#chole x reader

[slut4megantheestallion]

On Your Knees ☆

Pairings: Chloe price x Fem!reader

Summary: You get a belly button piercing, Chloe loses her mind, eats you out for hours, and doesn't stop until you're crying.

Warnings ⚠️: oral sex (f!receiving), Overstimulation, praise kink, soft dom!reader, service top!Chloe, dirty talk, multiple orgasms.

Chloe couldn't stop staring.

You'd notice her acting weird the second you came back from the mall. She was sprawled on your bed, boots still on, flipping through a random magazine she didn't care about. Her attention barely lasted two pages before her eyes flicked back to you again. Then again. And again.

It wasn't the cropped hoodie you had on. She's seen you wear that a dozen times. It wasn’t even the tight jeans that hugged your thighs - though her eyes had definitely lingered there, too. No, it was that damn glint of silver at your navel. The brand new belly button piercing you'd gotten on a whim just because you wanted something new. A little thrill.

Chloe swallowed hard and tossed the magazine aside. "You didn’t tell me you were getting that."

You smiled coyly, pulling your hoodie up slightly to flash it again. "It was a surprise."

Chloe sat up slowly, her eyes body shifting with a lazy kind of heat, like a tiger uncoiling. Her gaze dragged from your face to your stomach, and she licked her lips, almost subconsciously. "Jesus, that's hot."

You chuckled. "You think?"

"I know," she said, her voice rougher now, dipped in something hungry. "Fuck, come here."

You didn't hesitate. You stepped between her legs as she sat on the edge of the bed, and her hands gripped your hips instantly, fingers curling tight around the denim. She tilted her head up, lips brushing yours before finally kissing you deep and slow, tongue teasing, her hands already sliding under your hoodie, greedy for skin.

"Mmh," you breathed against her mouth, threading your fingers through her messy soft hair. "You like the piercing that much?"

She kissed you again, harder this time. "Babe, it's driving me insane. You're already sexy as fuck, and now..." her voice trailed off as she pushed your hoddie up and leaned in.

She kissed the space just below your ribs, then the curve of your belly. Her lips ghosted around the ring, not touching it yet, teasing. You gave softly when she licked a line along your stomach, leaving goosebumps in her wake.

"Chlo..." you murmured, voice catching slightly when she tugged at the button of your jeans. "Someone's feeling needy."

"I'm not needy," she muttered against your skin, undoing the zipper with a little growl. "I'm fucking obsessed."

You let her ease your jeans down, her fingers brushing your thighs, your hips, trailing until you were left in just your panties. Chloe sat back for a second, eyes raking over you like you were art she wasn't allowed to touch. You could see her jaw clench. Her breathing shallow.

"Take your top off," she said softly, almost reverent. "Please."

You did. Slowly. Keep eye contact. Her pupils blew wide when the hoodie hit the floor, and your bra joined it, leaving your skin bare under the soft light of the bedroom. She exhaled like she'd been holding her breath the whole time.

"You're so fucking beautiful."

You climbed into her lap, straddling her, and kissed her again, fingers cupping her jaw. You tilted her chin, so she had to look at you- so she saw everything you were giving her.

"You're mine tonight, chloe."

Her breath hitched. Her thighs tensed under you. "Yes, ma'am."

The way she said it - half teasing, half-serious- made heat pool in your belly. You kissed her again, slower this time, guiding her back until she lay beneath you. Then you shifted off her lap and stood up, letting your panties slide down your legs before crawling up the bed beside her. She followed immediately, like gravity was pulling her into you.

Chloe trailed more kisses over your stomach, lower this time, slower. When she finally let her mouth linger around the piercing, you gasped - because her tongue flicked right below it, and her hands gripped your thighs, spreading them with a practiced confidence.

"I wanna make you feel good," she whispered. "Can I taste you, baby?"

You smiled, threading your fingers through her hair. "Only if you don't stop until I'm shaking."

She moaned at that - an honest, raw sound - lowered her mouth to your inner thigh. She took her time, leaving wet, open mouth kisses down the inside until you were squirming beneath her.

And then finally- finally- her tongue pressed between your folds.

Your hips jumped. Chloe groaned.

She licked your slow at first, like she was savoring you, dragging her tongue from your entrance to your clit in slow, worshipful strokes. Her hands held your thighs open, thumbs stroking your skin like she was grounding you. Every soft flick of her tongue had your spine arching, your fingers clenching in her hair.

"F-fuck, Chloe -" you whimpered, thighs starting to tremble.

She didn't let up. She licked deeper, faster, and messier. She sucked gently at your clit, then flattened her tongue and dragged it up again. Every moan she made vibrated against you. You looked down to see her eyes on you, completely locked in, like she couldn't get enough of the way you looked writhing under her.

"You're doing so good," you panted, hips grinding into her mouth. "Don't stop, baby - just like that."

Chloe doubled down, groaning into you, her fingers digging into your thighs to hold you still as your body started to shake. The coil in your stomach was unbearable now, fire pooling low and fast. You could barely breathe.

"I-Chlo, I'm gonna -"

You cried out, legs jerking as your orgasm hit, washing over you like a wave. Chloe didn’t stop. She kept licking, letting you ride it out, tongue moving with desperate devotion until your thighs were trembling, and tears pricked your eyes from the overstimulation.

You pushed lightly at her head, breathless. "B-baby- too much -"

She finally pulled back, mouth slick with you, and crawled up your body to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on her tongue. Her voice was hoarse, desperate.

"I couldn't do that all night."

You smiled against her lips, still breathless, still twitching from aftershocks. "You just might."

Chloe was panting like she’d just run a marathon, eyes blown black and locked onto you like she couldn’t believe you were real. Her lips were slick and glossy from being buried between your legs, her cheeks flushed, hair wild from where your fingers had tangled and tugged through it.

You were laid out on the bed like a fucking goddess. Still trembling from your orgasm, skin glowing, thighs slightly parted, chest rising and falling slowly with each deep breath you took. You looked wrecked—but in the most stunning way.

Chloe hovered over you, barely touching, just staring for a moment.

“You’re unreal,” she murmured, her voice ragged and reverent. “I mean… fuck. You should see yourself right now.”

You grinned lazily, reaching up to cup her jaw, thumb brushing her bottom lip. “You’re the one that did this to me, babe.”

“I know,” she whispered, kissing your thumb. “And I want to do it again.”

That hunger in her voice—raw, greedy, desperate—made your already throbbing cunt clench again. You could still feel her mouth on you, the ghost of her tongue, her moans vibrating against your clit, her eyes watching you come undone like she lived for it.

And now she wanted more?

You gave her a slow, sultry smile and shifted your hips, spreading your legs a little wider. “Then be a good girl and keep going.”

Chloe’s eyes fluttered shut for a second, like she physically felt those words sink into her chest. When she opened them again, she looked feral. Her lips crashed into yours—hot, messy, possessive. She kissed you like she wanted to crawl inside you, devouring you from the inside out. And you let her.

But then you flipped her, fast. She gasped as you straddled her, your thighs bracketing her hips. You pressed her wrists above her head and ground your soaked core down against her thigh, dragging a sharp moan from both of you.

Her hips jerked up, needy, but you tsked softly, leaning down to kiss the corner of her mouth. “No, baby. You said you wanted to taste me again, right?”

“Yes,” she breathed, squirming. “Fuck—please, yes.”

You rolled your hips once more, teasing, letting her feel how soaked you still were. Then you slid down her body, slow and deliberate, dragging your fingers down her chest, her stomach—right down the waistband of her jeans. She whined when you shifted back, and for a second, she thought you were about to undress her.

But you weren’t.

You weren’t planning on letting her have that release. Not yet.

Instead, you reached for her hand—her dominant one—and brought it to your mouth. You kissed her knuckles, then sucked two of her fingers into your mouth, wetting them with slow, obscene strokes of your tongue. Chloe watched, slack-jawed, cheeks flushed pink.

“Touch me,” you whispered against her fingers. “I want to feel your fingers while you watch me fall apart again.”

Chloe let out a choked groan and sat up slightly as you guided her hand between your legs. The moment her fingers slipped through your folds—hot, drenched, swollen—her lips parted with a moan that sounded damn near pained.

“Jesus, baby. You’re dripping.”

You leaned into her, lips brushing her ear as you murmured, “All for you.”

Chloe didn’t waste another second. She slid one finger into you, slow but deep, watching the way your mouth parted, your lashes fluttering. Then another. You sank down onto her hand, rocking into her, gasping softly as her fingers curled just right.

“Yeah—fuck, like that,” you whispered, bracing yourself on her chest, nails digging in slightly. “Curl them… mm, yes, right there.”

She kept her eyes on your face the entire time—watching every gasp, every flicker of pleasure that passed through you. Her thumb pressed to your clit and began slow, firm circles that made your hips buck hard into her palm.

“Oh my god, Chloe—don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop,” you cried out, grinding against her hand, breath hitching with every stroke.

“I won’t,” she groaned. “Fuck, I want you to come all over my fingers. Want to feel you pulse around me.”

You were so close. Again. The heat was unbearable, this time sharper, your body already overstimulated but craving it anyway—craving more, more, more.

She angled her fingers just right, hitting that spot inside you over and over, and your second orgasm slammed into you like a truck. Your thighs clenched, your body went taut, and you screamed her name as your body rocked through it, stars exploding behind your eyes.

Chloe bit her lip, watching you lose it. “That’s it, baby. Look at you—so fucking hot when you come. Shit.”

You were barely able to move, but you reached down and grabbed her by the collar of her tank top, yanking her into another kiss. It was messy and raw and full of heat.

You whimpered against her mouth, still panting. “Don’t take your fingers out yet.”

“Still sensitive?”

You nodded, biting your lip, eyes glassy. “Yeah… but I like it.”

Chloe’s fingers stayed inside, slowly thrusting again—gentle this time. You trembled, hips twitching with every movement.

“You’re insane,” she whispered, watching you ride the edge of pleasure and pain. “Fucking perfect.”

“You’re mine,” you said breathlessly. “Say it.”

"I’m yours,” she moaned, nuzzling into your neck, completely lost in you. “All fucking yours.”

You grinned, dark and slow. “Good girl.”

And she nearly came just from that.

Chloe was losing her goddamn mind.

You were still trembling around her fingers, soaked and overstimulated, every inch of you flushed and slick and sensitive—but you hadn’t told her to stop. You just held onto her like she was your anchor, hips rocking in slow waves against her hand as if you wanted her to drag out the pleasure and edge you over and over again.

And Chloe? She couldn’t look away.

“Y/n,” she breathed, almost dizzy from watching you. “You look so fucking hot like this.”

You rolled your hips, slow and precise, keeping her fingers deep inside as you dragged them along that aching spot again. “I know,” you whispered, voice wrecked and sensual, “You keep looking at me like you’re ready to fall apart just from this.”

“Because I am,” Chloe whispered back. “I’d let you ride my hand ‘til sunrise if it meant watching you fall apart again.”

You smiled, lips parted, that glimmer of dominance returning in your eyes—soft but commanding, seductive in a way that made Chloe forget how to breathe.

“You like that I’m using you, huh?” you murmured, grinding down on her fingers. “Like turning you into my toy?”

“God, yes,” she groaned, curling her fingers again. “Use me—fuck, baby—just keep going, you’re so goddamn sexy when you take what you want.”

You leaned in, pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to her jaw, her throat, trailing heat down her neck. You licked and bit your way lower, lips brushing down her collarbone as you whispered, “Then lie back, Chloe. I’m not done with you.”

You pulled off her shirt in one fluid motion, and Chloe let you—wide-eyed, flushed, already breathless as you pushed her back against the pillows. You kissed down her chest, sucked a dark mark just under her collarbone, your teeth grazing teasingly.

Her skin tasted like sweat and desire, and you couldn’t stop. You kissed your way down her stomach—slow, deliberate, dragging your tongue across the soft skin, making sure she felt everything.

Then you pulled her jeans off, tossing them somewhere on the floor, leaving her in nothing but her black panties, which were already soaked through. You growled when you saw it.

