#directly after a season he was barely in

[pirateshelly]

While I very much do think Lestat is an extremely enjoyable/interesting/entertaining character (he's probably my least favorite in the show but that's entirely a me thing and it doesn't mean I dislike him he's just not a particular character type that tends to grab me!) I simply cannot imagine watching all of season 2 (which I personally enjoyed even more than season 1) and being like "this is really suffering from a lack of lestat". It just does not compute. My love for Louis and Claudia and Armand is simply so all encompassing that my brain just short circuits at the idea of watching them on screen and thinking "hmm this is fine I guess but what if lestat was here right now?"

And I am 100% looking forward to season 3 because I still do very much enjoy him as a character, and Louis and Armand and Daniel are still no doubt going to have solid roles even if it's a very Lestat focused season. But the thing that confuses and vexes me is when people (like a LOT of professional reviewers) act like he's THEE main draw and that the others simply aren't enough to hold the show up without him

[rafestify]

need a rafe fic please where reader is part of the pogues, her and rafe have been on and off for forever obviously due to everything he’s done but deep down he’s so down bad for reader and maybe she’s pregnant instead of sarah and he doesn’t find out until morocco because the pogues are hovering over her idk angst fluff whatever you feel!!!

Two lines — Rafe Cameron

Summary : Fem!Reader is pregnant with Rafe’s baby, but he doesn't know until pope accidentally mentions her baby (season 4 ep 10 spoilers!! ⚠️)

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings : mentions of vomiting & language (english is not my first language)

A/N : as requested 😉 hope u like it anon!

Two lines, and the father was long gone, off doing god knows what. Rafe was the last guy I'd hooked up with, and even after we broke up, we somehow kept finding our way back to each other, especially after the Kildare Enduro. He knew no one else could satisfy me the way he did, and so it became this endless cycle, break up, hook up, make up. What Rafe didn’t know was that I was pregnant. I hadn’t planned on telling him, at least not until we made up.

There I was, back on Rafe’s boat with my friends, setting off to Morocco in search of the Blue Crown and Chandler Groff. My friends had locked Rafe up, tying him up in a small room, just in case. We all knew better than to trust Rafe Cameron, not after everything he’d done.

I walked into the dimly lit room, carrying a tray with a glass of water, a plate of food, and a couple of aspirin for his black eye. The sight of him, bruised, tugged at something deep inside me.

“Here,” I murmured, setting the tray down on the table beside him. “I brought some aspirin, just in case you’re feeling dizzy or something…”

He snorted, cutting me off. “What? You’re just gonna throw it in my mouth like I’m a fuckin' seal?” He wasn’t exactly wrong, but his sharp tone made me bristle. “Nobody trusts you, Rafe,” I replied, my voice steady. “Not after what you did.”

His jaw tightened, and a flash of anger sparked in his eyes. “I saved your asses!” he shot back, his face flushing with frustration. “And not even a thank you was said.”

I took a slow breath, steadying myself. “I know, Rafe. I know,” I said softly. “Thank you, really.” I offered him a small, sincere smile.

He looked at me for a moment, his gaze softening just slightly. “You trust me, right?” he asked, his voice quieter, a bit more vulnerable. I bit down on my lip, feeling the pull he always seemed to have on me.

“Yeah,” I admitted, almost reluctantly. God, he knew exactly how to get to me.

He looked at the ropes binding his wrists and nodded toward them. “Then untie me. Get this shit off me.”

I shook my head, feeling a pang of guilt but holding my ground. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” I pressed my lips together, trying to keep my resolve. “Just… eat the food. We wouldn’t want you dying in here.” With that, I turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind me, leaving me with a sigh that I didn’t even realize I’d been holding back.

As I stepped out of the room, I was met by Kiara’s anxious expression, her arms folded tightly as she waited. The moment she saw me, her face softened slightly, though worry still flickered in her eyes.

"How’d it go?" she asked quietly, as if afraid to hear the answer.

I shrugged, trying to mask the mixture of emotions stirring inside me. "Same old Rafe," I replied, keeping my tone light, but my gaze drifted, unable to meet hers directly.

Kiara studied me for a moment before speaking again. "Soo... did you tell him?"

I frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Tell him what?"

She raised an eyebrow, giving me a pointed look. "That you’re pregnant, with his child."

Oh, right. That one.

I swallowed, feeling a sudden knot in my stomach. "Uh—no, not yet," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "I just… I don’t know how he’d react." My hands found each other, my fingers nervously fidgeting as I tried to imagine how that conversation would even go. "What if he doesn’t want to keep the baby?"

Kiara sighed softly and reached out, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Her warmth grounded me, pulling me back from my spiraling thoughts. "Look," she said firmly, her gaze locking onto mine. "You have us. We’ll help you through every single part of this. That’s what friends are for, right?"

I looked at her, the tension in my chest easing slightly. Her words held a strength that I so desperately needed. "Yeah," I whispered, a small smile breaking through my worry. "Thank you, Kie."

She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a hug, and for a moment, the uncertainty and fear faded. In her embrace, I felt a flicker of hope—a reminder that I wouldn’t have to face this alone.

After battling fierce winds and waves, we finally arrived in Essaouira. The coastal city spread before us, its whitewashed buildings with blue shutters gleaming under softened storm light. Narrow streets twisted through the medina, lined with shops selling handmade crafts and drenched in a timeless, rustic charm.

The Atlantic crashed against the ancient medina walls, sturdy and weathered, while blue fishing boats bobbed in the harbor—just like the skiffs in the Outer Banks. The salty air and easy warmth of the locals, the slow rhythm of the sea, and the hum of daily life brought back memories of home, as if Essaouira was a Moroccan echo of the Outer Banks.

We continued to wander through the narrow streets of Essaouira, the sound of bustling market vendors and the distant call of seagulls filling the air. John B and Sarah led the way, their steps light and carefree, like they had no care in the world. Following behind them was Cleo, Pope, and Kiara, their conversations flowing easily as they walked, with JJ and I bringing up the rear. But it was Rafe who trailed behind, his presence almost ghostlike, like a lost puppy, following silently in our wake.

As we strolled through the maze of alleyways, I felt a sudden, sharp wave of nausea hit me. It was sudden, and intense, as if something in my stomach was threatening to rise up. I let out a soft huff, pressing my hand to my stomach, trying to hold back the overwhelming feeling of sickness.

JJ, who had been walking beside me, must've noticed the change in my posture because he looked at me with concern. "Y/N?" he called, his voice laced with worry.

"Oh god," I muttered under my breath, the nausea worsening, my head spinning.

"What's wrong? You okay?" JJ asked, his voice low, concern evident on his face.

I shook my head, barely able to focus on him. "No... I need to sit," I said, my voice strained. I felt like I was going to collapse if I didn’t stop moving.

JJ quickly guided me to a pile of carpets that were stacked outside a shop. The soft fabric felt like a relief under me as I sat down, trying to steady my breathing. The rest of the group quickly noticed, and soon I was surrounded by their concerned faces. Kiara dropped to her knees in front of me, her eyes searching mine, her hand resting on my knee in a comforting gesture.

"What's up? What are you feeling?" she asked, her voice soft and filled with genuine concern.

"I'm really nauseous," I managed to answer, my hand covering my mouth, just in case. I didn’t trust myself to hold it down any longer.

Cleo, who had been standing off to the side, stepped forward, her arms crossed over her chest. "She probably needs food. It’s been like two days..or what?" she said, her voice tinged with practicality.

"Yeah, the baby’s probably hungry too," Pope added, offering a casual shrug, as if it was just an obvious conclusion.

I froze, my stomach twisting. The mention of "the baby" caught me off guard, and suddenly, all eyes turned to me. Rafe, who had been hanging back, still distant, looked like he was suddenly paying attention. His gaze shifted from me to Pope and then back to me, his brow furrowing.

"What baby?" Rafe asked, his voice sharp, as if something about the situation didn't sit right with him.

Oh god, here we go.

Pope went silent, and I could feel the tension rise in the air, thickening around us. I glanced up at Rafe, who was now standing a few feet away, looking at me with an expression that was hard to read. His eyes narrowed as if trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

"No, seriously, what baby?" he repeated, his voice insistent, even stern now.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me. There was no easy way to say it, but it had to be said. "I’m pregnant, Rafe," I said quietly, locking eyes with him. "With your baby."

The words hung in the air between us, like they were too heavy to carry. For a long moment, Rafe didn’t say anything. He just stood there, silent, his expression unreadable. The others were watching him closely, waiting for a reaction, but he remained eerily still.

I could feel the tension growing, an awkwardness settling in the space around us, as if everything had just shifted. My hands were shaking slightly, not from the nausea anymore, but from the weight of what had just been revealed. And Rafe, he was just staring at me, his mouth slightly parted but no words coming out.

"Go get her something to eat," Rafe suddenly snapped, his voice cutting through the tension that still hung thick in the air.

Without another word, he dug through his small waist bag, the leather creaking under his movements. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but then, with a small grunt of satisfaction, he pulled out a wad of cash—several bills, all stacked neatly together. As he unfolded them, I saw that he had about $400 in his hand, a small fortune for street vendors in Essaouira.

"Wait what?" JJ’s voice broke the moment of disbelief. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "They don’t take dollars, you idiot—"

"I said go," Rafe interrupted sharply, his tone hardening. There was no room for argument, no sign of hesitation in his voice. It was almost as if he was trying to regain some control over the situation, and in doing so, he completely dismissed JJ’s protests. His words were a command, not a suggestion.

The rest of us exchanged uneasy glances, the shift in Rafe’s demeanor catching everyone off guard. But without further discussion, John B, Sarah, Cleo, Pope, and Kiara reluctantly turned to start walking back toward the market, their steps unsure but obedient. JJ hesitated for a moment, clearly frustrated by Rafe’s abruptness, but eventually followed along as well.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on me for a second, his expression unreadable. He stood still for a moment longer, his gaze momentarily drifting over to the group before returning to me. He didn’t say anything else. His words had been clear, and I could tell that something about the situation had shifted for him.

"I don’t care whether you want the baby or not, but I’m keeping them," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of my decision pressing down on me. The truth was, I had made up my mind. I had to keep the baby, and nothing anyone said or did would change that. Not even Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes widened at my declaration, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring at me, his face unreadable. Then, he kneeled down, and he let out a sharp breath. "Hey, hey, hey—who said I don’t want to keep the baby?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension to it, as if my words had hit a nerve.

I blinked, caught off guard by his response. The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and I wasn’t sure what to say next. His eyes were fixed on me now, intense, searching. It felt like something was shifting between us, and I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it.

"We’ll take care of them," Rafe continued, his tone softening just a fraction. "I’ll be with you throughout the whole journey, Y/N. You’re not doing this alone." His voice held a kind of resolve, as if he had already decided, as if he was offering something that felt almost too good to be true.

For a split second, it felt like the world around me had stopped moving. The noise from the market faded into the background, and all I could hear was the steady beat of my own heart. The words he said felt surreal, like they were echoing in my head. "I’ll be with you, 'aight?"

I blinked again, almost feeling like I was in a dream, like I had slipped into some alternate reality where everything suddenly made sense. But when I looked at Rafe, his gaze never wavering from mine, I felt a wave of disbelief wash over me. It felt like a nap dream, a momentary illusion that would disappear when I woke up.

"What?" I said, my voice coming out in a whisper of disbelief. "Sorry—"

Rafe seemed unbothered by my shock. He placed his hands on my knees, his movements deliberate. "You heard me, Y/N." His words were firm, and there was no mistaking the sincerity in them.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken thoughts, and I could feel the weight of what he had just said settle in my chest. It was almost too much to process. I had always expected Rafe to pull away, to make this harder for me. But here he was, standing before me with something I hadn’t expected, a promise. A promise to be there. A promise to face this together.

My mind spun, trying to make sense of it. I glanced away for a moment, as if hoping the world would shift and reveal the truth. But when I looked back at him, his expression hadn’t changed. He was still looking at me with those steady, unwavering eyes.

"You’re serious," I murmured more to myself than to him.

Rafe didn’t flinch. "Yeah," he said simply, as if there was nothing more to discuss, as if the decision had already been made. "I’ll be there for you. For us."

For the first time, I didn’t know what to say. My heart was still racing, but for a different reason now. There was a part of me that wanted to believe him, to hold on to this moment, to trust that things might actually be okay. But there was also a part of me that was terrified of what this all meant, of how my life was about to change in ways I couldn’t predict.

I stared at him in utter disbelief, barely able to process the reality unfolding before me. It felt like some kind of miracle. My vision began to blur as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, the emotions welling up and spilling over, probably caused by the pregnancy hormones, but I couldn’t stop them. I tried to blink them away, but they only gathered faster, until a warm tear rolled down my cheek.

Rafe’s expression softened when he noticed, his gaze never leaving mine. He reached out and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close in a way that felt so natural, so steady. He didn’t hesitate for a second, and his embrace was warm, reassuring, holding me together when I felt like I was on the edge of falling apart, and God, it felt good to be back in his arms.

His hand rubbed gentle circles on my back as he murmured, “We’re gonna be parents.” His voice was soft, filled with awe and disbelief, as if he was speaking the words for the first time and couldn’t quite believe them either.

I nodded against his chest, clutching onto him as tightly as I could. The weight of his words settled over us, the reality of what lay ahead, and as much as I wanted to be brave, I couldn’t shake the fear that started to consume my mind. I let out a shaky breath, my voice coming out in a whisper, “I’m scared, Rafe.” The words felt small, vulnerable, but they were the truth.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands gently cupping my face as his thumbs brushed away the stray tears still slipping down my cheeks. “I know,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I am scared too.” There was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored my own, a glimmer of uncertainty about the unknown future that lay ahead.

“But we’re in this together,” he continued, his voice growing stronger, as if he was convincing himself as much as he was reassuring me. “I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t know what’s coming… but I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned down and rested his forehead against mine, closing the space between us. “I’ll be there every step of the way.”

His words washed over me, filling some hollow place I hadn’t realized was empty. In that moment, his presence felt like a lifeline, pulling me out of my fears, giving me a glimpse of something that felt almost like hope. The future was terrifying, yes, but it felt a little less daunting with him by my side.

I looked up at him, my voice steadying as I replied, “I’m glad it’s you.” And as I said the words, I realized just how much I meant them.

He offered me a small, crooked smile, a warmth in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. “We’re gonna figure this out together,” he promised. “One step at a time.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. And in that moment, held in his arms, I felt a little less afraid.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the rest of the group appeared, each carrying an assortment of food and drinks. It was almost comical, watching them return all at once, each of them holding something different, John B with a handful of pita bread, Cleo balancing a bowl of yogurt, JJ carrying bottled water, and Sarah clutching a small bag of fruit, including a shiny red apple that she immediately extended toward me.

“Here,” Sarah said softly, her face easing with relief as she offered the apple. I took it gratefully, feeling the cool skin of the fruit in my hand, and took a tentative bite. The crisp, sweet flavor flooded my senses, soothing the nausea that had been twisting in my stomach. They watched with eager anticipation, and as they saw me begin to nibble, their worried expressions started to relax.

“Feeling better now?” Pope asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern as he studied my face.

I swallowed another bite and nodded, a smile creeping onto my face. “Yeah, yeah… thank you,” I replied, glancing at each of them.

They exchanged glances, visibly relieved, and a sense of warmth spread through me as I looked around at their familiar faces, each one showing their own brand of care. I realized then just how much I’d come to rely on them, not just as friends, but as family. I felt a comforting wave of gratitude for each of them, knowing they’d been there for me without question, supporting me in ways I hadn’t even thought possible.

As I took another sip of water, Rafe moved a little closer to me, his hand resting gently on my thigh. His touch was subtle, but the gesture was enough to let me know he was still there, holding his promise to stay by my side. There was something calming in his presence now, something steadying that I hadn’t noticed before.

The others began chatting among themselves, sharing their own stories of haggling with the vendors, laughing about who’d paid the most for what they’d brought. They were giving Rafe and me a moment, I realized, a chance to talk without the pogues’ attention fixed on us.

Rafe leaned down slightly, his face level with mine, his voice low and steady. “You really okay?” he asked, his hand still warm on my thigh.

I took a deep breath, the initial dizziness and nausea fading, leaving behind a feeling of clarity I hadn’t expected. “Yeah, I think so." I paused, looking up into his eyes.

He smiled, a soft, almost vulnerable expression, and for a moment, he seemed like a different Rafe—one who wasn’t weighed down by pride or bravado. “That's good” His voice was filled with a sincerity that softened something inside me. "Don't want our little one and her mommy to starve, do we?" He smiled making me let out a low chuckle.

In this quiet moment, I knew, deep down, that I wouldn’t want anyone else to be the father of my child. Everything just felt right. Despite all the chaos, the ups and downs, there was a steady comfort in knowing me and Rafe would face it together.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! 🐇

>゜))彡 taglist — @rafecamerons-national-anthem @ts1mp0ne @vheavxly @enjoymyloves @tv-girllover07 @husherstan @smthabsolutelyunhinged @multisection @onlyrealjoy @hoelesslyt @nina357

[gudfornuthin]

All I’ve Ever Wanted

Season 4!Five Hargreeves x fem!reader

! Spoilers ahead !

Summary: six years of travelling to different timelines, and Five isn’t sure how much longer he can go on for. Until he stumbles upon a greenhouse, full of strawberries. And you.

Word count: 4212

A/N: so season 4 was a… thing that happened. This story is basically my own idea of how things should’ve gone in ep 5. Instead of the weird Lila/Five situation, it’s just Five, and his chance of living a normal life with someone new. Hope you all enjoy, and feedback is appreciated :)

Number Five was never one to back down from a challenge. Having been through a series of different apocalyptic events, transporting to a timeline where he spent 40 years alone, and dealing with a misfit group consisting of his exhausting siblings, Five was up for anything. But the current situation he was dealing with? For the first time in his life, he was at breaking point.

After another wasted day spending hour after hour searching for any clues or information on how to get back to the correct timeline, Five returns to the subway, entering one of the compartments and slumping down in the first chair he sees. He rubs his eyes and lets out a visceral sigh, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep. He reaches into his pockets, pulling out a small pack of dried fruits. He rips it open and devours every last piece. He can’t remember the last time he had a proper meal. He was becoming more desperate, rummaging through trash cans and foraging in bushes, hoping anything he picks isn’t poisonous.

The compartment jolts and begins to move, making its way to the next timeline. Five wipes his hands on his already dirty pants, standing up and walking slowly to the door. He wonders whether his apocalypse counterpart will be waiting for him this time.

After several minutes, and Five almost falling over from his lack of sleep, he finally arrives, the doors opening. He steps out, immediately making his way up the stairs. No time to waste. He cautiously pokes his head out, looking around for any signs of, well, himself. Before he can move out more, something wizzes past his head. A bullet. He ducks, as more shots are fired directly at him.

“Give me a fuckin’ break,” Five mumbles, as he finally takes notices of the other him in the distance.

He sticks up his middle finger, and no soon after closes his fists, blinking as quick as he possibly could.

The Five with a gun disappears along with the destroyed world around him. Five drops his arms to his sides, turning around and admiring the new environment. Luscious, greenery surrounds him, with an array of different flowers sprouting from the ground beneath him. A small pond with fish glimmers in the sunshine, lily pads floating on top. He continues turning, finding himself standing next to a tall greenhouse. The glass was slightly foggy, making it difficult to see what’s inside. Five leans in closer, squinting as if that would help. He can barely make out what appears to be pots of fruit and vegetables, some fully sprouted and others not yet ripe. His stomach rumbles, the feeling of hunger consuming him.

A rustle sounds from behind him. He turns quickly, coming face to face with a pair of shears. Five jumps back slightly. He then spots the person wielding said ‘weapon’. A young woman, probably early twenties, wearing a light yellow dress and a pair of brown sandals. Five can’t help but admire her beauty, if it wasn’t for the fact she had a face like fury and didn’t seem afraid of cutting him in half.

“Can I help you?” Her words are kind, but her harsh tone says otherwise.

