbled a little, slightly tipsy, and found everything inexplicably hilarious.

"That guy was totally checking you out, Ro," you insisted, setting your shopping bags down with exaggerated care. "You should have given him your number."

Ororo rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth curled into a smile. "You think every guy is checking me out."

"Because they are!" You waved your hands dramatically in her direction, almost losing your balance. "I mean, look at you! You're practically radiating goddess vibes."

Ororo laughed, shaking her head as she gathered up her own bags. "You're a little drunk, aren’t you?"

"Just a little,” you giggled, leaning against her shoulder.

That’s when Logan appeared in the foyer, leaning casually against the doorway with his arms crossed, watching the two of you with a smirk. “Stop playing matchmaker when people don’t want it,” he drawled, raising an eyebrow.

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you looked over at him. "You have no sense of fun, Logan. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from Ororo. She got plenty of attention today.”

Ororo laughed, glancing over at Logan. “This will probably be the only time I agree with you, Logan," she said, giving you a quick hug before slipping past him. "Good luck with this one," she added with a wink, disappearing down the hallway.

Logan’s gaze shifted back to you, a faint, amused glint in his eye. “Is that my shirt?” he asked, taking a step closer, his tone low and slightly accusing.

You looked down at the oversized white tee you wore, pretending to be scandalized. “What happened to ‘hello, how are you?’” you teased, wrapping your arms around his waist as he moved in closer. “Is my well-being not important?”

He snorted, resting his hands on your hips, pulling you snugly against him. "I’ve been lookin’ for that shirt all week, sweetheart."

You tilted your head back to look up at him, grinning. “You mean our shirt?”

He shook his head with a smirk, reaching down to pinch the fabric between his fingers. “I don’t remember signing off on that shared custody agreement.”

“Well, consider it officially shared,” you said, leaning up on your tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the lips, but Logan’s hands tightened on your waist, holding you in place.

“You’re a thief,” he murmured, his voice warm and teasing, his lips brushing yours. “First you steal my clothes, then you run off for a whole day and leave me here wondering where you went.”

You raised an eyebrow, playfully challenging him. “Were you… waiting up for me, Logan?”

A faint blush crept onto his cheeks, though he tried to cover it with a gruff huff. “Don’t get too cocky, gorgeous. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t gettin’ into trouble.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck as you leaned into him. "Just a girls' day, tough guy. Shopping, lunch, maybe a few too many glasses of wine…”

Logan’s hand moved up to your face, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. “Figured as much. You got that look about you… all rosy and happy.”

You grinned up at him, your heart fluttering at the unexpected tenderness in his expression. “Guess I just missed you,” you whispered, letting your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Maybe I’ll steal more of your clothes just to keep a piece of you with me.”

He let out a low chuckle, his forehead pressing against yours as he muttered, “Thief and a flirt. I’m in real trouble with you, aren’t I?”

"Absolutely," you said, pressing another kiss to his lips, this one slow and lingering. When you finally pulled back, you couldn’t resist adding, "Now come on. Let’s go inside so you can tell me all about how much you missed me."

Logan’s eyes narrowed playfully. “You keep pushin’ your luck, sweetheart.”

“Only because you love it,” you shot back, slipping out of his grasp with a wink as you headed towards the stairs.

As he followed you, a faint smile tugged at his lips. He might grumble about you stealing his clothes, but you both knew he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[iwasntstable]

n.s. | is it true?

🗀 C:/PROJECTS/MYWORK/ONESHOT/ISITTRUE [projects] ﹂ [my-work] | in-progress | favourites 　﹂ all | series | [one-shot] | blurb | head-cannons | ask 　　﹂ … | if-im-there | happy-birthday | [is-it-true]

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summary: Always stubborn, Noah refuses to take a break when he's sick, but everyone's convinced you can persuade him.

content tags: fluff, like a smidge of angst, slight miscommunication.

word count: 3.1k.

note: I started this in September and have been thinking about it ever since so it was about time I finished it 🖤

All the text from Jolly said was, “Hey, can you come down to the studio?” And the first thing you hear as you approach the door is raised voices. 

“You tell him!”

“Tell who what?” You ask, entering into the chaos as the hum of noise is reduced to silence and every face in the room turns to look at you.

“Tell Noah he needs to stop pushing himself and go home and rest in bed,” Matt is the first to speak up.

"I don't need to fucking rest," Noah sighs, rubbing his brow.

"And why do I need to tell him that?" You ask.

"She doesn't need to tell me anything!"

"Noah, you're going to make things worse,” Jolly stands with his arms folded like an impatient father.

“Make what worse? What’s going on?” You look between the men in the room, searching each of their faces for answers.

“He’s sick, but he keeps pushing himself even though he can’t sing properly right now. He needs to go get some fucking rest at home or he’ll fuck up his voice!” Jolly explains.

“It’s fine!” Noah protests from his desk chair. Though he was only half facing you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes and the greyish pallor to his skin. “If I need to re-record it, I will, but it’s fine right now,” he continues, and you can hear the hoarseness in his voice. Matt pulls off his hat and runs his hand through his hair in frustration, then replaces the hat back on his head with a sigh.

“Noah, you’re not going to be able to re-record anything if you lose your fucking voice,” Jolly turns to you and states your name firmly. “Tell him.”

“Again, why do I need to tell him? Why would he listen to me if he’s not listening to you?" You know they’re right, but he’s stubborn; you don’t understand what would make your instructions different.

“He'll listen to you because he's fucking in love with you!" Matt shouts.

It was like the air suddenly became thick, and nobody says a word more as your eyes widen and flick straight to Matt. Then to Noah, where he sits wearing what you guess is the exact same expression as yours. Your eyes lock, and you can feel the panic radiating from him. Just as you’re about to speak, the question on the tip of your tongue goes left unsaid as Noah abruptly stands and shoulders his way past the other men. “Noah,” you try, but he’s steadfast in his pace; his shoulder brushes yours as he passes, and not once does he look back.

You watch as his silhouette grows smaller through the window in the door, watching even as he disappears around the corner and out of view. You only turn when Matt calls your name quietly.

"What the fuck was that about?" you all but shout. The men shuffle awkwardly on their feet and struggle to meet your eyes.

"He's sick and losing his voice, but he keeps pushing anyway. We kept telling him to go back home and rest, but he wouldn't listen." Jolly tries to avoid the question.

"Yeah, I get that,” you cast a glance at him. “What did you mean?" You ask Matt directly.

"What?" He responds like a deer caught in headlights.

"What did you mean when you said he'd listen to me because..." You couldn't say it; just the thought had your face growing hot.

"Look, Dierkes, you go. We're gonna go talk," Jolly nods at his friend and spins around the desk chair Noah was sitting in, taking the seat for himself at the computer.

Matt enthusiastically makes his exit. Gathering his bags, he all but runs out of the studio, out from under the weight of your gaze. When the door closes behind him, you sit in the chair next to Jolly, and he turns his own chair to face you.

"He's crazy about you," he starts without hesitation. You pick at the leather of the armrest as your heart begins to race. "He talks about you all the time. Honestly, I don't know how you haven't noticed. He's liked you for months."

"You're serious?" You ask, meeting his eyes, which hold nothing but sincerity.

"You can't say you haven't seen it even a little!” He tilts his head and leans back against the chair. “The way he looks at you, he drops everything for you. Always coming to your side whenever some weird guy flirts with you. He hasn't gone on a date in ages because he's waiting for you!" You bite your lip, unwilling to believe what you're hearing, until Jolly says quietly, "I know you feel the same too."

"What?!" you raise your voice automatically, wishing immediately that you didn't when you see him smiling knowingly at you.

"I see the way you look at him too, when he's not looking. You go bright red when he teases you. Just like you are now. You know I see everything.” You press your hands to your cheeks, and they feel like ice compared to the heat from your face. "You should go talk to him. At least convince him to take a fucking week off," he spins around in his chair, waving his hand and going back to the piece he was working on before all this.

You sit frozen to the spot for a moment trying to process what he'd just said. Noah likes you. He likes you back.

Jolly's voice rings in your head as you stand. "He's liked you for months." You head for the door, out of the building, and into your car on autopilot. Taking a deep breath before turning the key in the ignition and pulling out onto the road in the direction of Noah’s house.

The whole way your mind is racing. "He's crazy about you." You had no idea what you were going to say when you got there. "He talks about you all the time... the way he looks at you." You were telling yourself it wasn't true; it couldn't be. The man you've admired and apparently not-so-secretly adored all this time felt the same way? It was crazy. It couldn’t be true. And yet the concept still makes your heart race, and that treacherous heat makes your skin flush.

You find yourself parked outside his house, your car neatly on the drive right next to his. For several minutes, you go back and forth on whether to go in or just leave. The idea of really confronting him about this situation brings you nothing but anxiety, but the fact that he’s unwell and pushing himself so hard, the need to check on him and at least make sure he’s okay, brings you to his front door.

When you knock, there’s no answer. You wonder if he's watching you from the doorbell camera and choosing to ignore you. After knocking again, you decide to just use your key instead, hoping he won’t be too mad.

Inside, you find no signs of life. All the lights downstairs are off, and the house is statically silent as though it were totally empty. You’d think it were empty if not for Noah’s car parked outside.

You finally figure out where he is when you head upstairs and see the glow of purple LEDs leak from underneath his bedroom door. Your hand hesitates in a fist before you pluck up the courage to knock. No response. You knock a little louder, but still, no response.

Pushing the slightly ajar door open, you peek into his room, finding him lying in bed. Curled up under a blanket, fast asleep. You can’t help but smile at the peaceful sight. He must’ve been exhausted to fall asleep so quickly and deeply. You back out of his room and close the door softly, treading lightly as you go back down the stairs to the kitchen. 