“Fuck, Chloe,” you murmured, running your thumb along the wet fabric. “You’ve been dripping this whole time?”

“Since I saw that piercing,” she admitted, voice shaking. “It’s been driving me crazy.”

You pressed your palm to her pussy through the fabric and rubbed slow, deep circles, watching her body twitch.

“You wanted to eat me just from that? You’re that easy for me?”

"Yes,” she gasped, hips lifting. “I am. I don’t even care—I want you so bad.”

You grinned, biting your lip. “Then be good and beg for it.”

Chloe whined, the sound desperate and raw. “Please, y/n—please let me taste you again. I’ll do anything. Let me make you come again. Let me ruin you.”

You pulled your panties down and straddled her chest, slow and deliberate. “No. You’re not getting your mouth back yet.”

You slid down, hovering over her hand again, grabbing her wrist and guiding it between your legs. “I want your fingers again. I want to ride them until I cry.”

Chloe’s jaw dropped slightly, eyes wide. “Holy shit—okay, baby, okay. Come here.”

You lowered yourself slowly, moaning loud as her fingers filled you again, deeper this time, her knuckles brushing your entrance. You grabbed the headboard for support and started riding—fucking yourself down onto her hand while her thumb rolled tight, fast circles against your clit.

“Shit—Chloe—right there—fuck,” you cried out, your voice breaking with each thrust of her fingers.

You were so wet it was obscene, your slick dripping down onto her wrist, thighs shaking, the pressure building again too fast.

“Baby, you’re squeezing me so tight,” Chloe moaned. “You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you? I can feel it—fuck—cum for me, please.”

And then it hit.

Your third orgasm tore through you, shattering, violent—your thighs clenched tight around her wrist as you screamed her name, gushing around her fingers, your whole body trembling, heart hammering against your ribs.

Chloe was staring up at you like you were something divine—lips parted, chest heaving, wrist soaked in your cum.

You collapsed onto her, forehead to hers, breathing ragged.

She cradled your face. “I’ve never seen anything sexier than that in my entire life.”

You kissed her, deep and slow, your body still trembling. “You’re not done yet.”

Chloe’s eyes widened. “I’m not?”

You shook your head, whispering hot against her lips: “No, baby. You’re gonna eat me until I’m crying.”

She moaned, her whole body arching.

“Fuck yes.”

Chloe’s voice was thick with need, eyes locked on yours like she was already imagining it—your legs over her shoulders, thighs trembling, pussy soaking her face, crying her name while you begged for a break she wouldn’t give.

You bit your lip and climbed off her chest, slow and aching, your body flushed and spent—but still greedy. The need hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had evolved—deeper, hungrier, and sharper with every orgasm she wrung out of you.

You shifted back, sitting against the headboard, your legs spread open, already throbbing from how raw and overstimulated you were. “Come here, Chloe.”

She crawled down between your legs like it was instinct, hands shaking as she gripped your thighs and pressed a kiss to your inner knee—then higher. Then, higher again.

You threaded your fingers into her hair, holding her close. “You’re gonna be slow at first. Gentle. Then you're going to fuck me with your mouth until I’m shaking. Got it?”

Chloe looked up at you, breathless, lips parted. “Yes. Got it. Fuck, baby, I got you.”

Her mouth met your pussy, soft at first—just a slow drag of her tongue along your swollen folds, tasting you all over again. You hissed, legs twitching from how sensitive you were, but you didn’t stop her. You gripped her hair tighter and pulled her in.

“Don’t be shy,” you breathed, “You wanted this. Show me how badly.”

Chloe groaned against you, and the vibration alone made you whimper. She buried her face deeper, tongue fucking into you before flicking up to your clit, sucking it between her lips in tight, wet circles.

“Oh—fuck,” you gasped, already shaking, your legs trying to close around her head, but she gripped your thighs hard and held them open.

“That’s it,” she murmured between licks. “Let me taste it. Let me drown in it. Fuck, you taste so good.”

You moaned loudly, head falling back, hips lifting off the bed. Chloe followed your every twitch like she was possessed, mouth never leaving your cunt, her tongue flicking faster, then slower, then hard again—learning every part of you like she was addicted.

“Chloe—fuck—fuck, I can’t—” you cried out, fingers digging into her scalp, eyes threatening to spill over.

“Yes, you can,” she growled, voice muffled and wet. “Cum on, my tongue. Again. I want all of it.”

You choked out her name, your body locking up as another orgasm exploded through you—sharp and overstimulated, tears slipping from your eyes, your whole body spasming.

Chloe moaned loud into you, tongue still lapping every drop, hands caressing your thighs as she worked you through it, not stopping until you physically had to pull her off.

Your fingers tugged her hair back, forcing her face out from between your thighs—her lips were shiny, her cheeks flushed, eyes wild and satisfied. She looked like she’d just finished devouring her favorite meal.

You were panting, legs trembling, arms weak. But your smile was slow, sultry, wrecked in the best way.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered, voice hoarse. “You actually made me cry.”

Chloe leaned up, still between your legs, and pressed a slow, tender kiss to your inner thigh, then your hip, then your stomach.

"Good,” she whispered back, tracing circles over your skin. “You deserved that. You’re fucking incredible.”

You reached down, gently cupped her face, and pulled her up until she collapsed on top of you—your bare, sweat-slicked bodies flush together, chests heaving, tangled limbs.

For a few long moments, it was just your breathing, your heartbeats, your bodies pressed tight.

Then Chloe whispered, “I don’t think I’m ever getting over this.”

You smiled and kissed her—soft, slow, grounding. “You don’t have to. I’m not going anywhere.”

She rested her forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Good. Because I’d let you ruin me like that forever.”

You chuckled, brushing sweaty hair from her forehead. “Careful, babe. I just might.”

[tabathastan]

I lowkey want write for descendants, if anyone has any requests feel free to send them to my inbox

[katsumiiii]

jotaro kujo x rock angel chole type! reader

lil note: collab with @mypimpademia for her 3k event !!

thinking about jotaro kujo who loves sharing a smoke with his girl. never pressures you into doing so, always starts with a single for himself, gesturing the butt towards you, silently encouraging you to light it.

you happily obliged, flicking the safety cap off of your lighter, inching it closer and closer until the flame licked the paper, effectively lighting the cigarette.

jotaro always took the first drag, slowly inhaling, allowing the burn to settle in his lungs. the white that exhaled from his lips was almost exquisite in your eyes, you followed the trail it left behind, drifting amongst the atmosphere.

you liked to steal the second, taking advantage of his relaxed state, swiping the item from in-between his fingertips. your approach is more nervous than his own, twisting the paper side to side before bringing it in closer, cautiously taking a breath.

smoking after a show was your comfort, you tended to get anxious while performing, the crowds growing chants sent shivers down your spine. but afterwards a sense of relief was always left, along with the feeling of satisfaction.

jotaro supported your endeavors. he made every show he was able to, (though he never sat in the front row, more so drifting towards the back where it was less crowded), and stayed after for your traditional post-show smoke.

“did you like it?” you asked, passing the cig to jotaro. you fiddled with the edge of your leather jacket, pulling it tightly against your frame.

“hm?” jotaro exhaled towards the left of him, attempting to avoid your face.

“the show I mean. did you like it?” you lightly bit your bottom lip, fluttering your eyes towards your boyfriends hulking frame. you watched as he selfishly took another drag, tapping his pockets with a thick finger.

“yeah, ‘was good.” he curtly replied.

“oh…” you shifted your gaze along the railing in front of you, wiggling your thumb underneath your middle finger.

“what?” jotaro questioned, tilting his head.

“nothing.”

“just speak.”

you rolled your eyes in slight annoyance, “it’s just you say the same thing after every show. makes me wonder if you actually do enjoy it.” you answered, eyes clashing with his own.

jotaro hummed, flicking the ends of the cigarette and passing it to you. you stared at it, just for a moment, before bringing it to your lips.

“because I enjoy it everytime.” he said, simply. reaching over to grasp your waist.

“really?” you leaned closer to his figure, laying your head softly on his chest.

“yeah.” jotaro leaned forward to kiss the side of you temple, a slight smile edged on his face as he watched you take a final drag from the cig.

“you’re not just saying that because you love me right?”

“I just fucking might be since you keep asking.”

“yeah right.”

[jackiequick]

Meet The Wells - Harry Wells Fic

Tv Show: The Flash

Setting: Season 4

Pairing: Harrison ‘Harry’ Wells x Leanna ‘Lea’ O’Conner

Featuring: One of the best characters on the show, Cisco Ramon!

—-

The morning everything pretty well. Team Flash was doing their usual work at S.T.A.R LABS. Discussing lunch breaks, new metas they possibly discovered, new experiments to create and plans for the weekend. That was until Harry mentioned friends.

Cisco sat up, “No he’s delusional. That’s because the lack of sleep he’s has been having. Uh, Harry friends are in here!”

Caitlin looked at Barry, who stood there confused, guessing that he’s being sarcastic.

“I got friends other than you guys! You will meet them.” Harry respond, siping his morning coffee.

Cisco gave his second girl a look and asked, “Lea help.”

“I-i know nothing about this.” Lea admitted with her hands up in defense.

“Ramon, believes i don’t got any friends. When i clearly do.” Harry yelled and sighed, typing away on his keyboard, “You told me to go make some friends, right?”

Cisco yelled back, “Yeah but last time i checked, you don’t have any friends besides us!”

Leanna who was tinkering with her tools looked up and nodded, “Yup! I did tell you that. Actually I’m curious to meet your friends, but I gotta hand some paperwork over to Joe first.”

She stood up, giving her boyfriend of 3 years now, a quick kiss on the cheek, in which Harry wraps his hand around her waist pulling her in for one more starling kiss. Clearly he was excited for today.

——

Cisco and Harry were in the speed lab being introduced to their scientific ragtag team of friends. But it wasn’t what Cisco suspected Harry’s friends to be. One of them even practically threw Cisco Ramon out of the speed lab for being annoyed and offended. Lea walked in, confused onto why her best friend ran out of there but her confusion came to a pause after what she see saw.

There stood right in front of her brown eyes the doppelgängers of Harrison Wells. Not 1, not 2, but 3 Harrison Wells in the speed lab. And if add Harry, that makes 4! In total stood 4 very different variants of Harrison Wells, going from one with gray hair and a turtleneck to one with war general uniform like he just lost an eyeball for God’s sakes.

She didn’t know to laugh at how insane this is or internally whine about this little endeavor being oddly weird for her. But at the same time she was very much integrated into this new situation. She met versions of Wells beforehand but this was completely different. Before she can even say a word or pull together another set of thoughts, when a voice called out to her. More or less a catcall followed by a cheeky whistle.

“Who is this little beauty queen? She’s finer than a flower on a summer morning!” Yelled out a rusty almost burnt blonde Wells in a red rode and slippers.

Lea didn’t realize they were staring at her that moment, quickly fixing her dark gray shirt with tiny daisies scattered all over and dark jacket she borrowed from her friend, Caitlin Snow, earlier that week. She firstly mouth a small “What the fuck?” to Harry as he jogged over swiftly taking her hand with ease. The man was clearly excited about this.

“Honey, come meet my new friend!” He exclaimed holding a grin, returning back to earlier spot but this time with her next to him, “This is Harrison Wolfgang Wells, H. Lothario Wells and Wells 2.0. Men, this is Leanna O’Conner.”

All 3 of them smiled at the lady. Wolfgang Wells stayed wondering his eyes at the brunette, as if he trying to pin point something in particular.

Lea had to just smile politically for the 3 idiots to go sight seeing on her, if allowed. Without a second later the women dragging Harry out into the hallway for a quick chat.

“Harry, honey, what the hell?!” She whispered yelled.

“What the hell? What do you mean ‘what the hell?’?” He whispered yell back.

“Are you out of your mind? Have you officially lost your marbles?!”

“You asked me to make some friends and that’s exactly what I did!”

“When I told you to make friends, I didn’t mean with yourself!”