Five can’t exactly tell this young woman the truth. Showing up randomly in her back yard, covered in grime, gawking at her crops through the window. He raises his hands up in the air, trying to convey that he meant no harm.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his throat sore having not spoken to anyone in quite some time. “I don’t really know how I got here.” That’s not exactly true. “I’ve been travelling for a few days now.” Try six years. “And I could really do with a hot shower and something to eat.”

The woman doesn’t say anything, just staring, with the shears still held out in front of her.

Five puts his arms down, shrugging in defeat. “I’ll just go. I truly am sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out.” He looks down. “Or step all over your rose garden.” He gingerly moves away from the destroyed flowers.

He turns and begins to walk away, hoping to find an exit as quick as possible. Blinking in front of this woman probably wouldn’t help his cause. A warm hand grabs hold of his wrist, forcing him to stop and look back. She has the shears loosely hanging by her side, as her eyes pierce into Five’s. She seems hesitant, words forming in her mind. At last, she speaks again.

“You’re telling the truth?”

Five nods incessantly, feeling like a child.

“And if I let you in and make you something to eat, you won’t try and kill me?”

Five holds back a laugh, knowing she’s being deadly serious. “I wouldn’t dare.”

The woman waits a beat, then huffs. “Come on, I was just about to start dinner.”

She moves past Five, walking into three greenhouse. He takes this as a sign to follow after her.

***

The young woman allows Five to use her shower, and he’s thankful for the change of clothes she provides for him too. The home is small and cosy, playing into the stereotypical cottage core of living. The lighting is soft, and the smell of pumpkin seems to waft through into every room. It’s calming, it’s peaceful, it’s something that makes Five feel on edge. He isn’t used to the domestic life, away from the terror and destruction, trying to save the world over and over. He knows he can’t stay here long, but he won’t miss the opportunity of a proper cooked meal.

After putting on the change of clothes, Five makes his way down the hall and into the kitchen, a small buffet waiting for him. He finds it hard not to drool, the potatoes and fresh pie, along with the fruit and vegetables he’d spotted earlier. It looks incredible. He takes a seat, as the woman places down a final plate of tomatoes, sitting down opposite Five.

They dish out the food, filling their plates as high as they can, especially Five. He tries not to look like a slob in front of the pretty girl, but finds it hard not to drop some things down his top. She doesn’t seem to notice, or pretends not to.

The woman takes a sip of her drink, clearing her throat. “So,” her soft voice makes Five look up from his plate. “Do you have a name or is that one of the many mysteries of the man shovelling food down his throat like he hasn’t eaten in several years?”

The woman isn’t afraid of being upfront. Five admires that. Although, it’s not surprising considering he’s a complete stranger she’s trusted in her home. He puts down his knife and fork, grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth.

“No, I have a name. It’s Fi-,” he catches himself, unsure if his ‘name’ would just create more confusion, and unwanted questions. “Jerome. Just, Jerome.”

The woman squints her eyes, but doesn’t push further, seeming to move past his stumble. “Okay. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Jerome.”

Five shrugs, not knowing what else to say.

“My names Y/N.”

Five nods. “Okay. We’re closer already.”

“Don’t push it,” Y/N says, a small smile gracing her face. Five can’t help but pull the same expression.

***

After a hearty dinner, and some obvious awkward silences, Five insists on helping Y/N do the washing up. The sun was beginning to set, and Five knows he’ll have to leave soon, but something stops him from doing so. He doesn’t want to admit it, but this was the most relaxed he’d felt in a long time. The fear or worry of something bad happening wasn’t there, and as he stands close to the woman he had barely met 2 hours ago, he realises what he’d been missing in his 60 something years. A place to live, with a person who makes him feel safe.

“Jerome,” the voice breaks through his thoughts, as Five almost forgets the name he’d given to this woman. “I feel like we’ve skirted around the topic enough. Is there any reason you were in the state you were in, taking refuge behind my greenhouse?”

Five places down the plate he was cleaning, turning to face her fully. Her expression is calm, and her voice shows no sign of interrogation. It’s a first for Five, as he’s become accustomed to people prodding him for information only for their own benefit. No one’s ever shown true interest in him.

He shrugs. “It’s been a tough couple of years. More than that I guess.” Fives eyes glaze over. “I haven’t seen my family in a long time, and I don’t know if I ever will. And if I do, I’m terrified of the state that I’ll find them in.”

Y/N stops what she’s doing, also turning to look at Five, a look of worry taking over her face. He knows he’s said more than he should have, but he couldn’t help it. He’s not good at sharing his feelings, and when he does, he’s scared of what will happen once the flood gates are opened. He isn’t sure if he’ll ever be able to close them.

“What d’you mean? Are they in some kind of trouble?” She asks, a slight shake in her voice. “Are you in trouble?”

Five shakes his head, not wanting to stress out this poor woman who’s been nothing but doting to him. “No! No, I just,” he sighs, knowing he’s really put his foot in it. “I just care about them, a lot. Too much. And I don’t even want to think about not seeing them again.”

A soft hand brushes against Five’s cheek, as he glances at Y/N wiping a tear away from his face. He didn’t even realise he’d started crying. He sniffles, moving away and rubbing at his eyes, fearing how red they may look. He sucks in a deep breath, calming his beating heart. Whether it’s from talking about his family, or the touch from the woman next to him, he isn’t sure. But he fears he’s overstayed his welcome.

Five moves away from the kitchen counter. “I guess I should probably go. Don’t wanna miss my train.” Although he knows they’ll always be one there waiting for him.

He heads for the door, remembering to go upstairs and collect his dirty clothes before he leaves. Footsteps are heard from behind him.

“Uh,” Five swivels back around, as Y/N hesitates over her words. “This may seem kinda forward, and a dangerous move on my part, but, I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight knowing you were out there in the middle of the night, traveling by yourself.”

Five holds his breath, not wanting to jump the gun, but already anticipating the next sentence out of her mouth.

“I have extra pillows, and blankets.” Y/N shrugs. “It’s not the most comfortable couch but I’d say it’s more comfortable than the chairs on the train.”

Neither of them speak for a while. Five ponders her offer over and over, wondering if this is something he wants to decline. He needs to get back to his family. He needs to get back to help them. But so far, every option has been a bust. He’s not sure how much longer he can go on for. It could be the apocalypse all over again. Stuck for 40 years, traveling none stop, unsure if he’ll ever see his loved ones again. Could a good nights sleep really be such a bad thing?

He thinks the risk is worth it. “As long as it’s not too much trouble for you.”

***

That one good nights sleep turned into three months, staying at Y/N’s home, crashing on her couch. It didn’t stop Five from going out, back to the subway, trying to find the possible solution to his six year problem. But the more time he spent with the woman, the less time he wanted to spend away from her. They grew closer, making meals together, gardening together, watching silly romcoms together. While Y/N taught Five how to bake, Five taught her how to fight. A young woman living by herself? It didn’t hurt knowing some basic defence skills.

Five didn’t want to admit it, but his family hadn’t crossed his mind as often as it usually did before he met Y/N. He’d become soft, wanting to be around her all the time, not wanting to visit the subway as often as he should be. He’s lucky enough to call her a friend. He hopes she calls him that too.

***

It’s late, and Y/N is sat on the couch, crocheting a few pairs of gloves and a long overdue jumper. People used to make fun of her for it, calling her an old lady, but she finds it soothing. And making your own clothes is a big bonus too. Five, or Jerome as she knew him, had been out most of the day. She never questioned what he was up to, only that he returned safe, ready for whatever she’d cooked up for him during the day. She wasn’t completely naive in thinking ‘Jerome’ has involved himself in shady business. But unless he plans on telling her, then she won’t bother pushing him on the matter.

A bang echos from the back of the house, specifically inside the geeenhouse. It makes Y/N jump up from her seated position, quickly rushing out to the source of the noise. It can only be one person, or that’s what she hopes. Either way, she grabs for her shears before entering the warm glass room.

“Jerome?” She whispers, watching her step, the only light in the room coming from the moon through the windows.

A muffled groaning reaches her ears, as Y/N blindly moves her hands over the walls, trying to find the light switch. She finally does, and flicks it on. A sharp gasp comes out of her mouth, as the brightness finally reveals her new friend curled in a ball on the floor, rolling in pain.

“Shit.”

She quickly makes her way over to him, delicately wrapping her arms around his waist and slowly helping him off the floor. He stumbles, knocking into a few pots, almost making them fall off the table.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, the word slurring under his breath.

“Don’t apologise,” she says, making sure he’s steady on his feet. “Let’s just get you inside and onto the couch.”

They make their way through into the living room, Five dropping haphazardly onto the soft cushions, while Y/N finally gets a proper look at him. His clothes are ripped, the once pristine suit (one she bought for him as a gift) now in tatters. His hair is sticking up in all different directions, and he’s clutching to his side like his life depends on it. She reaches for his arm, prying it away to reveal an array of bullet wounds, still bleeding.

“You should see the other guy,” Five jokes, tilting his head back and trying to forget about the burning pain running across his body. Funnily enough, if Y/N saw the other guy, he’d look exactly like him, considering this all happened due to an unfortunate run in with apocalypse Five.

Y/N stares at him with wide eyes. “Really? Look, I don’t bother asking where you go or what you’re up to when you leave this house, but I think now’s the time you tell me the truth.”

Five moves his head back down, looking her in the eyes. She’s terrified. And he hates that. He breathes in deep, taking her hand in his.

“If you can help me patch this shit up,” he briefly motions to his wounds, “then I’ll tell you who I really am.”

So that’s what they do. Y/N retrieves the first aid kit from her bathroom, while Five opens up about his life before he met her, and how he’s not from this timeline. He isn’t sure if she’s believing what he says, as she remains quiet the entire time, only occasionally looking up at him and quickly returning to removing the bullets lodged in his side. But she listens. And allows him to pour his heart out to her.

“The past six years were torture. Somehow worse than the forty I spent in the apocalypse.” Five turns his head and stares at the woman next to him, as she finishes up her work. “But these last few months with you. I could finally be normal. I could live a life most guys would kill to have. And I’m so sorry I lied to you this long.”

They fall into silence, the pair somehow closer together than they were a few minutes ago. Both emotionally, and physically. Y/N moves her hand and takes his, squeezing tightly. Five’s heartbeat picks up speed, only now noticing their close proximity.

“So your real name is ‘Five’?” He nods at her words. She nods back. “Hmm. It suits you a lot better than Jerome.”

They both laugh half heartedly, as they stare deeply into each other’s eyes. She moves her hand up to his hair, moving it out of his face, trying to calm it down slightly.

She carries on talking. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through.” Five rolls his eyes. She doesn’t even know the half of it. “But if I can be the person to keep you grounded, for however long you’re here for, then I’m happy to do just that.”

Five smiles, glancing quickly at her lips.

She does the same. “And I hope you’re here for a long time.”

They both lean in, softly pressing their lips against each other’s. Five cups her face, deepening the kiss as Y/N rests her arms atop his shoulders. They move in sync, careful not to cause any more damage to Five’s wounds, as she somehow moves closer, one of her legs wrapping itself around his waist.

They don’t stop, clothes discarded, bodies intertwined, as their growing tension is finally broken. Five isn’t sure if he’ll ever get back to his timeline, but for now, he’s happy to call this place home.

***

Another four months, and still no sign of a way back. Although, Five can’t deny he hasn’t been trying as hard as usual. The peace and tranquillity has consumed him whole, falling into a proper routine with the woman he…

Is it love? Could he truly fall for someone like this? Someone who isn’t involved in the shit show he’s grown accustomed to? Someone who wants that quiet life, watering flowers and baking pies, with him? Maybe it’s what he needs.

Five stands in the greenhouse, picking some fresh strawberries, and trying a few to see if they were ripe. He’s already found the perfect recipe to use them in. Something he knows she’ll love.

As if reading his thoughts, a pair of arms slip around his waist. Y/N rests her chin on his shoulder, peaking over to see the basket full of fresh fruit. She picks one up, moving away and popping it in her mouth. Five turns and looks at her, smiling wide.

“They taste perfect,” she says.

Five takes her wrists, pulling her towards him and kissing her lightly. “So do you.”

She laughs, holding him close and breathing him in. “The cheesy lines don’t work on me, bub.”

“I think they do.” He mumbles, bringing her in for another kiss, sliding his hands up and down her back.

They stay like this for a while, holding each other in the warm glass room. The sun starts to set, as Five looks out and realises what time it is.

“Damn.”

She looks at him, confusion on her face. “What’s up?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, I just need to do a double check of the subway before dinner.”

Y/N tries not to show her anxiousness, but some of it seeps through. After Five explained to her what the subway is and why he goes there every day, she’s terrified at the thought of him leaving and never coming back. But she knows he wouldn’t do that to her. Not without saying goodbye.

She steps back. “Right. Promise you’ll be safe?”

He kisses her on the cheek. “I promise.”

***

Five spends some time looking around the platform in the subway, checking the lights, checking the maps, even poking his head into the tunnels to see if anything has changed. But nothing. It all remains the same. No sign of his past life waiting for him. Was that such a bad thing?

Holding a small flashlight, he shines it up and down, left and right, hoping his eyes will catch something new. A sudden pop from above startles him, the grip he had on the flashlight loosening. It falls and rolls onto the tracks. Five looks up, noticing one of the bulbs now flickering. He huffs, moving to the edge of the platform and jumping down. He retrieves the flashlight, hitting it a few times to try and get it to work again. It comes to life, flashing in front of him. That’s when he spots something.

“That’s new.”

Five walks over, grabbing the mystery object and holding it up. It’s a plain notepad. He flips it open, scanning over the messy handwriting inside. His messy handwriting. He can’t help but let out a tiny gasp, as he figures out what it all means.

“This is it.” Tears form in his eyes. “This is my way back home.”

He’s shocked. He’s elated. He’s emotionally drained. This is his chance to rejoin his timeline. To see his family after so long. To fix the mess they’ve created. But all he can think about in this moment is Y/N. How the hell is he supposed to break the news to her?

***

After another hour spent pondering this new found information, Five slowly makes his way back home. His home. Where the life he’d built was waiting for him.

He enters the house and walks into the kitchen, where Y/N stands by the stove, boiling something sweet and caramelly. Five just stares at her; humming a random tune, wiping her messy hands on the apron he bought for her when her old one accidentally caught fire. That was the most stress he’d felt since coming here. And if that was the only stress he had to deal with, he’d take it every single day.

She finally turns and spots him, smiling wide. “Oh hey! I was worried for a sec, you were taking longer than expected.”

She moves closer to him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He holds her, not wanting to let go. Y/N can tell something isn’t right.

She leans back. “You okay?”

Five doesn’t reply, only holding the notepad out for her to take. She does so, flipping through the pages just like he did, her expression perplexed.

“I don’t understand-”

“It’s the way back to my timeline.”

She looks up at him, mouth slightly open, as her words fall short. Five can swear he hears her heartbeat speed up, as her breathing becomes erratic. Five isn’t sure what to do, waiting for an explosion of emotions to rain down on him. But nothing comes. Neither of them do or say anything.

Five chooses to break the silence. “I don’t wanna lose you. I can’t. I don’t think I could live the way I used to live. Not after living this life with you.”

Y/N bites her lip, suppressing a sob. “You have to go.”

Five furrows his brow, hoping he heard her wrong. He tilts her head up to stare into her eyes, seeing the tears forming.

“No,” he whispers. “You’ve become the most important thing in my life. The thought of never seeing you again, I can’t do that.”

A tear falls down her cheek, as Five reaches out to wipe it away.

“I’d love nothing more than to stay in this little bubble we’ve created,” she replies, finding it hard to keep her voice steady. “But your family, your timeline, all those people? They need you more than I do. And I know deep down, you can’t bear the thought of letting them die, knowing you could’ve helped.”

Five wants to ask her to come with him. Become apart of his family. He knows she’d get on with them all. And they’d all love her, possibly more than they love him. But he knows it’s cruel to ask her to leave her life behind. The house, the garden, the home that she’s worked so hard on. And the thought of throwing her into the thick of it all. Putting her at danger? No chance.

He pulls her into his embrace, kissing her hard. They hold each other tight, their lips bruising as neither of them can stop the tears from falling.

Y/N is the first to pull away. “If you ever get the chance to come back to this timeline, you know where to find me.”

Five smiles, not wanting to let her go. He kisses her once more. “In the greenhouse, tasting just as sweet as the strawberries.”

[verstappenverse]

The Price of the Podium

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: In the relentless pursuit of racing glory, Max faces the emotional fallout of missing an important weekend in his relationship, leaving your future uncertain.

1.5k words / Masterlist

Max's heart raced as the engine of his RedBull roared beneath him. The familiar hum had become a source of comfort, a steady rhythm that guided him through countless laps and countless victories. But today it felt different—a harbinger of an approaching storm that threatened to dismantle everything he held dear.

The season had been merciless. Each race had been a relentless pursuit of perfection, each lap a battle against time and competitors. Max understood that this world demanded sacrifices but lately the weight of those sacrifices had become different.

When Max glanced at his phone during a fleeting moment of respite his stomach dropped as a surge of guilt swept over him. A string of missed calls and urgent messages from you filled the screen, each one more desperate than the last.

Hey, can you please call me when you get a chance? I need to talk to you.

Max, you’re really starting to worry me. I don’t understand what's going on?

It’s been three days since we spoke properly. Can you at least let me know you’re okay?

Max’s gaze fell on the calendar, he had promised again to visit your extended family this weekend a significant step for you both that had been previously filled with excitement and anticipation. Your family were eager to meet him, and Max had been looking forward to it as well. But now, with the punishing schedule of the season, he was struggling to find even a moment to breathe, let alone make the trip.

He knew he was being a coward, but it was easier to avoid the situation than confront it directly and risk letting down the person who mattered most.

As Max approached the racetrack for another testing session, the weight of his choices hit him like a sledgehammer. He was about to miss an important milestone in your life together and he didn't think you'd be so forgiving this time.

His mind was full of conflicting emotions. He wanted to be there for you, to prove to your family that he was serious about your relationship. But the world of racing had a way of consuming everything in its path leaving no room for personal commitments.

The testing session was a blur. Max’s driving was flawless, but his thoughts were elsewhere. The track blurred into an endless ribbon of asphalt. He pushed himself to the limit, hoping that the adrenaline would drown out the guilt gnawing at his conscience.

Finally, the session ended. Max’s team were in high spirits celebrating the improved performance. He barely registered their enthusiasm, his mind was occupied with the image of you waiting for him in a small town, wondering why he had not shown up. He could picture you there, waiting for him, checking the clock, wondering if he’d even bothered to leave. And it wasn’t just about this weekend—it was about every missed call, every text he hadn’t answered, every promise he’d let slide.

The moment Max stepped out of the car he took a deep breath and pulled out his phone. He dialed your number hoping against hope that you would answer. After a few rings your voice came through the line tinged with weariness and frustration.

“Max?”

“Hey, I’m so sorry. I know I’ve been out of touch.”

“Out of touch? You’ve been completely absent! I was supposed to introduce you to my family this weekend. It was important to me.”

“I know. I wanted to be there, but things just got out of hand here. I’ve been trying to make time, but…”

“But what Max? You keep saying you’re trying, but you’re never here. There's always an excuse.”

“I’m really sorry, I’ve been working so hard this season...I thought I could make it work, I just…”

“You know what? I don’t want to hear more excuses right now. You’ve missed something important to me again, and it hurts. I needed you here, and you weren’t.”

The silence on the other end of the line was heavy, almost unbearable. Max could feel the pain that you were struggling to mask, like a knife twisting in his gut. It cut him deeper than any criticism he’d ever faced on the track.

“Please. I know I messed up, I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“Make it up to me? I don’t even know if that’s possible anymore. This wasn’t like the other times when you just forgot or lost track of time; you made the choice not to come. I’ve tried to be understanding—I know how hard this season has been, and I know how much time and dedication it takes. I never wanted to undermine that. But I don’t know how much longer we can do this. I get it, you have to make tough choices sometimes, and I’ve done my best to support you, to step back and let you focus on your goals. But it’s happening too often now, and it feels like every time, you’re choosing this..this life over us. Over me. Every single time.”