You jump up to sit on the counter and rest your head back against the upper cabinets, closing your eyes. How could you be in this situation? You were content to never tell Noah about your feelings for him, and never ever did you expect your feelings to be reciprocated. You’re still convinced this is all some joke or a misunderstanding. He ran from that studio because he was humiliated by the thought of liking you. There’s no way Noah could want you the way you want him. But after what Matt and Jolly said, you’ll never be content until you know the truth. Even if he denies it, you still have the chance to salvage this friendship that’s so dear to you. He doesn’t know how you feel. It’s not too late to save this, and if he confesses... Shaking your head, you can’t even entertain that thought.

To distract yourself from the feeling of impending doom and to make yourself useful, you decide to cook. Pulling your phone from your pocket, a quick Google search suggests chicken noodle soup as a good option for someone who’s unwell. Warm, high in protein, easy to digest. You slide from the counter to rummage through the kitchen, mentally thanking whoever went grocery shopping recently for having everything you need for the simple recipe.

Following the instructions on your phone, you work quickly, having the food prepared in just over thirty minutes. After preparing a serving in a bowl and buttering some bread too, you balance both on a plate, almost forgetting the spoon before you go carefully back up the stairs.

You weren’t expecting him to be awake yet, but when you knock, he answers.

"Yeah?" His voice is hoarse and quiet even through the door.

"It's me," you say.

There's a brief moment of silence that has anxiety clawing at your throat before he replies, "Go away."

"Noah, please. I just-"

"Just go away," he rasped louder. "I don't wanna talk."

You sigh, feeling the urge to run, but you suppress it. "But I made you soup," you try, but he says nothing. "Can I at least come in and leave this for you?" Again, no response. You can’t help but sigh quietly. He can be stubborn as a bull at times. "I'm coming in. You better be decent," you try to joke. Once more, no response.

You toe the door open gently, stepping into the dim room to find Noah now rolled over in bed, his back to you, still cocooned in the blanket. Moving over some of the items on his desk—a coaster, a book with a dollar bill sticking out as a bookmark, a half-empty bottle of water, the TV remote—you set the food down. Seeing his phone next to him on the mattress, you take it and check the charge, 12%, and a text from Matt that read, “I’m sorry man.” You crouch down by the bed and put it on to charge, then replace it next to him on the mattress.

You stay there for a moment. Internally warring with yourself on whether you were really about to broach this topic. Ultimately, you decide you just have to know the truth.

"Noah, I know you don't wanna talk, but-"

"Good. Go then," his coarse words sting. True or not, sick or not, he had no right to snap like that. 

"Stop being so fucking harsh with me. I didn't have to come here for you, I didn't have to spend time in your kitchen making food for you, but I did. The least you could do is say thank you.” You wait for him to respond, waiting for an apology, but he says nothing.

The urge to run like Matt ran from the studio was strong; your legs flex under you, and you almost stand, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. More so, you don’t want to leave him when he's unwell.

"What they said back there," biting the bullet, your voice is quieter now. "Is it true?"

You didn't expect him to answer, what with his commitment to silence. So when that silence stretched on, you resigned yourself to his will. Standing and heading for the door, hand on the handle, you're stopped by his voice, "That's not how I wanted you to find out."

You pause, waiting to see if he'd continue, but he goes quiet again. "So, it is true?" But he returns to his silence. You go back over to his bed, crouching down again. "Will you talk to me? Please."

Noah doesn’t yield.

"I'm not mad or upset. I just want-" You cut yourself off, struggling to say the words out loud. "Jolly told me he sees the way you look at me, how you go out of your way to do things for me and talk about me all the time," he curls in on himself a little tighter under the blanket, hiding from your words. "He also said... how he sees the way I look at you when you're not looking... and how flustered I get when you tease me..." you trail off. Feeling your heart hammering so hard inside your chest that you can hear it in your ears. You honestly can't believe you just said that out loud.

Noah shifts under the blanket, straightening his legs and rolling onto his back, arm over his face, obscuring his eyes. "You're just saying that," he mumbles.

"Noah, I'm here in your room with homemade chicken noodle soup, even after you told me a million times to leave. Who else would I do that for?"

"You'd do it for Nicholas."

"I would not let Nicholas talk to me like that and walk away unscathed."

He laughs, rubs his eyes, and moves his arm, finally looking at you. He has a despondent expression on his face, but somewhere underneath is a slight smile. You smile softly, happy to finally see his face.

"I'm sorry," he tries, but you shake your head.

"Don't be,” you say, taking a deep breath. “I'd probably freak out too if you found out I love you like that."

"You- What?" He sits up a little straighter.

"Don't make me say it again," you groan and rest your forehead on the mattress.

Feeling the bed move, you look up to see him sitting upright and staring down at you. You move too to sit on the end of his bed. Silence once again fills the room, neither one of you knowing exactly what to say next.

Noah closes his eyes and runs a hand through his already messy hair. "Jolly told me so many times to just tell you, but I convinced myself there's no way you felt the same," he confessed.

You almost felt sick from the adrenaline racing through your veins. Looking down at your lap and playing with the sleeves of your hoodie. "Well, I do. He said the same to me too," you let out a bitter laugh. "Seems as though Joakim has been playing cupid." When you look back up, he still seems tense. "Noah, I'm not lying," you hold out your hand to him, which he takes and laces your fingers together. "I was never going to tell you because..." you hesitate again, but it’s too late to turn back now. "I never thought you'd like me back. I thought you'd laugh in my face. I don't deserve you."

"Don't say that. It's me who doesn’t deserve you. You're always so kind and generous,” he glances at the bowl of soup. “Even when I really don't deserve it."

"You do deserve it. You deserve kindness because you give so much kindness. Jolly was right, you do so much for me even when you don't need to. You drove me everywhere before I got my car, even when you were busy. Which I felt so fucking guilty for because I knew you had enough on your plate as it was."

"You know, I hated when you got that car," he smiled shyly. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I wanted to drive you everywhere, all the time. Whenever you needed. I loved those times when we could just... be alone together," he sighed, not in sadness but in relief. A small smile on his lips.

You don’t think you could handle your heart racing any faster than it already was and decide to change the topic slightly. "How are you feeling, anyway?"

"Terrible, honestly. My throat is fucked. I don't know how I'm gonna finish recording."

"Yeah, you're not," you state. "You're gonna eat the delicious soup I made you, and you're gonna rest. No recording vocals until you're better. I’d say no producing until you’re better, but I think we’d have to detain you. Lock you in the bathroom or something,” you sadly break your hand apart from his and reach for the food on the side table as he chuckles under his breath. "What's so funny?" You ask.

Shaking his head, he says, "nothing. Just, they really were right, I do listen to you.”

Handing him the bowl, you smile teasingly at him, "because you love me."

"Yeah, I do," he smiles genuinely, caressing your hands briefly as he takes it from you to set it on his lap. "Can you stay?” he asks quietly. “I don't want you to go away. Will you sit with me?"

Your heart warms at his sincerity. “Of course I will.” You climb onto his bed and rest back against the headboard next to him in the space he made. A comfortable, familiar setting you’d both been in numerous times before. He leans over to the side table and tosses the TV remote onto your lap.

“Find something for us,” he says. You press the power button and load up Netflix to scroll through the categories as he eats. “Mm,” he hums with a mouthful of food. “This is so good, I should get sick more often. I didn’t know you could cook like this.”

“Yeah, don’t you dare,” you smile as you continue to scroll. The options turn into blurs as they pass by on the screen. Your mind was well and truly wandering at the thought of what was going to come next for you and Noah. Were you dating now? Did he even want that right now, or would it take time? These were all questions that would have to be asked and answered tomorrow. For now, you settled with the contentment that your current relationship wasn’t completely ruined and felt thrilled at the prospect of it becoming something more. 

“Oh!” Noah’s exclamation breaks your train of thought. “Remind me to beat the shit out of Matt the next time I see him.”

You break out in a laugh and lean in closer to his side. “Not if I get my hands on him first.”

This fic was inspired by the following randomly generated prompts, from this post!

꒰ 2 ꒱ “what they said back there. Is it true?” ꒰ L ꒱ relief ꒰ 𓅫 ꒱ the bedside of someone who doesn’t want you there

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✉ C:/SYSTEM/APP/TAG

ᯤ 𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗦 (28) :　 ⌞⬤ 10 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾⌝ @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning | @english-fucker @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard | @seven-glass-kids @runadaggerthroughmychest

@lma1986 | @shayzillaaaa | @madamaaubergine @thewrstinme | @amourtoken

⌞⬤ 9 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒⌝ @livingdeceasedgirl | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @thecoyotescry | @romanreigns-supreme | @slutforcoffein

@dethroneackerman | @bluestdai | @fadingangelwisp @broken0mens

⌞⦵ 5 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻⌝ @ferduttini | @fadingintothegrey | @lovesick-evangelist @missduffsblog | @anything-more-than-human

⌞◯ 4 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾⌝ @thisbicc | @sadbitchenergy | @iconic-taurus @queen-foraday

　+[MSG : join the taglist!]

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[kingcenred]

The temptation to spend the last few days of Mal's trip curled up together in bed, naked, was strong indeed. But he knew that it was a logical step for his new boyfriend to meet his mother now, rather than for their first meeting to be over Christmas dinner. Nobody needed that intensity. At least, today, he could cut the afternoon short and disappear elsewhere with Mal without his mother complaining too much.

Still, as he lazily watched Mal get dressed from the comfort of his huge bed, he had to battle against the impulse to wrap his arms around Mal's waist and pull him back onto the mattress. "You can wear whatever you want," he reminded him, with faint amusement, "but I am quite enjoying this fashion show."

Although Cenred himself looked the very picture of relaxation, sprawled out across the covers with just his boxers on, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a tad nervous. What if, seeing yet another reminder of how vastly different their lives were, Mal got scared? Or, perhaps almost as worrying, what if the two of them got on far too well and started ganging up on him? He supposed he would shortly find out.

"You can call her Irene, you know. No need to bother with all that Your Royal Highness nonsense," he casually explained. "She's just my mum, after all," his lips twitched upwards slightly.

