#do i just say hey! that works in both languages?

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.1

Chapter One: Hide Your Heart From Sight

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Celebrities, Starstruck,

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Welcome to this disaster of a fic that I have constantly daydreamed about. Logistically, yes, it is so improbable and unrealistic— but there’s a 0.001% chance that it could happen… to you. It’s nice to wonder and dream. I like wondering. Granted, I’ve never worked in production ever… I am studying advertising and arts soooo that’s as much knowledge I have tehe. 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: It Could Happen To You by Laufey

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The hum of the plane’s engines filled the air as you settled into your seat, trying not to fidget. You glanced at your boarding pass again, as if to double-check you weren’t hallucinating. Seat 3B—business class. Marvel had spared no expense for the production team’s travel, but you still couldn’t quite believe you’d be flying so comfortably.

What shocked you even more, though, was the man lowering himself into the seat next to yours: Pedro Pascal. Yes, that Pedro Pascal. The man whose movies you’d watched obsessively before joining this production, the actor who somehow seemed both unattainably larger-than-life and heartbreakingly down-to-earth.

“Hi,” he said with a warm smile, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Looks like we’re seatmates.”

You froze for a moment, then managed a weak, “Hi.” Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you mentally scrambled for something to say that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete idiot.

“You’re with the crew, right?” Pedro asked, adjusting the scarf around his neck. “What do you do?”

“Oh, um,” you stammered, “I’m just a production assistant. It’s my first big project.”

“No kidding? That’s awesome,” he said, genuinely sounding impressed. “First time working on a Marvel movie? How’s it going so far?”

“It’s… surreal,” you admitted, relaxing slightly under his easygoing demeanor. “I mean, it’s been amazing, but also kind of overwhelming. There’s so much to do, and everyone’s so talented. I…” You trailed off, realizing you were rambling.

“I get it,” Pedro said, nodding. “First big gig can be a lot. But hey, you’re here. That means someone saw something in you, right?”

The sincerity in his voice made your cheeks flush. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

The conversation flowed easily after that. Pedro asked you about your favorite movies, your hobbies, and how you’d gotten into production work. You told him about your love for art direction and set design, your dream of one day being a production designer, and your side passion for writing and music. When you mentioned you played guitar and sang, he raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll have to play something for us on set sometime,” he said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

You laughed nervously. “I don’t know about that. I’d probably die of embarrassment.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he replied, his tone light but mischievous.

By the time the plane landed, you were buzzing—partly from the conversation and partly from the fact that you’d just spent hours talking to Pedro Pascal as if he were an old friend.

The buzz quickly faded when you arrived at the hotel. You stood in the lobby with the rest of the crew, listening as the location manager, Duncan, argued with the front desk staff. Apparently, there’d been a mix-up with the bookings. The hotel was overbooked due to a telecommunications conference, and somehow, you’d been assigned to share a suite… with Pedro Pascal.

“This has to be a mistake,” you muttered to yourself, your anxiety spiking as Duncan tried to sort things out. But no matter how much back-and-forth there was, the conclusion remained the same: there were no other rooms available.

“Look,” Pedro said finally, stepping in with his usual calm demeanor. “It’s fine. I don’t mind sharing if she’s okay with it.”

You blinked up at him, your mind racing. “I…”

“Hey,” he said gently, noticing your hesitation. He leaned in slightly, his voice soft but steady. “Look at me. I’m okay with it if you’re okay with it. No pressure.”

You swallowed hard, glancing over at Duncan, who looked as stressed as you felt. Finally, you nodded. “I’m fine with it if everyone else is.”

“Great,” Pedro said, flashing you a reassuring smile. “It’s settled, then.”

Duncan pulled you aside before you headed to the elevators. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked, his tone fatherly.

“Yes,” you said, forcing a smile. “Is there any kind of form I need to sign, or…?”

“No, it all falls under the NDA from your employment,” he assured you. “But seriously, if you need anything, just text me.”

You thanked him and joined Pedro in the elevator. The ride up to the suite was silent, save for the soft dinging of the floors passing by. When you finally stepped into the room, you couldn’t help but gape. It was a spacious suite with two bedrooms on opposite sides, a small kitchenette, and a cozy living area.

“This isn’t so bad,” Pedro said, dropping his bag by the door. He turned to you, his expression kind. “Do you have a preference for which room?”

You fidgeted with the strap of your bag. “Um, no, you can pick.”

“Ladies’ choice,” he insisted, his tone playful.

“Okay,” you said, gesturing to the room on the right. “I’ll take that one.”

“Perfect,” he said with a grin. “Let me know if you need anything, alright?”

As you unpacked in your room, the reality of the situation began to sink in. You were sharing a suite with Pedro Pascal. For at least a week. And somehow, you had to act like a normal, functioning human being the entire time.

You took a deep breath and flopped over on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Letting out a huff of air in disbelief, you muttered to yourself, “This has to be some sort of dream… or prank, right?”

Placing both hands over your face, you rubbed it in exasperation. “Get your shit together, girl. No screwing things up, no more internal freakouts. He’s a person, like you. Mhm, sure. Yup. Totally fine.”

You sighed deeply, trying to convince yourself of your own words. The suite was spacious and nicely furnished, with plenty of room to keep your distance—but that didn’t stop your overactive imagination from running wild. Every interaction felt loaded with the possibility of embarrassing yourself, but you swore you’d keep it together.

To say people around the production crew had heard about your new roomie was an understatement.

The day before shooting began, you attended a pre-production meeting that covered everything: call sheet details, blocking and camera movement, technical requirements, and a bunch of safety protocols. It was standard procedure but felt ten times more overwhelming knowing your friends would tease you mercilessly.

You sat with your friends from the art department, trying to focus, but they weren’t making it easy. Archie, one of the lead set designers, leaned over with a smirk. “So, how’s life as Pedro Pascal’s roomie?”

You felt your face heat up instantly. “I—it’s not… it’s just temporary,” you stammered, fiddling with the edge of your notebook.

Stephanie, a costume designer with an endless supply of sass, raised an eyebrow. “Temporary or not, it’s the stuff of rom-coms, babe. Don’t tell me you haven’t imagined a meet-cute scenario in that suite.”

“I have not!” you protested, though your flaming cheeks betrayed you. 

Will, an art director with a love for stirring the pot, chuckled. “Come on, you’ve gotta admit it’s a little… serendipitous? You, a huge fan, sharing a suite with the guy? Sounds like fate to me.”

“It’s not fate,” you insisted, trying to deflect. “It’s a logistical mistake, that’s all.”

Max, the trainee set dresser, chimed in with a grin. “Yeah, but a logistical mistake that’s got everyone talking. Even Steve heard about it, and he’s usually the last to know anything.”

Steve, the lighting technician, shrugged. “What can I say? Word travels fast. I’m just here to see how long it takes for Pedro to find out about your… fandom.”

“Oh my god, can we not?” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “He’s going to think I’m a weirdo.”

Rebecca, a fellow production assistant and one of your closest friends, patted your shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry, he seems like the kind of guy who’d find it endearing. Besides, you’ve been professional so far, right?”

You nodded hesitantly. “I think so. I mean, I haven’t said anything stupid yet.”

“Yet being the keyword,” Sophie teased, earning a laugh from the group.

Patricia, always the voice of reason, smiled warmly. “Just be yourself. You’re great at your job, and Pedro’s just another actor. A very charming actor, sure, but still just a person.”

“Thanks, Patricia,” you said, feeling slightly more grounded. But the anxiety still lingered, especially with everyone’s teasing reminders of your not-so-secret crush.

As the meeting wrapped up and you headed back to your tasks, you couldn’t shake the nervous excitement bubbling inside you. Sharing a suite with Pedro Pascal might’ve been a logistical mistake, but it was quickly turning into one of the most unreal experiences of your life.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL, LONDON — NIGHT

Dinner with the cast and crew had been lively, filled with laughter, and far too many knowing glances sent your way by your friends. The teasing hadn’t stopped, even over plates of pasta and glasses of wine.