Max’s throat tightened. He wanted to argue, to explain more, but he also knew that he couldn't keep making excuse for his absence, and he couldn’t bear to hurt you anymore. He’d run out of explanations, out of promises he knew he couldn’t keep. He wanted to say something, anything to fix it, but he could hear the finality in your voice. You’d reached a breaking point, one he’d seen coming but had been too afraid to acknowledge.

“I don’t know what to say,” he finally whispered, the words feeling hollow even as he spoke them.

The silence stretched on.

“I understand if you need space.” he murmured, barely able to get the words out, blinking back tears.

Your voice was barely a whisper throat locking up, it felt like he was giving up. Was this even worth fighting for if he wasn't?

Then, in a voice so small it broke his heart all over again, you whispered,“You’re right. Maybe space is what we need right now.'

The line went dead, leaving Max alone in the garage. The celebration of the session’s success felt hollow. The echoes of the track still rang in his ears mingling with the ache of your absence.

In the days that followed Max tried to bury himself in the upcoming races, hoping that the endless rush would drown out the regret gnawing at him. He avoided reaching out to you honouring your request for space. Each day felt like an endless rotation of driving, media commitments, and sleepless nights. The thrill of racing was overshadowed by the growing distance between you and him.

You had always been patient and understanding of the demands of Max’s career. You had supported him through the highs and lows, celebrating his victories and comforting him through the losses, but it hadn’t been enough. Each missed call and unanswered message chipped away at your resolve. You couldn’t keep repeating the same cycles and expecting a different result. The weekend you had planned for Max to meet your family was meant to be a milestone, a step toward a future together. Instead, it felt like a crushing disappointment.

You replayed the conversations you had with Max in your mind, trying to reconcile the man you loved with the absence he had become. You had pictured this weekend as a chance for Max to understand the importance of your family, to see the life you had outside of his world. The hurt and frustration you felt were compounded by a growing sense of doubt—doubt that maybe this life of constant motion had created a rift too wide to bridge.

You needed time to process the hurt, to focus on yourself and figure out where to go from here. The support you had hoped for seemed distant and unreliable, and the future you had envisioned together felt uncertain.

Loving him had been a beautiful dream, but you knew it was time, you hesitated just a moment before hitting send.

Max,

I need you to know that I’m not angry anymore. I’m just… tired. I need to focus on myself right now.

You

Max read the message over and over, his hands trembling. The message was brief and seemingly final. The reality of your words sank in, there was no dramatic declarations, no harsh accusations, just a simple statement of exhaustion, a quiet resignation that tore through him. He wanted to call, to beg you to come back, but he knew it was too late.

As the season drew to a close, Max stood on the podium, the roar of the crowd a distant echo, his gaze searching as if somehow he’d see you there. The trophy was in his hands, but it didn't feel like he had expected. He looked out over the crowd searching for a sense of fulfilment that seemed to elude him, it all felt like ashes without you beside him.

Max only thought of you as he stood amidst the celebrations, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that in the pursuit of his dreams he had sacrificed something far more precious, and wondered if there was a path back to what he had lost.

[em-omer]

A Desperate Plea as Winter Approaches

Hi Everyone. Again my family is facing a crisis more severe than ever before. The brutal summer sun has worn down the flimsy tent that once served as our only shelter, and now, as winter approaches, we are left exposed to the elements. There is no place for us to turn. With no means to afford proper housing, we have no choice but to share a car garage with two other families. It’s not a home, but it’s the only roof we can find to protect us from the bitter cold that is closing in on us.

My husband’s condition has taken a grave turn. After a long, painful hospital stay, he was released, but his chest wound, caused by a piece of shrapnel that pierced him when a bomb struck our home while we slept, has become dangerously inflamed. His blood pressure has dropped to 90/60, and he’s been rushed back to the hospital. The sight of him weak and struggling for every breath breaks my heart, but the pain doesn't end there.

With my husband back in the hospital, I face an unbearable choice. The hospital does not allow children, so I am torn between staying by his side, or leaving my three children alone in this unsafe city. Every night, I fear for their safety and for the life of my husband. I cannot be with both, and it is tearing me apart.

To make matters worse, hospitals in Gaza have run out of many essential medicines due to the blockade. We are forced to buy medication from external pharmacies at prices we can barely afford. The war has stripped us of everything, and now, the siege makes survival an even greater struggle.

We are also in dire need of food. My children’s immune systems are weak from malnutrition, and they fall sick often, leaving me helpless. We lack even the simplest comforts—medicine to heal their illnesses, warm clothes to shield them from the winter chill, and basic nutrition to keep them alive.

Winter is not just a season here; it’s a looming threat that may take what little we have left. I am begging for your help. Please, any donation, no matter how small, will go directly to giving us warmth, food, and the chance to survive this nightmare. My family is on the edge of survival, and we need you now more than ever.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

The Best Friend Showdown

Season four had many, many flaws. One of the big ones was the Rena Rouge vs Chat Noir conflict where Ladybug starts relying on Alya more and more, basically using her to replace Master Fu. We get a sense that Chat Noir feels inferior to Rena Rouge because of this change, but it’s never directly addressed. The most we get is this conversation from Hack-San:

Ladybug: I'm really sorry, Cat Noir. I should've told you. I mean, if I found out that you told someone about your secret identity, I'd... probably be upset, too. I'm really sorry I hurt your feelings. Cat Noir: You didn't hurt my feelings. You did everything right. 

Which is actually a really weird bit of dialogue because - as far as I can tell - nothing in the episode revealed that Scarabella knew Ladybug's identity. She hands out miraculous all the time and no one knows who she really is. Why would this time be different? Ladybug could just show up in costume, explain what's up, and then hand off the earrings while using yet another miraculous.

Anyway, the Rena Rouge vs Chat Noir conflict is “resolved” by Rena Rouge being outed again (and I guess that matters this time), leading her to give up her miraculous so that Gabriel can’t steal it away, which of course leads Gabriel to steal it away and fully disempower Ladybug’s larger team, leaving Chat Noir her only teammate.

How satisfying! This is such good, character-driven story telling!

It’s not. This is plot contrivances to the max with no meaningful character beats, but we’re not here to talk about that. We’re here to do one of my favorite things: gush about a relevant Kim Possible episode! Today’s topic is episode 12 of season one: Pain King vs. Cleopatra, the episode that introduces Kim’s female BFF, Monique!

This was a bit of a shocker for me because I didn’t realize that Kim and Monique weren’t pre-series friends. Turns out that, much like Alya, Monique is a new girl, which isn’t a bad call. This was a nice way to delay Monique’s introduction for a few episodes so that the writers could focus on establishing Kim’s relationship with other key members of the cast like her partner, Ron. Spacing out your intros is the way to go whenever you can pull it off as it’s a kindness to your audience that keeps them from feeling overwhelmed, making it more likely that they’ll remember your cast.

The other, more important similarity between Alya and Monique is that, when Kim’s hero partner and life-long friend finds out about Monique, he is less than thrilled:

Kim: I barely got to see them. Right after I hooked up with Monique, the museum was robbed by some glowing-headed animal guy. Ron: Oh, that's nice. Ron: Wait a minute, who's Monique? Kim New friend, really great. Anyway, the thief stole an enchanted ancient talisman. Ron: Whoa, whoa, back up! How can I not know about a new friend? Kim: I met her at Club Banana, then again at the museum before I chased the glowing robber. Ron: So what's she like? Kim: The robber? Ron: The friend, Kim, the "new friend".

Throughout the episode, Kim and Monique continue to bond without Ron, leaving Ron feeling left out:

Ron: Seein' a pattern here, Rufus: Kim does her thing, I do my thing, and pretty soon - we're doing different things.

Which leads him to get a little territorial:

Kim Ron! What are you doing here? Ron: Can I dine with my best friend and her new friend? Kim: Uuh, Ron, Monique, and vice versa. Ron: Bearclaw? Monique: No, thanks, I'm vegetarian. Ron: Uhm, I'm pretty sure it's imitation bear? Kim: She's joking, Ron. Ron: Good one, hahaha, ha, good one. So, did Kim tell you that I'm her sidekick? Cause that role is definitely taken by me. Monique: Riiiight. Well, in... you know I better get to class. Later, Kim. Um, n-nice meeting you, Ron. Ron: Likewise, I'm sure! Kim: What is your problem? You're acting really weird. Ron: Well, let's see. You went to the museum with Monique, not me. Monique was with you this morning, not me. Hmm, pattern? Kim: Yeah. You. Weird. Ron: No, we're drifting apart because you're excluding me. Kim: I am not excluding you. It's just that you and Monique are... different.

Noticing some similarities to Miraculous here?

So how does Kim Possible resolve this conflict?

Well, the plot of this episode resolves around Kim Possible’s version of professional wrestling, the GWA. There’s a competition going on that Kim has no interest in watching (mood), but when Kim mentions the GWA to Monique:

Monique: Why didn't you bring [Ron] along? Kim: Unless someone put a waiter in a headlock, this is definitely not Ron's scene. Besides, he had a date with "Steel Toe". Monique: He scored tickets to Mayhem in Middleton? The GWA rocks! Kim: What?

It turns out that Monique and Ron have a shared interest! Multiple shared interests, in fact! Interests that Kim does not share:

Monique: You know, I still can't believe you met Pain King and Steel Toe. Ron: I can't believe you're into wrestling. Kim: I can't believe I know either one of you.

By the end of the episode, the conflict is resolved not with Kim having to pick a BFF or with Monique somehow being demoted, but by showing that this didn’t need to be a conflict at all. Kim can have multiple close friends that she shares different interests with without any of those friends being lesser. Those friends can, in turn, have their own friendships that don’t always involve her.

It’s a genuinely lovely resolution that makes me love this little friend group because it now has added complexity. Monique and Ron are friends in their own right! Kim is not the center of the universe in spite of her main character status!

I also love that Kim isn’t vilified for having other friends or portrayed as constantly leaving Ron out of things that he'd want to do in favor of Monique. Ron genuinely would not enjoy most of the things that the girls love to do together. At the same time, Ron’s feeling aren’t treated as totally irrational either and Kim even admits to ditching him. It’s a genuine, complex conflict that is super common when someone enters a new relationship be it platonic or romantic.

Obviously Kim Possible’s version of this conflict feels far less complex than Miraculous’ because Kim Possible understood that Ron should be Kim’s one-and-only partner, so his position was really never threatened. Monique does not want to be an action hero and is never given the sort narrative weight that elevates her to Ron’s level or higher, but that doesn't matter. The basic lesson here is still relevant and super important for the intended audience of both of these shows.

There did not need to be a Rena Rouge vs Chat Noir conflict that never got properly resolved. Miraculous could have made these two friends and no, Scarabella doesn't count because Chat Noir has no idea that Scarabella is Rena Rouge/Furtive. Their relationship ended at the end of Hack-San. He didn't even know that Rena Furtive was a thing until she was in the process of being benched and that's the problem.

Kim Possible is not a team show, Miraculous is, and yet Kim Possible has better team dynamics than Miraculous. Monique could have joined Kim's team at the end of Pain King vs. Cleopatra and it would have felt natural because both Kim and Ron had welcomed Monique and formed a genuine bond with her. This is a true friend group that Miraculous can only dream of even though they've been adding new superheroes since season two.

We're going into a season with a full, massive team and yet that team has no established dynamics on the hero side. It's not a functional team! None of these characters have meaningful relationships with each other as heroes save for Alya and Nino since they know each other’s secret identities. The only relationships Miraculous cares about are the various romances and everyone's relationship to Marinette and everyone suffers for it.

The show would not have been harmed by Rena Rouge, Chat Noir, and Ladybug being a team. It was the thing I kept think after watching the Kim Possible episode. Since the team is the end game, why aren't we seeing them? It would have been so nice to have Hack-San end with Ladybug introducing Chat Noir to Rena Furtive instead of a nonsense discussion about an issue the episode didn't even address.

[adragonprinceswhore]

Make You Feel My Love I Teaser

Aemond Targaryen x Ex-Girlfriend

Summary: A few months after you break things off with your boyfriend, Aemond, you start receiving strange messages and phone calls from an unknown number. Things escalate when you’re sent a video secretly filmed half a year ago, of you and Aemond having sex.

Warnings: 18+, dark themes (mind the tags!), obsession, stalking, exhibitionism, blackmail, threats of violence, emotional manipulation, smut

A/N: Based on this request by anon. Another spooky fic for the spooky season! 🖤

Aemond’s fingers tap restlessly against the rim of his coffee cup. The twitch in the corner of his mouth tells you he's annoyed, and the speed of which his eye darts around the coffee shop, refusing to look directly at you, lets you know it’s your fault.

You’re not sure if he can see the tears shining in your eyes, he’s barely looked at you since you came. He always saw crying as a sign of a weak mind, and so you do your best not to blink, scared a tear will fall and reveal just how pathetic you feel.

It’s not like you’re doing a good job hiding it anyway. The dark circles under your eyes and the paranoid pleading in your gaze betray all your recent troubles.

“I-, I’d like to thank you for coming here after how things… ended”

Your voice is steady, yet there is a thickness in your throat that makes you sound a bit strange, like you’re trying too hard to remain neutral. A performance you’re not quite pulling off, despite your best efforts.

“Mm”

He’s still not looking at you, stern face reflecting both disinterest and agitation. The relentless tapping of his finger continues, practically screaming at you to hurry up and confess why you asked your ex to meet up.

“I’ll get straight to it. Yesterday, I received a video of… us. At that party where we-”, you search his face for recognition, chase his eye so it meets yours. Your voice lowers, practically a whisper,

“-you know”

“No, I don’t”

“Aegon’s summer party�� We snuck off to the guest room and-, you know”

Aemond finally lets his gaze meet yours, inspecting your features with a narrowed, suspicious eye.

Does he not believe you?

Before he can call you crazy, or dismiss your clear distress with a condescending laugh, you pull out your phone and show him the video. It’s a bit dark and gritty, but it’s clear that it’s the two of you, Aemond’s head between your legs, your own thrown back on the bed in bliss.

“Do-, do you know who could’ve done this?”

Aemond takes your phone and watches the video closely, pausing and zooming in on your half-naked body. He’s seen you bare and crazed with desire countless times when you were dating, yet your cheeks heat up and you feel unexplainably vulnerable as he carefully examines the video.

After a few moments of contemplation, he hums again and hands your phone back,

“I’ve no clue. I’ll ask Criston for the guest list, probably just one of Aegon’s insufferable friends having a laugh”

He stands to leave, and you momentarily panic at the thought of being alone again. Just as he turns towards the door, your hand desperately grabs the fabric of his coat, and those tears that had been threatening to spill from your eyes do just that,

“Aemond, please, I have more”

You sound so small. So defeated.

He looks at you with the same harsh, unimpressed look even as you silently cry.

So cold.

Maybe it’s what you deserve?

“I need you, Aemond. Please just stay for a few more minutes and let me explain”

He’s frozen for a while, contemplating whether he should indulge you or leave, surely eager to dismiss you just as you had done to him, only a few months ago.

With a sigh, his features soften somewhat, and he steps back, once again taking the seat opposite you.

Full fic coming on November 1st!

[ynscrazylife]

seekers get stitches (poly!marauders x slytherin!seeker!reader)

In your opinion, the Marauders are arseholes. They were tolerable as first years, even as second years, but was they grew up, they only got more annoying as their pranks got bigger and bigger. It doesn’t help that they seem to hate all Slytherins, which is the house you belong to. You understand that yes, many of the students have given the house a bad name, but it’s not all of you! Yet somehow, you frequently ended up on the unfortunate end of many of their pranks.

Now, you’ve had the chance to stand up to them, being the Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch Team this season. James is the Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, giving the Marauders even more of a reason to dislike you. James and Sirius even go as far as to hang around during your team’s practice time, booing you or making jokes at your expense from the stands.

Well, it’s the semi-finals. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Whoever wins this will go up against Ravenclaw for this year’s Quidditch Cup. Everyone is talking about this game — Remus even put his book down to pay attention. Both teams’ chasers have been scouring points, but the crowd’s eyes are locked onto you and James. You can feel hundreds of stares lasered on your back as you race around the pitch. When you finally spot the golden blur of the snitch, you don’t think twice before racing towards it. James follows you and soon, you’re quite literally neck and neck.

“Just give up now, Y/LN! You’re not gonna catch it,” James yells over the wind.

His words vaguely register in your mind, but you don’t pay attention. Everything is riding on this. You’ll either return to the common room as your house’s hero to pat on the back or their villain to torment.

“What, no comeback?” James prods.

You grunt, stretching your hands out. The snitch’s wings flutter against your fingertips. You lean forward as far as possible, one shaky hand remaining on the broom, you’re so close.

But so is James. His hand joins yours. Curse his tall stature, you think. It’s just not fair!

You swear you’re about to have it in your hand when—a bludger beams your shoulder, knocking you sideways and directly into James. The snitch flies away as the both of you fall, tumbling straight towards the ground. Lights out.

//

When you open your eyes, you find the faces of a couple friends staring back down at you. They tell you that you’re in the hospital wing after a Quidditch accident, with a dislocated shoulder, a concussion, and a broken ankle. Madame Pomfrey used a spell to set your shoulder, but you still need to stay in bed and take potions for your injuries, requiring a longer stay here.

“Who caught the snitch?” You ask, the memories hazy.

“I did.”

You turn your head, only to see James Potter lying in the bed next to you. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin are sitting by him and they wave. James’ nose, arm, and leg are all bandaged up.

“Caught it right before you knocked into me,” James elaborates.

Your stomach churns, realizing why only your friends are here and not your team. You lost the game for them, they must be disappointed.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, unsure of what you’re supposed to say to that.

“Don’t be, it’s the bludger’s fault. James is just being difficult,” Remus says, waving his hand. Out of the three of them, he’s definitely the nicest.

//

As the days go on, Sirius and Remus are there every day. Your friends aren’t. They visit a couple more times, then they stop. They’re busy, they have classes, you understand. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. Oftentimes, you end up accidentally listening to the Marauders’ conversations. James gives Sirius and Remus his plans for pranks, the other two update them on what’s going on around the castle.

They visit a lot.

One afternoon, you wake up from a nap to find them visiting again, though, and talking about you.

“Isn’t it weird that her friends barely visit her?”

“Haven’t seen her team around either. Thought Slytherins cared about their own.”

“Must suck for her.”

“Yeah.”

Your nap wasn’t particularly good, with the uncomfortable mattress and scratchy sheets. You open your eyes, frowning at the trio, in a bad mood. “You know, I don’t need your pity,” you say.

Three heads snap towards you, all looking like deer in headlights (you have no clue that for James, it’s truer than you think).

“It’s not - we’re not pitying you. It’s, uh, empathy,” Sirius rushes to cover them.

You roll your eyes. “Uh-huh,” you say, not believing him. You shake your head, tired of lying in this bed and being in pain and having the three of them sit next to you day after day after day. You decide you’re done here, your arm’s in a sling, your ankle’s almost 100% healed, it’s fine.

You throw the blanket aside, standing up, only to stumble. It’s not your ankle, it’s your head. Damn concussion.

“Woah, woah,” Remus says, both him and Sirius getting up to approach you. “You should sit back down.”

“I’m fine,” you say stubbornly, taking a couple more unbalanced steps only for Sirius to grasp at your arm.

“Come on, don’t make us tell Pomfrey on you, it’d really hurt my reputation,” Sirius says, smiling.

You snatch your arm away, anger flaring up. “Like I give a bloody hell about your reputation!” You exclaim.

“Hey, what’s the problem?” Sirius asks, putting his hands up.

“My problem? You guys are the ones who have a problem with me! You’re always asses to me, then you talk about me behind my back . . . I don’t even see why you care where I go or what I do. I’m a Slytherin, remember?” You say.

That quiets the Marauders. They’re not sure how to respond because, well, you’re right. Slytherins are easy to hate, so they hate them.

