#but with this it just reached a point where I'm like. okay. IS it rushed or are we just saying that

[jerzwriter]

Thanks for this ask - Here is part 3 of a series of little drabbles to see what Tobias does with the pumpkin pie throughout different periods of his life (and in some different worlds, too!) This story takes place during Casey's first pregnancy. I hope you enjoy it as much as Tobias (and I) love pumpkin pie!

Book: Open Heart (post-series) Pairing: Tobias x Casey Carrick (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 1,085 Summary: Casey comes home to an incredible treat - until things go terribly awry. Can pumpkin pie save the day?

A/N: Participating in @choicesholidays Winter Event - "You did what with the pumpkin pie?" and @choicesdecember2024 Baking, Home and Family.

Be kind - I did this in a rush with very little editing :)

It was a long day – entirely too long – and the commute home had been grueling. There was nothing like a bit of rain to make the typical hellish Boston commute seem like a dream come true. Casey kicked off her shoes in the vestibule with a smile, overjoyed to be home when it finally hit her. That delightful aroma filling the air was not coming from a candle... no, that could only be one thing... Tobias’s pumpkin pie!

Her eyes lit up, and for the first time in months, her stomach growled instead of churning. Morning sickness had kept her appetite at bay for weeks, but now she couldn't wait to grab a fork and dig into her favorite pie.

“Tobias?” she called out, setting down her bag. But there was no reply.

She stepped into the kitchen, but once there, she frowned. The counters were spotless, and there wasn’t a single dish in the sink. There was no sign of the coveted pie except for the lingering scent of spices in the air.

Confused, and a little desperate, she began a search. She looked in the oven, the fridge, and even the pantry as if her husband would have stashed it in there. “Where is it?” she muttered, her excitement beginning to wane.

The sound of her phone buzzing on the counter caught her attention, and she grabbed it to find a text from Tobias’s mother, Vivian: Tobias wanted me to tell you he’ll be home shortly. He just dropped off the pumpkin pie, and it smells divine. The ladies are just going to love it!

Casey’s heart sank, and she knew it was logical, but tears began to form in her eyes. The pie wasn’t for her? How could that be? Hormones were a real thing, and her head was filling up with irrational thoughts. He didn’t make the pie for me. He knows how much I love his pumpkin pie. Doesn’t he love me anymore? Why wouldn’t he make ME a pie? I’m having his baby! I'm his wife!

When Tobias walked through the door a short time later, he found Casey sitting on the couch, hugging a pillow against her chest as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Case?” He said, his voice filled with concern as he set down a grocery bag and rushed to her side. “Baby! What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is it the baby?”

Casey shook her head through her tears. “No. It’s just... just... you didn’t make the pie for me!”

“What?” Tobias blinked.

“The pumpkin pie! I was so excited. But you made it for your mom's dinner party. You didn’t think about me.”

The tiny crack in her voice tugged at Tobais’s heart, and he wrapped his arms around her. “Casey, of course I thought about you. My mom asked me to make one for her friends, and—”

“That’s my point!” she interrupted, her intonation rising. “You made it for your mom and her friends, not your pregnant wife who’s been throwing up every day and finally wanted something to eat!”

Tobias stifled a laugh, knowing it would only make matters worse. Leaning closer, he brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Casey, listen to me. I made the pie for my mom because she asked me to, but I knew you’d want one, too, so…” He reached for the grocery bag and pulled it onto his lap. “I stopped at the store on the way home to get ingredients for one more.”

“You’re... you’re making me one, too?” Casey asked, her lips quivering.

“Of course,” he replied, his voice gentle. “I’ll make it right now. As if I'd ever deny you."

Casey covered her face, her tears spilling once more. “I’m so sorry, baby,” she mumbled. “I know I’m being ridiculous. These damn hormones are doing a number on me.”

“You’re not being ridiculous,” he insisted, kissing her cheek. “You’re pregnant, and you want pie. There’s absolutely nothing ridiculous about that.”

Casey laughed softly, her eyes taking on a playful glint. “Did you get whipped cream, too?”

Tobias pulled a can from the paper bag, his grin turning mischievous. “Is that even a question? Though, to be fair,” he said, placing a hand on her tiny bump. “I believe whipped cream is partly responsible for us being in this situation.”

“Stop,” Casey giggled. “You know it was my boudoir photo shoot that did this.”

“Perhaps,” he grinned as his mind raced back to that day. “But I believe whipped cream was also involved. Now,” he said, jumping to his feet. “Let me get started on this pie. If my baby wants pumpkin pie, then pumpkin pie she gets.”

The two of them went to the kitchen, and Casey sat at the counter as Tobias began pulling out bowls and measuring cups he had put away just hours before.

“I can’t believe you’re making another pie just for me,” she whispered.

Tobias stopped, turning to her with an affectionate smile. “I’d do anything for you. If you want a pumpkin pie every day until this baby’s born, so be it.”

Casey couldn’t help but laugh. “If you do that, I’ll look like a pumpkin before the baby is here.”

He moved toward her and cupped her face in his hands. “You’re pregnant, Case. I think that’s to be expected. But I know you’re going to be the sexiest pumpkin I’ve ever seen.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. “You’re too much, Dr. Carrick.”

“Nah, never enough for you,” he replied, kissing her gently.

Once the pie was in the oven, Tobias and Casey retreated to the couch, a warm blanket wrapped snuggly around them.

“Now, don’t worry,” he whispered into her ear. “As soon as it’s done, you get the first slice.”

“Was that ever a question?” she teased, nuzzling closer to him.

Tobias placed a hand on her belly. “I love you so much, Casey. Both of you.”

She tilted her head up to kiss him. “We love you too.”

Casey smiled, reveling in the moment; she was exactly where she wanted to be. She married Tobias for a variety of reasons, and pumpkin pie expertise wasn’t among them, but if she was being honest, it sure was a nice bonus.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[bookwyrminspiration]

Call me out if I’m wrong here, but I feel like sometimes, when you’re in this fandom, there’s a lot of contradictory?

I feel like not that long ago people were upset that others were saying they didn’t like something, so wording changed.

I do believe that we should be honest on whether or not we like something (while being kind/gracious about it), but that might be the reason why some people are more nervous to just come out and say it?

Again I may be so incredibly wrong; I’ve been dipping my toes in and out of the fandom for a while now.

I think you have a valid point. There's a lot of people in the fandom, and we have different opinions, some of which contradict each other. Sometimes one view dominates, then the other. We vacillate and change, which is only natural.

Regarding the recent wording change, I'm not sure what specific thing that was in response to--there was some conversation in the vein of "if you don't like it, why are you here?" Which was more in response to the overwhelming negativity the series has started to accrue with the long interims, its current direction, and fans getting older. The sort of "people don't want to hear about how much you hate the thing they love." Even if you've established yourself as a fan of it previously.

Which I think can coexist alongside simply saying you don't like something. I can say the new cover isn't really hitting for me without tearing it apart and making those who really enjoy it feel bad, you know? I don't mind it, understand why it's like that, and appreciate Jason Chan's artistic prowess, but that doesn't make it interesting to look at.

But you're right, there's been this push to justify why you dislike things, at least in online spaces. So it's harder/makes people nervous to say "I just don't like this." Myself included. Instead it's "this was rushed" "this was last minute" "Shannon's publishers are pressuring her" "her editor's are pressuring her" etc.

Which, again, is entirely possible. Writing and publishing is hard; it takes a lot of work and pleasing the industry isn't easy. But there are points where--I think--people approach it with bad faith.

To use the cover as an example again, a lot of people are saying it's rushed. Possible. But is there a history of rushing covers? Not that we've seen, all the others have been spectacular, detailed, and thorough. What would they gain by rushing it? They could meet deadlines sooner, have something to share with the audience since we're in a weird period. But they could also damage their marketing with a subpar product, especially given the series' popularity. Why do we think the cover looks rushed? Its simplicity, its different mood. But, again, Shannon said that was intentional. There's Keefe's appearance, which is really hit or miss for people. I don't think Keefe not looking as attractive as people imagine/want is a result of rushing, but because there's an impossible standard for him as The Boy of the series. And so on and so forth.

The point of that being we've come to this conclusion, I think, hastily. While book 9.5 wasn't the original plan so of course timelines change, I don't think S&S has a history or motive to rush. There's already an established precedent for delays when necessary, the cover came out later than others, and there's (i think) a solid, purposeful reason the mood is different.

Could I be wrong? Absolutely. But the rapidity of the conclusion and with how much it feels we've been outsourcing our dislike the past few years I'm started to feel a little skeptical. Boy who cried wolf kinda thing. Was it rushed again, or do we just not like it? Feels like a slapstick explanation without further examination

And of course you don't have to analyze everything, but some things are a bit more complex, you know?

Point is: I think we're overusing these explanations (pressured, rushed) and at this point if we don't delve further into it it starts to lose its meaning. There is an argument for being rushed and pressured! But without getting into it, I can't tell if we're thinking it through or just avoiding saying we don't like something for fear of judgment/reprisal.

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

Oh, I just found out the hard way that the keep-reading thingy doesn't work at the beginning of posts anymore as it used to. Haha, oops, sorry. This is horrifyingly awkward.

I just remembered the (at least two) times that my best friend told me that before they really met me they were interested in asking me out but that they assumed that I was already in a relationship.

I'm still, to this day (we've been friends for like seven years now, I think) trying to wrap my head around that idea.

Like...apparently my vibe is 'taken/in a relationship'???????????? HOW????????????????????????????

I have to wonder if it's possible to be so asexual that people just assume you're in a relationship/unavailable. Or if those things are connected. Because I don't understand otherwise how my vibe comes across that way. I've literally never worn symbolic* jewelry and tbh I already hate wearing jewelry beyond earrings, anyway, so I don't understand how people visually think that.

I guess it's fine if my vibe is 'unavailable' in general, though, because it means that people (especially cishet men) don't hit on me, which is good because I generally don't want to be hit on...

And now I don't know what the point of this post was anymore except to wonder, 'So...exactly how weird am I? And apparently this level of weird is a good thing [for me]?'

Although, while I'm thinking about it, I will add another TMI, and that is...sometimes in the back of my mind I wonder, 'Am I lonely? Would it be nice to be in a relationship? To be in love?' The thought just doesn't cross my mind that often, and when it does, my response to all of those questions is just, 'No.' I see what happens with other people in relationships, and most of the time to me relationships just seem so unnecessarily messy, not to mention rather difficult work (so kudos to those who DO make them work, and put in the effort to do so! Amazing job, all of you, and I am not being sarcastic in the slightest!), so I'm like...god, I'm just too lazy and eternally caught up in all of my own bullshit [to varying levels of self-awareness] that I just...can't be bothered to seek out a relationship to add all of that shit to, lol. Maybe when it comes to being self-aware, that's something that someone in a hypothetical relationship with me might appreciate, but at the same time, my passive-aggressive, 'still waters run deep' tendencies would not appeal to nor help a SINGLE GOD DAMN PERSON (much less me), and so, I might as well stay single to protect everyone else from my bullshit. Because in the end, anyway, change is difficult, no matter how self-aware a person is, and I just do not want to make anyone wait for me to change for the better. That's just too much wasted time, and maybe I should be sorry for being selfish, but I would rather waste my own time than anyone else's if I can help it.

*Okay that might be a slight lie from *coughs* when I was in high school with my 'wife', but if that was 'symbolic' then it was also symbolic of BEING A JOKE on behalf of internalized homophobia. If you have no idea what this is about: COOL! You have not read that particular vent post where I mentioned the story behind that. If you do know what this is referring to: sorry, and, you get a cookie? idk

[slushycoookie]

9:30pm ~ Logan Howlett x Fem! Reader

✩ Word Count: 1.8k

✩ Content: Fluff, you and Logan take a night to relax, bathe together, you wash his hair, etc. You also do face masks and each other nails (more like Logan does yours). Hairdresser! Reader.

✩ A/N: Just wanted to do something sweet and wholesome with him. This man deserves to relax and take a breather. Enjoy!

Masterlist | Commissions

A long sigh escaped Logan's lips when he dragged himself into the apartment. Duffel bag filled with his cut of the mission was immediately dropped on the floor.

To say he was tired was an understatement.

It didn't stop him from searching for you, though. You weren't in the kitchen, but he saw a note on the fridge with a cute smiley face telling him there were leftovers. Logan checked the bedroom, but you weren't there either.

A faint sound of classical music came from the bathroom, along with your light hums. Logan's shoulders automatically relaxed when he knocked on the door.

“Sugar? I'm back.”

When you opened the door, your face lit up when you saw him. “Welcome back!” You went for a hug, but Logan stopped you, seeing your clean clothes compared to his worn suit.

“Wait, I don't wanna get you dirty.”

You suck your teeth and go for it anyway, hugging him tight around his neck. He doesn't get annoyed at how stubborn you are when he hugs you tighter, missing you.

“I was about to take a bath.” You open the door wider so he can see the water for the bath, as well as your beauty kit for extensive self-care. “You wanna join me?”

How could he say no to that?

You helped him get the suit off. At one point, you were fighting with the belt because it was looped around his waist. Logan chuckled at your struggle before coming to your rescue. You put his suit to the side to wash it later, then removed your own clothes, creating an odd pile in the corner.

With low music in the background and an arm wrapped around your waist, the two of you relaxed in the tub, surrounded by bubbles. Your head was on his chest while he was against the wall. The silence between the two of you occupied the space—quiet enough to fall asleep in the bathroom.

“How was the mission?” You ask, voice soft as if you didn’t want to disturb the serene atmosphere.

Logan groans while recalling the mission. He went with Wade and Domino to deal with an arms dealer who obtained vibranium weapons. The mission wasn't difficult until Wade got his leg chopped off. It set the mission back as Logan and Domino had to wait for his leg to grow back. He wanted to rip Wade's other leg off, frustrated that his partner let that happen, but he knew it would keep you further away from him.