Archie had leaned over at one point, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when Pedro walks out of the bathroom shirtless? Swoon or faint?”

You nearly choked on your drink. “Archie!”

“I’m just saying,” he said with a laugh. “It’s a valid question.”

Stephanie smirked. “She’s probably rehearsing her ‘I’m totally cool and unaffected’ face right now.”

You groaned. “I hate all of you.”

Rebecca grinned. “No, you don’t. But seriously, just enjoy the moment. How many people can say they’ve shared a hotel room with Pedro Pascal?”

By the time the group had wandered back to the shuttle, your cheeks were sore from laughing, and your nerves were only slightly calmed. But as the cold London air nipped at your skin, you found yourself longing for the warmth of the hotel.

Your teeth chattered as you stepped off the shuttle, clutching your coat tighter around you. You didn’t like the cold very much, and London was very, very cold.

The moment you entered the hotel lobby, the warmth began to seep into your body, and you let out a sigh of relief. The elevator ride to your floor was quiet, your mind finally shutting down after a long evening of socializing. By the time you reached your room, you were operating on autopilot.

Tapping your keycard to the door, you quietly pushed it open, careful not to disturb Pedro if he was already asleep. It was just past 9:30 p.m., and you knew the early call time tomorrow would have him resting early.

You shut the door softly behind you, locking the deadbolt before shuffling into the room. You removed your coat, scarf, and shoes, swapping them for the fuzzy slippers you’d packed. The room was dimly lit, and you moved quietly, hoping not to make too much noise.

“Oh, you’re back.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, clutching your chest as your heart tried to escape it. Whipping around, you found Pedro lounging on the sofa, a book in his hands and a soft, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He was wearing a plain white tee and gray sweatpants, his square-framed glasses perched on his nose, and he looked entirely too comfortable—like he belonged there. Like this was normal.

“Oh my god, I didn’t know you were still awake,” you said, voice breathless as you tried to recover from the scare.

He chuckled, his laugh low and warm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. You were so quiet coming in, I thought maybe you were sneaking around.”

You set your things on the small table by the door, giving him an exasperated look. “I wasn’t sneaking around. I was trying not to wake you.”

“Well, mission accomplished.” He tilted his head, watching you with that relaxed air that somehow made you feel completely exposed. “How was dinner?”

“It was good,” you said, shrugging as you moved toward the kitchenette to grab a bottle of water. “Everyone was in high spirits, and the food was great. We took a little walk around the city before heading back.”

Pedro closed his book, setting it on the coffee table. “Sounds nice. London at night can be magical.”

“Yeah, it was.” You paused, feeling the weight of his gaze. “Though, I think I underestimated just how cold it gets here. My teeth were chattering the whole way back.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smile softening. “Didn’t bring a warm enough coat?”

“I thought I did, but apparently not. I’m not built for this kind of weather,” you admitted with a laugh, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to stave off the lingering chill.

Pedro stood, crossing the room with an easy grace that made your breath hitch. “Well, we can’t have you freezing, can we?” He grabbed the throw blanket draped over the back of the sofa and held it out to you. “Here.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the simple gesture. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I just get cold really easily. Besides, I’ll warm up eventually.”

“Take it,” he insisted, his tone gentle but firm. “It’s not a big deal.”

Reluctantly, you took the blanket, your fingers brushing his for the briefest moment. It sent a jolt of warmth through you that had nothing to do with the fabric now wrapped around your shoulders. “Thanks,” you murmured, pulling it tighter around you.

“Better?” he asked, stepping back to give you space but still watching you with that disarmingly kind expression.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding. “Much. Thanks, Pedro.”

He smiled again, and for a moment, the air between you felt charged, like something unspoken was hanging there. But then he broke the silence, his voice light. “So, did they give you a hard time at dinner?”

Your face heated instantly. “What do you mean?”

He smirked, leaning casually against the back of the sofa. “I heard some of the cast talking earlier. Apparently, your friends in the art department have been… teasing you about the room situation.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh no. What exactly did you hear?”

“Nothing incriminating,” he said with a laugh. “Just that they’re convinced this is some kind of meet-cute scenario straight out of a rom-com.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, mortified. “I’m so sorry. They’re ridiculous.”

“I don’t mind,” he said, his tone easy, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “It’s kind of flattering, actually.”

Your hands dropped to your sides, your eyes wide. “Flattering?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s nice to know someone thinks sharing a room with me is worth all that excitement.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to process the fact that Pedro Pascal—Pedro Pascal—was standing in front of you, teasing you in the most charming way possible.

“Well, I’ll let you get some rest,” he said after a beat, his voice softer now. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Big day.”

He gave you one last smile before retreating to his side of the suite, leaving you standing there with a racing heart and a head full of thoughts you were too scared to unpack.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — DAY  

You woke to the soft chime of your alarm, the faint glow of early morning light creeping through the curtains. Shuffling into the bathroom with a yawn, you turned on the shower, letting the warm water coax you into wakefulness. You placed your phone on the counter, tapping on a playlist to fill the small space with soft, melodic tunes—comforting background noise that kept your mind from spiraling too early in the day.  

After your shower, you toweled off and began your morning routine. Skincare applied with practiced ease, makeup brushed on with care, you avoided the mirror for too long, focusing instead on the growing anticipation of the day ahead. Pinning your ID to your lanyard, you glanced at your phone again.  

The group chat with your team was buzzing:  

Archie: "We’re fifteen minutes out. Don’t keep us waiting, queen 👑."  

Rebecca: "Text when you’re coming down!"  

Max: "Coffee run? Pls? 🙏"  

A small smile tugged at your lips as you tapped out a quick reply, your fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment before you switched apps.  

Your heart did a little stutter as you opened your browser—a Joel Miller fanfic you’d been obsessing over still lingering on your screen. You skimmed the most recent chapter, your thumb pausing to scroll as you half-laughed at the absurdity of sneaking in a few paragraphs before a full day on set. You switched to the chat thread with your online friends, who were deep in a heated discussion about whether Joel would be the type to cook breakfast for his partner. You couldn’t help but chuckle, throwing in a quick, “He’d definitely make pancakes and act like it’s no big deal,” before locking your phone and setting it on the counter.  

Moving on autopilot, you padded into the small kitchenette, barefoot and still humming softly to the tune stuck in your head. You set the coffee machine to brew, pulling out a couple of mugs, a jar of Nutella, and some bread. Your hands moved with muscle memory, spreading the hazelnut spread on toast and slicing up a handful of fruit without a second thought. It wasn’t until the scent of coffee filled the air that you realized you’d made two plates of toast—one for you and one for Pedro.  

The realization struck at the same moment you heard the faint shuffle of footsteps behind you.  

“Morning.”  

His voice was low and warm, still carrying the huskiness of sleep. You froze, phone in one hand, butter knife in the other, as you turned to see Pedro leaning against the doorframe. His hair was adorably tousled, and he was dressed in a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants that somehow made him look effortlessly put together. His eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled at you, and you nearly dropped your phone in a panic.  

“Good morning,” you managed, your voice a little too high-pitched as you fumbled to lock your screen. The thought of him catching even a glimpse of what you’d been reading was enough to make your cheeks burn.  

Pedro glanced at the counter, taking in the toast, coffee, and neatly sliced fruit. “You made breakfast?”  

“Oh, uh—yeah.” You set your phone down and gestured awkwardly toward the spread. “I made you some coffee and toast with Nutella. I wasn’t sure if you’d want that, and there’s fruit, too. I was just about to cut some more, but obviously, you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to, and—”  

“Hey.” Pedro’s soft chuckle cut through your rambling, and when you met his gaze, he was looking at you with a mix of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”  

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned by the sincerity in his voice. “Oh. Yeah. No problem. It’s nothing, really.”  

He moved past you to grab a mug of coffee, the proximity sending your pulse into overdrive. As he poured himself a cup, you noticed his shoulders relaxed and his movements unhurried. He took a sip and let out a small, contented sigh.  

“Perfect,” he said, glancing over at you with a grin. “You’re spoiling me, you know that?”  

Your laugh came out nervous and breathy. “I’m pretty sure this doesn’t count as spoiling. It’s just toast.”  