“Y/L/N, back in bed.”

Crap. It’s Pomfrey. You sigh and do what he says. The Marauders don’t say anything else.

//

After a couple more days, James is out of the hospital wing, managing to talk Pomfrey into releasing him. You’re still stuck there, as the concussion’s giving you trouble.

It’s lonely without their chatter. As much as they annoy you, you miss it. You miss them. Just a little bit. When they’re not hating on Slytherins, they’re . . . Nice. Fun.

It’s just your luck that they come around again, to visit you.

“Hey,” James says, Remus and Sirius behind you.

You huff. “Hi,” you say, making a tight line with your lips. What are they doing here? They don’t care.

“We wanted to see how you were doing and, uh, talk, if we can?” Remus says, politely smiling at you.

“If it’s more bullshit on pitying me—” you start.

“It’s not. We don’t like Slytherins, okay?” Sirius says, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to you. James and Remus follow.

You take a breath and stare, waiting for the explanation.

“A lot of them believe in all the Death Eater shit,” James says.

“But not all,” you point out.

James nods. “Not all. But we’re pranksters. We prank Slytherins because it’s easy. We also prank other houses but you’re right, we like to target Slytherins. There’s no reason for that other than that we can. It’s-it’s easy to not like them. To convince ourselves that they deserve it. For you, it was easy to . . . To not like you, either. Quidditch rivalry, right? But you have a point. We shouldn’t . . . We shouldn’t be so, ah, mean to all of them. The ones who aren’t into the Death Eater shit,” he explains.

You’re a bit surprised, a bit suspicious. Is this really the truth?

“Not so easy to convince yourself anymore, is it?” You ask.

“No, it’s not,” Sirius affirms.

“We brought cards,” Remus offers, taking a deck out of his pockets. “Figured you were pretty bored in here.”

“Prove it to me that you’re being honest, then I’ll think about playing cards with you,” you say, putting on a brave face. You have no clue that if they’ll actually do it or not.

But they agree to your terms. They start being real, not targeting random Slytherins. They stop being mean.

Eventually, you do agree to play cards with them. You’re almost out of the hospital wing, too. In fact, it’s your last night there, you’ve just beat them all in the game, when you decide to ask them why. What compelled them to come seek you out after James got out of the hospital wing, if not just feeling bad?

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sirius asks, grinning. “We’ve all fallen for you, love.”

That sparks the start of something new for the four of you.

[thewulf]

Soothing Shadows || Azriel

Summary: Request - Can I request some fluffy angst with Azriel? She’s usually soft, sweet and shy but she’s suddenly moody and snapping trying to seem tough from a REALLY bad period?

A/N: Well I got way too carried away on the intro but I love it. Love this one. ACOTAR is just so much fun to write. the characters are just... perfect. I hope you all enjoy :)

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Day Court Reader)

Word Count: 6.7k +

TW: Yelling, frustration, crying

The Meeting

In the golden light of the Day Court's grand hall the sunlight danced playfully across the marble floors. It was an atmosphere thick with the potential of new alliances that buzzed through the air. Azriel was enveloped in his characteristic shadows despite the overwhelming brightness. He entered the hall alongside Rhysand and Cassian looking rather unimpressed. Day Court was never his favorite. Their steps were confident yet cautious, reflective of the gravity of their mission.

The room was populated with dignitaries and advisors. It seemed to pause momentarily as their attention was drawn to the Night Court's formidable high fae. But for Azriel it wasn’t the opulent surroundings nor the stares of the courtiers that unsettled him—it was you.

Standing among the Day Court's delegation, you were pointing to a map seemingly unfazed by their arrival. Your aura shone more brilliantly than anything else he’d ever seen. You were a strategist he concluded as you kept pointing and offering up solutions. Your attire was remarkably vibrant and expressive even for a Day Court fae. It contrasted starkly with his dark, subdued tones. Yet the garments mirrored the radiant environment of your home or what he assumed was your home. It wasn’t until Rhysand cleared is through that your eyes, keen and perceptive, swept over the newcomers. They paused just a touch longer on him than on the others. And he’d be lying if he didn’t say that your piercing eyes didn’t unsettle him a touch further.

Azriel’s heart was usually so stead but that looked you gave him made it skip unevenly beneath his armor. He meant to greet you with his customary reserve, but his voice caught still in his throat. Instead, the words stumbled over themselves like his shadows at noon. Cassian’s barely concealed smirk did little to soothe his discomfort. Rhysand’s knowing glance only deepened the flush that dared to climb Azriel’s neck.

You cocked an eyebrow in surprise at the new comers. The High Lord of the Night Court and his Inner Circle. You were expecting Night Court emissaries not the High Lord himself. And certainly not flanked by the Shadowsinger and General you’d heard so much about. The war was brutal, but they seemingly made themselves known through their selfless actions. "Welcome to the Day Court High Lord," you said with a hit of a smile on your lips. Your voice was clear and melodious, and it sliced through his momentary lapse with ease. He noticed how you bowed reverently to Rhysand and nobody else. "We hope our discussions today will strengthen the ties between our courts during these challenging times. High Lord Helion will be joining us shortly. He ran into a minor hiccup with High Lord Kallias.” You smirked looking directly at Rhysand after your gaze had settled on Azriel for a beat too long. “You know how those seasonal courts are, fickle is as fickle does.”

Your smile was warm and inviting as it clashed with the cool, calculated persona he had anticipated. As you extended your hand in greeting to the three of them Azriel’s shadows flickered uncertainly around him. Taking a deep breath, he managed to gather his composure, his hand meeting yours first. The contact sent a jolt of unexpected warmth coursing up his arm and settling deep within his chest. Rhysand’s low chuckle was barely audible and hinted that he found the situation amusing. He was already piecing together the reason behind Azriel’s sudden awkwardness

The High Lord’s response was a measured one. His expression unfaltering as he took in your words and the underlying tone. The faintest smile touched his lips, a gleam of amusement—or perhaps appreciation—flickering in the depths of his blue violet eyes. He was no stranger to the complexities and occasional theatrics of court relations and your comment about the seasonal courts didn't go unnoticed. "Thank you for your kind welcome," Rhysand replied. His voice was smooth and commanding yet carrying an undercurrent of warmth that he reserved for those he deemed worth his genuine attention. "It is always enlightening to visit the Day Court. The light here is quite invigorating," he continued, his gaze briefly sweeping the sunlit hall before settling back on you and giving your own hand a shake after Azriel.

He stepped forward slightly, around you, closing some of the formal distance that the court protocol initially demanded. "Indeed though, the fickleness of the seasonal courts can often be... challenging. But it’s the steadfast nature of courts like yours and mine that often brings balance," he added. The slight emphasis on 'steadfast' subtly acknowledged both the compliment and the jest you had woven into your very own greeting.

Rhysand's demeanor remained composed but there was a keen sharpness to his observation. It was indicative of his role not just as a leader but as a tactician. He was always reading between the lines, always ready to engage on more than just the surface level. "We look forward to discussing ways our courts might work together more closely," he concluded. His tone implying that your directness and evident acumen had not only been noted but were also appreciated. His response set the stage for a dialogue that promised to be as engaging and sharp as the participants involved.

You smile brightly at his calculated response. You’d heard many stories of Rhysand and his cleverness. "Then by all means, please have a seat and we will get started once High Lord Helion arrives shortly." You motion to the golden table behind you.

Rhysand nodded at your invitation with the hint of a strategic mind playing behind his affable smile. He gestured gracefully to his companions indicating they should take their seats in preparation for the meeting. As Cassian moved to take a spot near the end of the table, Rhysand placed a hand on Azriel's shoulder, his voice just loud enough for those nearby to catch, "Azriel, why don’t you take the seat next to our esteemed strategist from the Day Court? It might be beneficial for our discussions."

Azriel cast a brief, slightly questioning glance at Rhysand but there was an unspoken understanding in the exchange. With a barely perceptible nod Azriel complied moving smoothly to the indicated chair beside you. His presence was quiet and unobtrusive, yet you couldn’t help but feel the weight of his gaze as he settled next to you. The Shadowsinger’s famed subtlety making him a curious, albeit intriguing, neighbor.

As he took his seat next to you his voice was a low murmur just for you, "I hope my presence here serves to facilitate a fruitful dialogue between our courts," Azriel said. His tone earnest yet carrying an edge of his characteristic reserve.

Rhysand watched this arrangement unfold, a barely there smile playing on his lips, clearly pleased with his own maneuvering. His eyes met yours for a moment and the look was both a challenge and a promise—the proceedings today would be anything but mundane.

With Azriel now seated beside you, his presence both imposing and intriguing, you turned to him with a playful glint in your eye. "I'm sure your presence will not only facilitate but enhance our discussions," you replied. Your voice tinged with a hint of flirtation. "After all, it's not every day we get graced by the infamous Shadowsinger." Your words hung lightly between you as an invitation to a more relaxed interaction despite the formal setting. Azriel's expression which was usually so guarded softened slightly at your approach. A faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he acknowledged the compliment mixed with your light jest.

"Infamous, is it?" Azriel responded. The undertone of his voice suggesting he was both amused and intrigued by your characterization. "I suppose there are worse reputations to have." The subtle exchange, though brief, set a tone of ease and mild flirtation, hinting at the potential for not only diplomatic success but personal connection as well.

Just as you were about to deliver a witty retort to Azriel's comment the grand doors to the meeting hall swung open. Your High Lord strode in with his characteristic regal poise but an apologetic smile. As Helion settled into his chair with his characteristic regal ease he apologized for his tardiness. His eyes twinkling slightly with humor. "My apologies for the delay," Helion announced. The resonant timbre of his voice filling the room. "It seems that even the best of us are not immune to the whims of weather and politics. Kallias can be rather persuasive in his timing."

Before you could respond though Rhysand chimed in. A slight smirk playing on his lips as he glanced at you. "No worries, Helion. Your strategist here has been more than welcoming," he said while nodding towards you with a hint of playfulness in his tone. "It seems the Day Court excels not only in strategy but also in hospitality."

You smiled, catching Rhysand's eye with a look that matched his own amusement. "We do our best to keep our guests comfortable, High Lord Rhysand. It helps to ensure a more productive discussion," you replied smoothly. Your words subtly acknowledging his compliment while keeping the tone light and engaging.

Helion chuckled at the exchange, clearly pleased with the rapport between his strategist and the Night Court's leader. The room relaxed into a more congenial atmosphere setting a positive tone for the serious diplomatic discussions that were about to unfold.

As the meeting unfolded Azriel found himself repeatedly glancing at you. You were unfailingly professional. Your insights sharp and your arguments compelling. Yet, there was an undercurrent of gentleness in your approach. A lightness that seemed to permeate the very air around you. It was in stark contrast to the shadows that clung to him. A poignant irony not lost on him. The shadowsinger drawn inexplicably towards a child of daylight. Despite the limited words exchanged between you two each interaction left Azriel more intrigued. He was increasingly ensnared by the bright strategist whose presence seemed to challenge the depths of his shadows.

The Panic

Back in the Night Court within the familiar shadows of their favored lounge, Azriel faced the relentless teasing of his closest friends. Cassian was lounging on an oversized chair with that irrepressible grin. He watched Azriel with an amused twinkle in his eye. "You know, I've seen you calm in the face of Hybern's armies yet a few sweet words from a lady of the Day Court and you're more tangled than your shadows in sunlight." He snickered knowing it was getting under his brothers skin.

Rhysand was always one for teasing and couldn't resist joining in. His voice laced with laughter. "Truly, it's a sight. Our master of stealth and subtlety was undone by a pretty smile and a strategic mind. Tell us, Az, what exactly did she say to fluster the great Shadowsinger?"

Azriel, whose usual composure was as solid as the mountains surrounding Velaris, felt an unusual heat creeping up his neck for the second time that day. Each jab from his friends pricked at him. It was stirring a whirlpool of thoughts and emotions he was usually so adept at managing. "It’s not just her words," he began. His voice defensive, but as their teasing continued his defenses began to thin.

"Come on, spill it then, Az. Did she outmaneuver you with her wit or was it the sunlight in her hair?" Cassian quipped not missing the slight shift in Azriel’s stance.

The shadows around Azriel deepened, reacting to his rising frustration and embarrassment. Unable to hold back the truth from his brothers relentless teasing he blurted out, "She's my mate, alright? The shadows... they whispered it to me as soon as I saw her standing there." Cassian’s laughter halted abruptly. His expression shifting to shock while Rhysand paused. His own smirk fading into a more thoughtful gaze.

Azriel's admission hung heavily in the air. His heart pounding as he faced the reality he had only dared to acknowledge in the darkest corners of his mind. She’s my mate. How? Why her? Why now? His thoughts raced, chaotic and overwhelming. The concept of having a mate had always been distant, abstract. It was something meant for others. Not for him, cloaked as he was in secrecy and shadows. He didn’t even think Shadowsinger’s could have mates until his shadows confirmed it.

As the initial shock of his declaration settled Rhysand’s features softened. "Az, this... this is significant. But think about it. The Cauldron knows what it’s doing. She brings light where you bring shadow. Balance, in its purest form."

As the shadows around Azriel grew more restless so did his thoughts. His words spilled out in an uncharacteristic torrent. "It doesn't make sense," he started. His words rushing out as if he was trying to keep pace with the whirlwind inside him. "Why her? Why now? She's light and life, and I'm... I'm the opposite. I live in the shadows, in the secrets and silence. How can I bring someone like her into that world? It's not just about balance or opposites attracting. It's about her world and mine, and they just don't... they don't align."

He paused only to draw a shallow breath, hardly noticing Cassian and Rhysand exchanging worried glances. "And what about what she needs? She thrives in the sun, in the warmth. I can offer her none of that. My world is night and cold and hidden things. What if I'm not what she needs? What if I'm just... just another shadow in her bright world?"

Rhysand tried to interject, "Az..."

But Azriel pressed on, relentless. "And the Cauldron, why would it choose this? Why would it choose now to tell me she's my mate? I’ve managed this long on my own, kept to myself. Why throw this... this chaos into my life? It’s like it’s testing me, pushing me to my limits. She deserves someone who can walk in the light with her. Someone who doesn't hide from the world."

His voice was a mix of disbelief and desperation. His words tumbling faster as his anxiety peaked. "And what am I supposed to do? Just walk up to her and say, 'Here I am, your mate, doomed to live in the dark'? How is that fair to her? She has her life, her court. I can’t ask her to leave that behind. I can’t ask her to adjust to the night. It’s not fair. It’s just not fair to her."

Cassian finally stood, grasping Azriel's shoulders to stop his pacing, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Azriel, breathe, brother. You’re spiraling. You’re thinking about all the ways it can go wrong instead of how it could go right. You’re not considering that maybe she’s been waiting for someone who can appreciate her brightness because he understands the dark."

Rhysand nodded, his voice calm and steady. "Cassian’s right. And remember, the Cauldron doesn’t make these decisions lightly. There’s a reason you’re drawn to each other, a reason beyond what we can see. Maybe it’s not about what you think you can or can’t give her. Maybe it’s about what you can create together." The room fell silent as Azriel's breaths slowly evened out. The words of his brothers began to sink in as he processed what they said. The shadows around him calmed, settling as he considered their words. The frenzy of his thoughts gradually giving way to a cautious hope.

Azriel stood there with the weight of his friends’ hands on his shoulders grounding him. Slowly, their words began to penetrate the chaos in his mind, like light piercing through the shadows. Rhysand’s calm assurance and Cassian’s steadfast support made him realize something important: he wasn’t alone in this. He had his brothers. And maybe, just maybe, he could have you too.

He took a deep breath after finally stilling his frantic thoughts. "Maybe you’re right," he said quietly. The tension in his voice easing. "Maybe... maybe there’s a reason for this. I just have to find it."

With his brothers’ encouragement and their unwavering belief in the bond the Cauldron had forged, Azriel decided to give it a chance. He started visiting the Day Court more frequently. He found reasons to see you and to learn more about you. Each visit was a step closer. Each conversation a bridge over the chasm of his doubts.

At first the visits were all business—discussing strategies, alliances, the future of their courts. But quickly thereafter the conversations turned more personal. You talked about your dreams, your fears, and the way the sun felt on your skin. He shared pieces of himself he had kept hidden for so long. He talked of the shadows that lingered in his past, the secrets he carried. He was encouraged when you didn’t recoil away from the conversation but asked more. Wanted to see more.

You began to spend time in Velaris as well. You were invited by Azriel to see the beauty of his world. You wandered the streets together. Explored the hidden corners of the city and discovered the charm of the Night Court. The contrast between the bright, open spaces of the Day Court and the intimate, star-lit beauty of Velaris fascinated you. You found yourself growing to love Velaris as much as he did.

Months passed and the bond between you deepened. Azriel’s initial fears slowly melted away as he realized that the light and shadow within your relationship didn’t clash. Instead, they complemented each other just as Rhysand suggested. You brought warmth to his life, and he brought a depth of understanding to yours. It wasn’t about changing each other but about creating something new together.

Finally, after months of Azriel seeming to court you he told you of what he’d known for a long while now. It was a sunny afternoon in the Day Court as you both stood in the garden where you had first met. He wasn’t planning on telling you that day but the way the sun cast delicate shadows over your frame he knew it was time. The flowers bloomed brightly around you making you as ethereal as ever. He took your hands in his, the shadows curling gently around your fingers.

His heart was steady as he looked into your eyes, filled with the certainty that had eluded him for so long. He told you everything—the whispers of his shadows, the bond he had felt from the start, and the journey he had taken to accept it. And when he finally said it out loud, that you were his mate, the joy that spread across your face was more beautiful than any sunlight or shadow he had known.

You had suspected, had even felt the bond too, but had waited for him to come to you in his own time. And now that he had the happiness between you was undeniable. Together you would embrace the future. You knew you would find the perfect balance of light and shadow. You were more than ready to face whatever came next.

The Decision

A few more days had passed and the question of where the two of you would live rang heavily in his head. He didn’t want to bombard you, but he couldn’t let his mind rest until he knew what was going to happen. You’d told him you would move to Velaris to be with him, but the conversation seemed so long ago now. Like maybe he was dreaming it himself.

In a quiet corner of the Day Court gardens you and Azriel sat on a bench beneath a canopy of blooming flowers. The gentle hum of life around you contrasted with the serious conversation at hand. Azriel’s eyes that were normally so composed were filled with a mix of concern and determination.

"I need to ask you something," he began. His voice steady but his hands fidgeting slightly. "Are you truly ready to leave the Day Court and move to Velaris? To take on a new role and a new life there? I don’t want you to feel like you have to sacrifice everything for me." He admitted in earnest.

You reached out taking his hands in yours, feeling the comforting weight of his touch. "Yes. Azriel, this feels right. I’ve come to love Velaris, its people, and its beauty. Being with you has shown me a world I never knew I could belong to. It’s not a sacrifice. It’s a new beginning." Your smile was genuine, but he felt uneasy. He didn’t want you to resent him for your leaving of your home court. The only court you’d ever known.

Azriel’s brow furrowed slightly, the shadows around him flickering with his unease. "But what about your responsibilities here? Your role in the Day Court? Your family? I don’t want you to feel like you’re abandoning your life for me."

You smiled with your heart swelling with affection for this man who cared so deeply for your well-being. "I’m not abandoning anything. We can find a way to maintain my connection to the Day Court. Rhysand and Helion can work out an arrangement where I can serve both courts, acting as a bridge between them. It’s a role I believe I’m meant to play. My family will understand. They just want me to be happy. And you make me happy. Velaris will make me happy." You gave his hands a squeeze in yours

He sighed. His shoulders relaxing slightly as he absorbed your words. "And you’re sure? You’re truly sure this is what you want?"

You leaned in closer. Your voice filled with conviction. "I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Being with you, in Velaris, feels like coming home. It’s where I want to be, with you. We can make this work together."

Azriel nodded. A smile slowly spreading across his face. "Then let’s do it. We’ll talk to Rhysand and Helion and make this official. We’ll find a way for you to fulfill your duties to both courts while being together."