Mal supposed he hadn’t quite considered that their relationship might be good for business, in truth he had immediately began to worry whether the shop might be ambushed by paparazzi more than anything else, but he suspected there might be some truth in Cenred’s words. People tended to flock to places that royalty favoured, and though he was usually the sort to scoff and roll his eyes at such behaviour, the florist figured he couldn’t complain if having an endorsement from the King of Essetir might bring in more customers — maybe he could afford to bring in a little help to lighten the load and take some of the pressure off, for a change?

“Only as long as I can still have my favourite employee come and help now and then.” He teased. “I’m sure my plants will be very happy to have you around a little more regularly.”

Determined not to think too far ahead when their relationship was still so new, keen on keeping things as easy and laid-back as they had always been, Mal (perhaps foolishly) tried to convince himself that meeting Cenred’s mother didn’t have to be some big, grand event that held so much significance; it wasn’t like they were announcing plans to jet off somewhere and elope, they were simply…making introductions. He rather hoped that she didn’t plan on interrogating him — the thought of it made him feel slightly nauseous — but from what the other man had said so far she sounded…normal? Like any other mother, thrilled to get the opportunity to get out the photo albums and embarrass her son a bit.

He could handle that, right?

“Oh, you shouldn’t have told me that.” Mal grinned. “I have a feeling your mother and I are going to get along wonderfully.”

[lostintransist]

.. that idea on ghost coming back with his therapist’s contact is brilliant, could we get a pt2 when we do hit him up cuz,,, it’s inevitable and he pulls up in that same motorbike and actually plans a banger date?

Just for you! A part 2! Original post for anyone curious is here.

Also thank you for what I am percieving as patience, I had things to accomplish today. But it gave me time to think about this...

CW: I can't think of any.

You held onto the business card. No real explanation that would satisfy you or anyone who might have asked. And your best friend did ask. Repeatedly.

“You still have the card?” She asked over drinks.

Running your tongue along the inside of your teeth you debate on how to answer.

“Yes,” you reply curtly.

“And have you called the therapist or texted him yet? Do you even know his name?” She followed her questions with a sip of her drink.

“All I know is that when I search up S. Riley I get a few hits about a brother to a home invasion that ended badly a few years ago and nothing else. No one on social media matches him and without his full name or maybe a birthday I can’t find much else about someone that might be him.” Flopping back into the couch you watch your drink slide side to side as you tip your glass.

“You don’t have to call him but you have to make a decision about this soon,” she chides.

“No decision is a decision though.”

She gives you the flattest stare she can muster. Seeing as your best friend is autistic it’s a pretty impressive flat look.

Heaving a sigh you concede the point.

“Fine. I get it. I can’t avoid this forever, what if he finds me at a coffee shop again and asks why I haven’t called? S. Riley sure does seem like a man who doesn’t know how to leave well enough alone.”

“I think you should call and tell the therapist to inform him that you would like to never see him again, but you have this whole ‘attracted to the adventure’ thing going on.” She rolled her eyes.

Aghast at being so well identified, it does not matter that she is your best friend, you fire off a rude gesture at her. She only laughs.

“At least I never have to worry about not realizing I fumbled the woman of my dreams three months late,” you say with a wicked grin.

“It was one time!” Your best friend launches one of the couch pillows at you.

“Twice.”

The purest look of concern crosses her face.

“Twice?” Comes her panicked ask.

“Once at the bar,” she nods, “And then last week at the bookstore.”

Watching her eyes go wide and her mouth drops open you can’t help the full-body laugh that overtakes you.

“I thought she was just being nice!” Her voice gets squeakier with each word.

You are laughing so hard you can’t breathe.

“I fucking love you and am so glad we are best friends,” you manage to croak out between ab-shredding laughs.

💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠

Your next early day off of work you pop in your headphones and call the number printed on the business card. It sat between your insurance card and your driver’s license. Those two cards didn’t see much action and would keep the business card from disappearing.

“Thank you for calling Healing Sky Therapy, how can I help you?”

“Yes, is Anna Mortz available?”

“For a phone call or an appointment?” The sound of clicking keys bubbles over the line.

“A phone call, I am calling to speak to her about a current patient of hers.”

“Okay, and are you a provider?”

This causes you to pause. Did you really need to explain why or how you were connected to this crazy situation? No. Bare bones it is.

“No, I should be listed as a person who can discuss the care of a patient of hers who goes by S. Riley?”

“Okay,” she drags the word. “It looks like I can drop a call in her schedule in about forty minutes if that would work for you?”

“That would work great, can I give you a callback number?”

“Yes, I can take that when you are ready.”

Finishing up the phone call you grabbed your grocery list and headed out the door. Your phone rang as you were transferring bags from your cart to your trunk. The number looked vaguely familiar and so you answered.

“Hi this is Anna Mortz, I am returning a phone call.”

“Yes, hi Anna. I am the one who called.”

“That was in regards to Simon Riley, right? Let’s go through some information on my end to make sure that we can discuss him first okay?”

“Absolutely,” you slam the trunk closed and return your cart while confirming all of your information.

“So, what questions can I answer for you?” Anna started.

“Let me get settled and I will give you the rundown.” Tossing your purse to the passenger side and locking the door you get situated in your seat. You push a large breath from your lungs and start. “Okay, so this is a weird situation. The long and the short of it is that Simon had been dating a friend of mine several years back and they were not good together. He was being a pushy asshole who refused to let the relationship die and she was codependent to a deeply unhealthy level. My friend asked for help in telling him off once and for all. She tended to cave and give into having sex every time he came by to start a fight. That is where I met Simon.”

Anna made a noise of confirmation. You took it as permission to keep telling your story.

“Nothing more came of that except my friend and I drifted apart, nothing major and not important to the story. I ran into Simon next at my friend’s wedding reception. I don’t know if he showed up to confirm to himself that it was really over or if she actually invited him but,” you paused here eyes tracing the dash of the car parked in front of you. With a slight shake of your head, you focus back on your phone call. “That is neither here nor there. He hit on me that night and I told him basically to fuck off and go to therapy if he wanted a shot at that conversation.”

Puffing your cheeks with air you slowly let it out, you felt like you were explaining a whole crazy situation to the principal.

“He ran into me at a coffee shop close to probably a year later, dropped your card on the table with his number on the back, and insinuated that I would call because I was interested in him.”

“Okay, that is pretty close to the story he told me as well,” Anna speaks with kind authority. “What I can tell you from a clinical standpoint is that Simon struggles with C-PTSD, which is complex post-traumatic stress disorder. This basically means that Simon has been through so many traumatic events at so many points in his life that he has a hard time functioning day to day without it affecting every aspect of his life. I can also tell you that we have been working on him gaining some coping abilities and practicing social skills.”

“Okay, I guess what I am asking is that if I go on a date with him will I end up with a stalker who will end up killing me in the night if I say I don’t want to see him again?” You lay your concerns bare. She’s not your therapist so her judgment worries you a bit less.

“While nothing is guaranteed,” she hedges, “I cannot see that kind of behavior occurring with the progress Simon has made. He has scheduled out appointments weekly for the next three months with me and has even mentioned he is working on some other types of therapy I have recommended to help him process his traumas further. He’s actually doing the work to deal with his issues. I think he is here because he wants to be, you happened to be the trigger.”

Resting your elbow on the steering wheel you leaned your head into your hand.

“Whew, okay. Thank you. That is actually really helpful. How is he about accepting boundaries?”

“He is familiar and comfortable with them in a work context but if you choose to interact with him I know personal boundaries will come up in our sessions. So, I would keep it in mind when interacting with him.”

“Okay, thank you so much Anna this call has been,” a slight pause, “Enlightening. I appreciate your time.”

“Happy to help. Have a good day!”

With that the phone call ends and you stare down at your phone. Flicking open your messaging app you add the contact you saved to it almost a month ago.

<Your therapist seems nice.

Three minutes pass as you watch the screen. It goes black once and you wake it with a tap on the screen.

Tossing it to the passenger side on top of your purse you put the text from your mind. You instead focus on pulling out of your spot. Parking lots are of the devil and you aren’t even religious like that.

Five days pass before a message dings on your phone from one S. Riley.

>Can’t say she is nice to me. I get a lot of mean looks from her.

Setting a timer for an hour and thirteen minutes you let the text simmer. You hope he can see that you have opened the message.

<You normally take a work week to respond?

>Only when I am on a job.

The reply comes in instantly.

<What kind of jobs keep you from your phone?

>Classified.

<Ooh big brain work then. Got it.

You snort at the eye roll emoji he sends.

>So, have you decided if I can hit you up yet?

<I’m thinking about it. If I were to say yes, where would you take me?

>Indoor sky diving.

You read the three-word message at least six times, check out the closest indoor sky diving place near you, and then finally reply.

Starting and erasing three messages you finally settle on one.

<Would we ride your bike there?

>Unless you would prefer to talk on the drive over?

What do you talk about with a man when you had to check with his therapist that he wouldn’t murder you?

<Bike sounds like fun.

>Saturday?

<Maybe. Time?

>2

<Done. Pick me up at noon and we can grab lunch?

>No, you’re going to want an empty stomach. Dinner instead.

Narrowing your eyes at the message you debate the logic of testing a boundary yet. The advice to not have a full stomach did look like a good one.

<Fine, but nowhere fancy. If I can’t roll up in the same outfit I don’t want it.

The only reply you get for several hours is a thumbs up on your message.

Guess you had a date coming up.