“Yeah, but it’s good toast,” he teased, holding up a slice as if to emphasize his point.  

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the tension in your chest easing slightly. The moment felt impossibly domestic—like a scene out of one of those fanfics you’d been reading. Only this time, it wasn’t Joel Miller standing in the kitchen with you. It was Pedro.  

And that was somehow even more surreal.  

Pedro leaned against the counter, his mug cradled in both hands. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. “So,” he started, his voice warm and casual, “what were you so engrossed in on your phone earlier? You looked ready to throw it out the window when I walked in.”  

Your stomach flipped, and you tried to play it cool, even though you were fairly certain your face was now several shades of red. “Oh, nothing,” you lied, brushing a crumb off the counter. “Just the group chat. You know how chaotic they are.”  

Pedro tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Mm-hmm. Sure it wasn’t something more... intriguing?”  

You swallowed hard, gripping your coffee cup a little tighter. “Intriguing?”  

He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes twinkling with mischief over the rim of his mug. “You tell me.”  

“It’s nothing!” you blurted out, a little too defensively. “Just—just boring stuff. Work stuff.”  

“Work stuff,” he repeated slowly, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Because people laugh at boring work stuff while making toast.”  

You groaned, setting your mug down as you ran a hand over your face. “Can we not? Please? I’m already mortified enough.”  

Pedro chuckled, the sound low and teasing but not unkind. “Alright, alright. I’ll let it go... for now.” He set his mug on the counter and raised his hands in mock surrender. “But you owe me a story later. Deal?”  

You hesitated, narrowing your eyes at him. “Depends on how much coffee you’ve had by then. I might need you slightly less smug for that conversation.”  

His grin widened, and he leaned closer, just enough to make your heart stutter. “Smug? I prefer charming. But I’ll take it under advisement.”  

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. The playful banter made the room feel lighter, warmer.  

By the time you both finished your coffee, the atmosphere had shifted into something comfortable and easy. You quickly rinsed the dishes, your hands moving on autopilot as Pedro lingered nearby, chatting about everything and nothing.  

As you dried your hands, your phone buzzed on the counter, and you glanced at the screen.  

Rebecca: “Bus is almost there. Better get your cute butt down here!”  

You shot back a quick reply: “On my way.” Turning to Pedro, you grabbed your bag and gestured toward the door. “I’ve got to head down. My shuttle’s waiting.”  

Pedro grabbed his own bag and trailed after you. “I’ll walk down with you. I’ve got my own ride coming, but they’re always late.”  

The two of you stepped into the elevator, the hum of its descent filling the silence. The confined space suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier with unspoken tension.  

Pedro stood close—too close. You could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint hint of his cologne. Your heart thudded in your chest, and you pressed the strap of your bag tighter against your shoulder, hoping it would anchor you somehow.  

“So,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost intimate in the stillness of the elevator. “What’s the plan for today?”  

You glanced at him, his brown eyes watching you closely, the curve of his smile softer now. “Same as usual, I guess,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Make sure everything runs smoothly while you and everyone else look good on camera.”  

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “You make it sound so simple, but I know you’re the one holding it all together.”  

His words caught you off guard, and you looked away, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “I just do my job.”  

“And you do it damn well,” he said, his tone sincere now, no teasing edge in sight.  

The elevator dinged as it reached the lobby, breaking the moment. Pedro gestured for you to step out first, and you did, your pulse still racing.  

“Thanks,” you murmured, not entirely sure if you were thanking him for his compliment or just for letting you escape the charged space of the elevator.  

As you spotted your shuttle waiting outside, you turned to him, suddenly aware of how reluctant you were to leave. “I’ll see you on set?”  

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for just a beat longer than necessary. “Yeah. See you soon.”  

You stepped outside, the crisp morning air hitting your face as you walked toward the shuttle. But even as you climbed aboard and found a seat, your mind was still back in that elevator, replaying every glance, every word, every spark.

End Notes:

Oh hi! I missed doing these silly bits; I thought to bring ‘em back. But, don’t worry, I’ll try to yap less haha

Yes, it’s super cliche, cheesy, unrealistic, and practically a hallmark movie in the making. But that’s the fun part in fanfiction and writing, it’s all made up and no one here is allowed to “yuck” each other’s “yum” if you know what I mean. ;)

Also, I have no idea how production for film works so I’m researching stuff and making stuff up along the way pls no one come after me T^T

Weirdly enough, I saw a reddit post from someone who works at the front of the hotel desk and they say the one-bed trope/one-room trope; it actually happens pretty frequently lol so who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca

[shouyuus]

mirror, mirror

braindump for @vifilms and i's "what if vi had a twin sister" oc au; this is so incoherent but if i didn't write it down somewhere i'd go nuts so here we go

her name is ivy. because while vander named vi, silco named vy (pronounced vee) --

"i've always like the name violet." "doctor says i've got twins -- god, when i said i wanted to double down on this zaun thing... i don't know if i meant this." silco grins, "what about the name ivy?" he glances at vander, "because violets are beautiful, certainly, but ivy... i've always admired their resilience. they'll grow so long as there's a surface for them to latch on to, and a bit of water and light." felicia smiles, "violet and ivy... yeah, i like it."

they're mirror twins -- vi's left-handed, vy's right-handed. they've both got a constellation of freckles dotted over their noses, like looking in a mirror. but they've always been kind of diametrically opposed. and the ongoing "joke" is that their names were swapped at birth, because ivy's the one who's quiet and a bit "delicate", and violet's always been the loud one, "resilience" bleeding from her in thick, angry rivulets, manifesting in street fights and bar brawls.

vy's quieter, a bit softer, but anyone who knows the pair of them knows that it's vy who's behind the scenes, her eyes sharp as broken glass, the consummate chess-player, the grandmaster behind all their ever-evolving schemes.

vi crops her hair short; vy keeps her hair long (it's her pride and joy, and there's something to be said about being able to take care of hair that long in the lanes), rolling over her shoulder and down her back in thick, dark pink waves.

when powder's old enough, it's vy who teaches powder how to braid her own hair, though powder always begs vy to do it for her, nimble fingers tugging open the braids just to do them up again. some nights, it's the only way to get powder to fall asleep.

there's a secret kind of language to sisterhood that vi and vy share (and eventually, with powder too) but it's silent -- a series of meaningful looks and micro-expressions, a twitch of the lips, a curve of the brow, a tiny wrinkle of one of their noses. usually, it'll end up with vi rolling her eyes and storming away, vy sighing as she swivels back towards vander on the bar stool, dragging vi's half drunk cup of juice towards her with a sigh.

"hey! i wasn't finished with that!" "finder's keepers," vy singsongs, but makes no move to resist as vi snatches the glass from her hands, chugging down the rest before slamming it on the bar. vander sighs, wincing. "easy on the bar-top there, kid." a second after vi storms back out of the bar, vander turns to vy with a knowing look. "alright kiddo. what did you do?" "why'dyou always think that i did something?" vander chuckles, reaching out to bop her nose. "because... i know that even if you'd never be caught dead at the scene of the crime... if i ever dusted the ten-page plan for fingerprints, i'd only ever find yours. so --" he reaches out to refill vi's empty juice glass with the magnanimity of a practice bartender before nudging it towards vy, "c'mon now -- tell me what happened."

the night of the incident (as vy's started to call it in her head), she'd fussed over vi and mylo and claggor all before they left, a small, niggling feeling in the back of her head as she'd chewed on her fingernails, powder skulking in the corner of the room, pouting, tugging at the ears of vi's old bunny stuffie.

powder had begged, cried and whined and screamed until vy had finally relented, making her pinky promise not to do anything stupid. they'd checked over her little mechanical monkey three whole times to make sure that it'd work just right this time -- not a big explosion, but just large enough to cause a distraction.

vy had made powder pinky swear to keep out of sight, to get in, create the distraction, and get out. and powder had promised (she'd promised, but vy had also broken her own end of the promise, hadn't she? she'd followed powder, even though she said she'd trust her) but she had kept the tiny blue gem a secret, from both her older sisters. for once, she wanted to be the strong one, or the smart one -- for once.

and when it all comes crashing down, vy is watching -- but she's frozen. because she's never been good at jumping in like vi has, she's never been strong like vi. all she could do was stand there, hidden up above one of the awnings at the factory, both her hands clamped over her mouth as everything went up in smoke.

when vi and vander come tumbling out of the rubble, vy hears the whip-crack in vi's voice like a gunshot through her own chest. she watches as powder screams, cries, as vi stumbles away sobbing. it isn't till silco shows up that vy realizes there's salt slicking down her own cheeks, but by then, it's already too late -- silco's got a hold of powder, and vi's already gone.

vy tips her head back, but she does not cry. she lets the rain wash down her reddened cheeks and swallows back a scream -- she thinks that she's long since lost the right to cry, the voice to scream.

things change while vi's locked up in stillwater. and it isn't till vi gets out and stumbles back into the lanes that she realizes things are different -- there's a cold war being waged between silco and one of the chembaronesses -- vi's blood runs cold when she hears of the woman's name --

poison ivy.