The conversation with Rhysand and Helion was productive and filled with mutual respect. Rhysand’s approval and Helion’s support solidified the plan for you to become an ambassador between the Day and Night Courts. This arrangement ensured that you could maintain your influence in the Day Court while building a new life in Velaris with your mate. For even High Lord’s would never come between a fae and their mate.

The Cycle

The streets of Velaris hummed with the gentle bustle of evening activity as the city welcomed Azriel back into its embrace. His shadowed silhouette moved effortlessly through the crowd, a figure of quiet strength returning from a covert mission. By his side, you walked with a smile, your presence a bright counter to his darker aura. The bond between you, still fresh and filled with the thrill of discovery, seemed to deepen with every step you took together.

Despite the jovial atmosphere of the city, a ripple of discomfort threaded through you. The onset of your cycle beginning just as Azriel returned. The timing was far from ideal, and you decided to keep the discomfort to yourself. You did not want to cloud his homecoming with the burden of your pain.

"Azriel, it seems Velaris hasn’t slept a wink since you left," you remarked lightly trying to steer clear of your discomfort by engaging him with the vibrancy of the city.

He chuckled a soft, melodious sound that easily blended with the evening air. "Or perhaps it’s just waking up now that I’m back." His eyes that were especially dark and perceptive tonight, flicked to yours with a smile tugging at his lips. Despite the playfulness of his words, his gaze was probing, always searching beneath the surface even if he didn't yet know what he was looking for.

As you approached the quieter lamp-lit streets near your home the pain discreetly intensified. Each step became a little more measured though you masked it well with practiced ease. Azriel was caught up in recounting the details of his mission. He didn’t immediately notice the subtle shifts in your demeanor. The slightly too-long pauses, the faint grimaces quickly smoothed into neutral expressions.

Once home you busied yourself with preparing a late dinner by moving around the kitchen with a grace that belied the growing ache. Azriel was unpacking and settling back into the space. He watched you from the corner of his eye. Something in your movement, perhaps a stiffness you hadn’t possessed before, hinted at an unspoken truth.

Dinner passed with light conversation and shared laughter. You asked about his travels, the people he met, the sights he saw, all while carefully balancing your own discomfort on a tightrope of normalcy. Azriel responded with stories and light-hearted comments, but his observant eyes missed little. He noted each careful movement and each strained smile.

Later though, as you both settled into the quiet comfort of the living room with the flickering candles casting soft shadows across the walls, Azriel’s concern finally found its voice. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything,” he said softly, his voice a gentle nudge in the quiet room. It wasn’t an accusation, nor a confrontation. It was just an offer hanging softly between you.

You met his gaze with a soft smile. His warmth and worry there evident. You hesitated. A part of you, the part woven tightly to him through the bond, yearned to share the burden, to lean on him as you had promised each other. But another part, the part steeled by independence and not wanting to cast a shadow over his return, held back.

“I know,” you replied. Your voice softer than intended, a smile attempting to mask your discomfort. “I’m just glad you’re home, Azriel. Really, I’m fine.”

Azriel nodded, accepting your words for now but not deceived by them. His offer stood. A silent vow reflected in the steadiness of his gaze ready for when you chose to accept it. And as the evening wore on the unspoken understanding deepened. The assurance that when you were ready, he would be there, just as the city’s lights would always return with the stars.

The next morning in Velaris began with the soft glow of the rising sun streaming through the windows, bathing the kitchen in warm light. It was usually a welcome sight, but today, as the rays hit your eyes it sparked an unexpected irritation. You squinted sharply, shielding your face with your hand. "Why is the sun so bright this morning?" you grumbled more to yourself than to Azriel.

Azriel, standing nearby and preparing breakfast, glanced over with a mixture of concern and a slight smile noting the irony of a Day Court Fae being annoyed by the sun. "Would you like me to close the curtains?" he offered, his voice gentle, recognizing your discomfort as more than just a complaint about the light.

"Yes, please," you sighed before rubbing your temples as he moved to adjust the drapes, softening the room's brightness. Your mood felt as fragile as glass, each sensory input amplified.

Throughout the morning these small irritations bubbled up unexpectedly. When the kettle whistled loudly as it reached a boil, you winced. The sound slicing through the quiet like a siren. "Does it always need to be that loud?" you muttered. The frustration edging your words.

Azriel turned off the stove. His movements calm and deliberate, designed not to provoke your sensitivities further. "It's done now," he said soothingly, pouring the hot water into a teapot with practiced care.

As you both sat to eat, the scraping of your chair against the floor made you cringe. You held your head in your hands for a moment, feeling overwhelmed. "Sorry, everything just feels a bit much this morning," you apologized. Your voice muffled by your hands.

Azriel’s response was filled with an empathetic patience. "It’s okay. We all have those days. Is there anything else I can do to make the morning easier for you my love?"

You shook your head instead managing a small smile as you looked up at him. "Just having you here helps."

He returned your smile with a nod. His presence a quiet reassurance. Azriel continued to navigate the morning with a considerate grace by turning down the volume on the music player that usually filled your mornings with lively tunes. He replaced it instead with the soft, soothing sounds of a gentle instrumental.

Later, as you prepared to leave the kitchen, a sharp pain from your cycle struck drawing a hiss of pain from your lips. Azriel was at your side in an instant, his concern deepening. "Is everything alright?" he asked. His voice laced with worry.

You nodded your head not wanting to worry him with the details just yet. "Just a bit of a headache," you lied, not ready to divulge the true cause of your discomfort.

Azriel didn't press further, respecting your space, but his offer was clear. "If you need anything—anything at all, just let me know." His assurance was comforting. He was a steady anchor in the choppy waters of your morning. As you leaned into his support, appreciating the depth of his patience, you realized how much it meant to have someone who could weather your storm without taking it personally. Azriel's understanding allowed you to face the more challenging days with a sense of security knowing that even when you couldn't control the storm within you weren't alone in navigating it.

Later that evening, as the city of Velaris began to quiet down under the night sky, the calm in your shared home was punctuated by the subtle but persistent struggles of your condition. After a day fraught with sensitivity and muted pain you had finally found a moment of respite by drifting into a light sleep.

Azriel, ever so cautious, tried to maintain the tranquility of your environment. However, as he moved around the bedroom preparing for his own rest a book slipped from his grasp. The soft thud it made as it hit the floor seemed deafening in the quiet room. Startled from your shallow slumber you snapped awake with irritation flaring immediately. "Can you just be quiet for once?" you lashed out. Your voice sharp and louder than intended. The darkness of the room seemed to swell with the tension of your words.

Azriel froze, the book forgotten at his feet. He turned towards you. His face a mask of surprise and hurt. The room was thick with your frustration and his growing concern. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the emotion you could hear just under the surface. "I didn’t mean to wake you."

You sighed, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes, frustration at yourself now mingling with the physical pain. "No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I... I just fell asleep, and I’m so tired, Az. I didn’t mean to snap."

There was a moment of silence as Azriel digested your words. The gentle shifting of his stance indicating his internal debate on how to proceed. Finally, he spoke, his words careful but filled with the need to understand. "This isn’t like you love. You’re not just tired. Please, talk to me. What’s really going on?"

The concern in his voice, the genuine worry for your well-being, broke through the last of your defenses. The dam built around your emotions and the pain you had been trying to hide all day finally burst. Tears started to gather in your eyes, blurring your vision as you faced not just the physical pain but also the emotional strain of keeping it hidden. "It’s my cycle, Az. It’s really painful this time and I didn’t want to make a fuss about it, especially today. But I’ve gone and made a fuss about it by being mean to you."

Azriel's reaction was immediate and intense. His eyes widened in alarm. "Your cycle? Is it supposed to hurt this much? Should I call a healer? Maybe there’s something wrong. We should do something. What can I do? Tell me how to help you." His questions tumbled out in a hurried stream; his usual calm demeanor replaced by a flustered, almost panicked response.

You couldn’t help but let out a small giggle despite your discomfort. You were struck by how uncharacteristically panicked he was. The sight of Azriel, always so in control, now scrambling to figure out how to deal with a normal albeit painful part of your life, was oddly endearing. "Really, Az, I don’t need a healer," you reassured him by still chuckling a little. "It’s not unusual, just uncomfortable. Maybe just some warmth and quiet would help."

Seeing you laugh, Azriel took a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing thoughts. "Okay, warmth, I can manage that," he muttered to himself almost as if making a mental checklist. "And quiet. Right. I’ll get you a heating pad and some tea. Does chamomile sound good? I read somewhere once that it’s supposed to be soothing." Watching him take determined strides toward the kitchen you felt a mix of gratitude and amusement. His earnestness and sudden eagerness to do anything to make you feel better warmed your heart and eased some of your discomfort.

Azriel carefully placed the heating pad and tea on the bedside table then hesitantly perched on the very edge of the bed. He maintained a noticeable distance between you. His eyes flickered with concern and an unusual hint of hesitance as he watched you curl up under the blankets, seeking comfort and warmth. Noticing the space he'd kept away from you, you pouted slightly, feeling the chill of his absence more acutely than the air around you. "Why are you all the way over there?" you asked him. Your voice carrying a soft note of longing and a touch of playful reproach.

He looked at you, a wry smile touching his lips. He held up his hands "I’m cold, always cold. My hands are freezing. ," he replied. His voice tinged with a half-hearted jest. "And you need warmth."

You rolled your eyes affectionately before extending your hand towards him. "I don’t care. Come here," you insisted. Your tone gentle yet firm.

Without missing a beat, Azriel moved closer to you. His earlier hesitation vanishing as he lay down next to you. However, ever considerate, he strategically placed a soft blanket between you and him just in case his cooler, shadow-clad nature made you uncomfortable. Then with a tender smile he pulled you into his embrace ensuring that the blanket acted as a warm buffer. Making sure to keep any chill his presence might hold at bay.

Azriel's embrace enveloped you, the blanket between you two a considerate barrier to his naturally cool presence. He held you close, his voice a soft murmur near your ear, "I’m here, no matter what. Always.”

As you nestled against him feeling the warmth of his care seep through the fabric, he chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "You know," he started, a playful twinkle lighting up his eyes, "I’ve heard that certain... activities can be quite beneficial for soothing cycles. Something about natural pain relief?" His tone was teasing, deliberately light to coax a smile from you.

Azriel's playful suggestion hung in the air, wrapped in the warmth and the soft chuckle that followed. You raised an eyebrow. Your laughter still echoing softly in the room. Leaning in a little closer you matched his mischievous gaze with one of your own. "What certain activities are you alluding to, Azriel?" you teased. Your voice dripping with feigned innocence. "You'll have to be more specific. I'm not sure I follow."

The twinkle in Azriel’s eyes brightened, amused, and slightly challenged by your seemingly innocent response. "Oh, you know," he replied, his voice lowering into a suggestive murmur, "activities that involve being very... close and unclothed. I've heard they can be quite therapeutic."

Your laughter filled the room again, lighter, and more carefree than it had been all day. "Therapeutic, huh? That sounds like a very scientific approach," you quipped back. The banter easing the remnants of your earlier discomfort.

Azriel nodded solemnly but his eyes betrayed his mirth. "Absolutely. It’s all in the name of health," he assured you, drawing you even closer within the safe harbor of his arms. The proximity was charged with your shared jest. It softened the edges of the day’s pain and discomfort, replacing it with a comforting intimacy.

Wrapped in the warmth of Azriel's embrace you couldn't help but play along with his cheeky suggestion. Your tone light but laced with mock consideration. "Well, if it’s for health reasons," you mused before giving him a playful look, "then I suppose we should probably follow doctor’s orders, shouldn’t we?"

Azriel's smile widened. His eyes alight with amusement and a hint of mischief. "Correct," he replied, his voice low and teasing. "It’s important to take health matters very seriously."

The playful banter and light-hearted mood set a comforting ease between you two and as you both settled in closer the earlier discomforts seemed to melt away. Instead replaced by a shared anticipation and warmth. Your laughter and his soft chuckles filled the room, creating a bubble of joy and closeness that made the rest of the world fade away. You leaned closer to him whispering conspiratorially, "Then let’s not waste any more time on formalities." Azriel's response was a gentle squeeze at your hip before pulling you even closer. As you both prepared to follow through on the playful prescription, keeping the mood light and deeply connected. This tender moment was filled with laughter and soft promises. It was a perfect, shared escape from the day's earlier challenges.

The next morning sunlight streamed softly through the curtains casting a gentle glow across the room where you and Azriel lay tangled in the sheets. The peaceful air was filled with the quiet sounds of Velaris awakening outside. Azriel was already awake and watching the light play across your face. He brushed a loose strand of hair from your eyes.

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice soft with affection. The events of the previous night had not only brought relief but had also woven a deeper layer of intimacy and trust between you.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked with a hint of a cheeky smile playing at the corners of his lips. The playful twinkle in his eyes was unmistakable clearly alluding to the 'therapeutic activities' from the night before. "Did the... treatment help?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his antics. The sound of your laughter was light and clear, a stark contrast to the discomfort of the previous day. "Yes, I believe it did," you replied as you matched his playful tone. "Doctor’s orders might just be the best medicine."

Azriel's laugh joined yours, the sound warm and comforting. As the laughter faded he shifted to a more serious tone, though his eyes still held a gentle warmth. "I mean it, though," he said earnestly. "I’m here for you, whatever you need. If there’s anything else that can help or something different you want to try next time, just tell me."

You reached out, tracing a line along his jaw with your fingers, moved by his sincerity and openness. "Thank you, Az. It means everything to me that you’re here and so willing to help. We'll just keep adjusting and figuring it out. And I promise I won’t be so… bitchy next time."

Azriel nodded with a smirk forming across his face at your words. His hand covering yours. "Absolutely," he agreed. There was a gentle determination in his tone. "Whatever comes, we face it."

The moment was simple yet profound, affirming the depth of your connection. It was these instances—of laughter, shared vulnerability, and light planning for the future—that deepened your bond, making it stronger with each challenge faced and each joy shared. As you both lay there, the morning light seemed to promise new beginnings and the assurance that no matter what challenges awaited you would meet them with love and a bit of humor always at hand.

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[ysljoon]

Whirlwind | MYG

♡pairing: min yoongi x reader

♡wc: 3.1k

♡genre: smut, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, non-idol AU

♡ warnings: unprotected sex, degradation, oral sex (f receiving)

♡summary: with a hurricane coming your way towards your state, your roommate provides a safe haven to the man you’ve despised for as long as you can remember.

MINORS DNI (have your age in your bio or you're getting blocked)

The grocery store was bustling with people getting ready to prepare for the hurricane that was set to land in your state by the end of the week. You always knew once hurricane season started you needed to get supplies to keep you stocked, but since you’re plagued with the disease of procrastination you have no choice but to do last minute shopping. At least you had the company of Park Jimin to help you with your grocery run.

Park Jimin has been a close friend of yours since high school and have stayed roommates even after your college years. He has been the biggest support system for you throughout the years and you have been the same for him.

Once you were done checking out at the store you made your way to the car to pack all your groceries away. There was already a steady drizzle of rain falling down from the sky and you sighed already imagining the flooding that was bound to come with the storm. Jimin decided to take over the role of driving back home. You thanked him and quietly slid into the passenger seat. Jimin had refrained from any conversation throughout this trip and it made you a little concerned for him. He is never one to shy away from conversation or saying what he thinks so this behavior leads you to believe that something is wrong.

“Hey Chim, is everything alright?” You glanced his way to see if his expression will give anything away, but his face didn’t even twitch.

“Yeah I’m good bub, I just have some stuff on my mind. Don’t mind me.” He sent you a small smile to try and placate your worries.

“Okay well you know I’ll always be here to listen whenever you’re ready.” You gave him a small squeeze to his shoulder and dropped the topic the rest of the drive home. The soft hum of the radio filled up the silence of the car ride.

Once at home the groceries were unpacked and put into their respective places in the fridge and pantry and Jimin stored the cases of water bottles in the garage. Without glancing your way he called your name softly to get your attention once he was back in the kitchen. You peered at him waiting to hear what he was going to ask.

“Can we talk once I’m out of the shower?” You nodded and retreated to your room to give him the space he needed to do.

Your mind started to sift through memories of the past weeks to see if it could give you any kind of hint as to what this conversation could be about. Is he going to move out? Did you do something to upset him and didn’t realize? The cogs were turning and anxiety was starting to make you feel a little queasy. The time that Jimin took to shower and change felt like it was stretching on for too long. You were about to get up and check on him when you heard tow soft knocks against your door before he opened it to let himself in.

He was changed into an oversized sleep shirt and sweatpants and his bare cheeks were slightly flushed from the hot shower. You patted the middle of the bed for him to sit down and get comfortable.

“What’s going on Jimin? Are you sure everything is okay?” He was wringing his fingers together

And his eyes shifted around the room as he was preparing himself to speak. “With the hurricane coming up, is it okay if a friend comes and stays with us until it passes? His town is directly in the path of the storm and his area is prone to flooding.” You stared at him with widened eyes and nodded without hesitation. Why was he so nervous about this? This wasn’t nearly as bad as all the scenarios that you came up with in your mind.

“Of course that’s okay Chim! Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Don’t scare me like though again I thought you were dying or going to move out!” You stretched to give him a hug and he rubbed your back gently. With that being the end of the discussion he bid you goodnight with a tight lipped smile that you gave no mind to and he took himself back into his bedroom.

Okay -scratch that- there is one friend of Jimin’s that is not a friend of yours. That person is the one and only Min Yoongi. He has been a thorn in your side since Jimin has entered your life. He has never done anything that was genuinely that awful to you but it’s the way he speaks and carries himself with such an arrogant attitude that aggravates you.

When you saw him walk through the threshold of your front door with his duffel bag you instantly felt your blood start to bubble from the boiling rage you had in your body. The glare you sent Jimin was deadly and you motioned him to follow you into your room so you can tear him a new one talk.

“Park Jimin I don’t know if you suddenly have amnesia for the past 10 years, but I don’t know where you got the idea that Min Yoongi is allowed into our home! If I had known it was him that you were offering a place to stay I would’ve just let the hurricane take him away.” You were livid. Jimin took your hands in his to stop the gesticulating you were doing. With the way your hands were moving wildly he was afraid you would hit him.

“ I didn’t tell you because of that reason Y/N. I know you don’t like him, but this is only temporary. I told him to be on his best behavior, but if he really acts out I’ll send him to a hotel nearby if the weather isn’t too bad.” You let out an exasperated sigh, but had nothing else to add to the conversation that would make it productive. You stomped back out into the living room and refused to acknowledge Yoongi’s presence. Maybe if you just ignore that he’s in your home you can keep your sanity intact.

“Hey princess, can you sit somewhere else? This is gonna be my bed for the next couple of days.” You gritted your teeth hearing that god awful nickname Yoongi called you. He always said it in such a condescending tone that would get under your skin in the perfect way. “In case you forgot Yoongi,” his name rolled off your tongue with a sharp bite. “This is my home that you are a guest in. You don’t get to boss me around on what I can and cannot do in my home and my couch.” You continued scrolling on your phone hoping he would get the hint to leave you alone. Needless to say you were wrong. Instead he decided to plop himself down on the couch without a care that jostled your body. You glared at him and he met your gaze with a stupid fucking smirk. On top of this he started to unpack his duffel bag noisily, tugging on the zipper with a strong force. You got up from the couch with a huff and locked yourself in your room with a slam of your door. This was going to be a strenuous couple of days.

The next day you woke up and found Jimin and Yoongi working outside to put shutters around the windows. This blowing wind was starting to pick up but the humidity was still high in the air. You stepped outside and greeted Jimin while he was busy holding the ladder to keep Yoongi stabilized. You retreated to get two cups of cold water to give the boys and when you came back outside Yoongi was wiping the sweat off his face with the front of his t-shirt. The way the fabric rode up to expose his pale skin and toned back had you staring without even realizing. Jimin was suddenly clearing his throat and when your eyes landed on his face he was staring at you with a raised eyebrow. You looked back at the cups and handed them both to Jimin and headed back inside without a word.