“I would've been home earlier if that didn't happen.”

“It's okay.” You kiss his knuckles. Logan still admits to tensing up whenever you're near where his claws come out. Afraid they'd have a mind of their own and hurt you. But he reveals in your warm touch. “I'm glad you're home safe.”

Logan doesn't let go of your hand, returning the favor when he kisses your inner palm, “How was your day?”

You went over your day at work. How it was decent until the middle of the day when a man was rushing you for a haircut. You were okay with a customer being on a deadline, but he was rushing you for things that shouldn't be rushed, like washing and blow-drying his hair. Plus, he complained about the seemingly reasonable price for a haircut.

“Want me to kill him for ya?”

“No, not yet.” You snort a little, “It was just a little annoying.”

Logan holds you closer, “I won't hesitate to do it.” He smiles against your head at your amusement.

“I know.”

After enough lounging, you two start washing up, taking turns washing each other's bodies. Logan takes the washcloth and drags it across yours, getting the hard-to-reach areas like your back. He's determined to wash every inch of your body while you protest, saying you can wash yourself up. He knows you can, but he prefers to do it.

Logan knows your routine by heart anyway. When he does join you in the shower to fool around, he takes in your washing habits. Using a bar of soap to get rid of the dirt and then a body wash. He sees the lather form on your skin, making sure you're squeaky clean.

Once he’s done, you take over, running the cloth against his body. You're straddling him, making sure his face is clean. You move to his shoulders before pausing. Logan sees you lean in, taking a quick sniff of his hair.

“Ugh, even your hair smells like sweat.”

“I know. Don't worry about that-”

“Too late; I'm washing your hair, too.”

Logan sighs. Nothing could get past you.

He holds in a scowl as you start scrubbing his hair, bubbles forming around him.  At least the scent of mahogany was nice, not too overbearing on his nostrils. You kiss his cheek for comfort was also a bonus.

You two take turns drying each other off. Logan takes this opportunity to try and cop a feel under the excuse of making sure you were dry everywhere. You counteract by pinching his bottom cheek, earning a teasing scowl.

“Let’s do face masks.” You suggest as he’s rubbing lotion on your body.

“You talking about that green shit you put on your face?”

“They're not always green, but yeah.”

Logan grunts, focusing on making sure the lotion is rubbed into your skin. He admires how you take in his hands, appreciating when he doesn’t miss a spot on you. Your chest, arms, torso, thighs, legs.

“So?” You push further when it's your turn, running your hands across his hairy arms and chest.

He softly groans at your soft hands, “What do they even do exactly?”

“It rejuvenates your skin, making it glow.”

“I can think of better alternatives.”

Logan leers at you, rubbing the lotion along his legs, and you roll your eyes. “You just got back from a mission.”

“That’s never stopped me before.” You shoot him a look, and he sighs, “Fine. Let's do it.”

He prefers you being naked in the apartment, but he keeps quiet when you throw on panties and one of his shirts. He notices you’re practically matching once he puts on his tank top and boxers, joining you back in the bathroom. He holds completely still when you put the face mask on him, pressing against his skin to make sure it's still. Logan gets a whiff of peaches as you put yours on.

“Smells good.”

“It does.”

Clearly, you don't need help when you put yours on, a pink sheen across your skin.

Logan snorts at how ridiculous he looks when looking back in the mirror. “How long we gotta leave these on?”

“About fifteen minutes.” You hold his hand, observing his nails. “We should cut your nails too.”

He snatches his hand away, “They’re fine.”

“Yeah, right.”

Usually, when Logan comes home from a mission, he relaxes by grabbing a beer, lounging in his pjs, and hanging out with you for the rest of the night. He didn’t think after taking a bath with you, he ended up getting a face mask and his nails trimmed. Yet, you pull out your nail kit, instructing him to hold out his hands.

“You know this will give Wade some more ammunition, right?”

“Only if I paint them.” You freeze momentarily, “Can I paint them-”

“No.”

“I'll call Laura and have her convince you.”

Logan scoffs, seeing through your bluff. “You're not calling her.”

You playfully pout before continuing to file down his nails, “They're not gonna be as pretty.”

“They will be if you're doing them.” He grins at you, holding back a smile as you keep going. Logan watches you, taking in your eyes filled with concentration, brows scrunched. He does his best to not move for you. Although, he wasn’t sure he liked the feeling of you filing his nails.

“You want me to do yours?”

“Do you know how?”

“I don't have a damn clue.” He admits, “But it gives me an excuse to touch you more.”

You bit your lip, holding back at how flustered you were getting at his words. Still waiting for the time to remove the masks, it was your turn when you sat on the bed. Logan tried to hold your hand gently, listening to your instructions on how to do your nails. He asked for your opinion multiple times to ensure your nails were correctly filed down.

Once he got the word of approval, he took it a step further, grabbing your kit and seeing the rows of nail polish colors you had.

“Wait a minute, I can’t do yours, but you wanna do mine?”

“You got a problem with that?”

You tsk and grab the kit from him, searching for a decent color to put on. You end up picking a silver color, reminding you of his claws. Logan admires the color before crouching in front of you. For some reason, he’s a little nervous, thinking back to how calm and collected you are doing other people’s nails. You encourage him by saying to take it slow.

“Why is the brush so fucking small?” He complains when twisting off the top.

“You know our nails are small, right?”

Logan shakes his head and lets out a shaky breath. He starts with a thumb, swiping the brush across it. It wasn’t bad. He only managed to get the sides a little bit. He does it again and feels his heart swell with confidence when your nail looks decent.

“It looks good, baby.”

“Yeah?” He perks up, and you giggle.

“Yeah.”

Logan does the rest of your nails, taking his time to avoid making a mess. He managed to get the sides a few more times, but they looked really good.

To make sure your nails matched, he unleashed his claws. You gaped at how the color was identical. And that makes his heart soar.

“Think I’m good enough to be your assistant now?”

“Hmm, come back to me after you’ve had more practice.” You kiss him for thanks and hold your nails out to dry.

When it was time to remove the masks, Logan did yours first. Pulling yours off wasn’t much of a struggle, although you did flinch a bit as the mask clung to your skin. His eyes went wide, seeing your face glow under the intense bathroom light.

“Damn.”

“See? I told you.”

He pulls his own off in one motion, ignoring the slight pain from some hairs that were removed. He checks himself out in the mirror, clearly seeing a difference in his skin. Logan didn’t want to admit this in front of you, but he wanted to put on more of those masks.

As always, you see right through him, “Ooh, just wait until I tell Laura.”

“As long as you don’t tell Wade.”

[thehorrorgirlstyles]

Make you Scream

Billy Loomis x reader

Summary: You find out your boyfriend is Ghostface, which should scare you, instead it turns you on even more.

Warnings: Blood, Violence, sexual content, 18+ themes, swearing, foreplay, knife-play, mature themes, sex, reader is in denial

________________________________________________

"It's gotta be him right, I mean in a horror movie, it's always the person closet to you that turns out to be a fucking killer, I'm telling you man" Randy says to you as you both walk down the hallway of your school.

"Randy for the last time, Billy... who is my boyfriend as you know, is not a fucking killer.. trust me I know him better than anyone else... and besides if he was Ghostface I don't think he would be able to hide it from me" You reply, holding you books closer to your chest.

It's been a week since news of Casey and Steve's murders and Randy won't stop coming up with ideas on who the mystery killer is. First he pointed fingers at you because you never liked the girl, which he claims is a perfect motive. You don't like half the people at your school, but they're all still alive, so his reasoning is invalid. Now, he's claiming it's your boyfriend, which you think is ridiculous, I mean why is he naming all the people in your friend group for starters, you guys are friends for crying out loud.

"I don't know man Billy is pretty scary looking" He says opening the door to the library.

You walk in and drop the books off, "Well I think he looks sexy"

"Gross"

"Can we stop talking about Ghostface now, you know Stu is hosting a party tonight, you going?" You ask him.

"Yeah right, the killer will probably show up there, a bunch of drunk, not to mention high teens that probably won't notice if someone gets stabbed...but yeah I'll be there".

You roll your eyes at his dramatics.

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

After you left Randy, you went to grab a book you forgot in your locker. You decided to go now since everyone was in class and the halls would be empty.

You turn the corner and run straight into a hard figure. You look up to quickly apologize, but see no other than Ghostface himself. You gasp in shock and back away quickly, your heart starting to race.

Ghostface stares at you, mocking your movements. You see him pull out a knife from behind him. He looks at it and runs his fingers along the blade, toying with you. Quickly, you run past him and reach the stairs towards the main entrance of the school, but he's quicker. He grabs your arm, halting you from going down and pulls you backwards, your back meeting his chest. You try to break free, but he slices at your arm, the knife cutting into your shoulder. You scream out and fight against him.

He brings the knife up to your throat and pushes against it, cutting just enough to draw blood. You close your eyes, thinking this is your final moments and you curse yourself for not putting up more of a fight, but it never comes. He stays still, holding the knife against your throat, but not going deeper. You open your eyes and look up at him, but he's looking off to the side. What is he distracted by? You don't stay to think as you use this as a time to escape, you push at his arms and he lets go without putting up a fight. You didn't realize how easily he would let you go, as you were close to the edge of the stairs. You trip out of his arms and your foot skips a step, making you tumble down the stairs.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, your vision goes black and you can faintly make out two voices arguing.

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

When you wake up, you feel your head pounding. You take in your surroundings and try to make sense of where you are. You look around the room and see your boyfriend sitting in a sit next to you, his face in his hands.

"Billy?" You rasp out.

He immediately looks up at you and rushes over to your side.

"Y/n, how are you feeling, are you okay?" He grabs your hand and goes to touch your hair.

"Yeah, I-I'm okay, are we at a hospital?" You ask leaning into his touch.

"You fell down the stairs, I found you and called the ambulance"

"Oh my God, I remember now..Billy the killer he was trying to kill me!.. He was at the school!"

He looks off to the side like he's angry at something, "I'm dealing with it, but uh- the doctor said you should be free to go tonight, your injuries where just minor, nothing serious, they think you weren't looking and tripped"

"That's goods, but the killer...wait what do you mean dealing with it?" You ask, confused by his response.

"Nothing, listen I have to go to Stu's party tonight, are you still up for it?" He ask, moving a stray hair behind your ear.

"Are you serious, I just told you I got attacked by the killer and you want to go to a party?" You look at him in disbelief.

"Trust me nothing's going to happen to you, I'll be by your side at all times... and you don't have to go, but the doctor said you'll be fine, I just really have to go Y/n"

You roll your eyes at him, "Fine, I'll go with you.. I need a drink anyways".

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

After you got cleared from the hospital, you went home to change. Luckily you didn't break anything on the way down the stairs, getting away with the few marks left by Ghostface. Billy was adamant on going to this party, which makes no sense to you. Now that you think about it he didn't seem phased when you mentioned that a literal killer had you in his grasp ready to slice your throat. Weird.

"You look so hot Y/n... I heard what happened at school you okay?" Tatum says to you when she opens the door.

"Thanks, you too and yeah I'm okay it wasn't anything serious" You give her a hug and walk inside, your hands interlocked with Billy's.

"Hey I'm going to grab a drink, you want anything?" You shout to your boyfriend, over the loud music.

"No, I'm fine sweetheart, come straight to me after, don't want anyone slipping something into your drink".

"Ok, meet you by the front" You saying giving him a final kiss on the lips then leaving.

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

After you grabbed your drink, you walked back, frowning when you realize that Billy wasn't by the front.

Instead you see Randy by the door, drinking a beer, "Hey Randy, have you seen Billy?"

"I saw him go upstairs" He nods towards the stairs, continuing to drink his beer.

You go to walk upstairs, but he stops you, "Hey what happened at school?"

"What do you mean?...everyone heard that I fell down the stairs".

"Yeah..but like did you fall, or were you pushed?" He asks you, looking dead into your eyes.

You sigh, "It was Ghostface, he tried to kill me at the school, but something distracted him... He let go of me and I missed the step, when I woke up in the hospital Billy was there and he said it was better if I didn't tell the cops anything, that way Ghostface won't come after me anymore".

Randy scoffs, "Don't you see, it is so clearly him.. "don't tell the cops", that's complete bullshit, in what world would you not tell the cops a literal killer came after you?... and your stupid enough to agree with him, HELLO?!"

"Randy, enough with this Ghostface shit, I know you think it's Billy, but its not and if I was pushed down the stairs, it wouldn't be by him.. I do think it's a little weird he didn't seen phased by it, but I trust him.. he probably just didn't want to scare me into thinking Ghostface was going to come after me again and besides I'm pretty fine, just a few scratches".

"Whatever, you're either in serious denial or your a complete fucking idiot, I'm leaving.. call me later, if you're still alive be then" He grabs the door handle and walks out, slamming it shut.

You think that maybe Randy's right, even though he could have worded it nicer. I mean you were just in a hospital a few hours ago and now you're at a party?!

You brush off Randy's words and start to head upstairs. You pause when you get to the top, hearing hushed voices.

"I'm going to fucking kill you!..Why the hell would you go after Y/n.. when was that part of the plan?"

"You're going to kill Tatum, why can't I kill Y/n?"

"Uhh- maybe because Y/n is my girlfriend dumbass".

"Tatum is my girlfriend!"

"Yeah, but Tatum is just a means to an end, we actually want Y/n alive because I love her!"

"Whatever I'm going to go talk to Tatum before you kill her!"

Just as he stops talking, your phone starts to ring. Shit! You hurry up and try to turn it off seeing that it's Randy. This man has perfect timing.

"What the fuck was that?" Stu asks.

Before you can leave, a tall figure appears from around the corner. Billy stares at you, his facial expression unreadable. Your heart drops.

"Well What is it?" Stu asks.

He continues to stare at you for a minute before answering, "It's nothing, someone was probably at the bottom of the stairs".