"what the hell's going on?" babette sighs, puffing purple smoke, "things changed when vander passed. silco's doing everything he can to flood the lanes with shimmer but --" "but?" babette takes another long drag from her pipe, "but your sister -- oh, she was always so quiet... i never thought... still, i suppose it had to be done. she's the only one who would stand up to him, and the only one smart enough to do it." "how'd she manage to stop him, all on her own?" babette breathes out, leaning back in her chair, her giant yordle ears flapping as she sets down the pipe, "she's figured out the only antidote to shimmer that anyone can get their hands on."

it wasn't easy, in those intervening years; it'd be a lie to say that ivy was the same girl who used to spend all her time with her nose buried between the pages of whatever book silco would sneak her -- because he'd always had a soft spot for her, even after vander's betrayal. and it wasn't her fault that she'd stumbled across him one day, his ankles soaking in the muck of the sump, his bad eye smarting worse than ever.

she'd long since learned that silence is a knife that cuts deeper than most words, and that stillness is the virtue of almost every unsung hero. so she stayed quiet, and she watched. she watched as the mad doctor offered shimmer to silco on a silver platter, the sickly pink of the liquid illuminating their faces from below.

"what's this?" silco had asked, taking the tube of shimmer between his long, thin fingers. dr. reveck coughs, shrugging up his bone-thin shoulders, the prolonged shimmer-exposure already showing in the heavy sag of his skin as he inches forward. "power... if you want it." silco nearly hisses as the doctor extends a hand to try and take the tube of shimmer back, his expression unhinged. vy bites back a gasp; his eye's so much worse than before, the whites completely eclipsed by shadow, an angry gray pulse oozing from it even as silco fights to keep his composure as the doctor jerks back. "it has the power to make someone stronger... though... it still needs... ah... refining," dr. reveck says. silco sighs, tossing the shimmer tube back. vy lets out an inaudible breath of relief. "fine. good. come back to me when you've got something that'll fix..." he gestures at the ruined half of his face with a dull grimace, "this."

ivy stumbles back to the loft above the last drop, the bar now ever more prosperous than it was before (she's since made several very lucrative deals with a few of the merchant families from piltover), but no one ever sees the illusive shadow that runs it anymore, and the old regulars have slowly started to dwindle.

she peels open one of the old herbariums that silco had gifted her, to the first page where a hand-written line is scribbled under the title and edition of the book --

for my favorite ivy-stalk, always remember -- it's the dose that makes the poison. - s

not a week later, a mysterious package arrives on silco's desk. he's tired, and he hasn't got the time for cryptic messages like this, though he thinks (dully) that if it's another ill-disguised attempt to kill him, that it better fucking work this time bc sending sevika after people is starting to get exhausting.

but nothing happens when he pulls open the rough paper packaging, and all that lays before him is a strange contraption that looks like a massive needle, with a tiny vial of sparkling pink shimmer.

he frowns; a note is pinned to the needle of the contraption. he picks it off with ginger fingers.

vy's neat, spikey handwriting (a bit too much like his own) leers up at him from the scrap of paper. all it says is five simple words:

the dose makes the poison.

and a tiny little stalk of ivy inked into the corner of the paper.

that same night, he calls powder (now jinx) over and hands her the strange needle contraption, settling it over his eye, holding his hands over her shaking ones.

"just like this... that's right. no, don't be scared. it won't kill me." "b-but what if it hurts you?" powder (jinx!) asks, peering up at him with those big, watery blue eyes of hers. silco sighs, loosening his grip on her tiny hands, "i'm afraid it will hurt me... but that doesn't mean it's bad for me, jinx. you see... sometimes, it's the things that hurt us... that make us into who we are."

by the time vi finds vy again, she can barely recognize the mirror image of herself -- though her heart stutters at the small tattoo inked into vy's cheek -- two roman numerals in exact replica of hers, except backwards --

IV

"hey." "vi... it's been a long time."

and it has -- but she still sees the shadows of herself in the way vy moves. it's strange, to watch this phantom of herself, all her own features, but arranged every so slightly different as vy tosses a strand of long, pink hair over her pale, moon-kissed shoulder.

"nice tattoo," vi says, grinning, motioning at the ink on her own cheek. vy grins, cocking her head. "yeah. i just... had an urge one day..." her voice is sweet, but the implication is clear. i was watching. i've always been watching. vi swallows passed the poison welling up the back of her throat, "you knew -- you knew i was in that hellhole and --" "i knew you were safe." vy's voice is level, slick as rain-damp limestone. "safe? i --" vi runs a hand through her choppy pink hair, "i spent so many nights in that stone box of a place -- praying, thinking that i might one day get back to you and powder and --" vy scoffs, "you think you had it bad there? please, vi -- i made sure you lived, didn't i?" "y-you made sure --" vi's breath jerks off in an abortive gasp; she stumbles back half a step till her back bangs against the stained glass door of what used too be vander's room. "you... knew what they were doing to me and you... you didn't --" vy purses her lips, steepling her fingers; there's a raw, blood-shot look in her baby-blue eyes. "marcus and i had an agreement," vy says, fighting to keep her voice steady, "i knew you wouldn't be in any mortal danger as long as he kept his word." vi lets out a mirthless laugh, "what happened to you? the twin sister i knew would never have watched someone suffer like that and let it happen!"

vy pushes up from behind vander's old desk, the wood thick and old and worn. and for a single second, vi stares at the mirror image of her own face, framed with longer hair, strained beneath a different expression, and she wonders dully if this is what true heartbreak felt like -- looking into the eyes of someone she'd spent her entire life thinking she knew (better than own her reflection), and finding nothing recognizable left over in their depths.

vi gasps as vy rounds the desk to pin her with a hard-lined look. and in that moment, vi realizes, rather belatedly, that neither of them are children anymore.

"time happened to me, my dear darling twin," vy says, leaning into vi's personal space, reaching out to brush a gentle thumb along vi's cheek, "and after all those years in prison, i thought you would've learned by now that time changes all of us -- even those of us who don't want to be changed."

vi learns quickly after that -- some of it caitlyn tells her, some of it, she learns on her own, just from wandering around the lanes. that vy had taken up the mantle vander had left behind, and that she'd done everything she could to keep silco from taking over the lanes in full.

she'd struck deals with the council members, the most illustrious families up above, with all the enforcers she could get her hands on before silco got to the rest of them, sat in the dark, dank, damp of the lanes and woven her silver-studded web one gossamer strand at a time.

vi had always known her twin was smart, always three steps ahead. she hadn't thought vy capable of this.

"she's a poisons expert," cait had offered, to which vi'd shrugged, grunting in acquiescence. "yeah. she's always been into plants." "she has? that's helpful information to --" "cait -- i just -- this is getting us nowhere -- i've gotta go down and talk to her again. maybe i can --" "vi, you said that the last time the pair of you talked, it didn't go well." "yes, but -- she's still my twin sister -- i know her better than anyone else. i -- i have to at least try."

their second meeting goes better, with the pair of them meeting on neutral ground -- facilitated by the firelights, who else? ekko's grown up too, much to vi's chagrin, though it seems like change is just a constant she's going to have to get used to at this point.

cait insists on coming along and vy lands one look on her before her gaze slingshots to vi's and vi flushes a deep crimson. vy scoffs, grinning as she makes a show of checking over the ends of her long, luscious pink hair, leaning against the massive tree in the firelight's hideout.