When they finished the project of the shutters the sliding door opened and when you walked in Min Yoongi’s shirt was off. You stared at his abs that were just as toned as his back. When the hell did he get so fit? Even his biceps were much bigger than you ever remember them. Why do you even remember the size of his biceps?

“You seem to have a staring problem princess, keep that up and I might do something about it.” His low voice took you out of your daze and you scoffed at his comment. “You come anywhere near me Min and I’ll punch you into next week. Watch yourself.” You slid your eyes back on the Netflix show that had lost your interest minutes ago. He just snickered and walked into Jimin’s room to take a shower.

Once the door was locked Jimin stood in front of the TV blocking your view with his hand on his hips. “What’s up with the sudden ogling you have for Yoongs? You wanna fuck him or something?” This made you burst out in sarcastic laughter. “Get real Jimin. I wouldn’t even touch him with a 10 foot pole.” you rolled your eyes at the thought of even getting touched by Yoongi. “Whatever you say, but your actions are contradicting the bullshit that you’re trying to convince me with.” And with that Jimin stalked off into to kitchen for a quick snack.

Later in the evening the thunderstorm was booming with thunder and you could see peeks of lightning through the shutters. The combination of these conditions with the howling wind has led the power to go out. Jimin searched for the lantern in the garage to bring back some light into the home. You were left with Yoongi in the living room and no words were said between the two of you. It's for the best. Yoongi felt like breaking the silence first.

“You know, I never understood why you can’t stand me princess. I don’t think I’ve done anything to wrong you.” He studied his nails as he talked. “First issue already is that dumbass nickname that you won’t stop calling me even though I told you endless times that I hate it.” “Aw, but I think it suits you and your stuck up behavior.” He sneered and this made you meet his eyes with a fiery glare. “Go fuck yourself Min. You’re one to talk about other people’s behaviors when you walk around like an arrogant ass. You have some fucking nerve.” The tension in the room was rising to levels that made it feel stuffy. Why the hell is it taking Jimin so long to find the lantern? “You think you know everything about me princess, but you don’t even know how wrong you are!” His voice was rising as he got up from the couch and he was now towering above your seated figure. “Well if I’m so wrong why don’t you prove it to me that you’re not some self-important prick.”

As soon as those words came out of your mouth his lips were colliding with your own and his fingers grasped your chin to keep you in place. You kissed back with the same amount of fervor and gripped the front of his sweatshirt. As soon as you let out a whimper of desperation, you heard the garage door open notifying you both of Jimin’s returning presence. Yoongi pulled away at light speed and took his seat back on the couch to keep the distance between you two. “What did I miss?” Jimin looked between the two of you with confusion spread on his face. You ignored his curiosity and retreated into your room before he could detect the flush spread across your face.

Since the power was lost the house became hotter as the night progressed and the sweatshirt you had was discarded for a cropped tank top and nothing more than panties for the bottoms. Your handheld fan lost power an hour ago since you decided to have it on full blast instead of trying to conserve the power to have it last longer. The sheen of sweat was building up on your skin and you went to the garage to get yourself a bottle of water to help cool down.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you opened the door and saw Yoongi’s figure in the garage too. “Christ, you scared the hell out of me!” You clutched your hand over your heart trying to calm your heart rate. You’re too frazzled to realize that you’re standing in front of Min Yoongi in just your panties and that he’s shirtless and only boxers. He smirked and slowly approached you. You pedaled backwards until your back hit the wall and was cornered by him. His eyes roamed over your body and smirked. “You know you drive my crazy princess?” You turned your face to the side to avoid eye contact, but his breath fanned your neck in the right way to make your heart race. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You murmured through pouted lips.

He took a small step back with his arms crossed over his chest. “Really? Because the way you were whimpering for me hours ago just from a kiss says otherwise.” You flushed at his words and you were again cornered by him. He slit his leg between yours and his thigh was just ghosting the already damp spot you have in your panties.”Well I can give you a little reminder and more to jog your memory.” He raised his thigh and planted his hands on your waist to keep you place. The sudden sensation has you gasping and rutting your hips to get more friction.

“Look at you, you’re like a bitch in heat rutting against my thigh. You’re so desperate for me already and I haven’t even done a thing princess. I can’t wait to fuck your shitty attitude out of you.” His words were starting to anger you. “Shut the fuck up!” You were too busy chasing your high to even want to give him the time of day to his taunting. To this, he swiftly removed his thigh and went back to standing straight. You were distressed and looked at him with wide eyes. What is wrong with him? “Yoongi what the fuck?” He wrapped his long, slender fingers around the column of your throat. “You think you deserve to fucking cum? With the way you’ve talked to me all these years I could edge you all fucking week. Don’t tempt me.” You shivered at his words. His fingers slithered in between your legs and pushed your panties to the side to tease your clit. You released a breathy moan and threw your head on his shoulder. “Tell me no right now and I’ll stop right now sweetheart. We won’t even have to talk about it ever again.” You shook your head against his shoulder. “I need words, that isn’t enough.” “I want you to fuck me Yoongi. Now stop talking and do something.” The desperation was so evident in your words and that’s all he needed to hear.

His dexterous fingers got to work and slipped into your sloppy cunt. The way his fingers pumped into you had your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “F-fuck Yoon right there!” Your thighs were shaking and your pussy fluttered the closer you were to your orgasm. At the last second you were about to cum Yoongi slipped out his fingers and slapped your pussy. You were panting now with how worked up you were.

“Take the panties off. Now.” You obliged with his words and his dark eyes made you even wetter if that was even possible because you are the most soaked you’ve ever been before. Nobody has ever made you feel as good as Yoongi is right now. Once your panties were off he dropped to his knees and stuffed his head between your legs. You propped up one of your feet on his thigh and he grabbed the back of your thighs to bring you closer. His lips wrapped around your clit and started sucking on it. Your moans were rising in volume and in pitch. His tongue dipping into your hole and licking your cunt made you feral. You gripped on to his hair and that sensation had him moaning against your core. That was enough to send you over the edge. You let out a strangled moan as you came all over his mouth. “Fuck, you taste so fucking good on my tongue.”

You didn’t even get a chance to regain your bearings before Yoongi's lips were on yours. The taste of him mixed with you had you groaning. His cock was straining against his boxers and he was rutting against your thigh and he nibbled on your lip and kissed you fervently. “Now you’re the bitch in heat on my thigh.” You chuckled, but Yoongi wasn’t in the mood for jokes at the moment. He stripped off his boxers and the sight of his thick cock had you drooling. He tapped the back of your thigh twice and instructed you to jump up. You followed his instructions and his hands gripped your thighs as he pressed you against the wall. He angled his cock against your entrance and bottomed out in one go. This had you screaming out in pleasure and your nails dragged against his back.

He fucked into you mercilessly and reveled in the sounds you made. Knowing he was making you feel this good and scream out inflated his ego beyond the atmosphere. “Tell me you’re only fucking mine.” He growled into your ear. You were so fucked out you could barely process his words. “Tell. Me. Princess.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust that had you seeing stars. “F-fuck I’m only y-yours Yoongi! Only yours!” He grinned hearing this. The coil in your stomach snapped and brought you to your second orgasm of the night. “Who would’ve thought the bitch with the most to say would be creaming all over my fucking cock.” Yoongi was groaning through his words and his thrusts were starting to get sloppy. After a few more strokes he pumped your pussy full of his cum.

You both were out of breath and panting and you winced when his softening cock slipped out of you. You both suddenly jumped at the sudden knock against the garage door. Jimins voice rang through the other side. “I’m glad you’ve been able to reconcile, but you two are fucking loud!” You heard his footsteps fade away and you and Yoongi snickered at each other. Maybe Min Yoongi isn’t as bad after all.

[okwonyo]

﹙ ✉️ ﹚ ──MIDAS TOUCH. in which 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽.

엔하이픈 성훈 ⠀ ノ⠀ female reader 11OO non-idol au fluff established relationship ⠀⎯⠀⠀ not proof-read skinship making out⠀， recueil . . .

a/n. for @bywons’s on our love event and also to celebrate @cupidhoons & @sainns return ! 😚 for @atrirose because that picture showed a side of her i never saw ... read until the end i swear it’s worth it ^^

if you had to pick a favorite season, it would definitely be summer.

the sun shining bright as you wake up. the birds chirping heavenly at you window to welcome you in the morning. summer break starting. going shopping whenever you can, meeting your friends. finally stepping foot in the sand and greeting the sea after a long time being away from it. waiting for it during most of the year, there is just joy that fills your body when you can see the season peeking it’s nose — you already plan your summer’s hang outs at the end of spring.

it’s a perfect season, really. even the heat waves people tend to complain about are perfect. you always go through the most hot days of summer with a water bottle, your dear fan and the cold floor of your room you lay on during the whole day. curtains covering the window but not totally, you are almost in the dark for the entirety of your day— it’s not good for your eyes, your mom always scolds you, but you don’t care. during a weather like this, you barely do anything, anyway, if it’s not staring at the celling, though you can’t properly see it, and go to the kitchen when you need to.

this is the reason your back rest on the bare floor while you wear an oversized tee and a short right now.

today is the most hot day of the year and you doing fine, really fine even. the cold floor added to the fan hitting directly on your face prevent you from melting right then and there. you would be perfectly fine if your boyfriend didn’t erupt in your room without any sort of warnings. his tall and muscular frame appearing right in front of you, the light of the opened door he stands under showing off his biceps with his tank top perfectly, claiming that your parents let him in, before flopping right on top of you like he weighted nothing. which is far from the truth, those muscles made you let out a tiny ‘oof’ that he brushed off with a giggle.

the first ten minutes of it were fine. you fingers absentmindedly playing with his hair as his nose rested in the crook of your neck. barely any words were exchanged, too scared that your tongues would disappear into thin air if you even tried to talk. however, his weight added to the unbearable heat were threatening to be the end of you, and not in a good way.

“sunghoon,” you dare to speak, only to call your lover. he doesn’t respond entirely, only giving you a hum that vibrates on your skin. “get off of me.”

he lets out a groan. only moving to further put his nose in the crook of your neck, the tip of his nose seems to want to cut through your skin and makes a home for itself inside of your flesh. you can practically feel the sweat flooding all over your body. from your wet hair to your sticky body, the heat doesn’t spare you at all.

it is the same for sunghoon. his sweat is far from smelling bad, it reminds you of caramel and vanilla drowned in milk together. when your hands find his torso, with much difficulty, you can feel his white tank top being soaked against his pecs, can feel his muscles through the fabric, against your sweaty palms. the heat must be messing up with your brain, this feeling you feel in the pit of your stomach can’t be real. you stay still for a moment, his voice cuts through your trance like state.

“don’t be shy,” he whispers against your skin, his warmth breath sends you into a spiral. you can hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks again, “you can go a little lower.”

the blush appearing all over your body must be ten times hotter than the weather out here, “w-what do you mea—” oh, his abs. you shut your mouth immediately. closing your eyes, biting your lower lip, you do everything to get yourself back on earth. this man is crashing your bones, making you melt with his body warmth and has the audacity to play with you. you push his chest, he barely budges, “get off of me.”

sunghoon stays still at your words. then, he licks his lower lips. the ghost of his tongue tickles your neck, you almost combust on the spot. another silence fills the room for a moment, only the sound of the electric fourniture sending you cold air reaches your ears. after a while, you simply accept your fate, but you swear if the summer heat wasn’t taking half of your energy, the man on top of you would already be sent flying through the window by now.

you sign, freeing your hands from between sunghoon’s chest and yours, “i’m so hot.”

these three words seem to be the only ones you needed to say for your boyfriend to finally get off of you. you can’t see him well, but the light escaping through the slightly opened curtains lets you see his face being colored by a red taint a little in the dark. he pins each of his palms next to a side of your head. he towers over you as you look at him, his wet hair hangs right above you, his breath is heavy, his face is sweaty.

still, he grins while he looks directly at you, “yes, you are.”

you want to say something back, anything. alas, your body heat gets ridiculously higher and your throat is too sore to spit out any sort of sound. the look in his gaze weights on your lips, you can’t really see is eyes properly, but you can feel lust, desire in them. a droplet of sweat lands on your cheek, you would have cringed normally, but you don’t mind this time. you can’t focus on such meaningless things when sunghoon is looking at you like that. like his whole body is craving for you.

the warmth breath you felt on your neck a moment ago gets warmer and warmer on your mouth as he leans in. he falls onto you slowly, carefully, “s’hot,” he mumbles against your lips before capturing them.

a salty feeling fills your mouths when you kiss, the sweat on your lips is somehow sweet on both of your tongues. he is soon to be all over you again, his chest meets yours as he makes a total mess of your mouth. the way his mouth moves against yours makes you go crazy, you feel yourself getting weaker and weaker, gripping onto his wet hair for dear life. somehow, the room gets even hotter and the van is only here for the fun of it. his tongue slips inside of your mouth when he tilts his head to the side slightly, it feels like he is devouring you whole, sucking your soul like a sort of vampire. it’s the first time he kisses you like that, dizzying lovesick, you surely hope it’s not the last.

suddenly, his hand finds the one of yours who is free, his skin is so hot against yours. you don’t know if it’s the summer or, just, him. he pulls away from the kiss, because, right, you have to breathe. he puts your palm against his chest, on his beating heart, the pulse is so loud that you can feel it vibrating in your entire body. he goes back to kissing you before any words can leave your mouth. his hands guides yours lower as the kiss goes, you are way too busy going crazy on him tilting his head again to put his tongue in your mouth to realize that you are now touching his abs. he lets out a shuddered sigh as your fingertips presses against his soaked top, his abs well sculpted under it, your touch captivates him, his body aches for you.

you love summer and whatever it’s heat waves makes to sunghoon’s mind.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open ⎯⎯ click

[loulovingho]

check the dates on the insta posts. the most recent one is 4 days old. before this, they were posting at least once a day since just before the premier. wtf. it feels significant but not in a way i can verbalize properly.

They know they fucked up. Like, they know.

The actors barely promoted the episode. Oliver said he couldn’t post photos because he didn’t have power yet he had enough power to post them as stories (???). The official Instagram has posted nearly daily and then nothing for 4 days. They are usually posting like immediately after the east coast sees the episode with stills or something. Oliver has stopped allowing comments on his posts. I don’t agree with harassing actors, but there’s a difference in harassment and “hey what you said wasn’t cool and I hope you reflect on that”. He’s just mad we weren’t into horny-for-all-sexes buck.

They fucking sent Lou out to do exit interviews, which is really fucked up because he was only in 3 episodes this season. One of which was for like a minute and a half?? I loved hearing from him, but also felt so bad for him because he was surprised too. He just had the decency to not be a dick. The least Oliver and/or Tim could have done was say that Lou did a good job and they’re gonna miss him (even if it’s a lie, fake that shit).

Anyway, yeah, they’re getting bombarded with comments on their latest post on both Instagram and Facebook. And I know a lot of people have written in directly to abc. They lost a lot of loyal viewers. Fuck around and find out, I guess.

[melobin]

જ⁀➴ wet 𐙚 seunghan

porn plots masterlist

summary. your pools been getting dirty due to your usual pool cleaner being on holiday, your neighbours notice this and decide to offer you the help of their son, who would you be decline such a charming young man a nice, wet job?

wc. 4.1k

warnings. milf!reader x neighbour seunghan, pool cleaner!seunghan, age gap, reader is older than seunghan, reader is a single mother, reader has big tits. tit fucking, blowjob, riding, mentions of spit, unprotected sex, outdoor sex.

a/n. sorry for taking months .. love you all. manifesting his return soon </3.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

seunghan wasn’t entirely sure just how he ended up torso deep in his neighbours pool, cleaning out the stray leaves that had made their way to the bottom but he was sure that he couldn’t complain. the heat from the sun was burning his skin and the water from the pool helped cool that off, the gaze of the pretty girl who was laying poolside watching him made his skin heat up too.

he felt set up, in a way at least, he only returned home for a few weeks to visit his parents over the summer yet they’d sold him out to clean his neighbour's pool after you had expressed your worry about it getting dirty from the seasons beginning to change. so no, he wasn’t going to complain. he knew who you were from the countless times he had peaked through your bedroom window late at night, it had coincidentally been built directly facing his. he didn’t think he was a pervert, but he did enjoy watching you. you were attractive and he was going to accept any time he got to spend along side of you.

“hannie?” he heard your soft voice call out to him from the doorway of your home, he turned his head and watched as you walked closer to him, a tray in your hand and your lose cardigan slipping down your shoulders “i made you some lemonade” you placed the tray down on the outdoor table before you sat in one of your deck chairs, body relaxing under the sun as you slipped your cardigan off of you and onto the floor. seunghan tried to stop his eyes from trailing down your body but he couldn’t, the bikini you had worn left little to almost nothing to his imagination.

“thank you” his mouth watered as he spoke to you, he was sure you were looking at his body too. he felt as if there was no need for him to wear a shirt so it left his upper body bare under the blistering sun, water droplets from your pool sliding down his body. seunghan had worked hard for his body and he was glad to see that you were enjoying it.

seunghan himself was enjoying you too, he thoroughly enjoyed watching you pick up a bottle of sun tan oil from the table next to you and squirt some on your hands. the task he had at hand was almost completely forgotten about as you ran your hands over your legs, rubbing them over your thighs and underneath the thin straps of your bikini before moving to our stomach. his mouth went dry as he watched you squirt out a little more and then run your hands over your tits. with how small the bikini top you were wearing was, he was sure that it was one pull away from falling off of you. he was in a daze, one that was only broken by the sound of your voice.

“hannie? you should come and take a break, you’ve been at it for about an hour now”

“how did you know? been watching me?” he watched as you giggled before taking a sip of your own drink.

“it’s not everyday i have such an attractive man cleaning out my pool hannie, give an old girl a break” he stepped out of the pool, your eyes fell to the way the sun caused his torso to shimmer under the light. you had to bite your tongue whilst looking at him, he was far too attractive for you to not be admiring him.

“you’re not old” he laughed as he sat on the chair next to you, sitting on the edge so he could face you “i think you’re in your prime” you turned your head to look at him, your eyes barely peaking out from above your sun glasses as you laughed.

“oh really? i’m flattered” seunghan placed his drink down on the table between your chairs, sitting back so he could rest on his hands and look at you. he watched as you took your sunglasses off, he was sure you done it with the purpose of showing him that you were eyeing up his body “it’s hard to properly relax being a single mom with such a young child, i love that boy more than anything but sometimes it’s nice to sit back and not have a care in the world”

“he’s precious, you’re doing a great job with him and i’d be happy to spend some time with him whilst im home” you smiled at him as he continued, eyes still flicking from his damp body to his face “i’d also be more than happy to help you out with whatever you need too” you smiled again, removing your sunglasses and placing them onto the table. you lifted yourself up, slowly moving your legs until you were sat facing him. you leaned forward slightly, being sure that your tits were being squashed together as you did.

“i appreciate that a lot hannie, really” seunghan knew what you were up to but he let you, making no move to stop you as his eyes fell to your tits “is there anything in particular that you’d like to help me out with?”

“is there anything you need help with? i’m skilled in quite a few different fields” you cocked your head to the side, your bare foot gently gliding against the skin of his leg. seunghan shivered at the contact.

“i can see that you know how to handle things that are” you hummed to yourself before finishing your sentence “wet”.

“one would say it’s my specialty” he watched as you sat up a little straighter, he parted his legs, still leaned back on his hands. he looked inviting, he was inviting.

“care to help out with something then? i’d say it’s a little more than just wet though”

“i’d be more than happy to help out, the wetter the better” you stood up at his response, the small gap that was between you was closed immediately. your knees took place against the soft cushion of the deck chair either side of him, your ass settling against his thighs as you sat on his lap, not yet properly straddling him and because of that seunghan thought you were teasing him, he was sure of it. after all of the other things you had done so far, he knew you were.

he was yet to touch you, he restrained himself from lifting his hands off of the chair and grabbing your waist, wanting nothing more than to feel your soft skin under his rough fingers, but he waited. instead, he let you touch him. he watched the delicate features of your face focus as you ran a finger down his chest, the tip of it bumping over the ridges of his abs before you look at his face.