“They’re technically NOT me! They’re my double hitting doppelgängers from other earths and one of the biggest baddest brightest mind out there.”

“Again! There’s literally 3 of you in that room, all three of them ready to make goo goo eyes at me and oh yeah, one of you is enough but a friend group of Wells that’s just—”

“Sweetie I can handle this. There is nothing to worry about, they’re just charming and intelligent people with different kinds of backgrounds. It’s gonna go great. I promise.”

“You promise? Cause—”

“Lea it’s fine! I got this.”

————

Once the couple walked back in, Lea announced the plan with Harry, but the second they all heard her voice they looked at her like 3 somewhat trained dogs. Harry had to scuff down a laugh, snorting a smidge.

Sandy hair blonde Wells aka H. Lothario Wells, grinned at her. He found her pretty and said, “Say, gorgeous you got any sisters? Or are you free this Sunday night?”

She blushed chuckling as she shook her head ‘No’ as Harry face them with a glare saying that Lea was HIS girlfriend. So hands off fellas!

Wells 2.0 spoke up, “I had a Lana on my earth…”

“Really? How was I like?” Lea asked, her eyes perked up curious about the answer.

“I wouldn’t know, she died or was it that she left the country? Oh well, i don’t remember! Ladies on my earth aren’t as nice looking as you.”

——————

The four of them kept talking, mainly Harry and his doubles, Lea just stayed sitting back writing on her iPad a few notes on an old equipment and equations. She listened every once in a awhile to their conversation, walking in and out of the lab to other part of the building or heading down to Jitters for some java.

Blowing a kiss to all 3 copies of Wells as she left. All of them stayed with a loopy and cheeky smiles after that. Harry Wells was the lucky one, he actually got a kiss of the cheek.

Returning with a coffee for her boyfriend, after handing one to Caitlin and Cisco she heard it. “Annie..” said the voice. It belongs to Wolfgang Wells, who staying eyeing her for the moment due stepped into the room in the first place. She rarely heard that nickname tossed around but it been said plenty of times beforehand. Only Cisco or Barry will throw that nickname out.

“That’s Leanna, not Annie, can you believe this guy fellas?” Replied Sandy Wells with a chuckling, figuring his doppelgänger was nuts in the head or something.

“No, Annie O’Conner..” Wolfgang Wells said once again with curiosity and confidence in his tone.

“Yeah he’s right.” Lea confirmed his wording, “Did you know a version of me, on your Earth?”

“My wife.”

“We’re married?”

Harry’s eyes darted towards them, mumbling, “You married a verison of her? When?”

“Yeah but I left her. Too much of a handful.” Wolfgang said with a shrug.

Lea gasped, “HANDFUL? I will have you know that I’m not a handful, you guys are. No offense, Harry..”

Wolfgang snickered, “You sound like her too! I left her cause we fell out of love, she was too uptight and I was too busy to care.”

“OUCH!”

“But I think still love her very much. Still, love is love. I think we all got a verison of this lady on our earths, right?”

Sandy Wells chuckled, “Mhmmmm! I do. She’s my 2 A.M bootycall. Speaking of which…”

Just like that, blondie wells was gone saying he got business to take care of. Leanna jaw dropped, meanwhile Harry held back a little smile, grabbing everyone’s attention back to the matter at hand.

All 3 men went back to work. But the looks Wolfgang and 2.0 didn’t go unnoticed, glancing at the half Asian brunette every once in a while. Both men saw something in her, and they liked it. Harry had to snap their towards himself instead and looping a hand on his girlfriend’s waist to signify that once again she’s taken!

The men were talking over one another and bickering more often than not about the topic. Honestly it was kinda hilarious.

Cisco walked in soon enough with a smile, “Soo Council Of Wells, how are we doing? Any progress or we just chitchatting about who’s smarter?” 

Leanna chuckled at the last part, because half of it was true.

Harry on the other hand groaned in annoyance, “It’s not going anywhere! We can’t even agree on what method to use.”

“What? You had an entire day.”

“I know! I know!”

“Is it cause Lana is distracting them?”

This time Lea spoke up, “HEY! Right here you know?! First we’re complimenting me, then you’re treating me like a diamond in the rough and now you’re insulting me?! What is it? Leanna Day and I didn’t get the memo?!”

“Well welcome to my life, girlfriend! Theses guys love to do the same thing to me! Ain’t so easy, isn’t it?” Cisco repiled back, tossing her a glare.

“Ohhh, so this is the way your framing this, huh?”

“I guess so, Annie!”

“Cisco I swear—!”

“Wait?”

“What?” Harry asked.

“Isn’t there a 3rd one? Isn’t there 3 of—”

He pointed out there was only 2 Wells standing there, not the original 3 from the beginning of the day. Harry was about to say something about it but as if on cue, Sandy haired Wells reappeared with a cheeky grin blabbing on about something.

Sandy turned toward the trio with a smile, “Oh sorry! Had to take care of some off camera business—”

“OHH MY GOD!” Cisco shouted holding a hand, covering whatever it was he didn’t want to see.

This Wells had his pants down, showing everything his mother gave him. Harry tried to looked away, his face accidentally saw it. Leanna just blinked, gasping as she turned around burying his face in her boyfriend’s black shirt.

“What?” Asked Sandy Wells softly , confused.

“I can see your Frank and beans.” Said Wolfgang, looking rather uncomfortable.

“Come on, now. Do my best thinkin' commando,” Sandy defends himself with a shrug, “Plus, it ain't like we all haven't seen it before. Especially, you little missy.”

“I haven’t seen it!” Cisco yelled, sounding funny and offended by the fact.

He shoots a wink Leanna’s way and she feel like she can’t help but peek her face towards all the men in the room. She saw so much more than clearly expected today! Like Jesus Christ! She rested her head, still sorta hiding her face in her boyfriends shirt.

She didn’t look confident or heroic in that moment.

Harry placed a comforting hand on her head, holding his lady while smiling at her embraced blushing and embarrassment.

Cisco held back a couple of laughs, “Aww! You’re traumatizing the poor girl! But seriously, dude put that away..please.”

Wolfgang agreed with Cisco for once.

“Ah, you Earth Folks. You are so uptight.” Sandy replied pulling up his pants.

“Ah, alright! Can we get back to the take at hand? We need answers.”

Suddenly all men started throwing out suggestions left and right, speaking over one another not allowing Cisco nor Harry to keep a full sentence in.

Lea’s ears were ringing loudly and she groaned in annoyance, “Okay! That’s enough!”

“Enough? We’re just getting started!” Add 2.0 Wells, in which causing another explosion of words being thrown around.

Clearly Harry was losing it having enough of this shit and yelled, “Guys! Guys! Ga—gentlemen!” Grabbing all their attention he continued, “Clearly this isn’t working. And just for the record, it’s not me, it’s you.”

With a simple push of a button, all three holograms disappeared, leaving the trio to themselves.

“This, was a bad idea.” Harry said walking back, placing his hands on his girlfriend’s shoulders whispering, “You okay?”

“It’s like your junk was burnt into my brain.” Cisco answered instead.

“Your welcome.”

Leanna did not answer or add into the previous statement, just walking out with a hand covering her ears silently. Harry and Cisco shared a tired look, figuring something bothered her..

——

Him and Cisco were talking for a bit, the genius still grumbling about what happened. That he needed to accept the facts and himself, since they are technically his doppelgängers but still. He didn’t truly like it too much.

Until he found her.

Harry found his girlfriend in his lab, scribbling in a notebook wearing her noise canceling headphones, that both him and Cisco carefully crafted her due to her meta human abilities, and playing with her bangs.

He sighed, knowing she was flashed today and practically felt just as insulted as he was. But because Leanna was more of a sensitive soul in the relationship, rather busy lately with Iris’s wedding planning, and helping the team with their issues. Along with the overheating bickering wasn’t probably too pleasant to her ears.

He winced, taking a marker to the whiteboard and tapping it against the clear sided screen. Harry walked over to her, tapping her shoulder and simply asked, “Hey, are you alright?”

“Hm?” She asked, removing her headphone registering what he said and chuckled, “Oh! Yeah honey I’m fine.”

“Isn’t that my line? Lea, honey, what happened? You kinda snapped at them.”

“Yeah well, so did you!…I, uh, umm wasn’t expecting today. Part of me knew something was gonna happen! I felt like I was being pulled left and right. I mean 4 Wells in one room, that’s overwhelmingly surprising and kinda chaotic..no offense.”

“None taken! They are just huge self minded, idiots. Uptight, roughly insulting, snooty and just jerks. I—I didn’t think it would go like that! Hell they flashed you and choose to make eyes at you the whole time. Treated you like you were an prize to be won and be thrown away…no one was paying attention to anything and just talking over one another! Jesus…”

Leanna stayed quiet hearing him rant about how he felt about the situation and the protection his mind created, recognizing things she didn’t notice until now. It made her feel better, knowing that she got the best Wells in the multiverse. All he wanted was to make some more friends and figure out a way to help with his teammates issues.

But instead, he realized that rather became a host and solid choice for a complete conversation than the other guys. He also felt sorta good about himself being one to unlock the door to an O’Conner’s heart unlike his counterpart.

“I uh, don’t take you for granted, you know?” Harry said, with a soft grin.

“I figured as much. You stayed.” She replied with a tired smile.

“Wolfgang had a version of you then lost you, 2.0 Wells was just gah not—the best thing with women and uh, Lothario was something else where uh, you know!”

Lea chuckled and nodded, “Oh I know! I..I know!”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh, “But in all seriousness, Leanna I love you and I’m so sorry you had to deal with that—us, today.”

“I’ve been part of Team Flash for so long, where something like that shouldn’t surprise me but it did. It was chaotic chapter for the books, but I really hope that doesn’t happen again!”

“It better not! I can’t take another moment with those guys. They’re one of the most annoying minds of the multiverse!”

“Harry, honey..”

“What?

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

She stood up from her chair, wrapped her arms around his middle and looked up at the man gently grinning. He looked down at her, placing a hand on the small of her back, smiled softly confused since she left her second line incomplete.

“For being you! You came to this Earth and took it as it is, trying to help it. And those idiots, didn’t have to FaceTime us but they did. Because you would’ve done the same thing.” She added.

“Of course I’ve would’ve, I kinda like you guys. Especially you and Dr. Snow.” Harry admitted.

“Most importantly, you fell for me. All those other versions of Lea and Wells don’t know what they’re missing.”

“Well, technically, this wasn’t planned. I came to another earth for one goal. But we sorta happened.”

“Do you regret it?”

He leaned down, cupping her cheek a bit, “No.”

“Why’s that?” She asked, leaning in.

“Because it proves my multiverse theory. Every version of you or me, ends up being with an such interesting partner.”

“I love that theory.”

“I know you do.”

Harry closed the space between them, tossing in a few solid pecks of Lea’s waiting lips. A couple of sweet nothings and laughs were thrown into the mix, chatting about getting Big Belly Burger later.

When suddenly..

“Oh come on!”

Came Cisco’s voice, standing at the door with his hands on his hips.

“Seriously? Y’all didn’t need my help making her feel better.” Cisco said.

Lea snorted and smiled, as Harry tossed his friend a playful grin, only ever reserved for Cisco Ramon. 

“We’re heading to Big Belly Burger later, you coming?” asked Lea.

“Oh hell yes!” He replied, replacing the frown with a smile, snatched up his friend from Harry into his arms for a hug and yelling, “She was mine first.”

——

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story ⚡️

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[bloodygnqv]

A new chapter who cheered

[bluebellhairpin]

Cregan Stark X Wife!Reader

Summary: Preparation to leave to Castle Black for the winter months is well under way, and you're reluctant to be left alone in Winterfell. Cregan, having had the same worry, provides what could be a solution. A solution with a name. And fur. (wc. 2.3k>)

Warnings: Reader has she/her pronouns + fem bodied. Pregnancy. Assassination attempt. Unnamed character death. Blood + gore. Cregan wants to be a girl dad. Unedited (lol).

Listening to: 'Wolf at Your Door' by Chole x Halle - "When you're laying in your bed at night, when the air's just a little too quiet, better hope that you're saying your prayers."