"you always did have a thing for the pretty ones," vy remarks. to which vi sputters and ekko sighs, rolling his eyes.

"can we please try to keep things civil?" he asks.

"i haven't even said anything!" vi says, throwing up her hands. but at a single cocked brow from vy, she deflates again, chewing on her lower lip, muttering to herself, her arms flexing as she clenches her fists.

"we're all here to try and come up with a plan to stop jinx --" cait says.

vi and vy both wince, the movement eerily similar.

"her name is powder."

two identical voices speak at the exact same time.

vi looks up; vy's there to catch her eyes. and for a second, they're both twelve years old again, giggling in their shared bunk after they've once again stolen the words right from each others mouths.

"jinx!" they both echo, toppling into each other.

powder peers down at them from the top bunk, her blue hair flipping over her face as she stares at her two older sisters.

"what's that mean?" she asks.

vi and vy share a look, before motioning for powder to join them. powder scampers down the ladder, almost slipping off as she thumps into the bottom bunk and crawls between her sisters, giggling as they each loop an arm around her, the three of them pressing close (vander's always said a triangle is the most stable shape of them all -- and that it can withstand any kind of pressure, any kind of storm).

"it a word people say," vi starts, glancing at vy, who picks up flawlessly --

"when you're so close," vy says, leaning in to press her cheek against powder's head --

"and you know each other so well," vi continues, mirroring the movement.

between them, powder flushes happily, reaching down to take one of their hands in each of hers.

"that you say the same thing at the exact same time!" vy finishes, giving powder's hand a squeeze.

"i thought -- i thought it was a bad thing..." powder murmurs, snuggling further between her two sisters.

vi shakes her head, "nah, that's just mylo bein' a jerk."

vy nods, "and he's always a jerk, so don't you go listening to anything he says."

powder grins, nodding.

"you know that we love you, right pow-pow?" vi asks.

powder nods, her eyes bright and wide and so, so trusting.

vy leans down to tuck a strand of hair behind powder's ear.

"and that we'll always love you more than anything in the world?" vy asks.

powder laughs, crinkling her nose.

"nuh-uh -- i'll always love you guys more."

"well, we'll love you most." vi and vy say, again, at the same time.

powder lets out a delighted squeal of laughter as the three girls fall into each other with a single, bright, triple-voiced chorus of --

"jinx!"

[americas1suiteheart]

Goddamn It, House

James Wilson x Reader (truth serum fic)

Summary; House has had a history of drugging Wilson, but what happens if he drugs both Wilson and Y/n with sodium thiopental? Seems like an amazing plan to him.

Notes; I love these things, but I would be horrified if truth serum was a real thing. (Nvm I looked it up, Sodium Thiopental is the closest thing.)

Warnings; Drugging, drugs, "prescription" drugs, foul language, sexual innuendos, mentions of vomit, House in general, and more drugs..

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

You did NOT want to go into work today.. you were groggy, dressed half assed, and overall looked like shit.

God, I need coffee or an energy drink..

"L/n! Hey, do you- woah. Are you okay, man?" Kutner asks with genuine concern, despite his use of words.

You look at him with your eyes half lidded, there were most definitely dark circles under your eyes.

"Yup, I'm doing fantastic," You say flatly.

"Okay, man. Do you want a hug, or something?" Kutner offers.

You dismiss him, but thank him for the kind offer, and go up to the meeting room with him alongside you, where Thirteen, Foreman, and Taub had already been in, sitting down and talking amongst eachother.

"Holy shit, L/n. You look like death.." Foreman says, definitely out of his character. You knew how bad it was when he commented like that.

"Thanks," You say sarcastically, throwing in a fake smile as you sit down, placing your head onto the table face down, your arms dangling.

You were about to fall asleep despite only had being in the hospital for at the most 10 minutes.

"Is L/n finally dead?" House says, poking your side with his cane.

You let out a groan, too tired to even react to the poke.

House hums, knocking your head with the end of his cane. "Anyways! What do we have today, Thirteen?"

"Ow! What the hell?"

"A 27 year old man began to get pains in his lower leg. He's perfectly healthy but has an unsteady heartbeat, and has had 3 strokes since he got here," Foreman explained.

"That's interesting, I thought I asked Thirteen, but I guess I must be going insane." House says sarcastically, looking at Foreman.

"It could just be atrial fibrillation. That would explain the irregular heartbeat and strokes," You say.

Thirteen shakes her head, "But what about the random pain in his leg?" she argues.

"And the fact that this man has had a healthy diet and lifestyle his entire life. He wouldn't be getting the strokes if he's had this healthy lifestyle the entire time." Kutner adds on.

You think to yourself. "Are his bones brittle? It could be atherosclerosis,"

"Are you okay, or are you just getting dumber?"

"I'm just tired, House.. And I'm being serious about the atherosclerosis."

"Whatever. Go run a bone biopsy or something," House dismisses. "but you, stay." He says, pointing at you.

You sigh, you just wanted to take a nap at the least. Maybe if you beg him, he'll let you sleep in his office on the floor or something. Or maybe Wilson would let you..

"Coffee run. Want some? It was supposed to be for Wilson but I haven't seen him yet. You can have his,"

"Wow, is this the real Gregory House?" You look at him, nearly falling asleep where you stood.

"No, I'm actually an extraterrestrial robot clone of this "House" character you are talking about."

You laugh and walk with him to his office where two to-go cups of coffee sat on his desk. "I think the one on the right is the black coffee, the other has creamer in it." House says, pointing to the cups with his cane.

You figured it would be best to check. You couldn't do dairy, coffee was already not good for you, dairy added to that would make it so much worse. You open one of the lids and see completely dark brown coffee, so you put the lid back on and take it.

"Thanks, House. I appreciate this very rare and odd gesture." You say, raising your cup.

"No probs bro. Now get out of my office and do something for once."

You roll your eyes and leave his office, spotting Wilson just walking into his own.

"Oh, morning L/n. How are you?" Wilson greeted.

He was always the one that never commented about your appearance like how Foreman and House just did moments ago. It was a kind thing to do, but it was also "dangerous" at times, especially if you had something wrong like messy hair, only half of your makeup done when you were wearing any, undone or messily knotted tie, or a wrinkled shirt.

You still appreciated it, though.

"Morning, Wilson. I'm just a bit tired is all, but other than that I think I'll be fine." You smile.

"Ditto," He laughs.

"I'll see you later though, alright?" He finishes

"See ya, Wilson." You say, with both of you parting your ways.

House walks (barges) into Wilson's office as soon as he saw that you were gone, two coffee cups in hand.

"I got you coffee, just the way you like it. Diabetes added into it and everything." House says.

Wilson sighs, already being used to his antics to the point where he isn't affected by them anymore. "Thanks,"

House hands him the one from his left hand.

Wilson remembered what happened when he took the opposite one last time, so he took the one that House presented to him and took a drink.

It wouldn't have mattered which cup he took, because House drugged both.

Manipulative bitch.

"So, you and L/n?" House asked.

Wilson choked on his coffee at House's random comment. "I'm sorry?"

"You and L/n, I see you two are still friends again, right? Cameron told me that you two got into a big argument and had a falling out,"

"That is not in the least bit true but the fact that me and L/n are friends. When did Cameron tell you this?" Wilson asks, clearly baffled that Cameron would say something like that.

"Tuesday. I asked why you two were avoiding each other the whole day, she said you two stopped being friends the day before because of an argument," House replies. Or, more so, lies.

"The both of us were busy that day? She didn't even have time to eat lunch with us, House."

"Oh, well that makes a little more sense," House acted clueless, something he tended to do often.

He knew something that Wilson didn't. He overheard you talking to Thirteen one day, asking her for advice on "how to stop loving someone," or something like that. Stupid, right?