You don't wait to hear Stu's reply and hurry down the stairs. WHAT THE FUCK?! Randy was right this whole time, Billy is ghostace? Stu is ghostface? THERE ARE TWO GHOSTFACE?!

"Y/n!" Someone calls your name.

You look behind you and see Billy standing by the stairs, he nods his head, wanting you to follow him upstairs. This is dumb right? You shouldn't go upstairs BY YOURSLEF with someone you know is a killer. You should call the police and turn both of them in.

You follow Billy upstairs. He leads you to one of the guest bedrooms, opening the door for you. You walk in first and he closes the door behind you, locking it.

You face him, waiting for him to speak. He smiles at you, shaking his head, "Why were you on the stairs?"

"I was looking for you".

"Hmmm, and you found me" He chuckles. "What did you hear?" he asks, walking closer to you.

You back up, your legs hitting the side of the bed, "Nothing".

"Mmmh, okay... Do I scare you?" He closes the gap between you.

"No".

He nods at your answer and he reaches behind himself, pulling a knife out of his pocket. He holds it up and quickly grabs you, applying pressure to your neck. You gasp at his quick movements.

"And what about now?" He says adding pressure, but not enough to actually hurt you.

"No".

"No? I don't make you scare sweetheart, even after you know what I have done, the people I've killed?"

"No".

You don't know why, but you're finding this to be extremly hot. Billy threatening you with a knife, but knowing that he would never hurt you. Maybe you're just sick in the head, after all your boyfriend is a murder, you shouldn't feel this way, but you do. Maybe it's because of all the dark romance books you have been reading or maybe it's because you love him too much that you can cast away his flaws. You should probably call the cops, but instead you rub your legs together, the friction does nothing to ease your aching cunt.

Billy catches the movement without his eyes, and groans when he sees what you're doing, "You're enjoying this?".. "You're more sick than I am, what a dirty whore you are" He chuckles out.

You moan, "Billy pleasee, I-I just need you".

"You want it baby?" he guides the knife over the top of your chest.

"Please, Mr. Ghostface".

His eyes darkenen in response as he halts his movement, looking at you. He grabs at you quickly and slices your top open with the knife, exposing your breast. The cold meets your chest, your nipples hardening. He looks down at your breast and moves his mouth to meet your bud. He licks and flicks at it with his tongue. He moves up to your neck and laps at it, leaving marks. You moan and wrap your arms around his neck, encouraging him to continue his bitting.

When he finishes attacking your neck, he picks you up and throws you on the bed. You gasp as your back meets the mattress. He gets on top of you and starts to undo his belt.

"Turn around and get on all fours" He tells you, slapping your cheek.

You listen to him and flip over on your stomach. After he gets his pants off, he flips your skirt over, exposing your bare cunt.

"You didn't wear anything underneath?" He asks in shock, but he quickly turns unfazed.

"Always prepared for me huh sweetheart" He pulls your legs closer to his hip and you can feel just how hard he is. He rubs his tip against your entrance, making you grow wetter by the second. Without warning he pushes his length past your folds. Making you scream out. You quickly adjust to his big size, the pain turning into pleasure.

He snaps his hips back and forth. Your whines egg him on as he continues to fuck into you ruthlessly not caring if you can take it. He doesn't let you gather your breath, each movement your face pushes more into the sheets. You cry out, but it's muffled by the sheets. He repeatedly hits your g-spot, making you cry out even more.

"Fuck, look at you making a mess on my cock, you're a fifthly little thing aren't you?" He pulls you up, your back meeting his chest, waiting for you to answer him.

"Only for you Billy~" You whine out, tears forming in your eyes from the pleasure.

He pushes you back down into the sheets, his movements continuing, "That's right baby, you're mine, my dirty slut, my pussy to fuck, my cunt to cum in".

You feel his dick twitch inside of you, knowing that he is close. You moan out his name, begging for him to fuck into you faster. He listens, his pace picking up. Your wet pussy hugs his dick, clenching around it tightly.

"Fuck, Y/n..I'm gonna cum, you feel so good... so wet for me baby"

You moan in response, as you feel yourself getting closer and closer. With one final snap of his hips you clench down on his cock, causing him to reach his climax too.

"Fuckk~" He pulls your body closer to him, making sure that his dick is fully inside you as far as it can go. You feel his cum painting your walls as he comes undone. He collapses on top of you, his dick twitching inside of you. When you both calm down from your highs, he flips you over, pulling your naked body on top of his.

After you both finish, you lay on the bed together. He holds you to his chest and strokes your hair. You look up at him and he grins at you. You reach up to meet his lips. He kisses you back immediately, humming into the kiss. After a while, you pull back and look up at him, meeting his eyes.

"Please don't kill Tatum, I like her".

He chuckles, "Whatever you want baby".

[incognit0slut]

Just the sloppiest head ever, that’s it. Choking, gagging, etc

Spencer finally lets you go down on him after you convince him that you're ready.

Warnings: (18+) soft dom spence x inexperienced fem reader. Oral sex (male receiving while he talks you through it?), female masturbation because reader can’t help herself lol. 1.8k words a/n: this is very much self-indulgent because I need him so bad. Ty anon for requesting

"No."

You pulled away from him, shifting your weight on his lap as you peered down at him, a furrow forming on your brow. "No?"

He gently shook his head, his hands tracing up your thighs. "You're not ready yet."

You leaned back, creating some space between you, though it wasn't much given the way you were straddling him. "Wait a minute," you protested. "Since when do you get to decide if I'm ready or not? And why aren't you into it when most guys would be jumping at the chance?"

A faint smile danced on his lips. "I thought I’m the first guy you've ever been with."

"That's not the point!"

He laughed, his hands finding a firm grip on your waist. "It's not that I don’t enjoy the idea..."

"Then what's holding you back?"

He paused for a moment, his expression softening as he looked into your eyes. "Because I care about you," he confessed, his thumb tracing circles on your hip. "And I don't want you to feel pressured or rushed for anything we do together."

"That's what I've been trying to say," you replied. "I don't feel pressured. I want to."

He studied you, and when the silence went on, you knew you had to do something to reassure him. With a gentle sigh, you shifted closer, nestling against him, and allowed your lips to graze the sensitive curve of his neck. It was a spot you knew well, one that never failed to draw out a reaction from him. You felt the subtle hitch in his breath and smiled.

"You already went down on me yesterday and I really, really liked it," you murmured between kisses, your lips trailing further down. "Let me do the same for you."

Feeling the warmth of your breath against his skin, he let out a soft sigh, his resolve weakening.

"I..." he began, his voice catching as he struggled to find the right words.

You lifted your head to meet his gaze. "Trust me," you whispered, your fingers tracing soothing patterns on his chest. "Let me show you how much I want this."

His eyelids drooped slightly as your hands moved down. When you paused, fingers poised right above the evident bulge in his pants, you realized you had him right where you wanted him to be.

"Come on, Spencer," you whispered, gripping him over the material of his pants, working your hand up and down his thickness. "Let me suck your cock."

He sucked in a sharp breath, his grip tightening on your waist as he met your gaze. What kind of man would he be to deny you? To say no to you as you looked at him with those glossy eyes, your lips running along your lips? With a low groan, he finally gave in, his resolve crumbling as he nodded in silent agreement. 

"Okay," he breathed out, his voice heavy with need. "Okay, just... only if you're sure."

With a reassuring smile, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I'm sure," you whispered against his skin.

As if a switch had been flipped, you felt the tension in him dissipate entirely. His touch on your waist was firm, sending a shiver down your spine, and the look in his eyes had you already feeling a flush of heat between your legs.

"Get on your knees."

Your breath caught in your throat at his tone, a thrill coursing through you at the sheer dominance in his demeanor. Without hesitation, you obeyed, slipping off the couch and sinking to your knees before him. The intensity of his gaze sent a delicious shiver down your spine, and you looked up at him, meeting his eyes as he reached for his belt.

As he undid his belt, the anticipation between you intensified, and you could feel the heat building between your thighs. With a slow, deliberate motion, he freed himself from the confines of his pants. Your pulse quickened as your gaze lingered on him, drinking in every detail, every inch of him, the veins pulsing on the underside of his cock.

Unable to resist any longer, you reached out, your fingers trailing lightly over his length, feeling the heat emanating from him. "I..." you started, your voice wavering slightly. "I might be bad at this."

His hand reached out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "Do you want me to talk you through it?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his offer. "Yes, please," you replied. "I want to make this good for you."

A soft smile tugged at his lips. "You already make it good just by being here," he murmured. "But I'll guide you, okay?"

His words melted away your nerves. "Okay," you whispered. "What do I do first?"

"Start with gentle kisses," he instructed, his voice low and soothing. "Explore the tip with your lips."

Following his guidance, you leaned in, pressing soft kisses along his length, feeling the tension in him building with each tender touch. You focused on every sensation, savoring the moment as you allowed yourself to immerse in the way he pulsed underneath your touch.

"Good," he murmured, his breath hitching as he looked down at the way you were gripping his cock, your mouth exploring every inch of him. "Now, use your tongue. Start with light strokes."

Encouraged by his words, you followed his guidance. With gentle strokes, you explored the sensitive skin with your tongue. His reaction was immediate—a sharp intake of breath followed by a low groan that sent a shiver down your spine. 

His reaction spurred you on as you increased the pressure of your strokes. His hands found their way into your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he held you close. "That's it," he whispered, his voice thick with need. "Just like that."

A sense of power washed over you as you continued to tease him with your tongue, relishing in the way he squirmed beneath you. You marveled at the effect you had on him, and with a boldness you didn't know you possessed, you licked him from the base to the tip, savoring the taste of him on your tongue.

His reaction was immediate, a low groan escaping his lips as he arched into your touch. "You're driving me crazy," he breathed out. "Do you think you can handle more?"

Your heart raced at the question, excitement coursing through your veins. "Yes," you replied.  "Please."

He guided your lips over to his tip. "Now take me in your mouth."

You leaned in, allowing him to slide into your parted lips. The sensation was intoxicating, the taste of him filling your senses as you eagerly accepted him into your mouth. His hands gently guided you, encouraging you to find a rhythm that worked for both of you and before you knew it, your head was bopping up and down his length.

With your hand already gripping him, you began pumping up and down as you sucked him, eliciting deep groans and breathy moans from him in return. "God, your mouth feels so good," he hissed, his voice thick with desire. "Look up at me."

Obeying his command, you lifted your gaze to meet his, locking eyes with him. He looked down at you with his cock buried deep inside your mouth, your cheeks flushed, and lips stretched wide around his girth. Driven by the desire to give him more pleasure, you sank your mouth further, keeping your eyes locked on his as his tip hit the back of your throat. 

The sensation made you gag, your throat burning with the effort, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. But you pushed through before finally pulling back, a string of saliva trailing from your lips as you gasped for air, and despite the discomfort, the look of satisfaction on his face made it all worth it.

His head fell back against the couch, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. "I don't think I can last much longer," he admitted, his voice strained.

Feeling a surge of pride at the effect you had on him, you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his cock again, "Then let go. I want to taste you."

"Yeah?" he breathed, looking down at you. "You'd let me come in your mouth?"

Your tongue flickered over his tip, one right over his slit, and you felt his hips buck underneath you. "I think I'd let you do anything to me by now."

He let out a sound of pleasure, and without hesitation, you took him into your mouth again. You set a steady pace, moaning around his shaft as spit dribbled past the corners of your lips and down your chin. It wasn't long until the room was filled with obscene lewd noises as you took as much of him down your throat.

With each throb of him in your mouth and every intoxicating sound he made, the ache between your thighs intensified until it became unbearable. Unable to resist any longer, you let your free hand slide between your thighs, slipping underneath your skirt.

Surprised at how wet your panties were, you wasted no time in spreading your arousal everywhere, your fingers finding your clit with ease. You spread your legs further on the floor, arching your back as you pleasured yourself, your movements synchronized with the rhythm of your mouth along his cock.

Spencer's breath hitched as he noticed your dainty hand between your legs, the sight of you touching yourself while eagerly sucking and bobbing your head up and down his length sending him to the edge. He couldn't hold back any longer. 

He tightened his grip on your hair, his hips instinctively thrusting into your mouth as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensation. His release finally washed over him in waves, his body trembling with the force of it as he emptied himself into your waiting mouth, and you swallowed the hot spurts down your throat eagerly, savoring the taste of him.

It didn't take long for you to feel the familiar coil of pleasure building within you. With his release still fresh on your tongue, you shifted your focus to your own pleasure, your fingers picking up the pace as you sought your own climax. And then, with a sharp gasp, you felt the wave of pleasure crashing over you.

You finally released him when your orgasm subsided, slumping over his lap. He was quick to bring you up on the couch, a tender smile on his lips as he looked down at you. "Did you make yourself come?"

Feeling a warm flush spread across your cheeks, you nodded breathlessly, unable to meet his gaze. "Yeah..."

His smile softened further, his fingers gently lifting your chin to meet his gaze.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about," he assured you. But before you could respond, you felt his other hand slipping inside your skirt, tugging down your panties.

Your eyes went wide. "What are you doing?"

"I think it's only fair," he replied as he pulled your panties down your legs. Then, to your surprise, he got to his knees, positioning himself between your thighs as he pushed your legs apart. "I want to taste you too."

[hoe4hotchner]

Zoomies | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader | WC: 1.7k  | CW: fluff, no use of Y/N.| Summary: Reader gets the zoomies while being restless on a case and Hotch is the only one who can calm her down.

A/N: I've been laughing so hard while writing this. It's most probably the stooopidest idea i've ever had, but it's so crazy and I love this fic a lot!!!!

It had been a long case, the air in the precinct felt heavy with tension, thick enough to cut like a knife. Everyone was drained, running on fumes, but you felt it the most. The team had been stuck in the stuffy bullpen for hours, waiting for intel, and the endless waiting always gnawed at you. It clawed at your nerves, picking apart your focus, making the silence unbearable.