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Ko-Fi || AO3 link

Winterfell was a somber place when the cold rolled down from the north. 

Although only ten men were sent to the wall every winter, everyone left behind knew someone who was sent away. No matter how short of a life you lived, you also always knew someone who died there. Indeed, life on the wall was as harsh as the force it existence kept at bay. 

For you though, the man you lost always returned. The last three winters had you spend upwards of three months without your husband - and in turn rising to take his place as custodian of Winterfell. No matter how busy the role kept you, it never helped you miss Cregan Stark any less. 

With winter approaching once more, each moment with him seemed to not be enough. Yes, the Wall was dangerous, and even Cregan was never guaranteed to return, but this year there was something else that willed you to want him to stay. Something else that made him want to stay too. 

“Each day my resolve seems to crack,” he told you one night, fire cracked in its hearth as you both lay under blankets of fur. His hand rested protectively over your belly. “Already now I can see our babe grow, and I know I’ll not only be missing you but her too.”

“‘Her’?” you hummed, head turning to nose his cheek. “Such a confident tone, my lord.” 

“I am confident.” he replied, turning to press a soft kiss to your lips as his hand idlily rubbed along your stomach. 

“And if you needed an heir at the end of this cold winter, what then?” 

“If my lady wife deems me worthy, we might try for one again.” he said, sedating what could’ve been the start of your mood change with words almost too sweet to be coming from the frosty king in the north. “But that is something we can decide once all three of us are safe together when summer rises.” 

Cregan’s soft words and warm breath on your cheeks made your mind wandered to a time not so far away where you wouldn’t have his heat so close. A time when his comfort was going to be gone. 

“I’m going to miss you.” you said, turning into his hold more, and he let you snuggle into his chest. “This time will feel longer than all the others.”

“I doubt that will be the case for you.” he said, lips moving from their place pressed into your hair. “Winterfell will keep you busy, between that and resting for the babe’s sake, you won’t have time on your hands for much else.” 

“I may not want to rest.”

“You will. The Lord of Winterfell commands it.” 

“The Lord of Winterfell won’t be here, he cannot have a for sure say in what I do or do not do.” You felt him smile into your hair, and you pulled away with a twitch of your own mouth. “What?”

He pulled away a little too, shyly smiling down at where you still laid. He was acting far too coy to be considered normal. 

“I might not be leaving you completely alone.” 

“... Cregan.” you started, sitting up on our elbow. 

“I was going to show you on the morrow, but since you’ve forced my hand -”

“-I? Forcing your hand?”

“- Since you forced my hand,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he slipped out from the bedcovers, “I will be right back.”

“What…” You tried, but your voice tempered out as he swiftly made his way from your bedchambers. 

Sighing, you sat back in your pillows, arms folded, and refraining from pouting. It wasn’t long into your settled position of guessing what in the seven kingdoms your husband was doing before he was back. 

Cregan had clearly gone outside, snow settled on the top of his hair and along the shoulders of the fur cloak he snatched before leaving. In his arms was something squirming. You frowned, eyeing the movement under the cloak as he strode over. 

“What is that?” you asked. 

“A protector for the Lady of Winterfell, as per the orders of her lord husband.” Cregan said, and let the squirming mass break free from his hold onto the bed. 

It was a… pup? No not possible, it was too big. From how it acted it was a few months surely, but it was just so big. Then you thought some more. Could it really be? 

“A direwolf?” 

“Not any direwolf. Yours.” Cregan said, rounding the bed and settling back at your side. “A protector to be at your side when I cannot. I’ve been training him and he follows commands well already. By the time I leave he should be grown to the size of any regular dog - then at least twice that when I return.” 

While he spoke, the pup sniffed around your bed covers, curiously wandering on unsteady feet. You had to admit, he looked gorgeous, all black fur, with green eyes, and you didn’t doubt he would grow to be a fierce thing. But sometimes that wasn’t always good. 

“Cregan, are you sure about this?” you asked. “It’s… he’s a direwolf, not a dog.” 

“I’m sure,” he said, lending his arm out. The pup stepped closer, licking Cregan’s fingers and settling on its belly with its nose on Cregan’s knee. “They’re our house symbol. The direwolf are as Stark as I am, they know who we are, and they can be as loyal as they are fierce. That’s why I wanted to introduce you before I left. He’s going to be yours, loyal to you.” 

His arm wrapped around your shoulder, and like second nature you made yourself comfortable by his side. The pup shifted too, now his nose was itching closer to you, wanting to know who this new person was. 

“I supposed you ought to tell me what I'm going to be calling him then.”

“You can call him anything you like,” Cregan said, “But I’ve been calling him Striker.”

Five months passed, and Cregan was right. You were never without anything to do. 

The babe growing inside you made mornings rough, and you often weren’t seen before noon, especially in the earlier months. The rest of your day was spent catching up on what you’d missed while resting, and then catching up on what you missed while catching up. Then the evenings were spent with Striker. 

He had grown on you, just as he had grown physically. Cregan was still able to lift the wolf when he left, but now you doubted it. He was already well on his way to rivalling a regular wolf in size. Despite how intimidating that might’ve been, you couldn’t be more fond of Striker even if you tried. 

Your belly swelled, and with it so did the direwolf’s protectiveness. Your handmaids were tolerated, your guards struggled to be in the same room, and when the maesters dared tough you Striker had to be sent out of the room. Walks around Winterfell were soon out of the question, at least if you were to bring the direwolf along, since he took to growling at everyone who stood too close. 

Cregan really picked well, Striker surely was serving his purpose, and soon he earned his namesake. 

Word came from Castle Black that Cregan was going to return, that the Winter had been fended off once more. That brought joy foremost to you, but really all in Winterfell knew what that meant, even if Westeros didn’t. It was cause for celebration when they returned. 

It also gave a false sense of security. Winter was gone, and so was the evil - but evil didn’t just come from the north. It could come from anywhere. 

You’d settled into bed for the night, Striker laid beside you, head facing towards the door, and your hand rested on his flank as you looked over one last paper. He growled, and you petted his fur, silently reassuring him that it was just a guard passing outside - but then his head lifted, and turned toward your window. His sudden, still alertness put you on edge. 

He’d been hostile before, but this was aggressive. 

Candle flames flickered, Striker’s fur stood on end beneath your palm, the latch on your window clicked open, creaked open, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. A cloaked figure slipped into your room, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to cry for help - nor to remember anything Cregan had taught you. But you didn’t have to.

The figure, a man, unsheathed a knife, and with the glint of steel in the candlelight Striker struck. He surged off the bed with a vicious bark and bit into the man’s arm, snarling all the while and all but went to tearing the man to shreds. 

The commotion had people coming in through the door, and the sight had you still rendered motionless and speechless. 

The man’s cloak was torn away, and by now he was pinned to the floor, blood pooling on the stone as he fruitlessly tried to get Striker off him. You barely registered your guard, Gunther, asking you what was happening.

“He came in the window. He had a knife.” was all you could say. You could guess he was saying things to calm you down as he pried your fingers off your bedsheets that covered your swollen belly - he was probably trying to get you out of the room so you didn’t see the mess. It was too late for that. The man was a whimpering, bloodied mess on the floor by now, and no one had yet been brave enough to pry Striker’s jaw off his shoulder. 

Gunther had an arm around you with your hand in his, guiding you away. Others attempted to move closer, either to help the man or take him away - but Striker was still growling. 

“Striker, here.” you called, just finding your voice enough for it to carry over the commotion. The direwolf looked up, and seeing you being led away, he relented, fitting into your side with ease. 

The three of you walked away. Now you were away from the scene you could think again and guess you were going down the hall to another room, one you decided you’d stay in until Cregan returned. 

You looked down at Striker, threading your fingers though the fur at his neck. 

“Good boy.” you said, stroking between his ears. 

“He sure is, my lady.” Gunther said, “Who knows what could’ve happened if he didn’t act so fast.” 

You smiled a little at that, at how right Cregan was in leaving the direwolf for you. He was meant to be company, a protector second - but tonight he proved to be as good, as loyal as any of your guards. He proved to be the real sigil of House Stark - just as Cregan told you he was. 

You reached the door of your new room, and as your hand lifted off Striker’s back you noticed it chill with the cold night air. Turning your palm over, you saw red - and Striker’s nose made home in your fingers, licking away every drop as if it wasn’t ever there to begin with.

A week later, Cregan returned. 

You had been in a foul mood for the past three days, since the maester had put you on strict bed rest because of the babe. Therefore you had been deemed unfit to greet your husband at the gate as he finally came home. In your defense, it definitely seemed like a good reason to be sour. 

So you waited, sat on a chaise, with Striker’s head in your lap pressed to your stomach. 

You could hear a commotion outsider, which only made your face scrunch in annoyance - not just at missing out but also at the pity looked you knew your handmaiden would be giving you. She offered to go fetch Cregan, and you nodded her leave with a wave of your hand. 

“He will be here soon.” you said, cradling Striker’s muzzle in your palms. 

“Indeed he will.” Cregan said. 

“Oh, Lord Stark!” your handmaid said, startled. Your head turned, and you saw him standing in the doorway. 

“Cregan!” you said, grin covering your face - and even after such a long time away, Striker seemed to recognize him, for he didn’t growl, and his tail started thumping against the rug. 

“My love,” he said, shedding his great sword carelessly, and sunk to the floor beside where you sat. You heard your handmaid mumble a goodbye before stepping out and closing the door behind you. “Are you alright?” 

“I couldn’t be better now.” you replied, feeling tears welling in your eyes as you took in your husband's face for the first time in months. He looked tired, older, but as you took his face in your hands his cheeks felt exactly the same as they were when he left. “I missed you so much.” 

“I heard about what happened the other night. I -” he said, mouth hanging open in what could’ve been shock, in his eyes there could’ve been anger. Vengeance would do nothing now, the man was dead, he bled out before anyone could decide to give him mercy - undeserved or otherwise. But as Cregan leant forward to hold you into his arms, his warmth felt like nothing else except fear. “I can’t believe I could’ve lost you.” 

“You didn’t.” you said, taking an arm away from being wrapped around his shoulders to pull his face away from your chest. “You provided the means for me to stay safe long before you left. Striker was better than any guard. He was fearless when I was frozen. I owe him my life, all because of you.” 

Cregan’s face turned soft, and he smiled at you. He leant forward and kissed you. For the first time in too long, his lips move against yours. You felt his jaw move beneath your palm as his fingers grazed your neck and held onto your hip. When he pulled away, he kept your head cradled close to his. 

“I love you.” he said. 

“I love you too.” you replied, and he smiled, pressing another kiss to your lips, then your cheek. 

“Now tell me all about how my little girl is growing.”

[nemo-writes]

𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 I chapter eleven

(dr. jack abbot x nurse!reader)

⤿ chapter summary: you're back on the day-shift , slowly but surely stitching normalcy back together. the hospital hums with quiet welcome, and even the rooftop feels like home again. but dusk brings more than cold air and habit. it brings the answer to every unspoken fear.

⤿ warning(s): stalking, obsessive behaviour, violence, non-consensual touching

⟡ story masterlist ; previous I next

✦ word count: 2.6k

Your first dawn back in your own apartment slips through the cream curtains like a shy hello. 

The hallway carries a faint lemon scent—Mr. Donnelly’s handiwork. While you were gone he swept the stairs, mopped the landing, and even fitted a raccoon-proof lid on your trash can, leaving a note: Still doing neighborhood rounds—call if the evil returns. The simple kindness steadies your pulse as you lock up and head for the hospital.

The east windows glow with weak November sun when you badge into Surgical at 06:42, one minute before the day crew hands things over. No applause, no sheet cake—just chlorhexidine in the air, fresh wax underfoot, the beep-tick of monitors, and the scratch of a marker on the whiteboard.

Exactly the scale of normal you prayed for.

Your shoes squeak once. Dr. Garcia doesn’t look up from the schedule until you’re in front of her; then she flicks her pen free of her teeth.