[daisymbin]

Hey can i request one where the reader sends Joshua flowers every week when he’s having practice/rehearsals and he asks her

37. "you brought me flowers? just because?" 🥹

omg this is so cute 🥺

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist!

fluff prompt #37: "you brought me flowers? just because?"

the flowers always came at the same time every week for the past 4 months. like clockwork, they arrived at 11am, brightening the practice room with their soft colors and subtle fragrances.

and every week, joshua’s face lit up as he accepted the bouquet, placing it gently on the counter. he never questioned who sent them—he didn’t want to ruin the magic of it. all he knew was that those flowers had become a highlight of his week, a small moment of beauty in the chaos of rehearsals.

but today, there was no delivery.

the clock ticked past 11, and no knock came at the door.

joshua tried not to show his disappointment, but jeonghan noticed immediately.

“no flowers today?” jeonghan asked, his tone half-teasing, half-curious.

joshua shrugged, fiddling with his water bottle. “i guess not.”

jeonghan smirked. “don’t look so sad, shua. maybe your admirer finally gave up.”

“they’re not my admirer,” joshua muttered, though his chest tightened at the thought.

by 12:30pm, he’d resigned himself to the fact that the flowers weren’t coming. maybe this little tradition had ended without warning. maybe he’d never know why it had started in the first place, or who sent them.

but then the door creaked open timidly at 12:42pm,

you stepped inside, a bouquet of daisies and lavender in your hands as well as some take out bags and joshua freezes.

“y/n?” he said, blinking in disbelief. “what are you doing here?”

“sorry i’m late,” you said, offering an apologetic smile. “the florist didn’t have any delivery slots this week, so… i figured i’d bring them myself. oh! and lunch! you guys haven't eaten right?"

jeonghan raised an eyebrow, watching the scene unfold like it was his favorite drama. he notes the way you're nervous, your hands slightly trembling. the mask of nonchalance on your face did little to hide it all.

joshua stood up, slowly making his way toward you. “you’re the one who’s been sending me flowers?”

you nodded, holding out the bouquet. “guilty.”

he took them from you carefully, as if they might disappear if he wasn’t gentle enough. “you’ve been doing this every week?”

“yeah,” you said, shifting on your feet. “i thought you might like them.”

he stared at you, his expression unreadable. “but… why?”

you hesitated, suddenly feeling very self-conscious under his gaze. “just because.”

his lips parted slightly, his eyes searching yours. “you brought me flowers? just because?”

“yeah,” you said quietly, your cheeks warming. “just because. and… because they make you happy.”

for a moment, the room was completely silent.

then jeonghan let out a low whistle, breaking the spell. “wow. who would've thought…”

joshua barely heard him. he was too busy staring at you, his heart racing in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“thank you,” he said softly, his voice almost trembling.

you smiled, trying to play it off like your heart wasn’t doing flips in your chest. “it’s no big deal.”

“it is to me,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours.

jeonghan cleared his throat loudly, "so... lunch you said?" and you took that as your cue to leave.

“oh! yes, lunch. here," you laid the take out bags down, "well, i should go, dont wanna intrude,” you said, stepping back toward the door. “i’ll see you later, joshua.”

he watched you leave, the bouquet still clutched in his hands, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

as soon as the door closed behind you, jeonghan turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “so… are the flowers enough confirmation for you to finally confess, or do you need her to spell it out in neon lights?”

joshua blinked, his mind still replaying your shy smile and the way your voice softened when you said, “just because.”

“she doesn’t…” he started, then trailed off.

jeonghan rolled his eyes. “oh, please. she sends you flowers every week, and today she personally brought them because she wanted to make sure you still got them. & LUNCH! if that’s not a big neon sign saying ‘i like you,’ i don’t know what is.”

“but what if—”

“nope,” jeonghan cut him off. “no what-ifs. no overthinking. she likes you, shua. it’s obvious.”

joshua glanced down at the bouquet in his hands, his heart swelling with something warm and hopeful.

maybe… maybe jeonghan was right.

maybe it was time to stop waiting.

[ponyosmom35]

be a solider

simon ghost riley x reader

synopsis: simon loses it after reader is kidnapped.

Link to master list:https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

The truck's tires screamed as Simon floored the gas pedal, but despite the speed, the black car they'd been chasing continued to weave through the city streets, expertly pulling ahead at every turn. Simon's fists clenched against the wheel, his knuckles white as the anxiety and rage bubbled within him. He tried to focus, to think logically, but every time the car in front of them seemed to pull further away, his heart clenched tighter.

"Come on, come on, come on," Simon muttered under his breath, his voice strained with frustration. The adrenaline coursed through him, but it felt like his body was failing him.

"Goddamit!" he growled, his eyes locked on the vehicle ahead. His voice was a low, threatening hiss, barely audible over the engine's roar.

Price didn't respond, his attention focused entirely on the road, but Price could see the same anxiety on Simon's face. They couldn't lose her—not after everything.

But it wasn't long before the car in front of them made a sharp turn, disappearing into an alleyway. The sound of screeching tires was deafening, the harsh turns rattling their bones, but Simon's gaze never left the road.

Then, without warning, the car they were chasing took a sharp turn and disappeared from view, vanishing down a narrow street. When they finally reached the spot, it was empty.

"Fuck!" Simon muttered, his voice low and hollow. He slammed his fist into the wheel, making the truck shudder under the impact. His breathing grew ragged as the anger swelled within him, his thoughts spiraling.

"We lost them. We fucking lost them," he hissed.

His fingers were still gripping the steering wheel, his pulse racing in his ears as he tried to steady himself. Soap and Gaz were silent in the back, knowing that Simon wasn't just angry—he was losing control.

"They're gonna torture her, Soap," Simon said, his voice sharp with dread, and the words landed heavy in the truck. "They're gonna make her talk. They'll get everything—every goddamn detail on the team. They'll break her for info on us."

The others remained silent. They knew Simon was right. He wasn't wrong—if they had her, she'd be a prime target for interrogation. They had no way of knowing how long she could hold out.

Simon's face twisted with the enormity of the thought. The crushing, horrible thought of her—his girl—being tortured, having everything taken from her, and there was nothing he could do. His entire world was crashing down around him, and the fear consumed him.

Price watched Simon in the rearview mirror for a long moment, his jaw clenched tight. The old soldier inside him wanted to bark orders, to snap Simon out of it. But Price had seen this before, had been in those moments when the weight of failure was too much to bear.

The truck came to a screeching halt, and before Simon could do anything else, he shoved open the door and stumbled out into the street, barely able to keep his legs steady. His stomach twisted painfully, the bile rising in his throat, and he ran to the side of the truck, leaning over and retching into the gutter. The world spun around him, the panic rising until it felt like the walls were closing in.

He sank to his knees, his hands gripping the sides of his head, trying to pull himself together, but it felt impossible. Every breath felt like it was suffocating him, and the sound of her cries, her scream, kept replaying in his mind like a broken record.

Price was beside him before Simon even knew it, his large hand on his shoulder, grounding him. "Simon," he said firmly, his voice unwavering. "You're a soldier. And right now, you need to bring Ghost back. You need to be a soldier and get her back. Suck it the fuck up and let's go save your woman!"

Simon's breathing was shallow as he looked up at Price, his chest heaving with the weight of everything he couldn't control. But the words, they settled into his mind, pushing through the panic. Soldier. He was a soldier. He couldn't let himself crumble now—not when she needed him the most.

He gripped the side of the truck, pushing himself up slowly, forcing himself to stand. His whole body felt weak, his legs shaky, but his resolve was hardening, piece by piece. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his face pale but determined.

"We've got the Avery warehouse," Price continued, his voice steady. "We know it's theirs, and it's the closest to the city, no question that's where they're headed. We go in—Soap and Gaz through the back, and you and I in the front. We find her and bring her home."

Simon's eyes flickered toward Price, and without another word, he nodded. His body was still trembling, but the focus was coming back. The mission.

Price clapped him on the back, hard enough to rattle his bones. Without a word more, Simon climbed into the truck. Price took the wheel, and without hesitation, slammed his foot down on the pedal. The truck roared to life, speeding down the streets with renewed urgency.

Simon leaned back in the seat, trying to steady his breathing, his mind already racing toward the next step. They had a location. They had a chance.

And this time, he wasn't going to let anything slip through his fingers. He wouldn't fail her again.

[sweetbunpura]

Filled with Static...

Summary: Yuu was already fed up before coming to Playful Land and now that it's over... She has some very choice words for she has reached her boiling point...

Sorry in advance~

Yuu watches with hollow eyes as Fellow and Gidel depart without having to face the consequences of their actions. Everyone jokes around her about what they just went through, but static is rapidly and quickly filling Yuu's ears. She moves away from the group and makes her way down a street, unaware of the sound of footsteps behind her. A hand lands on her shoulder and she's quick to slap it off.

"Ow, rude much?"

Yuu turns to see Ace with his arms crossed. "What?"

"Just wanted to know why you took off like that."

"Why do you care?"

"Wow, jeez." Ace scoffed. "I knew you were snippy from the start, but I thought that would've cleared up. What's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal? What's the big deal!?" Her voice echoes throughout the small area of the docks. "Ace, are you fucking blind as well as a total fucking moron!?" She jabs her hand to where Playful Land used to be. "We almost got turned into puppets and sold off because of you guys!"

"Hey, we got out in the end!"

"No, we didn't. If Fellow hadn't gotten that phone call, we'd be goners." The others have stopped a few feet away, but Yuu ignores them. "And you're cracking jokes about it."

"Well, destroying the park was-"

"I mean about the whole thing, you brainless baboon." She snarls. "From the start, you ignored all the fucking warning signs that said you should stay far away from this man. Did Azul tricking you not ring any bells in that empty head of you?" She tapped her finger against Ace's forehead. "And even when you were told that the warning signs were blaring red, you still ignored them."

"Hold on." Ace growled. "Why am I getting signaled out?"

"Oh it's not just you, Ace." She points behind him. "It goes double for those cacophony of idiots."

"Wow, rude, Yuu-chan..." Cater mutters.

"I get that you guys are like this. It's all fun and games to the ones who can use magic." She shakes her hand in a mocking way. "But this is just another scar on my body that I do not need." She pulls up her sleeves to show the overblot scars...as well as a new wooden looking scar on her wrist. "You guys think this is a joke, when it's not. You're risking my life with your guys shit."