At first, the restlessness was small. A tap of your foot under the desk, fingers drumming lightly against your notebook, anything to keep moving. But the energy in you started to grow, buzzing under your skin like a live wire. Sitting still wasn’t an option anymore. Your chair felt too small, the walls too close, and before you knew it, you were up, pacing the room. Your movements were aimless, driven by the jittery need to do something. The more you tried to control it, the worse it got. Anticipation surged through you like a shot of adrenaline, nerves firing on all cylinders.

Soon, you were practically bouncing from one side of the room to the other, your body filled with boundless, chaotic energy. You had the zoomies - no better way to describe it - and nothing was going to stop you.

Emily tried to pull your attention, cracking jokes, attempting to reel you in with her sarcasm, but that only seemed to wind you up further. Spencer suggested deep breathing exercises, but his voice barely registered. You were already off again, moving to another corner, your body refusing to settle. Even Derek, who usually found your hyperactive moments amusing, was starting to watch you with concern.

“She’s like a rabbit on a sugar rush,” Derek muttered, crossing his arms as he watched you dart from the coffee machine to the board plastered with crime scene photos, then back again in a blur of movement.

“I don’t know how she has this much energy,” Emily sighed, shaking her head as you bounced on the balls of your feet, eyes scanning the room for your next destination. “But we’ve got to get her to calm down before she drives us all insane.”

Just then, Penelope popped her head into the room, her eyes wide and flustered. “Okay, so… I love her energy, don’t get me wrong, but she’s one wrong move away from knocking over something very expensive and very important. And I'm trying to run background checks on all the suspects, please get her to stop.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, but she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. Penelope had a point - you were like a wildfire, buzzing from corner to corner, leaving a trail of chaos in your wake. Every drawer you opened slammed shut a little too hard, every step you took a little too fast.

Morgan chuckled softly, his gaze still following your movements. “I know someone who can get through to her,” he said, his voice low with a smirk.

Emily glanced at him. “You don’t mean - he's gonna be pissed if you pull him out.”

“I do.” He nodded confidently. “If anyone can calm her down, it’s Hotch.”

Without another word, Morgan pushed off the wall and strode out of the room, weaving through the bustling precinct with purpose. He knew exactly where to find Hotch - deep in the middle of an interrogation. He didn’t slow down as he reached the interrogation room door, his hand gripping the handle with determination. Without hesitation, he swung it open, the door creaking slightly as it interrupted the tense atmosphere inside.

Hotch was mid-sentence, leaning forward as he questioned the suspect with his trademark intensity. The sharpness in his voice cut through the silence, but it faltered the moment he noticed Morgan standing in the doorway. His eyes flicked up, brow furrowing in mild irritation at the intrusion.

“Can I help you?” Hotch asked, his voice low and calm, though the edge of annoyance was impossible to miss.

Morgan didn’t flinch. He just nodded toward the main room, the flicker of amusement in his eyes betraying the seriousness of the situation. “We’ve got a situation.”

Hotch’s brow raised a fraction higher. “What kind of situation?”

“It’s uhh..." Morgan said, trying not to laugh. “She’s… uh, bouncing off the walls. Literally. We tried everything, but she’s got a serious case of the zoomies, and it’s getting out of hand.” He gave a helpless shrug, knowing if anyone could handle it, it’d be Hotch.

Hotch blinked once, his expression unreadable as he processed Morgan's words. There was a moment of silence before he straightened up, his posture stiff yet composed. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said coolly to the suspect, rising from his chair with the kind of calm authority that suggested nothing rattled him - not even this.

He followed Morgan out of the interrogation room, his footsteps steady and purposeful as they headed back into the bullpen. The scene that greeted him was one of controlled chaos - or at least, controlled by you. You were darting between desks, fingers trailing across papers, pens, and anything within reach. Your pacing had turned into something close to spinning, an endless loop of movement that seemed unstoppable.

Hotch’s gaze swept over the room, the tension in his jaw barely visible, though his eyes darkened with a hint of resolve. He didn’t need to say a word; his mere presence was enough to shift the atmosphere. But you were so caught up in your own restless energy that you didn’t even notice him at first.

Then, like a sixth sense, you felt it - that solid, commanding presence behind you. There was no mistaking it. That steady, magnetic pull that could only be Hotch. Your steps slowed a tad, just enough to make you aware of the weight of his eyes on you, and suddenly, the energy swirling around you started to settle.

The moment you turned and saw him standing there, hands casually tucked into his pockets, those deep, dark eyes locked on you with that familiar mixture of sternness and calm, everything inside you stilled. Your breath caught in your throat, a ripple of tension releasing as his gaze held yours. He didn’t even need to say a word - his sheer presence was enough to command your attention, to quiet the whirlwind that had been spiraling out of control in your mind.

He took a single step forward, and instinctively, you stopped moving, the restlessness evaporating like steam. His eyes, intense yet soft in a way only he could manage, seemed to weigh on you, grounding you in place. There was a hint of amusement in the subtle curve of his lips, barely noticeable but there all the same, though his voice remained steady, unwavering.

He called your name, just your name, low and authoritative, and it was all it took.

Your pulse slowed, the frantic energy that had been pulsing through your veins fading as if he’d flipped a switch. The world around you quieted, the room narrowing down to just him. You exhaled slowly, blinking up at him, feeling the wildness ebb away.

“Come here,” he said softly, his voice like a calm tide, pulling you in, his eyes never leaving yours.

You obeyed without a second thought, your feet moving toward him as if on autopilot. The restless buzz in your mind began to fade with each step, the chaotic energy that had consumed you moments ago slowly dissipating. It was as if his presence alone acted like an anchor, pulling you back from the whirlwind inside your head. The entire team looked on, wide-eyed and quietly amazed, watching as you came to a stop in front of him. The zoomies that had been running rampant through your system were now completely subdued, tamed by nothing more than his commanding presence.

“Take a breath,” Hotch instructed, his voice firm but gentle, you couldn’t help but follow. Without a second’s hesitation, you inhaled deeply, the weight of his gaze still on you. The tension that had tightened every muscle in your body started to unwind, the frantic energy melting away like snow under the sun. His calmness wrapped around you, a steadying force that made everything seem simpler, quieter. You felt the tightness in your chest loosen, your breathing evening out as you stood there, finally still.

“Good,” Hotch murmured, his deep voice holding a trace of warmth in the otherwise stoic demeanor. The barest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he cast a quick glance at the team - who were still watching in stunned silence - before his eyes returned to you. There was an understanding in his gaze like he knew exactly what you needed without you having to say a word.

“Better?” he asked, his tone carrying just enough reassurance to ease the lingering embarrassment you felt.

You nodded, the flush of heat creeping up your neck as you tried to fight the sheepish smile pulling at your own lips. “Yeah,” you breathed out, feeling a mix of relief and slight self-consciousness at how quickly you’d gone from bouncing off the walls to standing perfectly still in front of him. “Much better.”

He gave a small nod of approval, that familiar flicker of satisfaction in his eyes, before leading you over to one of the chairs positioned around the table. As you sank into the seat, you finally felt a wave of calm wash over you, the whirlwind of energy that had previously consumed you now fully under control.

With a subtle, reassuring pat on your shoulder, Hotch turned and walked back toward the interrogation room, his presence lingering even as he moved away. Morgan watched him go, shaking his head in disbelief. “Man, I don’t know how he does that,” he remarked, still a bit stunned by the transformation he’d just witnessed.

“Whatever it is, I’m just glad it works,” Emily chimed in, a smirk dancing on her lips as she crossed her arms, clearly impressed by Hotch’s effortless ability to handle the chaos.

From her spot in the corner, Penelope giggled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s like magic,” she teased, playfully throwing her hands up as if conjuring a spell, making the atmosphere feel lighter despite the tension of the case.

But you knew the truth. It wasn’t magic - it was Hotch. Something about him, the quiet authority he carried, had the power to center you like nothing else.

[yayll]

~ a little something about waking up next to Dazai, and he's unbearable as always ~

"I might just eat you alive..." He mumbles to himself, barely audible. His eyes are half-lidded, and he's barely blinked.

He's been watching you sleep next to him curled up like a kitten for the past hour, way past the time you usually wake up. He's the oversleeper, not you, and it makes him hyper aware of your bodily functions and if they're okay. He hasn't eaten properly in days, but you don't need to know that. He's rabid, and he knows he's being a total freak right now, but who will worry for you if not for him? He must rise up to be the voice of reason, the watchful eye that keeps you on track even if he can barely keep himself alive! He wishes you'd stay forever, where he could avoid his problems and take care of your every single need. He should be everything you need... He hopes. Then you'd never leave, and he would make sure to eat more, just for you. How perfect... selfish.

God, he just wants to crawl inside of you and make you his home, it's almost pathetic. You'd find him vile for the things he would do for you and your happiness, despite you already being so accepting of his dark past... You're simply heaven sent. He takes a deep breath, and lightly runs his knuckles down your jawline, as if carving them out of the precious material that you're made of. You begin to stir, and his pupils dilate instantly as he pulls back with anticipation.

"Mmm... Osamu..."

You murmur sleepily as your chest rises up and down ever so slowly. He's freaking out. It's bad for his health to hear the way you say his name as if it were a healing oath, a spell that only works on him.

"Wakey wakey~"

Dazai's propping himself up on one elbow, a calculating smile plastered on his lips as if he were in on something you weren't. You pop open one eye, and groan softly.

"You're up... early"

"Yes!"

"Why..." You yawn like the silly little thing you are. He gasps in mock offense, clutching his chest.

"Can't a fortunate guy like ME just be happy that we both live to see another beautiful day?!"

He winks, and boops the tip of your nose, this gets a muffled snort out of you that causes you to bury your face into the pillow. He's addicted to the rush of causing any joy in your life, it's disgusting. When you don't lift your face back up, he scrunches up his face, and reaches out to stroke a strand of your silky hair, but his intrusive thoughts win and he tugs on it as payback for possibly falling asleep again. He needs your attention, and you're sleeping? Insanity. You swat at him, blindly smacking his arm away.

Oh, how he loves that you're the only person who truly sees him past his myriad of theatrics.

"Oh my... a slap from you feels wonderful!"

He rubs his arm, and grabs the hand that swatted him, bringing it up to kiss the pulse point on your wrist. Feather like kisses, almost undetectable... until you lift your face up from the pillow, finally.

He gazes at you as he rubs his face onto your hand like a cat greeting its owner, purring as if he were starved for affection. For a moment, his gaze becomes more serious, detached, as if he were thrown back into a distant memory. He can't describe the feeling, but the way your hand feels against his cheek is a warmth he hasn't felt in ages. His eyes sting, and he blinks the wetness away before you can notice as he hears your angelic voice again. He's back to his usual self.

"Osamu... You're being annoying"

"You think I'm just annoying?~"

His voice comes out in a tender whisper, his mouth curled up into a mischievous grin. He's insufferable. He could be anything for you if you wanted it. Especially annoying! He almost drools when you roll your eyes affectionately at him, the coldness in his heart disappears as he leans in just a little, invading your personal space as always, eager to hear your reply.

"Amongst other things, yes..."

You flash him a sweet little smile, and it mends all that is wrong in the world. The pink in your cheeks is starting to turn red, and it sends him to the moon. He hums, slowly nuzzling himself into the crook of your neck, it's his turn to curl up. You run your fingers through his messy hair that tickles you, feeling the warmth of Dazai's breaths against the back of your ear.

"Hmm, do I look like a pillow to you?"

He can hear the smile in your murmur, and he pulls back from your neck briefly, peering at you through his messy bangs, those intense hazelnut eyes demanding your attention, and his voice drips with an aching devotion that oozes like honey. he moves his lips to your ear, and whispers.

".. You look like an angel to me."

He watches you self destruct at his painfully smooth delivery of a compliment, and secretly rewards himself for once again giving you another reason to never leave. He's got it all!

Romance, self deprecating humor, an inability to properly process his emotions and grief, but more importantly, an undying commitment to stay alive against all odds so that he may see another day of you in his arms... or you helping him change his bandages... or-

He's cut short by you grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him into the most sinfully delicious kiss known to man, and he could swear that despite all his efforts, this might be what ACTUALLY kills him.

[ddejavvu]

can i request spencer reid w bau!reader and their married but reader forgets to put her wedding ring back on and derek’s asking spencer about what happened/if theyre having marital problems and spencer starts panciking but she just forgot about it in her pocket😭

Derek's brow is knitted in real, authentic concern when he corners Spencer in the BAU's kitchenette, and it turns Spencer's stomach. Usually, Derek has a teasing glimmer in his eyes, but it's scarily absent today, and he braces a large hand on Spencer's lanky bicep.

"Pretty boy," Derek starts, and his tone is soft, soothing, kind, "Anything you wanna talk about? I'm here if you need me, y'know."

Spencer tries feigning calm, which is terribly hard to do as someone who's fraught with nerves constantly, but he keeps an even tone when he speaks.

"I don't think so. Should I want to talk about something?"

Derek smiles sympathetically, almost a grimace, and Spencer feels a flash of fear run through him. Has Derek heard something about his mom?

"I don't think anyone else has noticed yet," Derek assures Spencer, "But I saw Y/N's not wearing her ring."

It's not what he'd been expecting, dreading, but it's not pleasant either. Spencer's eyes dart hurriedly to your hunched form, shoulders bent and crowding your desk as you devote yourself entirely to your paperwork. Sure enough, your wedding ring is absent from your finger, leaving an uncomfortably blank space on your skin, and Spencer's brows knit together.

"I didn't know," Spencer admits, keeping his voice to a low murmur, "I- But- we aren't having any problems. I don't think."

Derek shoots that awful pitying grimace his way again, and Spencer shakes his head, his stringy hair flying.