“Lap-chole at eight, bowel re-section at noon,” she says, pushing a chart your way. “If Dr. Miller steals my curved clamps, bite him.”

That’s Garcia’s version of a hug, sharp and warm all at once.

“Missed you too, Doc,” you say, flipping the chart open. Allergies, consent, nothing forgotten.

Down the hall, Dr. Miller leans from Pre-Op, mask hanging at his throat.

“Well, suture me to the deck and call me anchored,” he crows. “Senior nurse’s back; the sun must’ve signed a non-compete.” 

Two residents groan. You roll your eyes, but his pun lands like sunshine.

At the desk Margot waits, tea in one hand, clipboard in the other. No fuss—just a gentle shove of the cup toward your fingers.

“Lead aprons are in Room 3,” she murmurs. “And nobody touches your clipboard but ghosts and God. Clear?”

“Crystal,” you answer. Hot black tea—no decaf, bless her ruthless heart.

Jules meets you in Sterile Core, trays lined up with jeweler precision.

“Count’s perfect,” she says, eyebrow high. “Try to keep it that way, Steel-Spine.”

You tap the instrument key and grin, the nickname feels more like armor than mockery. Fin slips out from behind a supply rack, cheeks flushed. He hands over a badge reel shaped like a tiny scalpel, 3-D printed in gun-metal gray.

“For luck,” he mutters.

You clip it beside your ID and squeeze his shoulder. “Looks like it belongs here.”

No time for sentiment—Pre-Op is already paging. You swing into the corridor, shoes squeaking once, shoulders settling into the rhythm of morning prep.

Hours later, between the gallbladder you just dropped off in recovery and the bowel case rolling up next, you snatch ninety seconds in the locker room. Your name plate never came down; someone taped a cartoon scalpel under it that says CUT THE DRAMA, NOT THE PATIENT. You tie your scrub cap tighter, close your eyes, and listen—carts rattling, suction sighing, ventilators counting breaths. 

Life, loud and sure.

In OR 3 the lights blaze white as the patient arrives. Drape, prep, quick safety pause. Dr. Garcia stretches out her gloved hand; you land the instrument she wants before she speaks. Her eyes crinkle over the mask.

Time blurs: clicks of metal, the smell of cautery, the soft hiss of suction. Dr. Miller stays well clear of Dr. Garcia’s side. Fin calls the final count, Jules signs off with a flourish, and a wide-eyed resident whispers, “That was beautiful,” while you wheel the bed to recovery.

It’s 14:55 when the last chart closes and hot water finally scrubs the sting from your hands. You're ready for your lunch break.

In the lounge the fridge swings open—Margot added a padlock “for deterrence,” and past it, your lunch box sits untouched. In the group chat, Margot's message stands, Password still BENTO4LIFE. Fin remains unauthorized—hold the line.

You snap a photo of your rice, full black beans and chicken cutlet, and text: Day shift—still standing.

Jack’s reply pops up almost instantly: ❤️

Heat blooms in your ribs—ridiculous, giddy.

Phone pocketed, lunch done, you step into the hall just as afternoon rounds swell. No mystery texts, no shifting clipboards—only the pulse of daylight medicine and a wing that treats your return as routine. Your shoes squeak once—bright, confident—before you angle toward the next bay, steady, useful, home.

. . .

The ward shifts from afternoon buzz to evening exhale, that gentle slack in noise just before night crew takes the reins. You hand off your final patient note, re-dock your scanner, and accept a round of shoulder squeezes from Margot and Jules. Fin calls after you to guard the badge reel with your life; Dr. Garcia just points at tomorrow’s schedule and mouths, “On time.” You salute her with your thermos in lieu of a goodbye.

Inside the lift you can’t stop checking the lid—double tight on a brew of smoky oolong Jack once said tasted like autumn bonfires. Two paper sleeves of ginger cookies ride in your tote, still warm from the residents’ lounge microwave. The elevator climbs past six, seven, eight floors; your pulse climbs faster.

The stairwell to the roof smells of concrete dust and old rain. You take the steps two at a time—part nerves, part giddy anticipation—and push through the metal door, expecting the familiar silhouette leaning against the railing, that half-grin waiting just for you.

Wind flattens your scrub top to your spine as the door bangs shut behind you. At first glance the roof looks empty—until your eyes adjust. A single figure stands near the eastern rail, lean and wiry under a navy scrub jacket. A stethoscope is looped around his neck, badge clipped low on his pocket like any off-duty doctor catching air between cases. You don’t recognize the face—sharp jaw, unruly dark hair—but the uniformed familiarity tugs you a step forward instead of back. Maybe he’s new.

“Evening,” you call, curiosity edging out caution.

The man turns slowly. His smile is bright, almost boyish—until your gaze drops to his right hand. A scalpel glints there, pinched delicately between thumb and forefinger, blade catching the last streak of sunset like a sliver of cold fire.

Your pulse stops, slams, then races.

The thermos sweats against your palm; the paper sleeve of cookies crackles. He lifts the scalpel in an absent gesture, as if it were nothing more than a fountain pen, grin widening like you’ve shared a private joke.

Every instinct screams run, but your feet stay welded by a single stunned thought: Jack isn’t here, and this stranger, smiling so pleasantly, is holding a very real blade.

The stranger’s smile widens, teeth catching the weak rooftop light. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten our spot,” he says, voice light and breathy—like gossip shared over coffee instead of across forty feet of concrete. The scalpel twirls once between his fingers, sure and practiced. “But of course you wouldn’t. You love routines. I do, too.”

Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth. You note the details automatically: the slight tremor in his free hand, the way his badge dangles backward so you can’t read the name, how his sneakers squeak just a hair when he shifts his weight—steps that could close the gap in seconds.

“I’ve been so patient,” he continues, nodding as if grading himself. “Waiting through extra cameras, new door codes, night shifts. I thought the fridge lock was clever—Margot's idea, right?—but it made things tricky. Made me improvise.” His eyes flick to the thermos in your grip. “You brought tea anyway. Loyal. I like that.”

Rain from yesterday’s storm drips off the drainage gutters, each plink absurdly loud.

“I missed your mornings,” he says, stepping toward the river view but angling his torso so he keeps you in sight. “The way you double-check the crash carts, straighten the clipboard—beautiful rituals. They’re why I chose you.” He inhales like savoring perfume. “You keep the chaos tidy. It’s… comforting.”

Your pulse pummels your throat. You slide one foot back, inching toward the door handle behind you; it feels miles away. He notices and laughs softly.

“Don’t,” he says almost kindly. “If you leave now, we’ll just start over tomorrow. And you’ve worked so hard today.” The scalpel tilts, catching orange from the west.

You steady the thermos, grip tightening until metal bites.

The man sighs, almost wistful. “I watched you all day. The way you glided through that bowel case—poetry. They don’t appreciate it the way I do. They never see you.” His gaze drags over you, hungry and reverent all at once. “But I do.”

Your mind races: shout for help? Rooftop door is heavy; sound might not carry. Stall him. Keep distance.

“Who are you?” you manage, voice hoarse.

“I’m the one who’s been writing you.” He taps his chest with the scalpel hilt and as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. “Trash-can raccoons? That was me testing your attention to detail. The intern’s muffin? A cute bonus. Clipboard tilt—my little signature.” He shrugs, grin stretching. “I thought the note on the Tupperware would make you smile, but you panicked. You weren’t ready yet.”

Every hair on your arms lifts. You want to throw up. He studies your reaction like data.

“But you’re ready now,” he whispers. “Back on days, back where you shine. I wanted our first real conversation to be here, where you and the sky meet. A clean view. A beginning.”

He steps closer—five paces left between you. You retreat one pace, the door’s push-bar now a cold echo against your spine. Old rainwater from the vent dribbles down your collar. He notices, frowns with genuine concern.

“You’re cold. Let me—” He extends the hand holding the scalpel, blade down as if to offer help.

The gesture jolts you back to yourself. You lift the thermos, thumb hooking beneath the lid—scalding liquid, a ready weapon. Your other hand edges toward your phone, pulse pounding so loud you taste metal.

His eyes flick to the movement, then back to your face, hurt flickering like a twitch. “Please don’t ruin this,” he murmurs. “I planned everything.”

Your breaths saw in and out. Behind him the last smear of sun bleeds into river-black. Somewhere far below, an ambulance siren wails, climbing.

You draw a deeper lungful, fix your gaze on the scalpel glittering between you, and summon the steady voice that calmed countless patients.

“Okay but you need to put the blade down,” you say, tone low but clear. “We can talk, but that comes first.”

He hesitates—brief, uncertain—and in that sliver of pause you feel the phone vibrate once in your pocket: a message you don’t dare check. Another siren peaks. Somewhere, maybe, help is already moving.

The stranger straightens, expression slipping from eager to something colder. “I didn’t come here for rules,” he whispers.

The metal mug feels slick in your sweating grip. Every instinct tells you to bolt, yet your feet stay rooted by the knowledge that a single wrong motion might sharpen the scalpel’s arc toward you.

“Let me pour you a cup,” you say, surprised you still have a voice. It’s the one you use on trembling post-ops—low, steady, hypnotic. Steam coils upward as you loosen the lid; your hand barely trembles, though your heart slams so hard you taste copper.

He discards his frustrations like nothing, and steps closer into the burnt-orange wash of the security light. Up close the details jolt into clarity: wiry build under the scrub jacket, glasses fogged at the edges. A thin line of acne scars dots his jaw. His smile widens as he cradles the cup you offer, scalp­el blade glinting just inches from your sleeve.

“That smell—oolong,” he breathes, as if inhaling you with the steam. “The morgue coffee is terrible. But this… This is how you start your mornings, isn’t it?”

Goose-flesh ripples up your arms. “I do like routines.”

“So do I,” he whispers. “I watched you relabel a gallbladder sample in July. So precise. Everyone else moved on, but you stayed, made sure the name matched the wristband. That’s when I knew.”

Your spine goes cold. Another cup poured buys seconds. You force your lips into something gentle as his closeness allows you to take a small peak at his badge. “You're from the frozen-section team?”

His eyes light up. “Yes! You remembered.”

But you don't. You don't know him, you don't remember anything. You must pretend like you do. Your literal survival depends on it. So, you nod, heartbeat thudding at your ears. The skyline wavers behind him, city lights doubled in the blur of your tears.

“Why the scalpel?” you ask, voice barely above wind.

He glances at it, almost sheepish. “Force of habit. A conductor needs a baton.”

My God.

You try again, hoping the tea has softened the edges of whatever violent delusion is clouding his senses. “Could you put it away? Tea first, then talk.”

A hesitation—then, worshipfully, he pockets it. Adrenaline floods your limbs.

You hand him a third cup. His fingers rhythmically tap the metal lid—one-two-three, one-two-three—like feeling out your pulse. In the glare you can see steam silvering the lenses of his glasses, moisture beading on his cheekbones.

Now!

You fling the cup on his hand. Boiling tea splashes across his face; the scream that rips out of him is half animal, half betrayed child. He claws at his eyes.

You drive your shoulder into his chest, bones jolting, but he pivots with unnerving speed. Your shove knocks him sideways only half a step; rubber soles squeak on wet concrete, and his free hand lashes out, fingers closing vise-tight around your upper arm.

“No—no—” Panic shreds the word as you twist for the door handle, but he yanks you back, slamming your spine against the metal. The latch rattles uselessly under your flailing grip.

Up close his face is a mask of cool fascination, not rage—eyes bright, tracking every tremor in your expression. Tea still steams off his cheek, reddening the skin, yet his voice stays almost gentle. It makes you sick.

“Easy,” he murmurs, tightening his hold until your fingers tingle. “We’ve come this far. Please, please don’t ruin it.”

You scream anyway—raw, desperate—but the rooftop swallows the sound, vast and indifferent. He clamps a hand over your mouth, breath steady against your ear. The scalpel is back and glints inches from your throat, a silent reminder that strength isn’t always measured in muscle.

Your pulse hammers so hard you taste blood. You kick, heel connecting with his shin; he grunts but doesn’t loosen his grip. “Shhh,” he soothes, chilling in its softness. “I know you’re frightened. First encounters are messy.”