"You came with us!" Ace argues.

"Cause I had to make sure my useless excuse for a fucking cat didn't keel over and die!" Yuu shouts and begins shoving Ace. "You. Treat. Me. Like. I'm. Expendable." She pushes him back. "I'm a living being too, jack ass, what I have done to warrant being treated lower than dirt? Every time this happens, and I almost lose my life in the process... how many more times is this going to be an almost before it actually happens?"

The red head narrows his eyes and snorts. "If you hate it here so much, why don't you just go back home?"

"Ace..." Lilia tries to say but is cut off by Yuu socking Ace in the face and sending him to the ground.

"NEWS FLASH, ASSHOLE!" The look in Yuu's eyes are murderous. "I'VE BEEN TRYING TOO! YOU GUYS CAN JUST CALL UP YOUR FAMILY OR SEND THEM A QUICK TEXT TO CHECK UP ON THEIR WELL BEING! YOU'RE A PORTAL AWAY FROM HOME! I HAVE NOTHING, I GOT NOTHING, I HAVE NO FAMILY HERE AND I AM REMINDED OF IT EVERY DAY BY YOU GUYS AND BY CROWLEY!" Tears well up in her eyes. "I've had it here. I'm gone. I'm leaving NRC, I'm getting far away from you guys." She turns to leave and rubs her eyes. "Enjoy the rest of your fucking lives."

"Yuu-chan!"

"Shrimpy!"

"Herbivore, come back!"

"Potato!"

"Henchhuman!" Grim tries to follow after her only to lower his ears and back up as she shoots the darkest glare she can muster at him. "I'm....I'm..."

Yuu disappears into the morning crowd that had gathered to learn what the commotion was about. She did not return to NRC that day...rather Crewel had found her, curled up outside his temporary house.

"Oh, Pup...." He pulls his coat off, wraps it around the crying young lady, and helps her inside.

[ravenclawerised]

Critical Role Campaign 3 Episode 114 Spoilers

All I can think about are the de Rolo kids watching their parents disappear through the Sun Tree off to a dangerous battle where they may not return.

They only had two minutes to absorb what their parents were saying/specifically not saying before they disappeared into the tree.

Does young Vax'ildan regret brushing off what might have been the last kiss his mother gave him? Does he crowd close to his siblings and not leave Vesper's side, determined to follow Percy's last command to listen to her?

Does Vesper struggle to hold herself together in that moment, knowing she is looked at to lead? She's been raised and trained for this moment, but did she think she had another twenty years before she would be called upon?

Does Gwen try to stay by the Sun Tree waiting for them to return? Is she taken back to the castle when it gets dark only to sneak back out to the tree, shadowed carefully by Leona who hasn't let her out of her sight since Vex told her to watch her?

Does Wolfe promise Gwen they can all take turns waiting by the tree so someone will be there to greet their parents when they come home if only to get Gwen to go back to the castle?

Does Vesper have a moment where she feels something shift in the world as Vex lays dying before it fades as a star from the Everlight brings her mother back to the world?

Does the Tree open a day after their parents disappeared and they watch their beat up and bedraggled parents stumble through, Percy's gun broken, Vex's armor bloody and with a large slash mark that should have heralded a mortal wound?

Does young Vax sprint up to his mother and return the hug he previously brushed off before spotting the man in black holding his mother's hand?

Does Gwen try to pretend she was fine but refuses to let Percy out of her sight? Does she keep a hand on his cloak while staring curiously at the man in black?

Do all of the children escort them to the castle, a little nervous around their Uncle whom Wolfe senses just enough of "came back wrong/different" that he is wary? But also so curious to meet this man so beloved by their parents.

And does Uncle Vax look at all five of their faces and be reassured, once again, that his choice that day in the Sunken Tomb was and would always be worth it.

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 2) Chapter Twenty

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Chapter Twenty: Investigative Transfer

Summary: Akechi begins to investigate Saiki's "psychic-ness."

            “You’re (Y/N) (L/N), right?” said Akechi, appearing behind (Y/N) in the hall. It was between classes, and (Y/N) jumped. Akechi didn’t give (Y/N) a chance to respond and barreled right into his next question. “You’re in my class. You sat with me at lunch. I just wanted to make sure you knew who I was. I noticed you and Kusuo seemed to be close.”

            (Y/N) coughed, and they opened their mouth to speak, but Akechi continued.

            “I have a few questions about Kusuo. What is he like? Has anything strange ever happened around you while he’s there?” said Akechi.

            “Not really,” said (Y/N). They smiled. “Everything is fine with him. Sometimes we’re around weird, but fun, people, so there’s that, but Kusuo doesn’t do anything weird.”

            They don’t think of my abilities as weird. From the floor above where he was listening to the conversation, Saiki smiled slightly.

            “Anything unexplained? Sudden things appearing or disappearing? Things moving how they shouldn’t?” Akechi leaned in. “You’re obviously the closest to him. Are you just friends? Or are you dating?”

            (Y/N)’s face turned completely red. “I—”

            “Judging by your reaction, you’re either dating or at least have a crush on him,” said Akechi. “Do you have a crush on him because he’s a psychic? Is he impressive? Do you have proof of his powers?”

            (Y/N) crossed their arms. “I like Kusuo—” I love Kusuo “—because he’s a good guy. He’s nice and helpful. Anything else doesn’t matter. Who cares about stuff like psychic powers?”

            Oh, wow. I love (Y/N). Those words sent him head-over-heels for them again.

            “So you don’t see him doing anything weird?” said Akechi.

            “Nope. Everything he does is just Kusuo,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            Akechi deflated slightly. “Thank you for your time.”

            Saiki breathed a sigh of relief. He could really rely on (Y/N).

l

            “Line up!” said Matsusaki, the sun beating down on the class. They stood in gardens, reading for their jobs. “We’re digging up potatoes, today.”

            Our school does this every October, thought Saiki. Yare yare. We’re not little kids. Nobody gets excited—

            “Let’s dig up potatoes!” said Hairo.

            “Yeah!” cheered the other students.

            I’m proved wrong.

            “We’re fart after eating sweet potatoes,” laughed Nendou.

            An idiot.

            “You can’t hide from me,” declared Kaidou dramatically. “You can’t escape my Sweet Potato Radar.”

            What a useless radar.

            “A golden treasure lies in wait!” said Mera.

            She’s insatiable.

            “If I can get a few potatoes, I can make potato-based bread,” said (Y/N) thoughtfully. “That’s very good.”

            “Let’s get to work, then,” said Saiki. A good pastry from (Y/N) was all the incentive he needed. He grimaced as soon as he stepped into the fields with (Y/N). His one weakness would be present, unfortunately. “Bugs…”

            “What was that, Kusuo?” said (Y/N).

            “Nothing,” said Saiki, pulling on his gloves. At least he was working with (Y/N). I’ll just pretend to dig.

            “Hi, there, Kusuo, (L/N),” said Akechi, appearing beside them. “Can I join you? We harvested potatoes once. It was October third in second grade when I was on the bus with you and peed my pants. I caused so much trouble then.” He crouched beside (Y/N) and Saiki. “Potato harvesting is fun, isn’t it? It makes me smile.”

            “I hope it doesn’t make you pee.”

            (Y/N) nudged Saiki in the side for that comment.

            “Kusuo, watch your feet,” said Akechi. “You might step on a worm.”

            Sure enough, Saiki looked down and saw a bug. He jerked back immediately. ���Crap!”

            “Are you okay?” said Akechi.

            Saiki swallowed. I held it in. That was close. He had almost exploded all the potatoes up from the ground. If I did that in front of this guy, it’s all over.

            “You don’t look well,” said Akechi.

            “Don’t worry, Kusuo,” said (Y/N). They picked up the caterpillar and set it on a bush farther away so it could eat and grow. They smiled back at Saiki. “I’ll protect you from the bugs.”

            “Are you an angel?” blurted out Saiki, and (Y/N) laughed.

            “Hey, pal, pinky, look what I harvested!” called Nendou, holding up a dozen giant potatoes.

            “Great job, Nendou,” said (Y/N).

            “Those are impressive potatoes,” said Akechi, thankfully distracted.

            “Right? His are even better, though,” said Nendou, gesturing to Kaidou. “Show them.”

            “Shut up,” huffed Kaidou. “Here.” He held up a few shriveled potatoes.

            “So tiny.”

            “Impressive, little guy!” laughed Nendou. “The skinniest potatoes!”

            “Shut up! It’s about how they taste! Not how they look,” said Kaidou defensively.

            “Those will definitely taste bad,” said Saiki.

            “Yeah,” agreed (Y/N), chuckling.

            “Did you know that the purple color of these potatoes is due to a pigment called anthocyanin?” said Akechi.

            “What’s that all about?” said Nendou.

            “My character talks a lot, so I need to talk now or you’ll forget,” said Akechi.

            “I don’t think we can forget you,” chirped (Y/N). “You leave an impression.”

            “That’s not a good thing.” I should leave while Akechi is busy. He took (Y/N)’s hand and pulled them away with him a few steps.

            They paused as they looked at Mera, who stared up at them tiredly. She had been harvesting so quickly she was already tiring. Saiki blinked. (Y/N) blinked. Mera blinked. Saiki patted her on the shoulder, and a light burst for a moment. An energized Mera jumped up and walked off for more potatoes, leaving a few for Saiki to pick up without having to face any bugs.

            “Go and prosper,” said Saiki as Mera happily went searching for more food.

            “Bye, Mera!” said (Y/N), waving.

            “Did you already finish, Kusuo? When?” said Akechi, appearing behind them.

            “When you were rambling about potato taste and color,” said Saiki.

            “But your gloves are still clean,” observed Akechi. “Did someone help you? You can’t have someone else do it.”