"No, no- we're not- we're not having problems," He asserts, but he's not sure if he's trying to convince himself or Derek more, "I mean, we bickered about coffee this morning, but not- not marriage problems bad. She just forgot it."

Spencer knows what expression will be on Derek's face if he looks, so he doesn't. He busies himself with stirring the rest of the sugar into his coffee, excusing himself before Derek can press the issue even further.

On his way out of the kitchenette he snags a donut from an open box on the counter, slipping a napkin beneath it and trying not to rush to your desk. He doesn't want to seem obvious, but he's a flaming bundle of nerves.

"Angel," He gets right to the point, placing the donut beside your hand on the desk and leaning over the back of your chair. He nestles his cheek to yours, pressing his lips against the curve of your jaw and blocking your conversation from view of the bullpen with the way he shrouds you from behind.

"Spence," You begin, alarmed at the sudden ambush of sugar, both literally and figuratively, "What-?"

"Are you mad at me?" He asks, sounding rather like a child worrying to their parents. You're only more confused after his question, and you tentatively shake your head.

"No? Should I be?"

"I don't think so," Spencer hums, "But you're not wearing your ring."

You blink, glancing at your bare ring finger.

"Oh!" You gush, your shoulders pressing back against his own as you maneuver your hand into your pocket. It's difficult sitting down, but you retrieve the ring and jam it back onto your finger, "I took it off earlier because I was taking the trash out. I didn't want it to get all goopy, and I guess I just forgot it was in there." You let your explanation hang in the air for a moment, but your eyes flash with sympathy, remembering Spencer's initial question, "Oh, Spence, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out."

"It's okay," He breathes out a shaky sigh of relief, reluctant to straighten up from where he's hugging you from behind, "You didn't even freak me out. Morgan did."

You laugh, and the sound soothes those frayed nerves in his chest, the ones that had lit with sparks of panic at Morgan's pity, "Well, don't listen to Morgan from now on. However," You reach for the donut, tearing it in half and holding one end out to Spencer while you catch the other between your teeth, "If it means I get donuts in apology, maybe I'll forget my wedding ring in my pocket more often."

[maybank5]

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞

pairing ⤜ yn x jj

summary ⤜ a happy future fic, because we need some healing; jj on the beach with his family reflecting on his life.

a/n ⤜ how are we doing fam? me? not so well. this has been the hardest fictional moment that's ever hit me. i'm choosing to believe our boy is still off somewhere and gonna have the best, most fulfilled and loving future. sending hugs and love to each of you!!

song inspo ⤜ no song inspo for this one; but i did have 'nights in white satin' on repeat as i wrote

The sun is setting over the horizon, sinking down into the ocean and melting into streams of gold and orange against the shimmering water. JJ Maybank perches on his surf board for a moment, admiring it. He's never considered himself to be the most religious of people. Sure, he attended Sunday school as a kid, knows the bible stories decently enough; and yeah, there's times when he catches himself praying. Like the time John B got into that nasty accident, or when his son was born. There'd been complications, things had been touch and go for a moment. JJ had pressed his head against the glossy white wall of the hospital waiting area, hoping to God that things would be okay, as John B and Sarah rubbed his back comfortingly.

The one time JJ didn't pray might have been the one time he should. He'd been stabbed, by his son of a bitch father. Not Luke, the "real one" though JJ found it almost funny how he preferred to think of Luke fuckin' Maybank as his actual father. At least Luke had never tried to stab him. But that was beside the point; JJ had been stabbed, and things were not looking good. John B had felt for a pulse and had felt nothing. JJ can still remember the feeling of floating away, like riding a wave to the horizon. He hadn't prayed then. Instead, he'd made peace with his fate. He'd lived a pretty damn full life in 20 years, and if this was the end of it, so be it. At least on the other side, no one would be trying to hurt him, right? That sounded mighty nice to him. So he'd closed his eyes and let himself drift off towards that horizon.

Only instead, he'd woken up in a hospital, still very much alive. His best friends at his side. Pope and Kiara barely left his side, and John B had practically crawled into the bed with him to hold him in his arms until a nurse had yelled at him. JJ doesn't remember feeling such love until that moment. And that was when it all changed. He'd been given a second chance, and an opportunity to see just how loved and valued he is. He was never going to squander it or take it for granted again.

The sun is sinking lower, the water in front of him glittering in gold. JJ pushes his wet hair back off his forehead to admire it. Years ago he'd have just shrugged it off. Sunsets were a dime a dozen. Not anymore though. Now JJ takes the moment to sit and watch and appreciate.

He glances back to the shore, where his wife and baby are playing in the sand. Harley John Maybank's (it'd be a cold day in hell if JJ ever took the name of that man) new favorite thing was trying to rush to the water, his mom and dad hot on his heels. JJ could tell already that Harley was going to be a handful, and he couldn't fucking wait.

The waves were rising higher. It'd make for a sick surf tonight. JJ bites his lip, turns and paddles back to the shore. Some priorities rank higher than waves.

He tucks his board under his arm and hurries over to where the two of you are building a sandcastle with Harley's little castle-shaped buckets.

"Hey, baby," you glance up at your husband, reaching out and touching his cheek with his hand, always little assurances like that to make sure he's real, "Not surfing?"

"Nah," JJ shakes some water from his head, "Much rather'd build sand castles with this little one," he ruffles Harley's head of blonde hair, glistening in the sunlight.

You can't help but smile as he sinks down into the damp sand to help Harley stuff sand into his buckets. Moments like these is when it truly hits you, just how blessed you are.

JJ gently helps Harley, his eyes so soft and full of love and devotion. Harley John is his utmost pride and joy. He's always been soft with you, but the gentleness in which he treats your son is beyond anything you could imagine.

JJ packs the sand into the bucket with the back of a little plastic shovel. He wonders if maybe there was a time he'd done this as a boy, but shakes the thought from his head. It doesn't matter. He can do it now. He can do it with Harley.

"Sarah called earlier," your voice pulls JJ from his thoughts, "She and John B are going to have Baby Jackson christened. John B is supposed to ask you to be the godfather tomorrow, but Sarah couldn't wait to tell me. You know the two of them, it's not a church thing or anything. Just The Pogues and the ocean."

"Sounds nice," JJ says, wrapping his arms around Harley and pulling him softly onto his lap.

JJ reaches for your hand, pulling you to him as well. He presses a kiss the back of your hand, holding your hand and running his thumb over your knuckles. Nothing ever feels one hundred percent real unless JJ can feel it, touch it, revel in it. He tosses his head back as the evening breeze licks through his hair.

And in that moment, JJ can't help but stop and say thank you.

Because JJ Maybank lives every day in paradise.

[miniimight]

can you write one where mikey tries so hard to hide your relationship but he lets you into toman without you really being all that strong (he just wanted you around) and some members try to hit on you and he teaches them a lesson?

I LOVE YOUR WORK BTW!!!! OMG

HIDDEN RELATIONSHIP ! but some new toman members make it not-so-hidden

with mikey + fem!reader

warnings unwelcome attraction, they corner you and try to force you into a date, a guy puts his hands on you against your will

notes i love this request !! :D i think i went overboard tho lol

mikey was the epitome of attention as the leader of the growing toman. he really couldn't help the fact that emma was known as his sister, but he desperately tried to keep the fact that you were his girlfriend under wraps. couldn't have dumb kids trying to use you against him or get you caught up in gang wars.

every time he dropped you home, you slid off his bike and handed him his spare helmet (more like his only helmet, cuz he didn't wear one).

"bye, mikey." you hummed. "pick me up tomorrow?"

you didn't even have to ask. "yeah." he leaned back in his seat, one hand resting on the bike handle while the other was held in front of you, palm towards the dusky sky.

you slipped your hand into his and he squeezed it, lingering as if he were contemplating something. you waited patiently.

he was so tempted to pull you back into his arms. who cares about the toman meeting when it meant a few more minutes with you?

he sighed and gave in, pulling you closer to the bike bashfully. he looked shy to ask. he'd never spent much time with you after school as he usually ran with his friends. but this time... he just wanted you close.

"ride with me?" he mumbled. "...again?"

you tilted your head slightly. "but... i thought you were gonna hang out with your friends?"

he tugged you forward, forcing a little yelp out of you as you fell into his shoulder. he hugged you tightly, his voice muffled against your chest.

"we never get to hang out for long..." he said. just this once, and no one will notice. maybe he could introduce you to his close friends this time? "it'll be okay. trust me."

you smiled and climbed on again, clasping the helmet buckle under your chin. "okay."

his bike roared to life, zooming down the streets.

[]

he parked his bike nearby, but far away enough so that it'd look like he walked to the meeting spot. your eyes drank the sight of the crowd down there. you knew who mikey was and what he was involved in, but never actually saw it for yourself.

he pouted. "why do you look so surprised?"

you chuckled. "aw, don't pout. i know you're a hotshot, mikey, but seeing all your guys is a different thing."

"not all of them are my guys." mikey whipped out his phone. "anyways, i want you to meet my sister."

you blinked, whipping your head to face him. he already had the phone to his ear. "now?!"

mikey grinned mischievously. "hey emma? i've got someone here, come to where all the bikes are parked."

after a few minutes, his sister came running up with a groan. "what do you want mikey—oh!" emma's jaw dropped. "a girl?!" she pointed an accusatory finger at mikey. "explain yourself!"

mikey smirked proudly and pulled you closer, his arm strung around your shoulders. "a girlfriend."

"girlfr—?!" emma paced in a frustrated circle. "and you didn't tell me?!"

"yeah, cuz it's supposed to be a secret!" mikey retorted, huffing. "and i know you'd just tell ken-chin or something."

emma gaped at the two of you for a moment. you waved meekly, squeaking a "hi, emma. i'm y/n."

she rushed towards you, clutching your hands in hers. "tell. me. everything."

mikey smiled despite his front of annoyance, ruffling both your heads as he walked by. "come on."

as mikey walked, gang members scurried away to make ample room for their president and the two that flanked him: his sister and who they assumed was her guest. he soon reached the platform where all the captains gathered. his crew looked more curious than confused at your presence.

"oi, emma," draken narrowed his eyes at the blonde, the first to pipe up. "you can't just bring whoever you want to these things."

emma opened her mouth to retort, but mikey nudged her side. that was enough to make her revise what she was going to say. "whatever."

you, on the other hand, were confused, thrown into a whole new environment that you knew nothing about. seeing all these violence-prone tough guys made you feel so small and weak.

mikey observed you as your eyes nervously darted across the crowd of toman. he leaned towards you to whisper while his friends were occupied by a chatty emma, his hair brushing against your ear. "just stay where i can see you and you can see me."

"so, at the front?" you gave him a skeptical look.

"wherever you want, i just wanna see your face." he smiled, eyes closed. heat rose to your face as you cast your gaze elsewhere. dork.

you and mikey were pulled from your own little world when emma huffed and puffed at draken.

"ugh, this is boring anyway!" emma turned on her heels. "come on, y/n!"

"oh! okay..." you blinked and gave mikey a parting glance.

the boys watched the two of you race down the steps.

draken scoffed, standing at mikey's side. "why was that girl looking at you like that?"

mikey smiled to himself, his heart thrumming happily. "dunno. might be in love with me or something."

they all laughed at him. yeah, as if!

"emma, slow down—!" you grunted as you wove through all the boys gathered, ignoring their smirking or curious faces as you desperately tried to keep her flowy blond hair in your sight. but it was dark and the black uniforms didn't help one bit.

you paused, looking around.

you lost her. you cursed and just focused on making your way to the back, being alone around all these weird teenagers didn't sit well with you.

"hey."

the firm grip around your wrist sent chills down your spine. you tugged once in a hopes to slither away but with no luck.

"what're ya doing here?"

you turned to see a group of guys surrounding you. your heart dropped into your stomach. your eyes drifted upwards. you couldn't see over their heads; you couldn't see mikey.

"oh, just hanging out with a friend..." you answered. "i'm gonna go now..."

"hold on, you think we buy that?" the one doing all the talking scoffed. "you're a girl here at a gang meeting, what 'friend' are you visiting, huh?!"

you flinched at the tone, unable to find the words.

"wanna know what i think?" he bent down to look you in the eye. "think you're just looking for attention. what, need a boyfriend, sweetheart?"

you hurriedly shook your hands, staring at them with panic. "no! no, i have one! i have a boyfriend." you hoped that would deter them, you desperately hoped they would leave you alone. your head swiveled around. some were taking amusement in the interaction, others were turning a blind eye.

"really?" he asked.

you found yourself glaring at him, despite the uneven match. "yeah."

the boy paused and surveyed you, his nasty gaze raking over you. his lips curled into a smirk. "ha! why should i believe you?"

you resolve crumbled. you whimpered at the failed attempt to get the fuck out of here which did nothing for your case.

"aw, sad you got found out?" he grinned down at you, shoving his hands in his pockets. "it's okay, we can go somewhere together after this, how about that?"

you scoffed, crossing your arms. "i said i have a boyfriend." who, for all the class he lacked, had way more class than this piece of shit.

that seemed to anger the boy. "quit lyin, we know you ain't got shit."

mikey, please just notice me. you begged silently, hoping for some miracle that'd get you out of this situation.

"did you hear me?" the boy hissed, grabbing your wrists. you gasped and glared at him, pulling against him with all your might. "quit—" he grunted. "cut that out!"

you felt cornered and tears pooled in your eyes. your heart felt almost cold as you let your impulses take over, screaming, "let go!"

mikey was eagerly listening as his captains addressed the gang, but his mind was still looking for you in the crowd. he searched for minutes and still couldn't find anything.

he wilted. was he just a bad boyfriend? not being able to recognize his girl in a crowd?

then he heard murmuring, hushed whispers, before he heard your voice.

"let go!"

his face scrunched and he rose to his feet. let go? who had their hands on you?

he marched to the front of the platform, scanning the crowd with newfound intensity. draken seemed to notice and did the work for him.