Tears blur the skyline behind him—river lights smearing into streaks. You try to bite his palm; he shifts just enough to avoid teeth, fingers digging into your jaw. Controlled, practiced.

“Listen,” he whispers, almost tender. “All the safeguards, all the cameras, and still we’re here. That means something. You feel it, don’t you?”

Your lungs burn, screams muffled to whimpers. You shove at his chest—too lean to look strong, yet his grip is iron. The thermos tumbles from your hand, clanging into the darkness. Cookies scatter like brittle coins.

He leans closer—scalpel grazing your collar—voice dropping to a reverent hush. “I only needed you to stop running. Then we can begin.”

divider credit

[jjmbbg]

Hi can I request Female x Clark Kent.They have been best friends for the longest and she gets the courage to ask him out.unfortunately she spends her time waiting for him alone he’s a no show.The next day she sees him a Lana and kinda loses it.clark is revealed to see her wanting to explain what happened.But the reader cuts him off.saying something like “I thought we were good friends enough to be honest with each other”he tries to say something like we are friends I really like- get cuts off by her saying “no Clark I don’t think we ever were I think I was just the placeholder till you got what you really wanted”she walks away and Clark is devastated.He comes up with a plan with the help of chole and Pete to show her he does genuinely like her.

Starry Second Chances

cw: clark kent x fem!reader, emotional turmoil, heartbreak, sense of betrayal and abandonment, emotional confrontation and some romantic tension *giggles*.

You had always been good at waiting.

Waiting for Clark Kent to notice the way your heart raced when he smiled at you. Waiting for him to realize that the late-night phone calls and study sessions weren't just friendly gestures. Waiting for the moment when he would finally see you—not as his best friend, but as something more.

So when you finally worked up the courage to ask him out, you thought the waiting was over. Finally.

"I'd love to" he had said, smiling that warm, boyish smile that made your stomach flip. "Tomorrow night. The Talon?"

And just like that, hope bloomed inside you—wild and unstoppable. Even made you dress up nicely, which was a rare sight.

But now? Now, you sat alone in a table next to the stairs, the warmth of the coffee cup in your hands doing little to soothe the cold ache in your chest. The Talon buzzed around you—laughing couples, the hiss of the espresso machine, the smell of Martha Kent's muffins—but Clark Kent was nowhere to be found.

You checked your phone. Nothing. No text. No call.

He wasn't coming.

The minutes stretched into an hour before you finally left, the weight of disappointment settling heavily on your shoulders. You told yourself not to cry, not to let it hurt—but it did. God, it did.

The next day at school, you promised yourself you wouldn't seek him out. If he wanted to explain, he would. If he cared, he would.

But fate had a cruel sense of humor.

Because there he was—Clark Kent, standing by his locker with his typical flannel and backpack slung over his shoulder. And next to him, Lana Lang with that pretty smile that you envied so much.

She laughed softly at something he said, and he smiled back—easy, familiar, the kind of smile he used to save just for you.

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest.

It wasn't fair. You had waited—waited for so long—and still, you were nothing more than a shadow in the background while Lana effortlessly captured his attention.

Something inside you snapped.

You marched across the hallway, each step fueled by the sting of betrayal. He noticed you just as you reached his side, his expression shifting from relaxed to worried in an instant.

"Hey" he said, like he hadn't broken you the night before. "I was—"

"Don't" you cut him off, the words shar on your tongue. Bitter than you intended. "You didn't show, Clark"

"I know—I wanted to explain—"

"Explain what?" you let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. "That you didn't even have the decency to tell me you weren't coming? I thought we were good friends—good enough to be honest with each other, at least"

"We are" he insisted, stepping closer, staring at you with those puppy eyes. "I really like—"

"No, Clark" your voice trembled, but you didn’t stop. "I don't think we ever were. I think I was just the placeholder until you got what you really wanted"

The hallway seemed to quiet around you, but you didn't care. Let them watch. Let them see. You were done hiding how much this hurt.

You turned on your heel and walked away before he could say another word, leaving Clark Kent standing there—devastated.

Clark barely made it through the rest of the day. Your words echoed in his mind, cutting deeper than any Kryptonite ever could.

He had screwed up—badly.

"Dude" Pete said, slamming his locker shut. "What the hell happened between you two? She looks ready to set you on fire with her mind"

Clark sighed, leaning against the wall. "I was supposed to meet her last night. I didn't show up"

"Why?" Chloe asked, appearing beside them, holding out a book in one of her arms.

"There was a… situation" he couldn't exactly say he'd been stopping a runaway truck with his bare hands. "But that doesn't matter. I hurt her"

"Yeah, no kidding" Chloe quipped, folding her arms. "And showing up with Lana this morning? Not your best move, Kent"

"I wasn't with her like that" he defended quickly. "She just needed help with her biology project. I wasn't thinking about how it would look"

Pete rolled his eyes. "You never think, dude. And, you're lucky if she ever talks to you again"

"I can fix this" Clark said, desperation creeping into his voice. "I just… I need your help, please"

The plan came together faster than Clark expected. With Chloe's creativity and Pete's willingness to sneak around after hours, they set everything.

He just hoped it would be enough.

That night, when you climbed into bed, still raw from the day, a buzz from your phone startled you.

Meet me at the barn. Please. – Clark

Against your better judgment, you went.

When you arrived, the loft was bathed in soft, golden light—strings of fairy lights hung overhead, casting everything in a warm glow.

In the center of the room stood Clark, holding a small box in his hands. His heart pounded in his chest when he saw you.

"You're here" he breathed, like he hadn't been sure you'd come.

You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. "What's this, Clark?" you asked him, trying to sound really annoying, but failing miserably.

He swallowed hard. "I messed up. I know I did. And you're right—you deserved honesty"

You waited, your heart pounding loud enough to drown out the silence.

"I wasn't with Lana like you think" he said softly. "She needed help, and I didn't realize how it would look. But that's not an excuse. I should've been there. With you"

Your resolve wavered. "Why, Clark? Why even say yes if you didn’t mean it?"

"I did mean it" he said, stepping closer. "I've wanted to ask you out for months—but every time I tried, I froze. And when you asked me, I couldn't believe it. I wanted to be there last night more than anything"

He held out the box.

Curious, you opened it. Inside was a small, delicate silver charm—shaped like a star.

"I know I don't deserve a second chance" he said, his voice rough with emotion. "But if you give me one, I promise—I'll show up. Every time"

Tears pricked your eyes despite your best efforts to stay strong, nonchalant.

"You idiot" you whispered, shaking your head. "You didn't have to do all this"

"Yes, I did" he insisted. "Because I don't wanna be your placeholder. I just wanna be yours"

And just like that, the walls around your heart crumbled.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his neck. He exhaled a shaky breath of relief, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

"I'm still mad at you" you mumbled against his shoulder.

"Oh, yeah, I know" he said, a smile tugging at his lips. "But I'll make it up to you. Promise"

And for once, you believed him.

[keenzinemugstudent]

Clark x Black goth reader! Smut! A not so secret quickie!

Warning ⚠️ ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS THIS IS A SMUT SO ADULTS ONLY PLS⚠️

Lana hears strange noises in the art room and goes to investigate.

"Where Clark?"

Chole asked looking around not seeing the farm boy Lana just shrugs her shoulders.

"I'm not sure I saw him earlier though he seemed really out of it."

"Well that's weird."

"Oh I forgot my bag you go on without me!"

As Lana was walking through the hall way she heard noises coming from in the art room hmm maybe it was the janitor? She goes to check it out what she didn't expect was to see you and Clark.

He was holding your hands softly you stood in front of him looking at ground face full of worry. Lana could see you looked troubled she was about to walk in and see if everything was okay until you spoke.

"Clark I don't think this is a good idea.."

"Oh come on Y/n you promised!"

"I know it's just- this is embarrassing!"

You try to move from his reach but he grabs your hand a pout on his face.

"I promise we won't get caught. You don't have to worry so much."

"Clark it's almost the end of the day can't you just ya'know wait than?"

"I can't! I've been waiting for this since third period if I wait anymore I'll go nuts!"

Lana had no idea what was going on what was Clark trying to get you to do? He sounded pretty desperate. She had noticed in class that he kept looking at the clock for lunch to start but just to see you? She heard you let out a surprised gasp Lana leaves from her thoughts only to see Clark pick you up to sit on the teachers desk your face was flustered you put your hands on his chest starring up at the handsome farm boy.

"What if someone catches us?!"

"Y/n please just focus all your attention on me okay?"

You let out a small shaky sigh as his hands slowly move down your hips to your thighs to your knees gently spreading your legs open so he could easily stand between them which caused Lana's face to become warm. What exactly was she seeing? Why was Clark touching you like that?!

He leans down to gently kiss your forehead than your cheek than to your lips making Lana cover her own in surprise, you close your eyes shyly kissing him back holding his arms, you wanted to be strong and not give in but when he kissed you everything else didn't matter anymore.

"Is it okay for us to keep going?"

You was hesitant but nod your head Clark gives you a smile, gently grabs your face to kiss while you start lift up his shirt that was always kept tucked you unbutton his shirt to show his well toned stomach making you bite your lip he was just so damn hot it was ridiculous! You rub his chest going down to his stomach to his pants zipper he lets out a low groan as you grazed his front pants touching his already hardened cock making you giggle.

"Wow you really weren't kidding huh?"

"What can I say you make me excited"

They both give a small laugh than go back to kissing all you could hear was lips and moans around the empty classroom. Lana was still hiding behind the door face red still not understanding what was going on the whenever she saw you two together it was always a friendly interaction, Clark would say "Hi" to you in the hallway and you'd shyly wave back at him before running off somewhere.

Lana that it was weird because you were the quiet goth girl and he was the shy but friendly farm boy you both weren't friends or so she thought but than she remembered when she saw Clark and you at his mom's flower shop once and you two were talking and laughing she had noticed you were holding red roses. Than the next couple days at school she and Chole always saw a red rose either on your locker or on your desk. Whenever somebody would try to question you about it you'd always just shrug your shoulders not knowing who it was, then you'd go the whole day with a smile on your face.

Did that mean that Clark had been the one to give you those roses???

"Ah C-clark!"

Lana looks and could see Clark's hand going under your skirt you try to stop him but could only give out a weak moan as his fingers entered you...Clark freaking Kent was fingering you in the art class.

"Clark baby please! Oh you know I'm sensitive down there!"

He just shh you by kissing you again muffling your cries of pleasure while still rubbing your clit in circles

"You said you'd give me anything if I passed that test I got a A+ all that studying really paid off huh?"

You try to speak but could only moan and whimper as his fingers started to speed up. You were so wet that you could hear it making you hide your face in his shoulder trying to quiet the embarrassing noises.

Lana could feel herself getting wet just from the sight. To say she was jealous was an understatement she couldn't believe that Clark was doing this in school of all places! and to you of all people you were always so quiet but nice enough Lana didn't think you two had THAT kind of relationship!

"Y/n I want you to cum... think you can do that for me sweetheart?"

He whispers in your ear kissing your cheek. You couldn't say anything but nod holding on to his arms moving your hips trying to make his fingers go deeper into your pussy.

"Y-yes! oh god yes yes! I'll cum just please Clark don't stop!"

You sounded so needy Clark moves his fingers faster and deeper making loud moans leave your mouth not even caring if anyone walk by and hear you (too late for that)

Lana should not still be here why was she even still watching this?! It was something private between you two so why the hell was she still here?! Just as you so close to your release suddenly Clark stopped his movements causing you to look up at him with teary eyes upset that he didn't let you cum.

"W-why'd you stop?"

He just moves hair from your forehead to kiss your upper brow removing his fingers making you whimper from the lose, Clark reaches in his back pocket and pulls out a a condom.

Lana went wide as she saw Clark start to pull down his pants revealing himself Lana's mouth was wide open in shock but you just let out low moan rubbing your legs together feeling yourself getting wetter at the sight as he put on the condom even though you've seen it multiple times he just looked so damn good!