            “Kusuo and I were working together. He spotted the best plants, and I pulled them up,” said (Y/N), smiling and holding up their own dirty gloves.

            “The whole point of this exercise is to serve the community, so he should pull at least one for it to be fair. Come on, Kusuo, let’s do this,” said Akechi. “Help me clear away these vines.” He tossed a vine to Saiki.

            Instantly, Saiki’s eyes narrowed in on the worm about to crawl onto his hand. He sucked in a breath.

            “Look at this one, it looks like a turd!” said Nendou, showing a strange potato to Kaidou.

            Bam! It exploded.

            “It blew up!” cried Kaidou.

            “Oh, something happened,” said Akechi, looking back. He looked at Saiki with an evil look on his face. “Let’s continue.”

            He figured out I hate bugs…

            He knows Kusuo’s weakness.

            Kusuo hates bugs! though Akechi. Enough to unconsciously use his psychic powers. I’ll find some more.

            Saiki shivered and braced himself as best he could as Akechi approached. “Here, Kusuo,” said Akechi.

            “Oh, Akechi, watch out,” said (Y/N), interceding with a smile. “There are still some bugs on the vine.” They took the bugs in their gloves and deposited them back on the ground. “You don’t want to disturb them from their habitat.”

            “Oh. Right. They are good pollinators,” said Akechi, his plan interrupted once again by (Y/N).

            Saiki stared at (Y/N) like they were a real angel in the flesh. Not only had them somehow been nice to the gross bugs, but they had saved him from Akechi.

            “It’s no problem, just be careful. Leave them on the ground,” said (Y/N), smiling. “Kusuo, will you help me pull on these?”

            Saiki nodded and knelt to help them. He knew no bugs were around if (Y/N) was asking him. So, he pulled out a potato, and (Y/N) grinned.

            “There, Akechi. Now Kusuo has helped on both sides of our team-up,” said (Y/N). They gestured to their basket. “We have to head out, now. Bye.”

            Akechi watched them go. They are definitely dating. But are they covering for Kusuo because of that or do they truly not know about his powers?

            You will never find out, thought Saiki. It was bad enough that Akechi was figuring out they were dating and could blab to everyone, but he did not intend for Akechi to learn that his abilities were real.

l

            “Thank you for dealing with the bugs.” Saiki shivered as he remembered them.

            “It’s no problem,” said (Y/N), smiling and putting down a freshly baked loaf of potato bread. It had taken until the weekend to finish it up, but they had the loaf now. “Everyone has their fears.”

            “You don’t,” remarked Saiki. They faced everything easily.

            “I get scared of haunted houses and ghosts,” said (Y/N).

            “That’s only because Toritsuka is a creep and makes everything creepier,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) laughed. “Fair enough. But I am scared of things.”

            “I don’t believe that.” (Y/N) was one of the strongest and bravest people he knew—maybe the strongest and bravest.

            “I’m scared of losing you,” teased (Y/N).

            The sudden flirting made Saiki’s cheeks warm, and (Y/N) laughed. “I bring a lot of trouble. Your life would be calmer without me.”

            “My life would be boring without you,” corrected (Y/N). “And I like my life with you in it.”

            “Even when you have to deal with people like Akechi or Teruhashi or Kusuke?” said Saiki incredulously.

            “Yeah,” said (Y/N), shrugging as if it was obvious. “Kokomi is my friend, and she is growing, maturing. She is so used to her identity being her looks that she’s still figuring out who she is beyond that. I think she’s going to find who she is and be happier for it. So she’s no bother.

            “Kusuke is…eccentric, but I know you and I can handle his ridiculous games.” They laughed.

            “And as for Akechi…I think he’s just looking for answers. Whatever happened between you two, he’s clearly been left with questions, and I can’t blame him for wanting to understand,” said (Y/N). “If you had just teleported away when I found you teleporting the hotel, I would be confused and try to get answers.” They shrugged. “So I don’t care about all that. I like having you in my life, Kusuo. You’re my boyfriend now, and you were my friend before. Nothing changes that I care about you.”

            “You’re too nice.”

            “And you’re too pessimistic, so we balance each other out,” laughed (Y/N).

            “…Should I tell Akechi?” said Saiki. “Would that get him to leave us alone?”

            (Y/N) looked at him. “Do you want my honest answer?” Saiki nodded. “Probably not. I think he wants to be your friend like you were in elementary school. And he seems like the type that becomes part of our friend group.” They laughed.

            “I don’t know if he wants to be my friend about elementary school,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) paused. “Do you want to talk about it?”

            “I…did something I shouldn’t have,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) sat down across from Saiki and held out their hand. Saiki took their offer and held their hand. “You can tell me if you want.”

            “I healed him after he was bullied. He was nice to me, and I wanted to help. I thought he was unconscious, but he had seen everything. He started calling me a psychic, a healer, the next few days, and the bullies started demanding I prove it.” Saiki paused. “I didn’t. I acted clueless. I thought that would stop everything, but—”

            (Y/N) squeezed his hand encouragingly, gazing at him.

            “I found Akechi beaten up again. I saw them standing over him, and I just snapped.” Saiki swallowed. “I destroyed the entire classroom and barely managed to wipe the memories of the bullies of what I’d done. But Akechi saw. And I had to leave schools. All because I lost control and hurt people.” He looked at (Y/N). “That’s why Akechi can’t find out it was real. Because I was a danger. He’ll tell everyone that I’m a danger. And I didn’t mean to—”

            “Of course you didn’t,” said (Y/N), squeezing his hand. “You were six years old, Kusuo. What six-year-old can control their emotions, let alone psychic powers? It was an accident, and it happened because you wanted to protect your friend. No one can fault you for that.” They smiled. “And you don’t know that Akechi thinks you’re a danger. Maybe he just wants to know if you really did help him. You two were friends. Maybe that’s what he wants back. His friend.”

            “Maybe. I don’t know.”

            “But you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” said (Y/N). “But if you decide to do anything or just want to talk, I’m here, alright? I’m always here.”

            “Even knowing I’m capable of harm?” said Saiki quickly.

            “Everyone is capable of harm. Everyone is capable of good,” said (Y/N). “What’s important is that you choose to do good.” They smiled, lifted his hand, and kissed the back. “That’s why I like you so much.”

            Saiki smiled slightly. “You always know what to say.”

            “I just say what I think,” said (Y/N).

            “I know.” And it meant the world to Saiki.

Taglist:

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@painstakingly-juno

@characterreaderwriter

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[yuna542]

[6.]

~Pogues to the Rescue~

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader/Oc

Genre: Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, Smut, Angst, Drama, Action

Warnings: Jellyfish-stings, Swearing, Alcohol and drugs

Taglist: Open

Word count: 2,8K

Summary: The Kook princess is back after a year and reignites the war between Pogues and Kooks on Kildare. But she quickly realizes that after this year, nothing is the same as before. Deception, secrets from the past, and dangerous conspiracies sweep across Kildare, leaving her no choice but to work with the Pogues and her personal nemesis to find the truth and maybe even $8 million. A dangerous treasure hunt begins that turns her world upside down.

Note: Hope you like this part. Let’s say I’m pretty devastated and sad about S4…

Soundtrack:

⏯️Play: Ain’t It Fun by Paramore

“Where you're from

You might be the one who's running things

Where you can ring anybody's bell and get what you want

See it's easy to ignore trouble

When you're living in a bubble”

"Put me down!" escaped me irritably as I drummed my palm on his frighteningly firm chest as soon as we reached the stairs.

I could feel his warm skin close against mine and it was messing with my head.

He just snorted and actually let go of me.

"Wait here! And be quiet!"

Already he had disappeared into the house. I settled down on the step, sighing, since I had no choice anyway.

Only a few moments later he came back with a red plastic box with a white cross on it.

He placed it on the cheap plastic table that looked like it had been stolen from a kiosk where they sold those disgusting fries.

When I looked at it closer, I noticed that it probably was.

"Shit," I heard Maybank mutter, and he closed the box again.

"What?"

I looked over my shoulder questioningly, careful not to turn my upper body.

"It's empty. My dad must have used it all up."

He put his hands on his hips and seemed to be trying to figure out what to do with me now.

"Well, we can definitely go ahead and disinfect the wounds."

Suspiciously, I watched him disappear back into the house and return with a large bottle containing a transparent liquid.

Half of the bottle was already empty.

He sat down next to me on the step and unscrewed the cap.

"What's this?"

I grabbed his hand before he could pour the contents onto my leg.

"Vodka. Alcohol."

He looked at me as if I didn't know what that meant.

"I know what vodka is, dickhead, but is this really a good idea?"

I knew alcohol was used to disinfect, but that's about all I knew about medical treatments.

JJ just shrugged.

"It got 70%. You won't find anything better."

"Yeah, I bet."

JJ gave me an annoyed look, but I just raised my eyebrows provocatively. There probably wasn't even a pharmacy here.

After a moment's hesitation, I finally gave in. What could go wrong?

I could not use an inflammation or infection now.

So I let go of his hand and he began to pour the liquid over my leg.

Immediately a burning sensation shot through my leg, making me gasp loudly.

Several curses escaped me as I waited for the probing pain to subside.

"Now the back," JJ said, and I wanted to punch him in the face.

"On three. One. Two..."

I couldn't even take a breath, when he already had poured the alcohol over the wound on my side as well. The pain was even worse there, and because of the shock I couldn't prepare myself internally.

Reflexively, I grabbed his arm and clawed into it so as not to cry out.

Although I dug my nails into his skin, he didn't make a face, but reached for my hand to squeeze it.

When the pain finally subsided, I pulled my hand away and glared angrily at him.

"Asshole!", I hissed and braced myself to get up from the stairs.

"You're welcome," he replied, setting the vodka down on the table.

"This really should be looked at. I can drive you home so that-"

"No!", I interrupted him harshly, fixing him with my gaze.

There was no way I could go home like this. Rick would just ask a lot of questions and if he found out I was surfing, that I was on the Cut and if he saw JJ to top it all, I'd be screwed....