“you take such good care of yourself hannie” you leaned closer to him, he could feel your tits pressing against his bare chest. seunghan was hard, there was no hiding the bulge that had formed in his shorts, no that he wanted to hide it from you anyway, especially after what you done next. the finger you had on his skin wandered down further, tracing over the bulge in his shorts before you opened your hand and pressed down against it, his head fell back slightly as his lips parted. he saw you smile again before you leaned down to kiss him, that was his breaking point.

the moment he felt your lips against his, he lifted his hands and grabbed your waist, fingers dipping under the thin straps of your bikini as he pulled you closer against him. your hand left the top of his shorts and found themselves in his hair, your barely covered cunt had found itself pressing down against his cock instead.

the kiss was wet, it wasn’t long before seunghan’s tongue was pushing into your mouth and his fingers were pulling you down further against his crotch. it wasn’t everyday seunghan got his hands on someone he could only describe as a complete and utter milf - so he wasn’t letting it go without milking everything he could get from her.

seunghan groaned as he felt your fingers pull on the strands of his hair, your hips not so subtly grinding down against his cock. he gave in, letting his hands drop down to the thickness of your ass. he squeezed the flesh in his hands, the bikini you wore had barely covered any of it and he was grateful for that, loving the fact he could feel every inch of your skin as his fingers dug into it. you moaned against his lips, hips now moving smoothly against his. he basked in the way your soft skin felt against him, only growing harder when he thought about the feeling of your bare skin against his.

you broke the kiss, looking down at him with wet lips as a string of silvia broke in between your mouths. seunghan melted at the way you looked at him, pure lust clouding your vision as you ground yourself down against him.

“hannie” you cooed, fingers wrapped in his hair as your other hand held his cheek, the tips of your freshly manicured nails raking soothingly against his skin. he hummed when you said his name, eyes focused on your lips as you spoke “you’ve worked so hard, won’t you let me reward you now”

“you can do whatever you want” you smiled before you got off of his lap, he watched as you took the pillow off of your chair and placed it on the floor, laughing quietly as he realised you were doing it in order to kneel without hurting your knees. seunghan found it endearing.

he wasn’t entirely sure what you were planning to do, he kept his eyes on you as you leaned forward and stuck your tongue out, pressing it against the his torso before slowly dragging your tongue up his skin, letting it linger between the ridges before pulling back and giggling, you swooned over how nice his body was, loving the way your spit glistened against his skin under the sun light.

your fingers trailed down to his shorts, tips of them pushing under the fabric. you were pleased to discover the lack of briefs he had on underneath, it made pulling his shorts down all the more exciting when you were greeted with his hard cock springing out and weighing down against his stomach. droplets of precum slipped from the tip of his cock and landed on his abs, he placed his hands back behind him on the chair as he leaned back. the sight of him like that, bare with his shorts pooled at his ankles made your mouth water, you wanted to taste him badly.

instead, you held yourself back. you reached out and wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, slowly dragging it up before bringing it back down. seunghan didn’t take his eyes off of you, not wanting to miss a second of what you were going to do, and he was pleasantly surprised when you knelt up. you leaned forward, spitting on the head of his cock before stroking him again, making sure to coat all of his cock in your spit. luckily for you, the oil you applied earlier was still slick on your skin and you knew it would be the perfect lube for what you wanted to do.

your hand tightened around the base of his cock as your brought yourself forward, the fingers of your other hand lifted up the middle of your bikini bra before you slipped his cock beneath it, you let it snap back against it as your breasts closed around his cock. seunghan groaned as you pushed them together around it before lifting them up and bringing them back down. the oil on your body mixed with your spit on his cock made him slide between your tits with ease, the plush flesh of them felt incredible rubbing against the girth of his cock and the subtle roughness of the bikini top strap had him shivering. it wasn’t until you looked down and poked your tongue out, letting it graze along the head of his cock that a groan left his lips, the heavy breathing transitioned into deep groans as he tipped his head back and basked in the feeling of you.

the longer it went on, the quicker you moved, stroking his cock with your tits until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore and as much as you enjoyed watching him struggle to stay alert, that wouldn’t do. you needed his full attention on you, his eyes on you. so you stopped, it caught seunghan’s attention right away, he could feel the soft skin of your breasts hugging his cock as he looked down at you. he was interrupted as he went to speak, his lips closing as he watched you reach behind your back and pull at the string of your bikini, letting it fall onto the floor and showcasing your breasts to him. seunghan watched you carefully as you wrapped your hand around his cock and brushed the side of it along your nipple, letting him feel the hardened bud for a few moments before pulling it away.

you never let go of his cock, instead you leaned toward him and wrapped your lips around the tip of it, lifting them so you could spit on the head before taking it into your mouth again. you slowly sank your mouth down his cock, immediately taking him as far as you could before lifting your head and doing it again, the speed of your actions increasing as you got into it. the salty taste of his precum melted on your tongue and his voice melted in your ears. even if you were only going to get him once, you were going to show him why older women are always better.

you lifted your head off of his cock before spitting on it again, wanting it as wet and messy as possible as you licked up the side of it before eagerly taking him back into your mouth. your head sinking down all the way on him once you did, deep throating his cock until your eyes were lining with tears and your throat was almost burning. when you lifted back up you went back down, seunghan basked in the low gagging sound you made when his cock hit the back of your throat. he was sure after this time with you he’d become utterly obsessed with you.

you let him lace a hand into your hair and push your head down on him, he wasn’t controlling you but he was ushering you to take him deeper into your mouth, so you did. you took him as deep as you could again, you felt spit begin to dribble from the corners of your mouth. his hips bucked up slightly and he groaned out your name, curses following. he was close, but that didn’t stop you. in fact, it spurred you on more, wanting nothing more than to feel his cum melting against your tongue.

so once you knew it was time, you placed your hands on his thighs and took all of him into your mouth, letting him go as deep as possible before stilling around him, gulping as you felt the first parts of his orgasm hit your throat. you gagged, but continued taking him, your nails digging into his thighs as you did. everything about the moment drove seunghan absolutely fucking insane, from the way you took his cock with ease and eagerly swallowed each and every drop of his cum as if it were your favourite meal to the way your nipples rubbed against his leg, he was losing his mind.

seunghan watched as you slowly lifted your mouth off of his cock, a few droplets of his cum mixed with your spit dripped down the side of it. once you lifted your head to look at him seunghan felt his heart drop to his stomach, his cock barely staying soft when he saw your wide eyes and sweet smile, his cum staining the swell of your lips and dripping down your chin. he leaned forward, running his thumb over the lose liquid and pushing it into your mouth, groaning when you eagerly sucked it off of the muscle. once you pulled your lips off of his thumb with a pop, you leaned back, smiling lazily at him.

“men my age don’t taste that good” you sighed, cocking your head to the side and grinning again, seunghan could still see traces of his cum sat on your tongue.

“girls my age don’t suck me off that good”

“what can i say” you stood up, pressing your hands harder against his knees so you could. seunghan looked at you, his own hands instantly going to the bare skin of your waist. he pulled you closer to him, pressing an open mouthed kiss against the skin of your stomach “older girls do it better hannie” you laced your fingers through his hair and smiled down at him, he smiled back as his fingers trailed down your sides and stopped at the thin, tied straps of your bikini underwear. you watched him as he pulled both sides of the straps at the same time, allowing your underwear to fall onto the floor alongside your bra that you had discarded not too long before. his fingers crawled around your skin and grabbed your bare ass, spreading your cheeks before digging his nails into your skin.

“want to show me what else older girls are good at?” you smiled as he kissed your skin again before letting go.

“lay down for me hannie” he listened to you, laying back on the deck chair and watching you straddled his lap. his cock lay red and hard against his stomach which made it easy for you to press yourself against it. you reached down, separating the lips of your pussy before grinding down against the length of his cock, moaning when you felt the head bump against your slick cunt. you ground yourself against him again before wrapping your hand around his cock and standing it up, readying yourself to sink down on him.

you let your head fall back and your lips part as you felt the head of his cock fill you up, you whimpered as you sank down on him, being sure to take every inch of him before resting your hands against his chest to steady yourself. seunghan groan as you leaned down to kiss him, your hips slowly lifting before moving back down. he appreciated the way you took your time to adjust to the size of him, falling in love with the way your cunt swallowed his cock with ease.

you pushed your tongue into his mouth, your hips beginning to bounce a little quicker against him. he let out a deep moan into your mouth, almost unable to kiss you back due to the way the lips of your pussy were gripping his cock. you ran your fingers up his body, stopping as you gripped his shoulders, breaking the kiss so you could lay your head on his chest.

you dug your fingers into his skin and bounced your hips quicker on him, coming down harder each time. you made sure to rotate your hips as you fucked tourself on him and due to the incline of the chair, seunghan had a perfect view of the way your ass shook each time you did so. he was in awe, lips parted as he groaned lowly at the way your ass looked and how you felt, squeezing him tightly whilst keeping him completely and utterly drenched.

the moans you let out were sweet to his ears, the way you whined out his name only turned him on more. he loved watching you have your way with him and show him what you can do because god, you could do things, but he wanted to take control of you. he needed it. so his grip tightened on your hips, he used his strength to stop you from moving causing you to lift your head up and look down at him, your eyes wide with curiosity. he spoke before you could.

“i might die if i don’t get to fuck you myself” you giggled, slowly lifting yourself off of his cock with a whimper, hearing it slap against his stomach as you climbed off of him. you weren’t sure how he wanted you but seunghan wasn’t afraid of manhandling you in order to show you.

he stood up, grabbing you before laying you down in the deck chair, putting you where he was before he grabbed your legs and lifted them. he pushed them up, placing his feet on the chair as he put your legs over his shoulders, your ankles close to his lips. he grabbed the top of the chair with one hand whilst grabbing his cock with the other, guiding it inside of you before grabbing the top of the chair with that hand too. the position he had you in made you vulnerable, completely bare for him to do what he wanted. he filled you up immediately, not taking his time to push all the way into you before thrusting into you properly. his squatting position made it easy for him to fuck his hips against yours and push his cock as deep as he possibly could.

you grabbed onto his shoulders, pressing your fingers into his skin as you cried out, not bothering to care for the fact someone could hear you or potentially even see you. you didn’t care. no one had ever put you in such a position before, you didn’t even know you were flexible enough to do it, especially at your age. but here you were, body bent in half as seunghan had his way with you. you loved it. seunghan made you feel young again, looked at you and treated you as if you were made of diamonds. a pure gem in a sea of stones. you couldn’t get enough of him.

his hands left the top of the chair and went under you, he gripped your ass and tilted it up a little, somehow driving even deeper into you as he fucked you merciliessly, you were sure the chair under you could’ve broken with the way it was squeaking. the squeaking was barely noticeable though, the other thing seunghan was focused on was you and the way you were crying out for him with each deep, sharp thrust.

he was sweating at this point, the sun beaming down onto the two of you only made the moment even hotter. his skin heating up and his blood boiling, all of it seemingly rushing into his cock as the flesh of your walls tightened around him. he continued looking down at you, his forehead almost pressed against yours with how close he was to you. he could see in your eyes that you were weakening, he could tell from your voice that you were close and seunghan couldn’t wait to experience the feeling of you releasing around him, squeezing him so tightly and using him to draw out your own orgasm.

“hannie i’m getting close” your voice was broken, seunghan simply groaned at the sound of you before moving his hands one last time. one of them returned to its place holding onto the top of the chair and the other moved to your clit, thumb pressing against the soaked bud and rubbing circles against it. you cried out again, your nails digging deeper into his shoulders as your eyes closed “fuck i’m gonna cum hannie i’m gonna cum please don’t stop” your rambling spurred him on to continue, wanting to drive you completely over the edge, and that’s just what he done.

seunghan knew he had hit the jackpot when he felt your slick soak his stomach and thighs, you squirted. he made you squirt. seunghan simply groaned and fucked you harder, taking you through the extreme sensitivity as he let your tightened cunt milk out his own orgasm.

you were worn out, tired as he spilt his cum into you. slowly pulling out and resting your legs back onto the chair before he went to stand up, but you stopped him, signalling him to join you on the chair. it’s how he ended up with his head against your tits and his lips ghosting over the skin there. you played with his hair, humming as you let your body recover.

seunghan wasn’t sure if you were going to hire him to do your pool again, but one thing was for sure, seunghan was never going for a girl his own age again.

porn plot tag list

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[pucksandpower]

I have so many thoughts on why this is a horrible idea and not enough words to properly describe it.

The age regulations were put into place for a reason — just because Toto Wolff is obsessed with finding the next Max Verstappen does not mean that Kimi Antonelli should be granted an exception that will only serve to rush his development.

The fact of the matter is that only Max Verstappen is Max Verstappen … forcing Kimi into a struggling Williams team with barely any time in Formula 2 under his belt after completely skipping Formula 3 will only serve to hurt him.

Kimi Antonelli deserves time to develop. He deserves time to at least finish a feeder series season before being thrown straight from the frying pan into the fire. There are very few cases in which rushing young athletes does not ultimately cause more harm than good.

On the other side of the coin, dropping Logan Sargeant (and doing so in the middle of the season) has the potential to massively hurt Williams from a business standpoint. They are finally in a trajectory to recover financially after years of struggle thanks in large part to the many American sponsors who ended up signing thanks to — you guessed it — them having an American driver in Logan Sargeant. This comes at a time when Williams has already taken numerous hits to its image throughout the earlier races of the season. Considering Formula 1 is just as much about business as it is about what actually happens on the track, I would be concerned about the repercussions that such a move could have.

Now, on to Logan Sargeant himself. It is no secret that he is far from the best driver on the grid, but improving performance requires support from your team, something that has unfortunately been quite spotty to start the season despite the pretty words James Vowles often spins. Logan has been given the short end of the stick race after race after race at a crucial time for his development, the opposite of what any driver that has to prove themselves needs at such a point in their career.

Last, but certainly not least, James Vowles famously said that he is not looking to turn Williams into a “mini-Mercedes” … but is that not exactly what dropping a driver from Williams’ own development program in favor of doing Toto Wolff’s bidding would mean for the team? Williams has no hope of moving away from being viewed as Mercedes’ B-team if their actions directly counteract these words.

I’m sure there is so much more I should say about this, but I hope I managed to adequately explain why I think Williams dropping Logan Sargeant in favor of Kimi Antonelli in the middle of the season has a lot of potential to backfire for all involved.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Wheels up [S. R]

word count: 4k

summary: Spencer has just been released from prison and things seem to get complicated when Mr. Scratch attacks again. You want to know what's going on with your boyfriend, but when you confront him, you don't expect him to yell at you like he does.

contents: spoilers for season 12-13, directly based on the episode of the same name, established relationship, hurt/comfort, spencer being mean for a moment, mentions of migraines and schizophrenia, apologies, crying and I think that's it.

To say that you were worried was an understatement, because to cut all the tension around the team you would no longer even need a knife but a sword.

You had just gotten over the bitter pill of the fact that your boyfriend had been unjustifiably imprisoned when now Scratch had done this: the ambush, Walker's death, Emily's kidnapping… he just couldn't seem to get enough of this sick game.

“We also never stopped to ask why Scratch was in Honduras in the first place,” Simmons murmured next to you.

García, he and you were trying to review as best as possible the existing research on Peter Lewis that you found in your deceased friend's office to see if you could discover any other details, even if it were the slightest thing that could reveal the whereabouts of your unit leader. 

“Reid'll figure this out. “He's really amazing at this kind of thing.”

Garcia had barely finished saying this when a roar made her jump in her place and look back. Spencer Reid had just furiously thrown a book against the glass windows. You exchanged a worried look with your friend and the three of you silently agreed to go to the meeting room to investigate what was happening.

When the doctor arrived, he began to rant about what he had managed to discover. He talked about hallucinogenic plants found in Honduras and how this was related to Scratch, but you honestly couldn't pay attention to anything he was saying. You could only focus on the purple spots around his eyes, his messy hair jumping every time he said something, the sweat that glistened on his forehead, the erratic and rushed tone of his words and how he constantly rubbed his face or neck. 

Spencer wasn't well. 

You had seen him like this when he had feared he was developing an outbreak of schizophrenia and you had hated every second you had accompanied him to get tested, every second of uncertainty, every time you knew his vision was blurring. And now this was a thousand times worse, because you didn't even know how to help him. Shit, you didn't even know if he wanted your help.

While he was in prison he had refused to see you many times and it had broken your heart every time. He claimed that he didn’t want other prisoners to see you talking to him because they would try to use you to threaten him or that he didn’t want you to see the state he was in because he feared that after seeing the bruises and wounds you would no longer love him.

You respected him, but at the same time you felt that he was building a barrier between you so that in case he couldn't get out of there you wouldn't be tied to a prisoner and could live your life normally. That was why when Emily managed to build a solid case to prove his innocence you felt like you were going to die of joy, and when you saw him leave the prison the first thing you did was run into his arms to make sure he was safe.

But Spencer wasn't, because you knew he had only left there so he could help look for his mother: Diana Reid. During the course of everything you had barely seen him, you two were too busy with your own affairs to have a moment as a couple, but even so when you solved everything you let him go with her; after all they deserved it and you were happy that he had a quiet moment.

But Peter Lewis seemed to have other plans.

“What?” Spencer asked, noticing the way Penelope was looking at him. She looked like she was about to cry behind her blue glasses and you felt sorry for her.

“You threw a book at a window. It was jarring”

“Took me 60 minutes to deduce what should have taken me 60 seconds,” he muttered, clearly sounding furious with himself, “and if Emily dies because I was too slow, I'll be throwing a lot more than books.”

“Spencer” you tried to stop him, but he had already started on his way to the exit.

You always wanted to believe that you were his weak point, he had told you that on more than one occasion. When the team couldn't reason with him, they sent you instead.

Reid will do anything you tell him, Morgan used to say, whether it's convincing him about something silly between friends or something more serious. 

And so it was, because every time he was upset all it took was for you to make flirtatious eyes at him and steal a kiss for him to forget about it.

One day you're going to be my downfall, did you know that? he used to laugh. You're going to ask me to bring the stars down from the sky and I'll have to figure out a way to do it because I don't know how to say you no.

However, this time he didn't seem to understand any reason. He was just walking towards the exit and you were stumbling after him to catch up with his quick pace.

“Spencer,” you insisted, reaching out to grab his arm in an attempt to stop him. You didn't expect him to stop abruptly to the point where you collided with his chest, in the middle of the desolate hallway you had arrived at.

“What?”

The sharp tone and angry look he gave you unnerved you slightly, but you managed to clear your throat in search of your voice.

“Honey, it's obvious that you're not fine. You need to rest"

"Rest?" he spat, incredulous. “Do you think I can think of resting when we have a situation like this?”

“That's not what I meant. I'm just saying that no one expects you to be here after what happened, you can at least take a break” 

The sigh he let out was enough for you to know that whatever was coming was surely not good.

“Huh yeah? And what is that break I'm going to take going to cost us? Emily’s life?”

“You know I'm as worried as you are.”

“I'm not worried, I'm sick. I'm sick of this damn case, I'm sick of one thing after another happening to us and I'm sick of failing." 

"I know but…"

“No,” he interrupted you, leaning back when you tried to lay a hand on him. “There's no but. Today I don't need you to tell me what I have to do” 

“I'm not telling you what to do, I'm asking you to take care of yourself. How much sleep have you even had? When was the last time you ate?"

Your tone of voice had come out more recriminating than you intended and if you were already tense, this exchange was not helping at all.

Hearing no response, you continued.

“If you're not going to rest, at least let me help you.”

You wanted him to have the confidence to tell you anything, to be able to explain why he was acting so strange or to at least take two minutes to admit that things weren't right. But Spencer had changed a lot in that prison, because if before it was difficult for him to talk about his feelings, now it seemed practically impossible. You were the only one he dared to do it with and you didn't even think you were that exception to the rule anymore.

If you had known what was to come you would have preferred to stay for the moment he took to take a deep breath.