Main while Lana nearly passed out when she saw how big Clark was jesus even Whitney wasn't that big! There was no way Y/n would be able to take him! Right?

Clark got closer to you his forehead touching yours once again hands going under your skirt to remove your red underwear he grabs your hips pulling you closer you wrap your arms around his neck kissing under his jaw leaving light hickeys and black lipstick stains on him biting his ear. You looked towards Lana's direction making her freeze on the spot, thinking she'd been caught but you give an annoyed sigh you were looking up at the clock on the wall.

"Clark baby I'm sorry but we're are out of time."

He looked at his watch and saw that you were right but he just shook his head.

"We still have more time."

He spread your legs rubbing himself against your wet heat, you both let out loud gasp as he slowly pushed himself inside you stretching you out, once he was fully inside he stood still all you could hear in the room was their heavy breathing.

"I'm going to start moving okay?"

You were so lost in pleasure all you could give him was just give a lazy nod, he starts to slowly moving his hips letting out a shaky breathe even though this wasn't the first time you two had sex, he was always careful with you seeing as he accidentally left hand marks on your legs once and Chole saw it thinking someone had hurt your since than he always tries to be careful with you but God it was so hard there was just something about you made him crazy!

You lay your back on the desk gently moving your hips enjoying the feeling of him inside you but it was so hot that you had to remove your shirt making Clark give a low growl at the sight of your breasts and your blood red bra the one thing Clark loved most about having sex (making love but he won't say it out loud yet)

Was seeing your chest they were just so perfect! that's when he realized he was wasting time and need to speed this up so he leaning his body nearly covering you and moved his hips faster making your eyes go wide at the usual change of pace.

"W-wait Clark no wait please! Not so fast please! I can't oh god!"

He just ignored your cries of mercy and just moved his hips even faster, skin hitting against skin both of you panting heavily you arch your back off the desk mouth wide open cries of pleasure leaving your mouth. Clark just hugs you closer he grabs a hold of your ass than slapping it harshly making you let out a surprised cry of pain and pleasure. With how fast he was going your chest bounced at each thrust making you feel like you were seeing stars.

It didn't make it any better when he put his mouth on your left nipple gently sucking and bitting it making a small scream leave your mouth.

"Your doing so good for me Y/n."

All you could do was give a him a whine and wrap your shaking legs around his hips in a desperate attempt to pull him closer and deeper in your poor weeping pussy.

Lana was still watching the two lovers go at it like animals in heat she got up slowly legs shaking gave a low quiet moan as she could feel underwear wet. She had to get out of there and hopefully try to forget the scene she just witnessed.

By the end of the day Lana saw you and Clark again but this time he was helping you walk too his trunk you were limping and your makeup was a mess and you still looked flustered Clark he looked fine??? I mean his clothes was a bit ruffled but he looked okay.

"Wow I wonder what happened to Y/n?"

Lana didn't say anything but blush red not being able to say anything to Chole. The only thing she could think was Y/n was one lucky girl.

I'm probably going to hell for writing this aren't I?

[shuenkio]

Give me your forever ➺ Ps.h

Synopsis➺ Something happened when you're attending your friend's wedding ceremony.

Paring➺ Sunghoon x male!reader

Genre➺ Fluff, emotional. [not angst]

Cw➺ nothing!

Non proof read|wc:0.9 | © Shuenkio

Eng is not my first lang|mistake could happen

A&N: A lil delusional but it's fiction anyway, and please ignore my edit, the quality is euhh.

Imagine, You and Sunghoon are attending one of their friends wedding  ceremonies. The party had taken place indoors, with only friends, family, and relatives.

It was amazing and magnificent to witness how far you had come with the love of your life by your side. Today, your best friend was getting married, and this was the very first wedding ceremony you had ever attended in your life.

The emotional roller coaster you were on seemed to have no end. You still couldn't believe you were here, surrounded by the beauty and joy of the moment. The air was filled with a blissful mix of excitement and love, almost overwhelming in its intensity.

As you watched your friend walk down the aisle, you felt a lump form in your throat. The sheer joy and pride you felt for them bubbled up inside you, almost bringing you to the edge of tears.

The ceremony was a beautiful symphony of emotions, with each word and gesture pulling at your heartstrings. You glanced at your partner beside you, their hand warm and reassuring in yours.

This moment and this day were a testament to the power of love and the journey you had all taken together. The happiness you felt was palpable—a radiant warmth that spread through your entire being.

As the vows were exchanged and the rings slipped onto fingers, you felt the tears finally spill over—a blend of happiness, pride, and an overwhelming sense of connection.

This was a day you would never forget, the first of many beautiful memories in the story of your life. Finally, before the wedding was done, everyone was asked to gather around for the bride to throw her lucky bouquets of flowers.

Whoever caught them, they'd be the ones who got the marriage next, but that was just the word from mouth to mouth; it was actually for good fortune. Sunghoon, take your hand as he leads you into the circle of the attendees.

There are not many people; however, it's enough time to take your breath away. The MC then takes his moment to do his job by giving a variety of talks and entertaining everyone with his funny jokes.

Soon after, the bride turns around to her back while she's holding on to her bouquet, ready to aim to throw it up in the air. Nevertheless, as you were waiting for your bestie to make her throw, She's instead walking down from the stage without throwing her fortune at luck; your eyes were lingering at her with a confusing expression.

Why is she doing it? She should be doing that!! That was the question you wanted to ask her, and why do the people in the hall seem so unfazed? As if this were planned? They look happier.

Suddenly she handed you her bouquet, taking your hand to hold onto them tight with the warm smile revealed on her face.

"This is for you, m/n! Thank you for being my best friend. And I hope to see you again at your wedding after me." She whispered softly in a gentle voice, and her gaze softened as she made eye contact with you. Before taking a step back, she had a she had a reunion with her groom.

"Chole! What's this all about? I don't understand," you asked, slightly not understanding what she was trying to do. She then giggled at your oblivious response.

"Turn around, m/n, just do it!"

"Turn around? " You furrow your eyebrow before turning around while holding on to the bouquet.

At the sight you saw, Sunghoon was kneeling down on one knee, his finger pressing open the box of rings.

"Would you marry me, M/N?" Sunghoon's voice trembled slightly, and his eyes locked onto yours with a mixture of fear and hope.

"We've been through thick and thin together, and I finally have the courage to ask you this: Yes or...?" He kneeled down before you; the scene was almost surreal, making you feel like a lamp had been lit in your throat. Your heart raced, pounding in your chest as you tried to process the moment. You covered your mouth with your palm, your eyes wide in astonishment. This was it. This was what they had been planning all along.

Park Sunghoon, the love of your life, was proposing to you. Sunghoon's gaze never wavered, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes as he waited for your response.

He swallowed hard, anxiety visible in the tension of his posture. Overwhelmed by the flood of emotions, you felt yourself breaking down, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Yes, I do," you choked out between sobs, extending your right hand towards him. Sunghoon's face lit up with relief and joy as he slipped the ring onto your finger.

The room erupted in applause and cheers, the joyous noise of friends and family echoing around you. Tears of happiness flowed freely, not just from you but from your friends as well, who had witnessed your journey together.

"I love you so much, M/N. You don't know how happy I am!" Sunghoon exclaimed, his voice thick with emotion. You laughed through your tears, the weight of the moment pressing down on your chest.

"No, but I'm about to have a heart attack from this, Sunghoon -"He chuckled, wiping away his own tears.

"ㅋㅋ Sorry, M/N. But hey, at least we won't be boyfriends ever again. We're now husbands."

"Hmph, I love you," you replied, feeling an overwhelming sense of warmth and love.

"I love you more!" he responded, pulling you into a tight embrace. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of happiness and love.

🗣️ Please mind my English! ><

🗣️ Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ crd to dividers Owner [enchanthings]

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

Parings → Dad! Nathan Drake x Mom! Reader

Warnings → none

Summary → Your kids found your old album.

The early afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting warm patterns on the bedroom floor. Cassie, with her wild, shoulder-length brown hair tied up in a messy ponytail, crouched near the closet door. Lucas, her little brother, with his tousled hair and wide brown eyes, mimicked her movements as they stealthily pushed the closet door open.

"You sure about this?" Lucas whispered, glancing nervously over his shoulder. “What if we get caught?”

Cassie rolled her eyes. "Dad’s busy fixing the garden, and Mom’s probably in the kitchen downstairs. We’ve got time." She reached up to the top shelf, her fingers brushing against an old, dusty box. “There it is. Remember what Aunt Chole said? She used to call them the coolest treasure hunters. This box might have all the proof we need.”

Lucas’s eyes widened. “You think there’s treasure in there?”

“Maybe!” Cassie said, grinning as she pulled the box down, her small muscles straining under its weight. “Or, you know, something that proves Mom and Dad were more than just... boring, ordinary people.”

They sat on the floor, surrounded by clothes and scattered shoes, as Cassie flipped open the box. Inside was a faded photo album. The leather cover was worn, the edges frayed from years of handling.

Lucas leaned in closer. “What’s that?”

Cassie carefully opened the album to the first page. The smell of aged paper filled the air as they saw pictures of their parents, looking much younger and... cooler. Nate, their dad, in what looked like an ancient tomb, covered in dirt and wearing a smirk. Their mom, holding what looked like a shiny, golden artifact in her hand, her expression one of triumph.

"No way," Lucas breathed, his little fingers tracing the edge of a photo. “They did this?”

Cassie laughed. “Told you. I knew they weren’t always like this.”

"Look at this one!" Lucas pointed to a picture of their mom hanging off the side of what looked like a crumbling cliff, their dad reaching down to grab her hand.

"Who even takes pictures this dangerous?!" Cassie exclaimed, her eyes wide in disbelief as she studied the image. "What were they thinking?"

Lucas just shrugged, his grin growing wider. "Guess they were all about living on the edge."

Cassie shook her head. "I can't believe they survived this stuff."

"Do you think they were fighting bad guys?" Lucas asked, eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Obviously," Cassie said, flipping the page. “I mean, who else climbs cliffs like that? And look at this—this place looks like an old castle. They must’ve fought dragons or something.”

Lucas’ mouth dropped open. “Dragons? Really?”

Cassie shrugged. “Who knows. They were treasure hunters. Anything’s possible.”

They were so absorbed in the album that they didn’t notice the footsteps coming up the stairs. Nate had just finished with the garden when he realized the house was a little too quiet. He made his way to the bedroom and froze in the doorway when he saw his two kids sitting on the floor, flipping through the photo album.

“Uh-oh,” he muttered under his breath. “Busted.”

Cassie and Lucas looked up simultaneously, guilt flashing across their faces.

“Dad!” Cassie exclaimed, quickly trying to close the album. “We weren’t—uh, we didn’t mean to—”

Lucas was less subtle. “Did you fight dragons, Dad?”

Nate’s eyebrows shot up. “Dragons?”

Cassie elbowed Lucas. “Shut up, Lucas. Dragons aren’t real.”

Lucas frowned. “But you said..…”

Nate crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “I see you found the old album.”

“You never told us you were cool,” Cassie said, her tone almost accusing. “You guys were, like, treasure hunters? And Mom? Mom was like... an action hero?”

Nate chuckled. “Action hero? I don’t know about that.”

“What’s going on?” Your voice called from down the hall, and within seconds, you appeared in the doorway next to Nate. Your eyes immediately fell on the album in Cassie’s lap, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Oh no... they found it?” You asked, sharing a look with Nate.

“They sure did,” Nate said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “And now they think we fought dragons.”

“Dad said there were no dragons!” Lucas quickly defended.

“Actually, I never said that,” Nate shot back, giving his son a playful wink.

You sighed, stepping into the room and crouching next to your kids. “So... you found out about our old life, huh?”

“You were really cool!” Lucas exclaimed, bouncing a little in place. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Cassie crossed her arms, looking between you and Nate. “Yeah, why not? Instead, you guys make us go to school and do homework like normal, boring parents.”

Nate laughed, sitting down beside them. “Well, because we are normal parents now. Things are different.”