I'd rather not imagine his reaction.

Astonished, the blond tilted his head and crossed his arms.

Fortunately, he didn't ask any more questions, since he didn't seem to care either.

"Then I'll take you with the others. John B has a first aid kit in the Twinkie and Pope knows what to do. I was on my way there anyway."

Vehemently, I shook my head.

„No, absolutely not!"

At that very moment I staggered and would have fallen forward if he hadn't grabbed me by the wrist.

"You have no choice, though," he murmured, holding my wrist tightly. As he did so, his gaze wandered aimlessly through my face and I noticed the dark green circles at the corner of the endless blue of his eyes.

They were really intense and reminded me of the cloudless sky over Kildare.

Everything in me resisted going to the other Pogues.

For one thing, I was embarrassed to ask for help, and for another, I couldn't let myself be seen there.

If anyone found out about this, I would also be screwed. At JJ's look, however, I realized that I really had no choice.

He clearly seemed to enjoy every second of my sorrow.

I needed help and this was my only option.

He realized that I was admitting defeat and at that, the corners of his mouth lifted a bit. It wasn't until he took a few steps back that I noticed how close he had just been to me.

"We're going on my motorcycle."

He tried to support me, but I fought off his hand. I could still walk myself, even if it was hard.

I didn't want him to think I was weak or needed his help.

So he went ahead and grabbed the keys and I tried to follow him.

"Do you think your friends are really going to help me?", I called out as I tried to catch up to him with a limp.

He glanced over his shoulder at me and tossed the key from his left hand to his right.

"They're going to help you! We're not self-serving kook assholes, after all."

I wanted to hurl a counter at him, but I couldn't think of anything to say. His words hit me because it was true. Hardly anyone from Figure Eight would have even been interested in what had happened to me.

Arriving at the motorcycle, he got on and put the key in the ignition.

The engine howled and rattled away contentedly.

JJ offered me his hand, which I accepted this time, to get on.

His fingers closed tightly around mine and when I was finally seated, he wrapped my hands around his body.

"Hold on tight, princess!"

Then he was already driving off and I actually had to clutch him to keep from falling off.

The wind went through my hair and made it dance around my head.

It wasn't until we turned onto the road after the wooded area that I realized I had been clinging to him tensely the whole time.

Gradually I let go and got used to the ride.

I felt his skin under my fingers and the muscles of his stomach under his unbuttoned shirt.

Directly my fingertips tingled and I fought the urge to run over the contour of his abs while my upper body was pressed tightly against his.

I couldn't focus on my surroundings and had lost my bearings after only a few minutes. Instead, I paid attention only to the amazingly toned body and broad shoulders in front of me.

When had this happened? Just a few years ago, JJ had been just a lanky little daredevil.

The smells of conifers, fresh grass, and salt water mingled into a distinctive nuance known only from the Outer Banks.

Slowly, I began to enjoy the time on the bike and forget about the pain. All too soon, the ride ended at a driveway.

The first thing I noticed as soon as we dismounted was the huge tree with countless branches that had a hammock hanging from it.

I had never seen such a special tree. Like a monster, its branches reached for the sky, trying to grab the clouds.

Or I had simply never paid such attention to trees before.

Behind it, John B's house came into view. Like JJ's fishing shack, it was run down, but still in reasonably good shape.

It even looked quite cozy, if not very luxurious.

As we climbed over the much-too-tall lawn and shrubs, I propped myself against JJ's shoulder.

It was uncomfortable, but my leg was already shaking with exertion.

On the patio sat the rest of the Pogues.

I could make out a large campfire area and the Pogues' old boat.

The property had to be really huge.

Besides, it was really beautifully situated.

Further ahead, the shore began and a long boardwalk led out to a small pavilion out on the water.

Ward Cameron would buy it in a heartbeat and put one of his mansions on it.

"There you are at last! What took you so long?", John B's loud voice rang out from the deck and already his head appeared from behind the sofa back.

"What the hell!" he snapped as his gaze fell on me.

Now Kiara and Pope also looked up. While Pope looked surprised and confused, Kiara looked at my face in disgust.

"What is she doing here?"

Kiara was sitting on an armchair with her ukulele on her lap. Pope sat across from her, tinkering with a fishing line. John B had been lying upside down on the sofa and was now completely perplexed.

"She's hurt. I had no choice but to take her. JB, you still have the first aid kit and that ointment, don't you?" explained JJ, helping me up the stairs.

John B frowned and I was eyed suspiciously by everyone, as if I could detonate a bomb at any time. After what they had done to the Camerons today, that concern was justified.

Kiara put her ukulele aside and straightened up.

With one look at my wounds, she immediately realized.

"Every child knows that this time of year the waters are teeming with Portuguese galleys!"

Kiara seemed upset, yet she stood up and looked at my reddened skin. By now, some numbness was spreading, but the pain did not subside.

"I'm really sorry that I don't have the know-how of a simple fisherman," I hissed, annoyed, and propped myself up against the wobbly railing.

Kiara now looked at Pope, who was also slowly approaching, almost frightened, and eyeing me.

"A simple fisherman wouldn't be so stupid, anyway," now came snidely from JJ, who rummaged in his pants pocket.

I glared at him angrily.

"JJ, what did you do?" asked Pope directly, and I realized that the alcohol had indeed probably not been a good idea.

The blond was now sitting on the sofa where John B had just been sitting. The other Pogue was standing behind Pope with his arms crossed, trying not to get in the way of the two.

"I disinfected the wounds," JJ muttered, putting a joint in his mouth. So that's what he'd gotten at his place.

A moment later, the click of his lighter sounded and he lit it.

"Just like a doctor. I saw it in the movie Pope made us watch!"

"Oh please don't!" it escaped Kiara.

"What? We only had vodka there, so I improvised."

Pope buried his face in his hands as Kiara was about to push JJ off the couch.

"Vodka? Are you out of your mind? You might as well have peed on it! Idiot," Kiara hissed, turning to the other two boys.

"Hey, at least I kind of helped. Could have left her there."

He clasped his hands behind his head and seemed pleased with himself as he blew smoke into the air.

Kiara just groaned in annoyance and pointed at Pope.

"You get the ointment and bandages, please! John B, get ice cubes in a cloth and JJ get a bottle of salt water!"

She threw an empty plastic bottle, harder than would have been necessary against his chest and when the boys disappeared without protest, I had to admit that I admired Kiara for her assertiveness.

I guess she was a kook deep inside after all.

"Come on! Sit down!" she urged me, so I did as she said, since she obviously had common knowledge about jellyfish stings.

Tentatively, I settled down on the sofa and watched as she sat down next to me.

"I don't see any more nettles.... That's good."

"Oh yeah?", I returned sarcastically, whereupon I got a threatening look.

"Don't think I'm helping you because I want to. I just want you to leave as soon as possible."

"Believe me, that's my fondest wish too."

At that moment, JJ came back and threw the water bottle to Kiara. Skillfully, she caught it and unscrewed the lid.

Without a word of warning, she poured the water down my side and then over my calf.

Instantly it burned again and I tried to breathe away the pain.

"You can thank JJ for that. Vodka... Really."

She still couldn't seem to believe that JJ had done that.

In fact, the stinging was starting to subside.

Now the other two returned as well.

Kiara handed me the cloth with the ice, which I eyed in disgust. It looked as if it had last been washed a decade ago.

"Press this on the wounds and the pain should go away completely!"

Tentatively, I did as she said and sure enough, the cold on my skin was liberating. First I pressed the ice underneath to my shoulder blade until the stinging disappeared and only the numbness remained.

Then I put my leg up and placed the cloth on my calf.

In the meantime, Kiara unwrapped the bandage stuff and took the ointment.

"This stuff will make the wounds heal quickly and not leave any scars," Pope explained calmly, leaning against the wall of the house next to John B.

„It's from my mom. Her ointments work like magic..."

„Great", I mumbled sarcastically. Pope immediately looked down on the floor, remembering who I was.

Kiara was now sitting behind me and I winced when I felt her cool fingers on my skin. She carefully probed the skin on my back and I felt like I was on display.

"Watch it," was the only thing she said before she pulled the strap of my bikini open with a flick of her wrist.

Panicked, I held the fabric pressed against my body before it would have fallen off.

Pope swallowed in a panic and turned to face the wall, John B had eyes as big as plates and it took endless seconds before he cleared his throat and averted his eyes as well.

JJ, on the other hand, was looking at me with that amused grin that made me go furious.

Along the way, Kiara spread the ointment on my back.

"The bikini was in the way. I'll bandage this now so the ointment can soak in," she muttered, taking the bandage off the table.

JJ made no effort to avert his eyes and seemed to be enjoying the show. He took a drag on the joint and looked challengingly into my eyes.

"That's very true, Kie! You should really get rid of the bikini completely," he said provocatively and obviously stared at my breasts, hoping to see something more.

Immediately, heat shot up my cheeks. John B cleared his throat loudly again and disappeared into the house with Pope.

It felt like an escape.

"Shut up! If you're not going to make yourself useful, get out of here and start a fire!", Kiara beat me to it and threw the empty water bottle at him again, which he caught this time.

He stood bolt upright and saluted.

"At your command, Captain!" he shouted and winked at me.

By now a huge knot had formed in my stomach, which wouldn't let me throw anything at him in return.

Already he was skipping down the stairs and sauntering down to the fireplace with the joint between his lips.

"He's always like that. Don't worry about it. Every girl he sees, he hits on. You're nothing special."

Kiara fastened the bandage around my body and tied my bikini back on. Even though her voice sounded cool, she no longer seemed so dismissive.

"I noticed that already. Thank you"

Then she began to tend to my leg.

"You really don't seem to like each other?" she said, smirking.

Directly, I shook my head.

"No... He's so incredibly rude and annoying."

"Yes that's true," she agreed, fastening the bandage.