Wilson wasn't too hard to figure out. House could practically read his mind at this point after knowing him for as long as he did.

So, House being House, he decided to come up with a solution, or more so a plan. A opioid cocktail if you will. It's surprising that this didn't kill the two..

House's pager beeps, indicating that the team had either something, or something going on.

"Gotta go! The children need tending to,"

"House-" Wilson starts, but is cut off with House walking away.

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

You enter the room where the patient and team were in. The man was laying down, his bed messy and a tired and dazed look on his face, most likely from another stroke.

"Another stroke, I assume?" You sigh, drinking more of your coffee, which was now already mostly finished.

"We came in and he was already having one, but apparently more aggressive than the last ones according to the nurse, and his leg pain is only getting worse," Thirteen responds.

Then it's atrial fibrillation. You decide before yawning.

"Do you need an energy drink or something? I've got one in my locker," Kutner offers.

"Kutner, she already has coffee. Don't you think that'll give her a heart attack or something," Taub whispers.

Kutner shrugs, "She's in a hospital if worst comes to worst at least," He whispers back.

"Oh my goodness, if you could do that, it would totally be awesome," you praise.

You knew that so much caffeine wouldn't do too well for you, but this is definitely not the most you'd have.

Kutner leaves the room, and you stand with the others.

"It has to be atrial fibrillation, no doubt about it. I mean, that would explain the strokes and off rhythmic beating of his heart," you explain.

"No, he hasn't had a heart attack and said he hasn't had a history of them, ever." Thirteen argues.

Suddenly the vital machine starts quickly beeping, indicating that something was wrong.

The patient starts groaning as he clutches the left side of his chest.

He was having a heart attack.

You were right.

"Stabalize him, he's clotting up, get me some heparin quickly!" You shout anxiously, yet full of excitement that you were right.

Holy shit you're turning into House..

"We don't have any! He didn't clot before so we only have anything to stop the clotting," Foreman says.

The nurse that was in the room with you as this happened suddenly came back with a syringe of heparin, "It's all we had," She says. The syringe wasn't ideal with patients. It's usually preferred through the IV, but it'll work nonetheless.

The patient calms down and pants, "He's stabilized,"

"And I was right." You finish.

"We don't know that yet." Foreman scoffs.

"Yes I do you fuckin' idiot," You roll your eyes.

"What?"

"I called you a fuckin' idiot. Look at the state of this sad sop, why keep him miserable and in pain? He needs the proper medication, and he would have that if you would just fucking listen to me, you idiots, *hic!*" You shout.

You now suddenly realize what you had just said, this was unlike you. "I- oh my gosh I'm so sorry, I- I didn't mean that I promise. I don't know what came over me, just *hic!*, keep doing what you guys are doing right now, youre doing incredible, I'm so sorry," word vomit is what you would explain it to be.

You back out of the door, covering your mouth as to not say anything else stupid.

You bump into someone behind you and turn around to see Kutner standing in front of you with a Nos energy drink in his left hand. "L/n I had- " Kutner tries to say as he hands you the can.

"Thank you so much, I appreciate it tons, I've really got to go, thank you!" You say quickly before rushing off to an unoccupied room and close the door and curtains.

"What the fuck, what the hell just happened why did I say that? Oh my gosh I'm going insane I'm going fucking insane," You pace around the room and take fists of hair in your hands.

You crack open the energy drink and take a big gulp of it, "I'm just tired, I'm just tired is all. *hic!* How am I going to tend to my patients all day? I'm going to say something stupid again, why did I say that?"

Wilson wasn't doing any better. He was going along with his regular tasks as usual, when he realized that as the minutes, minutes, started to go by, he was starting to get more and more.. how should you say, iffy, with certain patients.

Saying things he should never say in his professional place of work, things he would only ever say to certain people, such as House with the "sassy" remarks he's been making.

"Jeez, what's up with you? Telling the patients that you-"

"Shut up, House.." Wilson grumbles before sneezing.

"Okay, whatever. Since when did you have the attitude and temper of a teenage girl?" House teases.

"House, please just- leave me alone," Wilson pauses for a brief moment. This was exactly like the last time not too long ago when he drugged him with that coffee.

"Did you drug me? Again?" Wilson scoffs.

"Probably," House shrugs, picking up a file off of Wilson's desk and examining it. "27 year old female with possible breast cancer. Wow, wonder what you said to her,"

"I- I didn't say anything I haven't gone to this one yet.." Wilson knew that if he went to certain ones, he would definitely get in trouble for them, so he put the ones he knew would cause trouble aside. Aka; the smart thing to do.

"Dr. L/n? You're asked for in Dr. House's office," One of the nurses calls, interrupting your mental breakdown.

You cover your mouth with one hand and give him a thumbs up before he leaves.

You could close the curtains for the main glass window, but you couldn't with the glass door, unfortunately.

The nurse nods and leaves, closing the door on his way out.

You sigh and grab the can Kutner gave you, well, more so that you took from him.

You bit your tounge on the way there and responded only when needed to in nods and shakes of the head. There were some doctors and nurses you pretended to like, just to avoid any conflict and drama, that's what horrified you the most. If you said anything to them, it was over. You're not even sure if Foreman was going to talk to you again.

"What the hell do you want," You sigh, placing the energy drink down on a desk as you enter House's office to see him shaking his magic 8 ball before looking up at you.

"What's got you so snappy today? You're starting to act like Wilson right now,"

"*hic!* What?" You question, your brows furrowed.

"I mean, have you talked to Wilson yet? Because man is he hor-" House begins before being immediately cut off.

"House!"

House looks up and you turn around to see Wilson standing at the door.

"Oh, I'm sorry did you finish verbally harassing those other patients?"

You look back at House with a questioning look, "He's finally the one harassing them now and not you?"

"Did he- did he drug you too?"

"Did he WHAT?" You snap your head back to Wilson.

This back and forth was going to give you whiplash.

"He drugged me with sodium thiopental this morning in my coffee. Along with other opioids I don't even want to know,"

"Goddamn it House! Are you kidding me? Do you know what I just said to Foreman's dumbass?? I can't fucking believe you, how old are you?!" You yell.

That explained it.

"I don't care. Hey, how about we spice this up a little, get some drama?" House says, placing his 8 ball down and getting up from his chair.

You sigh and laugh, "I can't believe you right now! You did this just to stir some drama?"

"Yes and no. Hey, L/n, who were you talking about when you were talking to Thirteen asking about 'how to stop loving someone'? I'm just curious, love the workplace drama if you didn't know," House asks you, getting in your face.

What.

"I-" You quickly place your hand over your mouth.

Wilson.

How did House know? Did Thirteen tell him?

"Who told you that? Was it Thirteen? You *hic!* shouldn't know about that," You blurt.

"Oh just happened to be passing by, but not in time to know who you were talking about. I just want to know, you know?" House shrugged.

"It was-" You slap your hand over your mouth again, this time biting your tounge as well.

"Come on, spit it out already,"

"Wait, what's going on?" Wilson asks.

You shake your head and leave his office with your hand still over your mouth, rushing to another empty room.

"What the hell!" You scream, getting the attention from other doctors on the other side of the glass. Totally not soundproof.

You grab your pager and click on Thirteen's contact, putting a message to quickly come to the room you're in.

"*hic!* This can not be happening right now," You muttered to yourself.

You told Thirteen everything. You knew or at least felt that if you told anyone else what you tell her, they'd blabber it to someone else right away. Just like you were doing against your own will.

The urgency wasn't incredibly needed, but that didn't mean that you weren't anxiously waiting, as each second felt like 5 minutes and your nails were now dug into the skin of your arm.

You paced around before finally settling on just sitting down at the edge of the bed.

"L/n? Are you doing okay? You went a little crazy earlier. I think you hurt Foreman's feelings," Thirteen says with a smile.

You look up and quickly walk up to her, "Oh my gosh, Thirteen, thank god you're here,"

"Are you okay?"