Cassie huffed and whined. “But you were sooo cool. Why did you change?”

Lucas pulled the album toward him again, pointing to a picture of you and Nate covered in mud, holding what looked like a golden statue. “What’s this? Did you find treasure? Was there a bad guy?”

You and Nate exchanged glances, remembering the crazy adventure that had led to that photo.

“That was a long time ago,” you said softly, brushing some hair behind your ear. “We did... well, we went on a lot of adventures. But it wasn’t always glamorous.”

“We didn’t tell you because we wanted you to have a normal childhood,” Nate added. “Our life back then—it was dangerous.”

Cassie frowned. “Dangerous?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It wasn’t all fun and games. There were a lot of close calls. Sometimes... we weren’t sure we’d make it home.”

The room fell silent for a moment as the weight of your words sank in.

“But we did,” Nate said, breaking the tension with a smile. “And then we had you two.”

Lucas looked up, his big blue eyes full of curiosity. “So you don’t go on adventures anymore?”

You shook your head. “No. Not since we had you and Cassie. We wanted to settle down, be safe.”

Cassie wasn’t convinced. “But... you guys were so cool.”

Nate grinned. “We’re still cool.”

Cassie raised an eyebrow. “Uh, no offense, Dad, but fixing the garden doesn’t make you cool.”

“Ouch,” Nate winced dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “That one hurt.”

You smiled, nudging Nate. “Maybe we should tell them about the time we were stuck on that island.”

“Oh, the island story,” Nate said with a chuckle. “That’s a good one.”

Both kids leaned forward, eyes wide with excitement. “What island?”

You settled in beside them, flipping to a specific page in the album. “See this? That’s the island we got stranded on after our boat sank.”

Lucas gasped. “Your boat sank?!”

Nate nodded. “Yep. And we had to survive with barely any supplies. Your mom was incredible, though. She found food, built a shelter—”

“And Dad was busy fighting off the bad guys,” you added with a smirk.

Cassie and Lucas both looked at Nate with newfound awe.

“Wait,” Cassie said, her earlier skepticism melting away. “So you’re saying... maybe you are still kinda cool?”

Nate winked. “Oh, we’re definitely still cool.”

Lucas clapped his hands, bouncing up and down. “Tell me more! Tell me about the treasure!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “One story at a time, little man. One story at a time.”

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

[writeshite]

Can I request Lucifer x male reader but they act like the insuefferable husbands

Maybe he meets chole or everyone

(sooo dyslexic like help)

If you are still taking asks

“Lucifer, what have I told you about inviting people to crime scenes?” Chloe hissed, then turned to you, "I'm so sorry, sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave—"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Lucifer laughed, looping your arm with his, "I called him; he's the special friend I told you about." Lucifer spoke, "Aren't you darling?"

"That depends; what am I an expert on here?" You raised a brow.

"You know, magic," he replies confidently, "brilliant mind of yours, that is," he kissed your head, and you chuckled in response to the praise.

"You're the friend who knows about magic," she draws out the last word with a look of disbelief; it was a familiar expression you'd seen on a lot of people in the 21st Century.

"Yes, that's what I just said," Lucifer repeated, "detective, this is my husband, expert extraordinaire at magic."

"Husband?!"

"Yes, detective, husband, do catch up," Lucifer replies.

[tabathastan]

Descendants

Mal

Mal x Sister! Hades Daughter! Reader

Mal x Scarlet Witch Daughter! Reader

Evie

(Coming soon)

Carlos

VK boys seeing reader for the first time

Carlos de Vil having a crush on you would include

Red

(Coming soon)

Hades

Hades Daughter! Reader

VK boys seeing reader for the first time

Being Hades daughter would include

Harry Hook

Dating Harry Hook would include

VK boys seeing reader for the first time

James Hook

Dating James Hook would include

VK boys seeing reader for the first time

Being the daughter of James Hook would include

Bridget/Queen of Hearts

(Coming soon)

Chole Charming

(Coming soon)

[yesihaveaobsession]

tom ellis lucifer x chole decker x female!witness reader

Summary: Lucifer and Chloe question a stunning witness to a murder. While Chloe stays focused, Lucifer is completely smitten. Despite the distraction, the witness proves helpful—and leaves Lucifer enchanted.

The glass of the interrogation room gave a clear view of the woman inside. Though you couldn’t see them from the other side, he could see you. You sat with one leg crossed over the other, idly inspecting your nails like being the key witness in a murder case was just another Tuesday.

Lucifer Morningstar stood just outside the room, hands stuffed into the front pockets of his tailored slacks, rocking back and forth on his heels with a slow, appreciative whistle.

“Well,” he drawled, eyeing you up and down, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s our key witness?” His eyes never left you.

Chloe squinted at the file in her hand. “Yup. She was there when the body dropped. And somehow, no one else saw a thing,” she said.

Lucifer tilted his head slightly, still staring at you through the window.

“Of course. Because the universe saw fit to send us a witness who looks like that. Bloody hell…”

Chloe sighed, already done with his nonsense, as she reached for the door with the case file in her other hand. She opened it and walked in, with Lucifer trailing behind like a shadow—one with far too much interest—as the door closed behind them. Chloe slid into the chair across from you, and Lucifer followed, sitting in the one beside her. He rested his elbow on the table, chin propped lazily in his palm like this was some fancy dinner date. Pretty unprofessional, yet very much like Lucifer.

You finally took the time to glance up at them, your eyes moving from Chloe to Lucifer—and for a split second, he forgot how to breathe.

You were drop-dead gorgeous. Not just pretty, but the kind of beautiful that stopped traffic. The kind that made men stammer and women jealous. And Lucifer? He was completely enchanted.

Chloe cleared her throat, knowing full well Lucifer wasn’t going to be any help. She started asking the usual questions—your name, what you were doing at the time, what you saw. You answered in a smooth, calm tone. But halfway through your story, Lucifer’s brain short-circuited. Not that you minded him staring.

“...Then the man in the grey hoodie ran down the alley, and I heard a noise, like—”

Blah blah blah…

Lucifer blinked, lost somewhere between the shine of your lip gloss or the way your lashes fluttered as you spoke. Mini details—stuff even a suspect might miss. His eyes drifted to your mouth, watching it move but barely hearing a word. The smitten look on his face said more than words ever could.

Was he hearing “Careless Whisper” in his head? Probably.

Chloe turned her head slowly and cleared her throat again—louder this time.

Lucifer snapped out of his trance, straightened up a little, and fixed his suit jacket. A sheepish smirk curled his lips.

“Right. Yes. Sorry, Detective. Got a bit... distracted.” He turned back to you, flashing that devilish grin. “Tell me, darling…” His eyes locked onto yours, and now you forgot how to breathe. There was this pull between you, something magnetic you couldn’t break. His voice dipped low and sultry as he leaned in closer, elbows now resting on the table.

“What is it you truly desire?”

Your lips parted slightly, your gaze flickering as the truth curled at the edge of your tongue...

Chloe, clearly used to this nonsense, rolled her eyes so hard they almost stayed that way. “Lucifer…”

But he ignored her, attention fully on you. When your answer came, a small, knowing smile spread across his face.

Once the questions were wrapped up, both Lucifer and Chloe stood. Chloe had been taking notes the whole time on her tiny notepad and glanced at it to make sure they had enough.

You’d been surprisingly cooperative—clear, composed, and super helpful to the case.

Chloe slipped her notepad into her jacket pocket and gave you a genuine nod.

“Thank you,” she said. “You’ve been really helpful. This gives us a solid lead.”

You nodded politely. “Just hope it helps.”

“Oh, it will,” Chloe replied, then gave Lucifer a look that clearly said Don’t be weird.

Too late.

Lucifer smoothed down the front of his jacket and turned to you, his smile soft but still full of charm.

“Well then, thank you ever so much for your time,” he said, stepping toward you. “Allow me the honor of walking you out.”

Chloe gave him a pointed look.

Lucifer looked back with mock innocence. “What? It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

As the two of you left the room, Lucifer leaned down slightly, his voice just for you.

“You’re bloody captivating, you know that?”

And for the first time since the interview started, you smiled.

[uunromanticized]

Hi! Could I request a Luka x female tomboy, introverted reader. Like she's quiet most of the time and does great in school, but everyone knows better than to mess with her! Even chole. But with shitty mental health and general trauma. But always acts ok and is really funny? Thx!

home | luka couffaine

𝒅𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆?

cw: angst, mentions of panic attacks, apologetic reader, mentions of forced positivity, hurt with comfort, luka couffaine is observant

word count: 683

author’s notes: i played a bit into the shitty mental health aspect bcs i wanted to write angst with comfort at the end erm. i hope you enjoy 😭

it’s easy to live life with your head down. a neutral face while your inner self feels waves of hurt inside of a sea of emptiness. sometimes, though, it gets overwhelming. the sea crashes down with an intent to drown.

tears already dried on soft skin, leaving only the feeling of emptiness. staring off, the feeling in your chest worsened when you realized just what time it was and that you almost had to meet up with your boyfriend. you loved him to death, but currently you were also thinking of death.

begrudgingly, you rolled out of bed to get changed. you didn’t have the energy to do much, but you tried for your boyfriend. you kept it simple and to a more laidback style; jeans with a simple top with a cropped jacket. not the most high effort, but not obviously low effort, either.

you weren’t an obviously cheery person, it didn’t show on your face much; at least not in public. so maybe that’s why you could see the furrow in your boyfriends brow when you gave a big smile while walking up to him. mentally slapping yourself to being so obvious, you quickly lowered your smile a bit.

“hey, luka!”

did you sound a bit too.. off? probably, maybe he wouldn’t notice. but luka noticed everything. he takes a mental note before smiling softly at you; a serene smile, the one that usually makes you feel so fuzzy inside.

“hey, (y/n).”

he reached his hand out towards you, and there was a slight hesitation in your movement before putting your own in his. electricity courses through your veins when you touch him.

————

the sounds at the restaurant were so overbearing. it was too loud, and you could hear the lights buzzing. you could barely hear your own boyfriend talking to you, coming up with half-hearted answers to what you could comprehend him saying.

“hold on- i’ll be.. right back, babe-“ you quickly stumbled through your words before rushing outside for air, needing to get out of there if only for five minutes.

ducking behind an alley, legs giving in and sinking to the dirty ground, you can’t choke back the sob that came out of your lips. the waves are finally at their worst, enough to knock even the sturdiest person down and down again.

“love?” luka’s voice came shortly after, full of never ending concern. you’re barely able to muffle another sob before looking over in his direction and putting on another smile “i’m over here.”

“is everything okay?” he’s looking you up and down for any sign of something, while you nod your head softly. “yeah- i’m okay, i just needed to step out for a second-“ the second that sentence ends, your brain short circuits as you realize that he’s here, which means nobody’s inside, which means you effectively ruined your date.

“shit- sorry, oh, i’m so sorry luka- i’m so sorry i ruined our date.” a spill of apologies leave your lips as you hear him walking closer before he puts a finger to your lips. “shh, it’s okay, i wanted to come out.”

luka never failed to tell you the words that you needed to hear whenever you’re like this. the affirmation that you need, even if he didn’t know it. luka couffaine was so good at saying things at the right time. those loving words just made everything spill over, with you bursting into tears.

quickly holding you to his chest, he hushed you gently. he hushed you kindly. he hushed you lovingly. he felt like the warm sun, while you felt like the cold moon. but maybe it was okay to revel in that warmth.

“can we go home?” you whispered. you didn’t live together. “yours or mine?” he spoke, gently as though you were a deer caught in headlights. when he lifted you into his arms bridal style, you fell in love again. “ours.” you spoke, you didn’t know what that meant. you just knew that you were at home around him. luka couffaine was your home.

“okay, let’s go home.”

[paleepeaches]

If I wrote a type of like babygirl x rust chole fic would yall accept it or eat me alive?

Like where Rust is aloof and not good with people and the reader is just bubbly and sweet, too sweet for her own good and stuff. Idk send me ask.

(I’m still doing the Connor fic too)