"But still, he brought you here."

I didn't know the answer to that. After all, he just wanted to get rid of me again quickly, right?

⬇️

© Yuna542 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[ashprince-of-bel-air]

To Love An Emperor

Apparently a few of you also wanted to see Caracalla being a crying pathetic mess so he is a little something I wrote on my dinner break today

@byronking @ange-olras you guys all asked on my original post so I hope this is what you wanted ❤️

Part 2

A small servant girl broke the peace of your chambers, the large wooden door scraping across the tile caused you to snap your head away from your book, staring at her silently as you awaited what commands she had been sent to give you.

You watched the petite young thing bow before you, he voice soft and high pitched as she spoke. "The Emperor has summoned you, my Lady". It did not take you long to figure out which one had summoned you to his chambers before you nodded to her and waved her away. With a sigh you closed your book for the night and began to dress yourself, you did not think the the Emperor would care if you were in your night dress but manners and respect dictated you would present yourself in a manner beffiting of him.

The long walk to the royal chambers gave you time to steel yourself for what you were about to deal with, it must have been another one of those days in the council chamber, Geta shouting and and throwing things around the room, something that had become all to frequent as of late.

Your footsteps echoed down the hallway as you approached your destination, surely the Emperor would hear you approaching and be ready to recieve you. Gently you pushed the guilded door open, not wanting to make too much noise and disturb him further. As you stood in the door way you spotted Caracalla perched on the end of his bed, his head in his hands, he had been crying again.

You sat slowly beside him on the bed, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, gently rubbing it trying to reassure him somewhat, not that it ever worked before. In one swift movement Caracalla moved to kneel on the marble floor before you, pushing himself between your, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and burying his head into the fabric covering your chest. You could hear his muffled sobs against your chest as you stroked the back of his head, waiting for him to stop. Geta must have been particularly brutal to him today, you had heard the vituperative way he spoke to him before and it certainly would have broken a lesser man a long time ago.

"Why does my own flesh and blood treat me this way? Is it not enough that he tried to kill me in the womb but now to kill my spirit as well?" You never answered him, you knew he didn't ever want an answer, he just wanted to vent out his feelings someone who would not report back to his brother, making him look weaker than he already felt around him.

After a while the tears stopped, lifting his head away from your chest, your clothes now wet from his tears. Caracalla sunk further down onto his knees, his sad wet eyes looking up at you, pleading for love and acceptance, you had been the only one to ever understand him.

His hands gripped at the fabric on your waist, clinging so tight as if you would disappear from him. "You love me don't you? You think I'm good enough?" The tears began to well in his again, threatening to spill forth once more, making his blue eyes sparkle like sapphires, his voice shakey and desperate.

You cupped his face in your soft hands, smiling as you felt him lean into your touch, craving as much of it as he could get. You stroked the tears away from his cheeks and placed a delicate kiss upon his head. "Of course my Emperor" Your words soothed his tears and ignited him at the same time, feeling his lips crash roughly against your own. Caracalla did not care if you meant those words or not, it was all he wanted to hear, to feel your affection and to be loved.

[sanguineterrain]

hii this is my first time requesting sth so i hope its okay. what about spencer dating a reader who is asexual or takes a long time to be comfortable with intimacy but people are always asking if he’s getting any and reader feels like she isn’t enough

if not that’s totally fine thank u anyways

(this isn’t self indulgent wdym)

Thanks for requesting lovely. you are definitely not alone in feeling this way 🩷

fem!reader. you feel insecure after derek makes a harmless joke about how often you and spencer meet for lunch

****

Spencer forgets to eat lunch.

It's just a fact. He doesn't always forget, but he forgets enough for you to meet him for lunch when you can or shoot him a reminder text.

Today, you have a day off, so you decide to visit. Spencer tells you he'll meet you at the entrance so you don't have to go through security and get a visitor's badge. You think it's a little ridiculous that you have to do that every time, but according to Spencer, it doesn't take much time at all for people to become a danger to others and themselves.

Not that I think you would do that! he's always quick to add. You adore him.

He gets off the elevator with Agent Morgan. You watch as they approach and Morgan sees you, then claps Spencer's shoulder.

"Oh, so this is where you disappear to for lunch," he says, wrinkling Spencer's shirt. You can tell Spencer notices right away and is mildly annoyed. He shrugs his friend off.

"What're you talking about?" Spencer asks, pursing his lips.

Agent Morgan grins. "How many lunches out do you need, Reid? Seems like you're always forgetting food. 'S not like you."

Spencer looks at him, brows furrowed. "I need one a day, according to the general medical opinion. And my lunch breaks aren't that long."

You suddenly feel queasy.

"Uh-huh." Agent Morgan just grins that sly grin. "Don't be too long. Have fun, you kids."

You walk out. Agent Morgan goes the opposite direction of where you parked your car. Spencer's warm hand squeezes your arm affectionately.

"Hi," he says. "I actually brought lunch today, I just wanted to eat with you, so I lied and told everyone that I don't have lunch so we can be alone."

"Sweet of you." You voice is thin.

"Are you okay?"

You try to keep walking, but hello! Behavior analyst boyfriend alert. Spencer gently tugs you to stop and face him.

"What's wrong?" he asks, forehead crinkled in concern. "Your voice has a tremor."

"Did you tell Agent Morgan that we have sex during your lunch breaks?" you ask, folding your arms.

"What? No, I don't—no!"

"Because I know I've been making you wait, Spencer, and I know I keep saying I'll be ready at some point, but it's really shitty if you're telling people that I stop by just to give you head in your car or something."

Spencer's mouth opens and closes a couple of times in genuine, horrified shock, like when he'd found you hunched over the toilet in pain months ago during a bad stomach flu, and you realize then that you're way off the mark.

How could you think that? Of course Spencer wouldn't do that to you.

"Spencer, I'm—"

"I would never say or imply that. I don't even—I'm not mad or resentful of the fact that we haven't had sex, okay? I wouldn't care if you never wanted to have sex. I don't date you because I'm hoping to 'hit it and quit it.'"

You both cringe at his choice of words. Spencer sighs. "Okay, never using that phrase again. But it's true. I'm not waiting you out, and I'm definitely not talking about us having or not having sex to anyone at work." He shudders. "My living nightmare."

"I'm sorry. You're right, you wouldn't say that. I know you wouldn't. You wouldn't tell people even if we were having sex."

Spencer shakes his head emphatically. "Of course not."

Of course not.

"Then why did Agent Morgan imply that we were leaving to do it on your lunch break?" you ask unhappily.

"He was implying that we were sneaking off to have sex?" Spencer asks. "Are you sure?"

You frown. "Yeah, Spencer. He was teasing you about taking long lunches and always going out with me because..."

He nods in understanding. "Oh. That's... weird. Okay. I'll tell him not to say that stuff. I'll say that it bothers me."

You rub your arms self-consciously and turn your body away from Spencer. "It's not that weird for him to think, though. I do stop by a lot. And you're a young guy. Other guys your age probably visit their girlfriends during lunch and do that."

Spencer raises his eyebrows. "That seems excessive. And risky. And highly unsanitary. And uncomfortable. And—"

"Okay." You laugh a little. "I get it, Spencer. You're not like other guys."

"Story of my life."

"I guess I'm not really like other girls either," you say. "Having sex on your lunch break is probably more normal than dating for six months and never having sex."

Spencer frowns. "There's no such thing as normal. There's socially accepted behavior and opinion and laws and a bunch of made up crap that a lot of people are too afraid to challenge. I'm about the furthest from normal that you can get."

Your mouth flattens. "You're not bad, though."

"Exactly!" Spencer kisses your cheek, startling you. He doesn't often initiate kisses, preferring to show affection in his own way. You don't mind when he does kiss you though.

"Exactly," he says. "And neither are you. I doubt that how you feel about sex is so unusual. But even if it was, it wouldn't make a difference to me. It's how you feel, and I respect it. If I had a problem with it, we wouldn't be dating."

You glance down the block, at the building entrance. "But people might talk."

"Derek wouldn't," Spencer says firmly. "He jokes, but he would respect this if I told him to."

"It's not him, Spence, it's just..." You shake your head. "I've hit a stumbling block with every guy I've dated because they thought I was a prude, a tease, frigid. One guy said I needed shock therapy."

"I don't think that," he says softly. "I don't think any terrible things about you for feeling this way."

"No? You haven't tried to profile me based on my aversion to intimacy?"

Spencer's face scrunches with sadness. "No. You're my girlfriend, not a suspect. This isn't something I have to diagnose. I love you. I like spending time with you. Please don't think that I don't have the capacity to know what I want in a relationship. You don't have to be suspicious of me. I have nothing to hide about how I feel."

"People might think something's wrong with you for dating me," you say.

Spencer shrugs. "So what? People already think something's wrong with me. Doesn't mean they're right. I currently hold the record for the longest relationship in the BAU, besides Hotch. I'm the winner."

You sigh. Everything you throw at Spencer about how he should run while he can, he has a response for.

You might just give up and keep on letting him love you without any strings attached.

"Have I convinced you?" he asks. "I'm really good at debating."

"No kidding," you say. "I'm surprised you didn't become a lawyer."

"Hotch says there's still time." Spencer smiles. "Wanna go to that Thai place three blocks from here?"

Spencer loves the Thai place. It's one of his safe restaurants. You like it too, mostly because of how much Spencer likes it. And you trust his recommendations. He always checks the health inspection grade before eating somewhere.

"Don't you have lunch?"

"I have a peanut butter sandwich in my desk and I'll probably stay late. It'll keep."

"Okay." You lean in and kiss Spencer. He responds immediately, stroking your cheek with his thumb. The tenderness overwhelms you.

"You're really nice," you whisper.

"You deserve a nice boyfriend," he says. "And Chicken Satay. I'll get you both."

You link your arm with his as you begin to walk.

"Is six months really the record?"

"Oh, you don't know the half of it."