"oi!" draken's voice made the gang fall silent. even the guy who acted big froze in front of you. "why the fuck do you have your back turned to your leader when he's addressing you?"

mikey saw a couple boys distance themselves from the commotion, where he saw. anger flared into his body and he itched to beat someone to death.

you were looking at him, completely distraught.

he flew down the stairs, shoving past the members towards you. hatred radiated off him in waves as his eyes never left the sight in front of him. someone—his gang members—were fucking disrespecting you. he felt embarrassed and enraged.

the boy who had pressured you immediately let go. you stumbled backwards before looking at mikey. even now, you didn't know if you should run to him in front of everyone.

your doubts were squashed when he opened his arms. you inhaled deeply. your breath shook as you blinked the tears from your eyes, speedwalking towards him. the silence was killing you. what a reveal, you thought. you didn't care though, just happy to be in mikey's arms.

mikey hugged you tightly, pulling back to observe you for any damage. he ghosted his fingers over your wrists. "did they hurt you?"

you gulped at the menacing edge to his voice. you shook your head. he gave your wrists a soothing squeeze.

the aggressors' eyes flickered between you and their leader.

you smiled sweetly and pointed at mikey, mouthing boyfriend!

they paled.

you grinned. get fucked.

"do you know what you just did?" mikey asked, shrugging off his coat and putting it around your shoulders. he walked past you.

"h-hey... i didn't know—" the guy scrambled backwards, his voice dripping with desperation.

"who cares?" mikey's eyes were cloudy. "even if she weren't mine, are you trying to make toman look bad? if you're gonna be pathetic, do it somewhere else."

the guy took that as a cue to leave, quickly turning around.

"who said you could leave?"

you blinked and he was on the ground, mikey's foot landing gracefully.

"huh?" you mumbled. before you could even process it, he was standing over the other bystanders, holding them by their shirt as he landed punch after punch.

when they were all piles of bones on the floor he stood up, dusting his pants and slipping his hands in his pockets. "you're not welcome in toman. you better not let your faces be seen around here any more or i'll bash your head in."

you pulled the wings of mikey's coat closer to your body. despite the violence, you felt... warm and soothed by mikey's actions.

draken dismissed the meeting and the gang practically ran out of there, eager to get out of mikey's area of impact. the founding members and emma remained.

mitsuya looked sheepish when he asked, "i guess she really was in love with you, huh?"

mikey turned his nose in the air. "of course. why would i lie about that?"

pah scoffed. "do you even know yourself?"

you inched closer to mikey, unsure of your place here. he held you by your waist, reassuring you. your racing heart slowed down, little by little.

"hey." surprisingly, draken looked a little embarrassed, probably because he treated you like some rando when you were mikey's girlfriend. "you... we're not like that brat, okay?"

"yeah, what a disgrace!" pah interrupted, huffing.

"you don't have to be afraid." draken continued, glaring at pah. "just like mikey, we'll look out for you."

you smiled, coming out of mikey's side just a little. "thank you. i'm y/n, by the way."

mitsuya groaned. "oh, now it all makes sense." you voiced a confused hum and he elaborated, telling you that mikey would always go on and on about you. his friends thought you were just a crush of his, and since they'd never saw you they honestly thought you were a figment of his hormonal imagination.

your cheeks burned. "oh... no, i'm totally real."

emma peeked out from behind draken. her eyes were glossy and she sniffed, toddling towards you. "y/nnnn!" she wailed, hugging you. "i'm so sorry!"

you pat her back. "emma, it's not your fault! oh my god. please don't cry!" you looked at mikey for help but he just smiled. that smile faded when he realized that his friends and sister were slowly pushing him outside their little circle, wanting to know everything.

"okay, get off." mikey's demeanor changed in an instant. he slipped in under draken's arm and grabbed your hand, tugging you behind him.

"hey, no fair!" emma exclaimed, running after her brother. "you had her for who knows how long but i can't even get to talk to her for five minutes?!"

mikey sped up, laughing. "she's my girlfriend, not yours!"

"mikey!"

his bright laughter brought a smile to your face. he mounted his bike and made sure you were secure before revving off into the distance, his friends hot on his tail.

you gripped mikey's torso, nuzzling into his back. "thank you."

"don't thank me." mikey replied, quiet. "should've never happened in the first place."

your cheek rested on his shoulder blade, staring at him. his hair cascaded just enough to obscure his eyes from view. "i'm glad i have a strong boyfriend to protect me." you giggled.

his chest puffed with pride. "i am pretty strong."

you rolled your eyes.

"but it's not just us anymore." he turned his head to meet your eyes. "you have a new family, now. and they're all gonna look out for you."

your jaw hurt from how hard you smiled. your heart fluttered. resting your head on his back again, you squeezed him tight.

[]

the peaceful drive soon turned into a competition when the toman captains tried to race mikey down, determined for answers. emma, who rode on draken's bike, was especially vicious.

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[archangeldyke-all]

I feel like Sev is a total dad in that any time she gets into an argument with one of The Kids (tm), she will absolutely never verbally apologize. She will, however, appear with ten crates of a fruit that they mentioned they liked approximately one time in passing or just randomly decide to take them somewhere fun. Just randomly…Totally not because she feels bad or anything…

AD:FAS:DF:ASJDF this is so sweet okay

men and minors dni

it's easier for her to apologize to isha.

the kid's so tiny, and her big gold eyes are so cute, and she doesn't have much ...history... with isha-- so when she accidentally steps on isha's fingers, or eats the leftovers isha was saving for herself in the fridge, or farts when isha's standing right behind her-- a quick "oh, my bad, isha" or "sorry, kiddo" slip off her tongue easily.

of course, this doesn't change the fact that she'll feel guilty as hell for the rest of the day and spoil isha endlessly. but still, it's a little easier for her to actually say sorry when it's baby isha.

it's different with jinx.

for one thing... jinx talks. and jinx talks back. sevika's good at a lot of things, but quick comebacks are not her strong suit. usually, she gets flustered and gruffs out a 'shut the fuck up' which leads to an even bigger argument.

for another thing, jinx and sevika have been squabbling for years. and sometimes those squabbles were... intense, to say the least. the recent familial feelings sevika and jinx have formed for each other have not always existed.

so... it's a little harder for sevika to apologize to her.

she always knows when she's gone too far. she's incredibly intuitive, she's able to read jinx's micro-expressions like an open book. so it's not like she needs help in realizing her mistakes.

it's just the apologizing for it that's hard for her.

about three months into the girls moving in with you, jinx and sevika get into their first real fight as family.

you and isha watch with cringes as they both fling insults and soft objects at each other-- fighting in the way people fight only when they've known each other forever.

it ends with jinx fleeing to her room and sevika reaching for her emergency cigarette stash. she only allows herself a pack a year, so you know she feels horrible when she grabs two.

isha rushes to comfort jinx. you rush to comfort your wife.

"you alright?" you ask as you step onto the back porch. sevika just shrugs.

"i'll get over it. she'll get over it." she mumbles. you wrap an arm around her shoulders, and sevika groans. "shit, i feel so bad. i shouldn't lose my shit with her like that anymore."

"...probably not." you hesitantly agree. sevika huffs and elbows you, and you just kiss her cheek. "but mistakes are alright, babe. we're still learning. both of us. yesterday i caught isha playing with one of our vibrators. she was using it as a mini bazooka in her game of doll wars--" sevika cuts you off with a burst of surprised laughter, and you smile. "point is we're figuring it out as we're going. and nobody's bleeding, so i'd count that as a win."

sevika sighs and agrees with you, stubbing out her cigarette and kissing you soundly.

you think that's the end of it until you're at the store with jinx the next day.

"did sevika say anything to you about... like... robbing a convience store or something?" jinx asks. you blink.

"what?"

jinx shrugs. "this morning she woke me up by shoving, like, an industrial sized box of flamers onto my bed. like fifty pounds of flamers!" jinx giggles. you smile. that explains her and isha's red stained mouths this morning-- and why sevika was out so late last night. "so i dunno. i'm just trying to figure out where she got 'em from."

"she bought them, jinx. she's saying sorry to you."

"...sorry for what?" she asks.

"for the fight you got in last night!" you giggle.

jinx blinks again, like she's never been apologized to before. it's likely that she hasn't. you sigh and wrap an arm around her shoulder. "...sevika's never apologized to me before." she says. you nod. "at least, not without silco threatening her job, or something."

"you weren't her kid back then." you say.

a smile ticks up at the corner of her mouth, and jinx giggles.

"why didn't she just say 'sorry?' she musta spent at least a hundred on that box--"

"she's not the best with her words, jinx, you know this." you say with a laugh. jinx cackles and nods.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed

[muletia]

First of all I LOVE your fics!! Thank you for feeding my delusions (like its totally normal to be obsessed with a robot)

I just keep imagining this scenario where the reader and optimus are kinda in the flirting stage, and she has to attend an office party, so after saving her ass from cons, he drops her off at the venue, and she has to change. She does that in the truck and checks herself in the mirror, and he compliments her. She then gives him a kiss on the dashboard and the hood and leaves. Ratchet notices that optimus is in a daze and asks why does he have red splotches on his face and chest (reader kissed him with red lipstick on).

What do you think his reaction would be like and if the kids notice its kiss marks

thank you <33 and dw i'm feeding my own delusions, no thoughts, head full of giant obsessed robots (let's pretend that opti knows what lipstick is for this, okay??)

word count: 730

He feels the warmth of your lips on his armor long after you’ve parted ways. You delivered your blows swiftly, yet precisely, and above all, skillfully—because Optimus cannot stop thinking about them. It was a small gesture, perhaps left by you in a rush of emotion when he directed a compliment your way, or maybe it was intentional, meant to torture him just a little, to leave a mark behind, ensuring he’d think of you constantly until your return. For him, however, the implications of your action were enormous, hinting at a quiet passion. And perhaps his fantasies seized control of him immediately, but he was convinced they meant far more than just a goodbye. They implied something else. Something closer, more intimate. Were you trying to tell him something? Prove something to him? As a leader, he needed to be certain at all times, but you were someone he could never quite figure out. How could someone so noble also torment him so much?

He drives into the base and transforms, though his thoughts remain with you—your warm lips, the boundless trust you showed him, the gentleness you displayed toward him. He vividly remembers the texture of your soft, warm lips against him. He’s even convinced they’re still there, infecting him with their heat, awakening desires he tries not to entertain. For they are unclean and unworthy of you, and, above all, unworthy of him.

"Optimus?"

But oh, how much he would give to once again be the center of your attention. For you to honor him with another kiss. It could be imprecise, unclear—it could leave him pondering its meaning for ages, as well as searching for the reason you chose to bestow it upon him in the first place. The pretext wouldn’t matter when it meant your focus was solely on him.

"Optimus?"

He returns to the real world. Ratchet greets him, clearly displeased that the leader of the Autobots was lost in thought instead of focusing on reality. In this case, Optimus is forced to push you to the back of his processor, though he is disheartened by the necessity. He wonders how long he can last—how long until you envelop him in your warmth again and he finds himself dissecting every gesture, every glance, wondering if this particular interaction was more romantic than the rest.

"My apologies, my friend. It seems I became lost in my thoughts."

"This has been happening more and more often lately. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. Did something happen during your journey?"

Optimus arches a brow, surprised.

"No, I reached the base without any issues. Why do you ask?"

"This."

Ratchet points to a spot on his chassis, just beneath the left windshield, on the freshly polished red paint. Then, oh Primus, to his faceplate. Optimus doesn’t need a mirror to know what specifically the medic is pointing at. And for the first time in a very, very long time, he feels embarrassment creeping in, exposing a sliver of his emotions to the world.

He subtly turns his head and covers his mouth with his servo, for at this moment, he has no excuse for this situation.

“Ooooooh, I know what this is, I know!” Miko shouts, having been bored out of her mind just moments ago.

“Miko, calm down,” Jack scolds, noticing Optimus’s discomfort.

But Miko couldn’t care less.

“It's lipstick and the marks mean that boss bot has someone who really likes him.” She emphasizes "really" and giggles. The situation becomes even funnier as Ratchet rolls his optics.

“Ah yes, I forgot you were dropping [Name] off,” he sighs. “Just get together already, I beg of you.”

“It is not that simple,” Optimus clears his throat.

“Mhm, sure.”

Prime leaves the hangar, metaphorical tail between his legs, intent on erasing the evidence of his “crime.” He should have expected that your affections would eventually be noticed (they were, long ago), but he would have preferred for it not to happen under such humiliating circumstances.

He touches the spot Ratchet pointed to with a digit. He can still feel your lips there—their warmth, the sparks you shared with him. And if it were up to him, he would never get rid of your marks, the proof of belonging to you, of being yours alone. But the world around him was not ready for that.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Hi! First of all I *love* your guidelines. I’m just recently getting into Stray Kids and while I will read smut about 2D men, smut about real people is off putting to me, so that was really cool to see. Anyway, I love love love your angsty shots. They’re so good! Could I put in a request? I was thinking like how they would all react like, they were out on a date and paparazzi get too aggressive with Y/N and it causes her to get hurt? (I had a dream where I was on a date with Bangchan and we were trying to get into the back of a car and once I got in a paparazzi went to the other side of the car and yanked me out and Bangchan was BIG mad at them, especially cause when I fell out of the car I broke my wrist from landing on it) ANYWAY SORRY FOR THE RANT I’m just big in my feelings about these guys now and since it’s just new I know I’m in for a ride. Thank you!

When Paparazzi Gets Too Violent

OT8 x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Slight cussing

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Bang Chan

The night had started off perfectly- just you and Chan enjoying a cozy dinner in a quiet restaurant. It had been a while since you two had some time to unwind, since he had been busy with a comeback, and he looked so relieved to just be in your company. You loved watching him let down his guard, his tired eyes softening as he smiled at you across the table.

But the peace didn’t last long.