"Uh, well, House is kind of a jackass and laced my coffee with sodium thiopental and god knows what else this morning so now I've just been telling everyone I come across what I think without thinking, so I've just been without a filter since I drank that coffee. I've spent most of my time hiding in rooms until it maybe wears off," You rambled, unable to stop everything that was coming out of your mouth all at once. "He also drugged Wilson." You added

"Wait what?"

"House drugged me and now I won't shut up!" You shout.

Thirteen furrows her eyebrows and crosses her arms, "So he basically gave you a 'truth serum'."

"Yes? Is that what you'd call that? *hic!*"

"And House did this just to be a jackass?" Thirteen questioned. She knew that was most likely the answer.

"*hic!* Probably! I mean, the guy is miserable so he makes others even more miserable for his own entertainment so, *hic!* yeah!" You raised your hands up in the air and shrugged.

The thing about House, was that he never did something for no reason. Everything was always for a reason, like the last time he drugged Wilson...

Wilson.

"You said he drugged Wilson too, right?" Thirteen questioned, knowing exactly where this was going.

You nodded quickly.

Thirteen smiles and walks out of the room.

'What the fuck was that?'

You were going to to crazy! Why did she just leave? Is she coming back?

Then you suddenly realized just what House was planning, and what Thirteen knew would happen.

"*hic!* Oh my god.."

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

Your pager beeps coming from Kutner, if you could guess, it was most likely due to the patient, something that should've been much more important.

"Shit.." You look at it and bite your tounge as to not say what you were thinking out loud about patient's, nurses, doctors, etc. on your way to where the patient's room was.

Only to find that he wasn't there with the rest of the team.

"Where the hell is Kutner? He paged me for no goddamn reason or what?" You shout, clearly frustrated.

"He went to the break room," Cameron responds, focused on putting a new bag of saline.

"*hic!*"

"Goddamn it. I hate this fucking job sometimes," You groan and leave the room without saying anything else, not even bothering to bite your tounge around them as you've already said your worst.

You mumble all sorts of profanities and insults to the people you saw around you as you made your way down into the break room where stood House, and Wilson.

"What is this, some interrogation? Haven't you already had your daily dose of your dumb shit for the day or *hic!* are you going to overdose on that shit, too?"

"Oh, no I'm addicted to it. Maybe more than the Vicodin, though it might come close," House says carelessly.

You ball your fists up, nails digging into your skin.

"I'm going to kill your crippled ass," You say, gritting your teeth.

"That's cool, but first, tell me how you feel about good ol' Wilson here," House says with a coy smile on his face.

"Wait what do you mean?" Wilson asked cluelessly.

"Shut the hell up, what the hell did you give us House!"

"Hard question, next one please,"

You groan and go to the nearest wall to lean against it. Whatever he gave you was DEFINITELY not helping you.

You actually felt sick. You were so tired too, because the coffee that was supposed to be helping you, did the opposite.

"*hic!* god fucking damn it why can't this shit stop!?" You were getting sick and tired of the hiccups, it's all that's been happening to you the whole time you've been here.

"Achoo!"

And apparently Wilson's had been sneezing. Gross..

You slide down the wall and curl up once you meet the carpeted floor.

"House, I need to know, was this really nessasary for you to do.. both me *hic!* and Wilson have jobs here and I can't hide in a room all day.." You ask, rubbing your temples.

"Yes. Yes it was." House gets up and towers over you, "Have fun!"

Unfortunately, the door locked from the outside. The one House now just locked judging by the click you heard after he left.

You run to the door and attempt to turn the door handle, but to no avail, it didn't open. Meaning, you were now stuck in a room with Wilson, and only Wilson.

You take a deep breath in and out, "I'm keeping my mouth shut, don't take it personally.." backing away from the door, you take a seat on the floor next to the foosball table.

Wilson shoots you a thumbs up.

Minutes pass, then an hour, and more minutes. You hadn't even tried to busy yourself, you just sat in the same spot the whole time.

The lock clicks open and your head shoots up along with Wilson. The both of you rush to the door in hopes someone would let you out.

Only for it to be House.

"Have either of you still not said anything?" House scoffs.

You make a zip movement over your mouth, indicating you hadn't, and wouldn't say anything.

He turns to Wilson, giving him the same look and getting a shake of the head from him.

"Fine then. If you won't say it, I will. Alright, how should I go on about this? Wilson?" House hobbles over and taps Wilson with his cane.

Wilson shakes his head once more, though quicker.

"What about you, Dr. L/n? What do you have to say?" House whips his head around.

You slap your hand over your mouth and pinch yourself to stop from saying a single word.

"Okay, if you want it that way. Wilson, L/n, or should I say Y/n, has a total-"

You quickly cut off House, tackling him to the floor with your hand over his mouth. "Shut the hell up, House! I'll murder you I swear!"

"Do it then, coward." House challenged you.

You pause, suddenly unable to form a coherent sentence, let alone a single word.

"L/n totally has the hots for you, Wilson." House says, pushing you off of him with a big grin on his face.

Your jaw practically fell directly onto the floor, a million thoughts going through your mind yet despite the drug cocktail, you still stayed quiet.

The three of you stayed silent. Not one of you making a peep for what felt like hours. You felt like crying, throwing up maybe?

"Well! Have fun with this. I'm going to go bother Foreman." House dismisses himself and leaves, locking the door as you could hear from the other side.

"I- I'm so sorry, Wilson." You apologize, shutting your eyes tightly closed.

"Do you..?" Wilson asks after a couple seconds.

You open your eyes and look up to see Wilson giving you a look of sympathy and confusion.

Giving him a look of confusion yourself, you question, "what?"

"God, this feels like middle school," Wilson lets out a chuckle before continuing, "do you like like me?" He raises an eyebrow.

Furrowing your brows, you respond, "What do you think, James?"

He smiles sheepishly, now suddenly shy. "I wish I would've known sooner."

Wilson was typically a quiet man, kept to himself and usually stuck with House, so seeing him like this wasn't surprising, though that didn't mean you didn't find it a little silly.

A guy with a title such as his? Shy? No way.

"Do you?" You asked the same question, causing him to rub the back of his neck and mumble with a nod.

You smile. Maybe House being a dickhead wasn't too bad of a thing sometimes. Sometimes..

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

Has no clue how to end this. *But* finished it nonetheless!

[uygfiug]

why is it so scary to text friends 😭😭

[alagaisia]

Stumbled on a weird website for a work thing. With no other context, what is your response when you hear this phrase:

Context: this is a phrase used by the organization that founded March 18th as “Global Recycling Day”, on a page introducing their position that recycling/recycled materials should be thought of as the Seventh Natural Resource.

The six natural resources that they claim “we” tend to think of as the most important are: water, air, oil, natural gas, coal, and minerals.

[rafesbabyg1rl]

Private Session

Part one, Part Two , Part Three

Summary: Rafe likes to watch reader while she works as a stripper. He asks for a private session in which he'll pay a large amount for her time. Rafe takes her home and uses her however he pleases.

Pairings: Stripper!Reader X obsessive!Rafe

Warnings: Rafe is obsessive of reader. Reader is a stripper. Mention of drugs (Rafe does coke), Rafe's an ass, choking, p in v, unprotected sex, bondage, language, slight degradation, slight praise, oral (both m and f receiving), fingering. SMUT SMUT SMUT!

Word Count: 5.9k

Author Note: Hey babes! I got this idea from this GIF , like just imagine he's sitting in the strip club throwing dollar bills at you like that. UGH I need him so bad. But anyways, this fic is NOT fully proofread for errors, and I was a little fried while writing this and it's literally almost 3 am right now, but I wanted to get this posted. If you see any errors please feel free to correct me kindly! Thanks!

I promise I will work on The Watcher; I just got a bit stuck. Thank you guys for reading, I hope you enjoy! I love you all and stay freaky!

Credits: GIF from this post

You don’t hate your job, but it’s definitely not the most respected profession out there. You can’t really hate the one thing that makes you money, pretty damn good money too. What can you say, you’re good at your job. You do however hate the assholes who come in nearly every night just to get on your nerves, well more like asshole. 