“Do you know how you can help me? Stepping aside”

“Spencer”

“I'm sick of this too! I'm tired of everyone coming and offering me their faces of compassion and their words of encouragement as if they really understood me. They don't do it, nobody does it, not even you. This is... it is a huge and heavy accumulation that has accumulated for years and years and when I think that it can't be worse, life surprises me by saying that yes, it can be worse. So just shut up, let me do my job, let me catch Scratch and for the love of God stop treating me like I'm a child because on top of all the stress of the case I have to deal with that too and honestly it's killing me” 

Your boyfriend turned around without waiting for a response and a part of you was grateful that was the case, or else he would have seen the tears that had already gathered in your eyes.

You were shocked and felt your face burning with shame, with a hole in your stomach that wouldn't be easy to fill. You were no longer even worried about the man, nor sad, but you felt very different; it was as if Reid had infected you with his anger.

Still with wet cheeks you hurried to walk in the opposite direction, finding yourself at the end of the hallway to meet a very worried Penelope García. Without letting her tell you anything, you asked her to continue with the investigation and the entire time you swallowed your pain.

You knew that Peter Lewis' desperate face when he was hanging from that building and the way you and Luke left him to die would haunt you for a lifetime, but you didn't feel even the slightest bit sorry for it. Even a part of you wished that man had died a slower and perhaps even painful death. Whatever the case, he was gone and you could feel a second of peace at night.

Spencer was right, the most important thing now was to save Emily. Later there would be time to attend to marital discussions.

When you got home you were sweaty, tired, and had a headache that you knew a shower could probably solve, adding a glass of good wine just to be safe. However, clinging to that peace of mind that solving the case had provided you was only a mechanism to postpone confronting the problem that was still latent. You hadn't spoken to Spencer for the rest of the day since your fight in the hallway and although your heart ached you knew this was the prudent thing to do.

Fighting had never had a place in your relationship because both of you were too rational to be carried away by impulse. You had disagreements and arguments, but you had tried to resolve them like adults or you had let the matter rest until you were cool-headed enough to speak calmly. You suspected that right now you were doing the latter, but you knew for a fact that you wouldn't be the one who would look for your boyfriend to talk to.

You were hurt by the way he had reacted to your advice, but a part of you also understood that Spencer had been going through too much and that, in some ways, he had some right to want his own space. Or maybe both of you were partly to blame; you for demanding something that didn't belong to you and him for not having said things tactfully enough.

But you couldn't help but miss him. You had spent so many months away from him that you longed to be in his arms, shower him with kisses and hear the soft beat of his heart just to make sure he was real.

Still lost in your thoughts you searched the living room for your briefcase to grab your cell phone, hoping to find something to distract yourself, and upon unlocking it you discovered that you had several missed calls from Spencer. It wasn't like you were ignoring him on purpose, rather it had been an oversight on your part, but when you were about to dial his number a new call was announced on the screen. It was him.

"Hello?"

“There you are,” he murmured, sounding tremendously relieved “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I just left the phone in my briefcase and that's why I didn't hear your calls. I'm sorry"

There was silence for an awkward moment and then he spoke again.

“You went home early.”

"I was tired. I told Emily.”

“Yes, she… he told me, but… Do you think I can see you? I would like to talk to you about something and I don't think it is appropriate to do so on the phone.”

You evaluated your options, looking at everything around you. Spencer was welcome whenever he wanted in your house and you knew a mess wouldn't matter to him, but you were more worried about him noticing the emotional mess, not the physical one.

“Y/N?”

“Yes,” you responded when you heard your name, without thinking too much. “You can come”

Spencer responded with a monosyllable and then he hung up. You were about to get up from the couch to look for something more decent than colorful pajamas when a knock on the door startled you. When there was no response, the person knocked again and when you tiptoed until you reached the peephole, you met a familiar silhouette who was visibly nervous. Apparently the look of confusion on your face when you opened it was enough to express a silent question to Spencer.

“I was in the hallway,” he explained to you. “I didn't want to take long if you said yes.”

You knew you shouldn't give in so easily, but it was hard when Spencer said things like that and he came to your house looking completely disoriented, sad, and regretful.

"Can I come in?" he asked. Although your silences were not with that intention, the truth was that you were making him even more nervous.

"Yeah, you can”

You turned around only when you heard the click of the door closing and leaned against it, waiting for him to say something. You took a moment to observe him and noticed that his clothes were slightly disarrayed, while his hands played with the leather strap that was still across his chest. When he noticed that you were looking at his hands he interpreted it as a sign to get rid of the garment, and so he did.

“Wine?”

“Rossi gave it to me,” you responded, following his gaze to the bottle on the coffee table along with the crystal glass.

Spencer opened his mouth slightly in understanding and then there was silence again.

“I think it's obvious why I'm here, right?” he murmured in a low, cautious voice. You looked at him with sealed lips. “I want to apologize.”

“Yeah?”

"Yes. I know I shouldn't have talked to you like that in the office”

“No, you shouldn't have done it,” you responded sternly “And I accept if you don't want me around, but…”

“No,” he interrupted you, lunging forward to take your hands. You didn't refuse. “It's not that. I want you close, I don't want you to go away”

“I want you close too, Spencer. And I care about you. That's why I tell you things, not because I want to bother you."

“I know not. I was wrong, okay? I was wrong and I had no right to yell at you just because I was upset. And I wasn't upset with you, I was upset about the case and… it was just too much. This is all too much” by this point Spencer’s voice had already broken and your arms were already open for him.

It didn't take much for your boyfriend to start sobbing.

"I'm sorry"

“I know, Spencer.”

"I was an idiot"

“Yes, you certainly were,” you responded, speaking barely above a whisper. You couldn't stop feeling empathy for your boyfriend, but you couldn't ignore your own pain either. “You made me feel so hurt.”

“Forgive me, you know that was not my intention.”

“I just want to see you well. I want you to be safe and help you, but you won't let me do it. And it's okay if you don't want my help, but you can't deny that you need help. We need help. Do you think I wasn't stressed too? Do you think I could care less about finding Emily?”

“I know not. I know…” he sobbed.

“And I understand that we were both going through a hard time but you had no right to treat me like that.”

"You hate me?"

“Of course I don't hate you. I love you very much and I always will, but when something bad happens we don't yell at each other. And I'm not hating you for this, did you hate me that time in Georgia when I went into negotiating in that hostage situation without consulting anyone?

"No. I was very angry and worried about you, but I would never have hated you.”

"You see it? It's the same” you said softly.

You weren't going to torture him with this and you didn't want him to kneel and ask for forgiveness, the message you wanted to give him was already more than clear. And you knew that the simple act of accepting his mistake was something that showed you that he cared about you.

“It won't happen again, I promise.”

“Oh, it may happen again. We are both dumb sometimes and the older we get the grumpier we become” you tried to joke. Although you didn't hear him laugh, you knew that it had lightened the atmosphere. “But talking about it makes him feel better, right? Just like now”

He nodded at your question and then your hand went up to his head to stroke his hair. The contact seemed to melt him against you, as if with this you had also given free rein to his crying. You knew he probably wasn't going to tell you about the horrors he'd experienced in prison yet, but maybe this moment could be a start; you were being honest with each other and after all that was what was important.

Spencer calmed down after a long while and when you separated you made sure to get him some napkins so he could wipe his tears and blow his nose.

“You're seriously not upset at me?”

“No,” you assured him, shaking your head at the same time. You approached him and raised your hands to his cheeks to hold him gently. “It's okay, Spencer. I would be upset if you hadn't apologized."

“I wanted to do it sooner, but I knew that maybe you needed time to… you know, not want to strangle me”

“You're always so smart,” you complimented him and this time he did laugh.

The man's hands were experimentally placed on your waist and upon noticing your approving smile he pulled you a little closer to him until you collided against his chest. The puffiness in his eyes didn't stop him from giving you a sweet look.

“I haven't kissed you since I came back,” he observed absently and after thinking about it for a second you realized it was true.

You hadn't even kissed him. You had gone three months without seeing him and you still hadn't had time to kiss him.

You opened your mouth slightly, but before you could say anything he had already leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. With the help of your hand sliding to the back of his neck you deepened the contact and Spencer wasted no time, wrapping his thin arms around your torso.

Even if you didn't want to admit it, you had already forgotten how good it felt to kiss him and amid everything you thought that you wished you could capture that moment in a jar to turn to it when necessary. Because after everything that had happened that day you really needed that moment of peace with him.

His lips were slightly parted, but your gentle tongue took care of moistening them and when the air began to fail you just let him go for a second, kissing him again when you breathed enough. Your kisses were sweet and soft enough to dissipate the rest of the guilt that remained in your lover's body.

"Better?" you asked once you two were satisfied. It took him a moment to compose himself from the intoxication of your kiss to be able to answer you.

"Yes, I feel better"

“How is Diana, by the way?” you said quietly, leaning back a little to look him in the eyes.

“She is fine, I managed to admit her to a sanatorium before García called me. It will only be for tonight, tomorrow I will look for where she can stay permanently” he answered you, rubbing his tired face with a hand “I think it would be best for us to return to Las Vegas”

“You should go to her now” it hurt you to give him that advice, but you knew that he must have other priorities now. One of your hands kindly caressed his bicep, feeling how he had lost considerably in weight.

“You don't want me to stay here?”

“I don't want you to feel obligated. I know Diana needs you more than me."

“She'll be fine today,” he murmured. Apparently he wanted to be with you more than you thought. “I left my number and she'll be asleep right now. As much as he wants to deny it, I think… that she is better off with professionals”

“So you want to stay here?”

You had sounded more excited than you intended and just because of the sparkle in your eyes he felt the urge to steal another kiss from you.

"Of course I want to. I missed you so much, I just want to feel you close to me."

“I can stay only if you promise me two things.”

“What is it?”

“We’re going to try to sleep,” you asked him, passing the tip of your index fingers under his eyes. “I don't like that look at all and I think you could use some rest. I have a comfortable bed waiting just for you.”

“I'd love that,” he smiled weakly. “What's the second thing?”

“Tomorrow you will let me cook you something delicious before we go to your mother.”

The thought of you spoiling him so much made him smile.

"Done deal"

You carefully guided him to your room and once there you kissed him again. Spencer felt like he was going to cry again when he noticed that you still had the change of clothes that he had left in your closet over three months ago and the soft fabric along with the familiar scent filled his chest with joy.

You two snuggled under the warmth of the sheets and you made sure to kiss your lover's face countless times while your hands touched every piece of skin you had within reach, trying to show him that he didn't have to worry about anything; you wanted him to know that you loved him and that he was somewhere safe.

"Are you okay?"

You spoke in the middle of the darkness, while Spencer had his full weight on top of yours. His nose rubbed slightly against your bare skin and he found it necessary to leave another kiss there.

“I am now.”

And even if it only lasted for a brief moment, Spencer knew that nothing compared to the peace and tranquility of being with you.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @instabull @rhiannonhippiegirl @r-3dlips @missabsey @olivia’s-25

[mattatouilletkachuk]

So excited for the summer series! The prompts you chose were perfect! It was impossible to just pick one! May I please request 5 with Jack?

Hazy Clarity || Jack Hughes x reader

Prompt: 5. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

WC: 2.1k

A/N: I really am trying to get through these requests. Promise. Anyways I hope you like this.

Warnings: drug use (for medical reasons)

Summary: You thought you knew what you were getting into when you volunteered to take care of Jack after his surgery.

When you volunteered to be with and take care of Jack after his surgery you thought you knew what you were getting yourself into. Dating Jack for a year and knowing him for a year beforehand meant that you had seen him injured before and that usually, you would skip going to your apartment in favor of spending your time in his to make sure he was okay. Perhaps being there after Jack had his surgery was more so to calm your anxious mind but even though he wasn’t completely awake and coherent, he still seemed to appreciate the company.

Antsy. That was the best way to describe Jack. Since you met him it seemed like he always had to be doing something, even if it was just sitting down, if he wasn’t talking he would bounce his leg or constantly tap his fingers. It was like watching a child try and contain a sugar rush. So it was a little off-putting to watch as Jack sat on your couch, still as could be. He had several pillows cushioning his arm as he dozed quietly.

Quietly, so you wouldn’t wake him up, you grabbed the thickest throw blanket you had and covered Jack with it. He barely stirred as you tucked the blanket loosely around him. You stifled a giggle as you watched him twitch his nose at your actions before going still again.

When it was clear that he wasn’t waking up anytime soon you checked your phone only to see several dozen messages from his teammates, friends, and family. They ranged from asking how Jack was feeling and if he was doing better to asking how you were managing. You replied to all of them, letting everyone know that Jack is doing fine and recovering well. When you got to Jack’s family you gave a little more detail, telling Ellen that there was no need to worry and that he’s mostly been asleep because of the pain medication. Luke had asked if he should come to visit after the season ends to help with everything but you reassured him that he would see Jack soon and that you had everything under control. You wished him luck on the few remaining games the Devils still had to play and made sure to let him know that you and Jack would be watching them.

Once you managed to respond to every text you plugged your phone into the charger in the living room and made your way into the kitchen to make something for dinner.

When he was awake, Jack proved to be rather ravenous. It didn’t surprise you at all, even when he was healthy and uninjured he could still eat you out of house and home. You didn’t want to test the limits of his medication and end up having him throw up the food you made later. So you finally landed on making the salmon you had just recently bought and tomato cucumber avocado salad.

Your apartment wasn’t all that big. If you poked your head out of the kitchen you could see directly into the living room. So halfway through cooking you heard it when Jack woke up. You didn’t immediately rush to him, choosing rather to stay in the kitchen and finish the meal you were making.

You were filled with anxiety since the moment he got injured. I’m fact, you felt rather positive that if you went back to the hospital waiting room, where you sat as he had surgery, you would see a hole in the floor that you caused from the nonstop pacing you did as you waited to hear from the surgeon. Even when Jack was finally allowed to come home you couldn’t stop your mind from racing. Was your apartment clean enough? Did you have enough space for him to get better? What if he tried to do something that only made his injury worse?

You weren’t a nurse or a doctor. You had no background in medicine so the task of taking care of your healing boyfriend was daunting, to say the least. What you did have, though, was two years of knowing Jack. You could read his mood and body language better than anybody else. You knew when he was hurt, stressed, or upset and you knew exactly what to do to help. At least most of the time.

So when you heard some light shuffling from the living room and a quiet cough you knew he was awake. When you heard the television being turned on and the soft noise from it you were only proven right.

It doesn’t take you long to finish cooking and once you’re done you make two plates and head back out to the living room. You smile at the sight that greets you. Jack added another pillow to prop up his arm and found another throw blanket the wrap around himself. He blinks a bit sluggishly from underneath the blankets but the soft smile that adorns his face when he sees you makes it feel like butterflies are fluttering around in your stomach.

You smile back at him and set the plate of food on the coffee table. When you sit down you immediately feel Jack's cheeks and forehead for any warmth. The doctors told you to keep an eye out for any signs of a fever in the first few days after his surgery. His cheeks were warm but nothing that should have you worrying. It was only the warmth of sleep that still clung to him and made his cheeks rosy red.

Before you could pull your hand away Jack nuzzled into your touch. His eyes slipped close again and a sigh left his mouth. You ignored the way your heart beat faster and pulled your hand back gently.

“Hey, pretty boy, how’re feeling?” You asked softly.

Jack quietly groaned before forcing his eyes back open. His eyes were still red and glossy from sleep and when he spoke his voice was husky and his talking slow. “Still in a lot of pain.”

You glanced at the clock you had hanging on your wall to see how much time had passed since the last time you gave him any pain medication.

“You can have more medicine if you eat,” you gestured to the plate you had brought out. Jack followed to where your fingers were pointing. “It’s not good to take medication on an empty stomach.”

Jack hummed in acknowledgment before trying to sit up to eat. You watched him as he winced in pain but he didn’t say anything so you decided it was best for you to not bring anything up.

Halfway through eating and watching a rerun of The Office that was playing Jack sighed and put his fork down.

“I love your cooking,” he said almost wistfully. You glanced down at his plate and saw that only half of it was eaten, which was better than yesterday when he refused to eat anything.

“I would say thank you but I know that you routinely eat cold leftover pizza,” you huffed out a small laugh. That didn’t mean that Jack didn’t know how to cook. He could make something to sustain somebody but you couldn’t count on both of your hands the amount of times you had gone over to his apartment and saw a fridge with no food and just Gatorade and beer.

“I’m pretty confident you're the best cook I know.” He said as he burrowed himself back into the couch and under the blankets.

When he winced again you didn’t hesitate to reach over to the end table and grab the bottle of medication that he was prescribed. When you gave him the pills he immediately tipped his head back and swallowed them without water.

“I’m probably biased, though,” Jack said once he could.

You raised your eyebrow in curiosity. You finished chewing the food in your mouth before asking, “Biased how?”

“I love everything you do.”

Warmth floods your cheeks at his declaration. You hoped Jack wouldn’t notice it or that the medication would make him forget about it tomorrow. It’s not that you were embarrassed to let him see the effect he had on you, you just knew that if he was more coherent and present he’d probably tease you and perhaps it was self-absorbed or vain but all you wanted was to bask in his affections for you right now.

“Oh?” It was all you could think to say. Jack wasn’t the most affectionate when it came to words. It was obvious that his love language was physical touch so it’s not as if you had much experience in dealing with him saying sweet things randomly.

Jack hummed and nodded his head slowly. The pills you had given him were starting to kick in, you could tell as his eyelids grew heavier with every blink and the way his head slightly bobbed around as if he was trying to keep himself awake.

“Yeah,” his voice was low and slightly stirred but he kept his blue eyes trained on you. “I love everything about you.”

A bashful smile bloomed on your face and you didn’t try to hide it from your boyfriend. You placed your plate back on the table and kissed his cheek, “I love you too, Jack.”

When you pulled away and looked at Jack you were surprised to see a frown on his lips. He didn’t look upset or angry at what you said. Instead, he looked like he was thinking hard about something.

You didn’t lean back in for a kiss but instead, you lifted your hand to his face and rubbed your thumb over the wrinkles on his forehead. “Tell me what you’re thinking about otherwise you’ll end up with wrinkles from all that frowning.”

“You don’t get it, baby,” he spoke so softly you had to strain to hear him. “I love you. I love everything about you and I know you love me but it’s not even a comparison because I know I love you more than you love me.”

“That’s not true,” his words had left you feeling breathless but despite his sweet words, you needed him to know how much you loved him. “I can’t even put into words how much you mean to me.”

Jack’s eyes slid close but his soft and sleepy smile stayed. “You don’t get it, you’re like…” he paused for a long moment to find the right words. “You’re like the sun and I’m like a plant. I’m always seeking you out and I wouldn’t be able to survive if you were gone.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. A part of you wished that you had gotten it on camera because even though Jack was never one to shy away from talking about anything, he had never said anything remotely close to what he just told you.

However, it didn’t seem like he was looking for a response because less than a few seconds after his head dropped onto one of the many pillows behind him.

You say still on the couch for a moment waiting for your racing heart to go back to its regular rhythm. Once you felt stable again, you grabbed the plates as quietly as you could to not wake your boyfriend. When you stood from the couch to bring the dishes to the kitchen you were startled by the light grip on your arm. You looked down to see Jack had reached out to stop you from leaving.

“You know, I meant what I said right?” He asked, his eyes were still closed and his grip on you was becoming more and more loose by the second.

You grabbed his hand and set it down on his chest. “I know, Jacky.”

When he spoke again his words were slow and slurred, “Good, because you're the best thing to ever happen to me.”

The last few words were almost inaudible and before you could reply Jack was asleep. You smiled down at your sleeping boyfriend with a fond smile.

You brushed a piece of hair that was in his face away and leaned down to kiss his forehead softly.

“Trust me, I feel the same way.”

You know he couldn’t hear you but it felt important to you to say it out loud. When you finally left the living room and placed the dirty dishes into the dishwasher you couldn’t help but think that volunteering to take care of Jack after his surgery was a better decision than you originally had thought.