As soon as you both stepped out onto the street, the flashing lights and swarm of paparazzi descended. You heard your boyfriend let out a deafening sigh.

"Let's just get to the car," Chan whispered, his hand firm on the small of your back as he tried to guide you through the crowd of photographers, questions flying at both of you.

Despite his calm facade, you could feel his body tense under the pressure, his jaw clenching tighter each time someone shoved forward for a shot. You could tell he was on edge, trying so hard to keep his cool.

But then it happened.

You were just about to step into the safety of the car when a paparazzo grabbed you by the arm and yanked you backward. The sudden force threw you off balance, and before you knew it, you were crashing to the pavement. The pain in your wrist was immediate and sharp as you braced yourself on the concrete. The gasp you let out sent Chan into a rage.

"Y/N!" His voice was frantic as he rushed to your side, but the second his eyes landed on the man who had pulled you, something dark flickered across his face.

Bang Chan was not one to lose his temper. He was the leader, the level-headed one, but seeing you hurt because of someone else’s carelessness was his breaking point.

He stood, stepping between you and the crowd, his entire posture shifting from protective to menacing in the blink of an eye. "What the hell do you think you’re doing?!" His voice was low and dangerous, and you could see the tension in his fists, knuckles white as he held himself back from doing something drastic.

The paparazzo who had grabbed you shrunk back under his icy glare, but the cameras kept flashing, people still trying to get closer.

Chan shoved him back, hard. "Get. Away. From her."

It was only when he heard your voice again, a weak "Chan, I'm okay…" that he turned his attention back to you, his anger melting instantly into concern. His eyes softened as he knelt down beside you, his hands gentle as they reached for your wrist.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, his voice shaky, filled with guilt. "I’m so sorry. I should’ve-"

You shook your head, biting back the pain, not wanting to make him feel worse. "It's not your fault."

But he wasn’t having any of it. "We’re going to the hospital," he said firmly, scooping you up into his arms as if you weighed nothing. "And I swear, I' won’t let them get away with this. I'm ruining that bastard. "

Lee Know

You and Minho were just trying to enjoy a quiet evening stroll through the park- nothing fancy, just some much-needed alone time. Minho had been busy lately, so this was your chance to reconnect, to talk, to be close. The air was crisp, the city lights reflecting off the pond as you held hands, walking slowly. It was a short escape.

Paparazzi had a way of ruining even the quietest moments. You didn’t notice them at first, but Minho did. His grip on your hand tightened subtly, his gaze shifting as they began to close in, cameras ready, questions already being flung at both of you.

He didn’t say anything- just kept walking, his jaw set, but you could feel the tension in his steps, the way his body became a shield between you and them.

"Ignore them," he muttered under his breath, pulling you a little closer. His voice was calm, almost icy. Minho never gave them the satisfaction of a reaction.

But then one of the paparazzo's got too close- pushing past Minho to get a better shot of you. The sudden shove caused you to lose your footing, and before you could even process what was happening, you were on the ground, a sharp pain shooting through your knee.

You winced, your hands instinctively reaching for your leg, but before you could even say a word, Minho was already in motion.

He froze, his eyes narrowing in on the photographer who had knocked you down. The air around him seemed to grow colder, his usual composed demeanor unraveling in the blink of an eye. "Are you out of your mind?"

His voice was so calm it was terrifying.

Minho’s eyes were dark as he stepped toward the paparazzo, and though he wasn’t yelling, the quiet, seething rage in his voice made everyone around stop in their tracks. "You’ve got five seconds to leave before I make you regret it."

The man stammered, backing away, but Minho didn’t even spare him another glance as he knelt down next to you, his hands surprisingly gentle as they inspected your scraped knee.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, his tone soft and completely different from the menacing one he used just moments before.

You nodded, wincing as he brushed some of the dirt off your skin. "It’s just a scratch though, I'll be okay."

His eyes softened, though you could still see the anger simmering beneath the surface. "I’m sorry," he whispered, more to himself than to you. "The night's ruined now..."

You shook your head, knowing it wasn’t his fault, but Minho wasn’t easily reassured. He stood, lifting you in his arms as he headed toward the car. "Let’s go home. I’m not letting you out of my sight again."

Changbin

Being with Changbin was always full of fun, laughter, and energy. Tonight was no different as you both walked hand-in-hand down the street after attending an small festival and grabbing a bit to eat. The air was light, and Changbin was chatting animatedly about music, making you giggle as he recounted a funny story from practice earlier.

But the night took a turn for the worse when you two were spotted. At first, it was just a few cameras, nothing unusual. Changbin was good at staying composed in these situations, but tonight, the crowd of photographers seemed to multiply within seconds, blocking your path as they shoved their cameras in your faces.

Changbin’s expression shifted instantly, his playful smile fading as he moved protectively in front of you. "Stay behind me," he muttered, his voice low and firm.

You did as he said, gripping his arm as he tried to push through the crowd, but the paparazzi weren’t letting up. One of them shoved past Changbin, aiming for a close-up shot, and in the process, they knocked into you hard.

You stumbled backward, tripping over the uneven pavement and hitting your head against the side of a parked car. The impact sent a sharp pain through your skull, and you gasped, your hand flying to your head as you tried to steady yourself.

That was all it took for Changbin to snap.

His usually calm and playful demeanor was gone, replaced by a burning fury that made everyone around stop in their tracks. "What the hell do you think you’re doing?!" His voice boomed through the crowd as he stormed toward the man who had hurt you.

Changbin wasn’t usually one to raise his voice in anger, but when he did, it was enough to make even the bravest person shrink back. The photographer stammered, trying to backpedal, but Changbin was already in his face, his fists clenched as he loomed over him.

"You touch her again, and I swear-"

"Changbin," you called out softly, trying to bring him back to reality as you cradled your head. "I’m okay…"

Hearing your voice, he snapped out of it, his expression softening instantly as he rushed back to your side. "Are you hurt? Let me see."

His hands trembled slightly as he gently brushed your hair away from your face, his eyes filled with guilt and concern. "I’m so sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking.

You shook your head, trying to reassure him. "It’s not your fault."

But Changbin wasn’t convinced. He helped you into the car, his jaw still clenched as he muttered, "I’m never letting them get near you again."

Hyunjin

Hyunjin had always been good at keeping his emotions in check when the paparazzi were involved, but tonight they seemed particularly aggressive. You two had just finished a late-night art gallery visit, one of Hyunjin’s favorite ways to unwind, when the paparazzi caught wind of your location.

At first, Hyunjin tried to ignore them, his arm securely around your waist as you both headed toward the car. "Don’t look at them," he whispered, his voice calm but with an edge of anxiety. He hated the way they intruded on your private moments. Especially when you weren't too keen about having your face all over the internet.

But as you got closer to the car, the crowd surged forward, one of the photographers getting too close. In the rush, someone shoved you hard from behind, causing you to trip and fall forward. You reached out trying to grab Hyunjin- accidentally bringing him down with you, which caused the cameras to snap even more. Hyunjin had somehow landed on top of you; while you landed awkwardly on your elbow, pain shooting up your arm as you let out a soft cry.

Hyunjin had already gotten up but upon hearing your cry his entire body froze. His gaze shot down to where you were on the ground, and for a moment, he didn’t move, the shock registering on his face. Then, something snapped.

His eyes blazed as he turned to the photographer who had caused your fall, his usually soft expression darkening with anger. "Why the hell would you think it's okay to get rough?!" he spat, his voice shaking with fury. Hyunjin wasn’t one to yell, but the way his voice trembled with suppressed rage was even more terrifying.

He stalked toward the man, his entire body tense as if he was ready to lash out at any moment. "Do you have any idea what you’ve done?" His voice was quiet, but the threat in his tone was unmistakable.

The photographer backed away, stammering apologies, but Hyunjin wasn’t listening. His focus was on you now, his anger dissipating the second he saw you holding your elbow in pain.

"Y/N…" He knelt down beside you, his hands hovering over your arm as if he was afraid to touch you in case he made it worse. "Where does it hurt, love? I’m so sorry…I didn’t see them coming towards you, it's my fault.”

You winced, trying to smile through the pain. "I’ll be okay."

But Hyunjin wasn’t having any of it. "We’re going to get your elbow checked out." he said firmly, his voice still shaking as he helped you to your feet. "And then we'll deal with the idiot who pushed you."

Jisung

Jisung had always been protective of you, but he wasn’t one to confront others unless he absolutely had to. Tonight, however, the situation forced his hand.

You and Jisung were leaving a small café after a quiet date, enjoying the peace that came with being together without people around. But that peace was shattered when a swarm of cameras appeared out of nowhere, crowding around you both as you tried to make your way back to the car.

At first, Jisung tried to keep it together. His grip on your hand tightened as he led you through the mass of flashing cameras and shouted questions. His heartbeat raced, anxiety bubbling in his chest as he tried to remain calm for your sake. You could easily tell he was anxious by the way his hand shook in yours.

But then it happened.

One of the photographers got too close, bumping into you as she shoved her camera forward. The force of it sent you stumbling, your knee hitting the ground hard as you let out a sharp cry of pain.

Panic surged through Jisung. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he froze, his wide eyes darting between you and the crowd around you. He wanted to lash out, wanted to yell, but his anxiety made his words catch in his throat.

Instead, he knelt down beside you, his trembling hands hovering over your injured knee. "Y/N, are you okay?" His voice wavered, the fear and guilt evident in his tone.

You winced, trying to smile through the pain. "I think I’m okay, just a bit scraped up."

Jisung’s mind raced. He knew he should say something, do something, but his usual anxious thoughts were louder than ever. What if he made it worse? What if he couldn’t protect you?

But then he saw the look on your face- how you were trying so hard to stay strong even though you were in pain -and something in him snapped. His fear was replaced by a surge of protective anger.

Jisung stood up, his usually anxious eyes hardening as he faced the paparazzi. His voice was shaky, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. "Back off," he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper, but firm. "You’ve done enough."

The paparazza who had bumped into you tried to offer an apology, but Jisung wasn’t listening. His focus was solely on you as he crouched back down, gently helping you to your feet. His hands were still shaking, but his grip was steady as he held you close.

"I’m so sorry," he whispered, his eyes glistening with guilt and worry. "I should’ve done more."

You shook your head, placing a hand on his cheek. "It’s not your fault, Jisung. I’m okay. And there isn't much you can do about them."

But Jisung wasn’t convinced. He gently wrapped an arm around your waist, helping you limp toward the car. His voice was quiet, filled with an anxiety-fueled promise. "I’ll protect you better next time, I swear. I won’t let them hurt you."

As you both reached the safety of the car, Jisung finally let out the breath he had been holding, pulling you into a tight hug. His body trembled slightly, but his arms were firm around you, as if he was holding onto you for dear life.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice barely audible, but filled with sincerity. "I’m never letting this happen again. Never."

Felix

Felix had always been the softest, sweetest soul you’d ever met, but even the kindest person had their limits. Tonight, you found out exactly what that limit was.

You and Felix were on your way to a late-night movie when the paparazzi caught wind of your date. It started with a few photographers, nothing Felix couldn’t handle. He just kept you close, his hand in yours, trying to keep the mood light as you both walked toward the theater. If anything, some cute and candid photos of his love for you would be broadcasted to the world. Nothing too bad about that, right?

But then the crowd started to grow, and they weren’t just taking pictures- they were yelling questions, getting closer and closer with each step. Felix’s grip on your hand tightened, his steps growing faster as he tried to get you away from them.

"Just ignore them," he whispered, his usual bright demeanor gone as he focused on getting you to safety.

But then, in the chaos, one of the photographers reached out, grabbing your shoulder to pull you back for a better shot. The force of it caused you to stumble, your ankle twisting painfully as you cried out in surprise.

That was when everything changed.

That limit was reached.

Felix’s usually bright eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them as he turned on the photographer who had dared to touch you. You had never seen him like this- his entire body radiated fury as he stepped toward the man, his voice low and dangerous.

"Touch her again, and I swear to God, I'll end you." Felix’s voice was a quiet snarl, each word laced with venom. He didn’t have to yell to be terrifying. The photographer shrank back, clearly not expecting this reaction from the usually soft-spoken Felix.

But Felix didn’t stop there. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. "You think you can just push her around like that?" His voice trembled with rage, his fists clenched at his sides as he held himself back from doing something he might regret.

Despite Felix’s usually soft-spoken nature, tonight, seeing you hurt pushed him beyond his breaking point. The paparazzo who had shoved you continued to cower as Felix approached him, his eyes blazing with a fury that you had never seen before.

No one had, really. You now understood why the members had once said Felix might have been the scariest one of them all, when he was truly angry.

"You think this is a game?" Your fiancé's voice was low, almost a whisper, but it was filled with a deadly calm that sent chills down your spine. His usually gentle demeanor had been replaced by something darker, more dangerous.

The paparazzi stuttered an apology, backing away, but Felix didn’t move. He took another step closer, his fists clenched at his sides. "You don’t get to touch her," he growled, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying an unmistakable threat. "You crossed a line, and that was a huge mistake."

The photographer muttered an apology, scurrying away, but Felix wasn’t interested in anything he had to say. He turned back to you, his expression softening instantly as he saw you clutching your ankle.

"Oh, love," he whispered, his voice full of guilt and concern as he crouched down beside you. "I don't know how I got blessed with someone like you. The fact you put up with all of this is insane."

He helped you up. "Is your ankle, okay?"

"Yeah, I think I just landed on it weird I'll be fine..." Your voice was a bit shaky- not because you were in pain but because an angry Felix was...scary, to say the least. "I can walk- woah!"

Felix scooped you up into his arms effortlessly, the pure rush of adrenaline giving him a strength that you figured could rival Changbin's in the moment. His eyes still blazed with anger as he shot a look towards the rest of the paparazzi who left without another word. "They'll never bother us again." he promised, his calm. "I swear."

Seungmin

Seungmin was always calm under pressure, the voice of reason when things got chaotic. But even he had times where his rationale would fly out the window.

You and Seungmin were walking through the streets after dinner, enjoying a date night together when the paparazzi found you.

Or someone else for that matter. As you two quickly realized they were focused on a different idol who had happened to be in the same area. So, Seungmin just kept his arm around you, his posture relaxed, guiding you through around crowd without a word- without so much as a look to the cameras.

And you almost got away.

That was until more photographers joined in, pushing and shoving to get closer, to the other idol. Seungmin’s calm demeanor began to slip. He tightened his hold on you, his eyes flickering with irritation as he tried to get you through the growing crowd.

"Just pay no mind," he muttered, his voice low, but you could hear the tension in it.

You nodded, staying close to him as you reached the end of the crowded space- but then another swarm of the pap came in and in the midst of chaos, someone pushed you from behind, causing you to stumble and fall against the pavement. Your hands hit the ground hard, scraping your palms as you let out a small whine, trying to get up but nearly stampeded in the process.

That was when Seungmin snapped.

His usually calm eyes darkened as he turned on the photographer who had pushed you, his entire body radiating fury. "What the hell is wrong with you?" His voice was low and controlled, but the anger in it was unmistakable.

One of the paparazza's turned to see Seungmin, who in the middle of the commotion had somehow lost his hat.

Seungmin wasn’t the type to raise his voice, but the way he looked at the photographer made everyone around stop in their tracks for a second. The woman stammered, trying to back away, but Seungmin wasn’t letting her off easily.

But the second the words left his mouth, he felt the cool breeze ruffle his hair and he knew he made a mistake. He mutter a curse under his breath and he rushed to your side blocking you from the paparazzi as their cameras started flashing in his direction. His hands were gentle as they reached for yours, inspecting the scrapes on your palms. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice full of guilt.

You nodded. "I’ll be fine."

"I'm sorry I drew attention to us." He murmured.

"It's okay."

But Seungmin's mood was ruined. He helped you to your feet, his eyes still flickering with anger as he glared at the paparazzi over his shoulder. "No pictures." he said firmly, his voice trembling with barely restrained fury as he guided you to where he had parked the car. It was no use, since they never listened. But he continued chanting it as he hid your face.

"I'm sorry, Y/N." He said once more. "They're the fucking worst."

Jeongin

You and Jeongin had been trying to enjoy a quiet day out, just the two of you exploring the city. He’d been excited to show you some of his favorite spots, and the day had been perfect, but the inevitable happened.

Jeongin tensed the moment he saw the cameras approaching, his hand tightening around yours as he tried to keep his cool. "Just stay close," he whispered, his voice calm but a little shaky. "It hasn't happened to me yet but sometimes they can get rough..."

You could tell he was nervous, but he did his best to protect you, stepping in front of you as the photographers got closer. They started snapping pictures, throwing questions at you both, but Jeongin just kept walking, his arm securely around you.

But then one of the paparazzi got too close, pushing past Jeongin to get a better shot of you. The sudden shove knocked you off balance, and you tripped over the curb, falling hard onto the pavement. You cried out as you landed on your tailbone.

Damn that hurts.

You felt blood seeping on the back of your leg too, a shard of glass seeming to have cut through your pant and wounded your thigh.

Jeongin froze, his eyes wide with shock as he saw you on the ground and the bit of blood. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do, his usual calm demeanor slipping as panic set in. "Y/N…" he whispered, his voice trembling as he crouched down beside you.

"Where are you bleeding from?" he asked, his hands hovering over you as if he was too scared to touch you, afraid of making it worse.

You winced, in annoyance, since the fall was painful but not unbearable. "I think that there was a broken bottle..."

Jeongin’s eyes filled with guilt as he glanced back at the paparazzi, his usually soft expression hardening for just a moment. He wasn’t the type to get angry easily in front of you, but seeing you hurt because of someone else’s carelessness made something inside him snap.

He stood up, turning to face the photographer with a look of quiet fury. "You shouldn’t have done that," he muttered, his voice low and steady, but there was a fire in his eyes that you had never seen before. "Get away now before I call the police on all of you."

When the paparazzi didn't listen his voice raised.

"I SAID LEAVE!" His voice was sharp and threatening. So much so the group immediately dissipated.

He quickly turned his attention back to you after making sure everyone was gone, his hands trembling slightly as he helped you up. "I’m so sorry…" he whispered, his voice thick with guilt as he wrapped an arm around you. "I didn't think they would do that..."

You shook your head, trying to reassure him. "It’s not your fault, Innie."

Jeongin frowned, pulling you closer to him. "Next time we can bring one of the Hyungs. Then I can protect you better."

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz

[mya-valentine]

Can I request a fic for Kinich x fem reader please? during the archons quest IV (spoiler‼️ for people who didnt do the archons quest) reader almost died in one of the bases but traveler and Paimon (doesn't matter who tbh I love the twins) was able to save them just in time and Kinich hugged her not letting her go until he knew she was real and safe in his arms

Not a huge fan of angst but I'm okay with angst with comfort (happy ending)

From the Edge of Darkness

The Abyss Order had been relentless in its attack on Natlan, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake. With the nation in ruins, every base became a battlefield, and the resistance fighters were pushed to their breaking point. The Traveler and Paimon, desperate to help in whatever way they could, had been moving from one war-torn base to another, always hoping to arrive in time to save someone—anyone—from the onslaught.

This upcoming base felt different, though. As they neared the next base, an eerie silence filled the air. No sounds of clashing weapons, no cries for help. Just silence.

Paimon’s voice quivered as she spoke, “Traveler… something feels wrong about this place.” The suffocating tension in the air made it hard to breathe.

When they finally reached the base, the scene that greeted them was nothing short of horrifying. Destruction had torn through the camp like a hurricane. Blood stained the ground, mingling with the ashes of burned tents and scattered debris. Bodies lay strewn across the battlefield, broken and still. Each life extinguished in a brutal fight to protect their homeland.

The Traveler moved quickly, scanning the area, their heart sinking with each step. Please, let there be someone left alive. They silently begged the universe, their steps quickening with each heartbeat.

And then they saw you.

Amidst the carnage, there you were—barely alive. Your body was crumpled against the remains of a wall, blood trickling from a wound on your side. Your skin was pale, your breath shallow. You were hanging on, but only just.

“There!” the Traveler gasped, rushing toward you. They dropped to their knees by your side, frantically checking your pulse, their hand trembling as they felt the faint, uneven beat beneath your skin. “She’s alive, but not for long!”

Paimon’s eyes widened in horror. “We need to get her out of here! Now!”

The Traveler didn’t hesitate. With great care, they lifted your fragile, unconscious body into their arms. They could feel how weak you were, how close you were to slipping away. Every second counted. “We’re taking her to the stadium!” the Traveler barked. “That’s where the medics are.”

Paimon nodded furiously, her tiny body flying ahead, guiding the way. “Hurry! We don’t have much time!”

The journey back to the stadium felt excruciatingly long, each second a battle against time. But the thought of losing you—of arriving too late—drove them forward.

The stadium came into view, its towering walls offering a brief sense of relief. Inside, it was the last haven for those who had survived the Abyss Order’s attacks. It was bustling with medics, warriors, and refugees, each one desperate to protect what little was left of their world.

The Traveler barely made it through the gates before shouting for help. “Medic! We need a medic!”

The closest group of medics rushed over, their eyes widening when they saw your condition. Without wasting a moment, they took you from the Traveler’s arms and laid you on a stretcher.

The Traveler stood back, their chest heaving with exertion, watching helplessly as the medics tried to save you. Paimon hovered close by, her hands clenched tightly in front of her. “Traveler… do you think she’s going to make it?”

The Traveler swallowed hard, unable to answer. “I don’t know, Paimon… I don’t know.”

---

Not long after, the stadium doors burst open, and Kinich, the man you loved, stormed in. His usually calm and stoic demeanor had crumbled, replaced by pure, unfiltered panic. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching desperately for you, the woman who meant more to him than anything in the world.

When he finally spotted the Traveler, his heart lurched. He saw the exhaustion in their eyes, the grim set of their jaw. He knew something was wrong. “Where is she?” he demanded, his voice shaking.

The Traveler’s expression softened with sorrow as they pointed toward the medic tent. “She’s there. It’s… not good, Kinich. I’m sorry.”

Kinich’s breath caught in his throat as he turned toward the tent. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat filled with dread as he rushed toward you. When he reached your side, his worst fears were confirmed. You were pale and still, your chest barely rising with each shallow breath. Bandages covered the wound on your side, but you looked so fragile, so close to death.

“No…” The word came out as a broken whisper. He fell to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as they reached for yours. He grasped your hand in his, holding it tightly, as though if he just held on hard enough, he could pull you back from the brink.

Tears filled his eyes, blurring his vision as he bowed his head over your hand. “Please,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t—I can’t lose you.”

His body shook with the force of his grief, the tears falling freely now as he pressed your hand to his lips, praying for some miracle, some sign that you would wake up and tell him everything would be okay.

Hours passed, but Kinich never left your side. He couldn’t. The world outside the stadium continued to burn, but nothing mattered to him except you. He sat by your side, holding your hand, watching for any sign that you would wake. Every breath you took felt like a lifeline, fragile but present.

The medics came and went, their magic stabilizing your condition, but Kinich’s heart remained heavy with fear. He whispered to you the whole time, his words soft and broken. “I love you… please come back to me…”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you stirred.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the first thing you saw was Kinich’s tear-streaked face hovering above you, his hand tightly gripping yours. You blinked slowly, your body heavy with pain and exhaustion, but you were alive. You were still here.

“Kinich…” Your voice was a soft, rasping whisper, but it was enough to break through the haze of Kinich’s grief.

His eyes widened, a sob of relief escaping him as he surged forward, pulling you into his arms. His grip was tight, almost desperate, as though he feared that if he let go, you would disappear again. His body trembled with emotion as he held you, his face buried in your hair.

“You’re awake,” he breathed, his voice shaking with disbelief. “You’re really awake…”

You nodded weakly, your arms coming up to wrap around him, though the movement was slow and painful. “I’m okay,” you murmured, your voice soft but reassuring. “I’m going to be okay.”

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with love and relief. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, though it was weak and tired. “I’ll try not to.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Kinich simply held you, his heart finally beginning to calm as he felt the steady rise and fall of your chest against his. You were safe. You were alive.

And as long as you had each other, nothing else mattered.

“I love you,” he whispered again, his voice softer this time, but no less sincere.

“I love you too,” you replied, your words filled with warmth and gratitude.

The world outside was still in chaos, but in this moment, as you lay in Kinich’s arms, you knew that everything would be okay. You had survived, and you had each other. And that was enough.

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Masterlist

[trulyy-yourzz]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8R9CqFt/

Could you PLEAAASE make a fic where we're riding Billie's strap, and she looks at us like she is in the video 🙏

(I love your fics btw! Super excited for the upcoming one)

Of course lovey! Anything for my first request🤭

(Aaah, im so excited for you guys to see it, too!!)

"F-fuck!...billie, I can't -" Billies hand comes down hard on your ass, smacking roughly. Her other hand gently grabing at your chin to face her. You looked so fucked out and over the moon. She absolutely loved it. "Oh but you can. You were doing so well."

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Billie's music video was finally finished. She'd been working on it for quite a while and wanted you to be the first to see it. "Babyyyy!" She yelled for you, opening the bedroom door to find you laying in the bed on your phone. "Yes, my love?" You smiled and giggled as she plopped on the bed next to you. She looked so excited like a little puppy, which made you excited, too. Even if you didn't know what she was so thrilled about.

"It's finished." She couldn't help but smile so brightly, knowing that you would be ecstatic about the music video finally being done. "What'd you finish?" You said, raising a brow and tilting your head as you reached to cup her cheek. "The music video for birds of a feather, wanna see?" Your face lit up as you sat up in anticipation. "Uh? yes!"

You both laughed as she sat next to you, handing you her phone as you pressed play. Halfway into the music video, you noticed she was very... expressive. Especially in that one scene where she was sat on the couch with her head laid back. And that turned you on more than it should've. Immediately, she noticed how fidgety you were getting and well... that's how you ended up here, riding her strap, aching for more.

━─━────━─━────━─━────━─━────

She lifted your hips slowly and let go as you fell down onto her strap. You grabbed onto her shoulders, nails digging into her skin and crying out her name as your back arched. "That's why you shouldn't rely on me baby. Go ahead. You got it." You lifted your hips, creating a rhythm that was comfortable for both you and Billie. You let out the sluttiest moans ever and at that point she craved you even more.

Grabbing onto your hips, she sped up the pace as she lifted you up off of her strap and pulled you back down. Your head fell down onto her shoulder, moaning into her ear whilst she fucked you like a starved animal. "Fuck...look at you. So unbelievably sexy, riding my cock like this."

She snaked one of her hands up to your nipple, pinching and pulling gently as she groaned, hearing you whimper in her ear. You were so frail and vulnerable in her arms. "Billie... fuck. I'm so close." You sat up, and your eyes fluttered closed as she increased her pace. The wet sound of her strap thrusting in and out of your seeping pussy, along with your moans, echoed throughout the room. You looked down, and there it was. That impure and lecherous gaze she had in her eyes. The same one from the music video.

She bit her lip, smirking as she pulled you down firmly, your pussy throbbing around her cock as she coaxed your orgasm out of you. She reached down for your sensitive bud between your thighs, rubbing softly, helping you ride out your orgasm.

Your legs spasmed, toes curled as heat rushed throughout your body, all the way down to your core. Billie rubbed her thumb against your bottom lip, waiting for you to open your mouth. Once you did, she stuck those same fingers that were rubbing against your clit, into your mouth. You licked and sucked, moaning onto her fingers as you made eye contact with her.

"Mhm. Such a good girl. Just for me."

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I got a little carried away but that's okay, I hope you enjoyeddd!