Rafe Cameron loves to come in and watch you. He’ll stare for hours, just admiring you. Sometimes he’s with a few other guys from figure eight, but usually comes in alone. Honestly it’s when he comes in alone that he’s really bad. Since he can direct all his focus on you shamelessly. Rafe’s especially awnry when Barry, your boss, comes to hang out with him. Your boss is normally quite fair when it comes to his dancers; always making sure they’re not being mistreated by customers. But Rafe? Rafe has a free pass to do whatever the hell he wants to whoever. And unluckily for you, you seem to be the only one of Barry’s girls that he’s interested in. He never does so much as look at any of the other dancers when you’re around, he only cares about you. You thought it was flattering at first, but now it’s just weird.

When you see him come in tonight you sigh, still keeping up your performance on stage. God, it’s definitely going to be a long night. You’ve already had enough crap for the day, now for Rafe Cameron to waltz into the club when you’re only halfway through your shift, this is just great. God must really have it out for you.

Rafe hadn’t known you were working tonight, so he’s pleasantly surprised when he sees you on your stage as he walks to the back room to find Barry. Once he disappears into the back room with Barry, you forget about him and continue on with your routine per usual. 

A while later, you see Rafe finally emerging from the back room, making his way back through the crowd of horny, drunk men and topless women. You see him shove a small bag into his pocket as he walks into view. His demeanor is different now; even cockier than before, if that’s possible. And his eyes are bloodshot, pupils extremely dilated. 

Just keep walking. You think to yourself as you collect bills from your stage floor. Just keep walking.

But of course, Rafe stops near the front end of your stage, taking a seat. He gets comfortable, slouching back in his chair, his legs spread wide and his arms crossed over his chest as he stares up at you.

You try not to let your annoyance show as you continue dancing. Rafe watches you silently; occasionally tossing $1’s and $5’s onto the stage; only sticking to the small bills for now. Not because he’s cheap, but because he likes to take his time; build it up over time. He only throws a few at a time, so he can watch you bend over and pick up the cash however many times he wants.

You lean down to pick up the newest bills he just tossed down for you. You look at him, flashing him a flirty smile as you do with all paying customers. He shoves his wallet back into his jeans and looks up, making eye contact with you. He flashes a smirk that’s almost…charming? But, you know better than to fall for that. No matter how pretty he is, you know better.

A bit later, you take a short break from the pole to make your rounds around the club and see if you have any customers interested in your services. You hate it when it’s busy. Well, stripper you loves it when it’s busy because it means more money. But you, you hate the loud crowds of drunken perverts and frat boys; you felt so exposed. Which, you should because you’re hardly wearing anything. But, you just feel too vulnerable. You liked the calmer nights when the crowd was smaller; you feel more in control that way. And fuck is it packed tonight. You can barely move through the people, and you can hardly hear anything besides the loud music and obnoxious cat calls. This is why you don’t usually work on saturday nights; you’re just doing one of the other girls a favor and covering her shift. 

Accidentally, you bump your shoulder into somebody while on your way back to the stage. You don’t think anything of it and just keep walking until you feel a hand on your wrist. Immediately you turn back, pulling your wrist away. You’re not surprised to find that it was Rafe you had bumped into you. 

“Hey, y’think I can get a private show?” He asks, his emotions unclear as he steps closer so he can hear you. 

“Sorry sir, no rooms are available.” You say with a sensual laugh and a bright smile, no matter how badly you want to just roll your eyes and walk away. But you can’t. You must remain professional. Rafe bites his lip, taking yet another step closer. He leans in to whisper into your ear. 

“That’s not what I mean.” He keeps his mouth next to your ear.” You can hear his breathing as you think of a response. 

“Can’t, sorry. I don’t do that, I’m not a fucking hooker.” You bite back, beginning to walk away again.

But Rafe quickly retorts, “doesn’t matter, both mean you’re just a fucking slut. Fuckin’ whore.” He spits. He tries to grab your wrist again and fails, grabbing your hand instead. He lets out a jagged breath, tugging you closer. “Come on. I’ll give you one thousand for two hours.” You’re shocked at his generosity, but like you said, you’re not a hooker. You don’t sell that part of you. Especially not to this asshole. 

You don’t get the chance to respond before Barry is walking over to the two of you. “There a problem?” You sigh a breath of relief when Rafe drops your hand. But when you look at Barry, you realize he’s not asking you.

“Yeah, this fuckin’ bitch don’t know how to listen.” Rafe gestures to you.

Barry nods, taking in Rafe’s words. He steps over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder and leading you a few steps away to talk to you. “What's he want?” Your boss asks, trying to gauge the situation. It doesn’t help that he’s also been doing some lines in the back room.

“He wants to take me home. I told him I’m not a hooker.” You explain, hoping he’ll side with you.

“Well maybe for tonight you are. You know why that is, sweetheart?”

You look down as you speak. “‘Cause we listen to what Mr. Cameron says.” You recite his rule. 

“One night, just go with him. I bet he’ll pay big.” Barry pleads, not really giving you much option. 

You argue, “Yeah, and you’re just gonna take 50%.” 

“How ‘bout this. You listenin’?” You nod, looking up at him as he speaks. “You do this, you get to keep 75%.”

You think for a moment before responding. “Seventy-five percent of all my earnings.” You demand, causing Barry to chuckle. 

Barry knows you’re stubborn, and he knows he can’t legally force you to go with Rafe. So hesitantly, he gives in and accepts your deal. “Fine, fine ‘aight, seventy-five percent of everything you make.” 

You reach out to shake his hand. He holds onto it for a moment longer than is necessary, looking into your eyes, smiling a grimy smile; his gold tooth shining as the low club lighting hits it just right. “Now go get to fuckin’”, he laughs, letting go of your hand. You roll your eyes and as you turn your back to him he gives you a slight nudge back towards Rafe’s direction. 

Re-approaching Rafe, you compose yourself. “One thousand for one hour.” You negotiate, your expression making it clear that you won’t be taking no for an answer. You know he has the money, and he’s clearly willing to spend it on you.

Rafe takes his bottom lip in between his teeth, attempting to contain his amused smile. “That wasn’t the deal.” He takes a step towards you. Your demanding expression doesn’t falter as you continue to stare at him silently. He huffs out a chuckle, nodding his head and licking his bottom lip. “Okay, fine. One thousand for one hour of your time. But, anything that goes over an hour is free. And trust me, you’re gonna be begging for more.” 

“Right, sure I will.” You say sarcastically.

Rafe ignores your words. “So do we have a deal?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Deal.”

Rafe wastes no time in taking your hand, leading you to the back room. You pass by the private rooms, seeing that one had opened up. You stop walking, making Rafe look back at you with a confused expression, waiting for your reason.

“There’s a room open…” You speak, looking over at the open door.

“I already told you, not here. That’s not what I’m paying for.” Rafe turns, pulling you behind him. He leads you into the back room, waiting for you to get your stuff from your locker. You slip some clothes over your lingerie, not wanting to go outside nearly naked. After grabbing your bag, you follow Rafe out the back door and to his truck. 

His demeanor seems to be more neutral now, rather than being plain mean. Nervously on the drive over to figure eight, you spew out words. “I don’t usually do this.” You say, looking over at Rafe. Rafe doesn’t bother looking at you, he just stares straight out at the road in front of him. You can tell he doesn’t believe you. “Really. I never go home with random guys like this. I never even have se–”. You cut yourself off, already having spilt too much. You curse yourself. 

When you’re working, you can keep a strong, dominant attitude and be more confident because it’s all just a part of your character. You can be anyone on stage, you don’t have to be yourself. But as soon as you’re outside of the club, you’re just an anxious fucking mess. Which probably has to do with why you hardly have a sex life. 

Rafe looks over to you, occasionally glancing back out at the road. His expression almost makes it seem like he’s actually listening to you; like he cares. You shake that thought out of your head and try to remind yourself that he doesn’t care about what you’re saying, he’s just paying you for sex. 

“Wait, so you’re saying that you’re a stripper and a virgin?” He asks, his eyes narrow with confusion, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You laugh. “No! I never said I was a virgin.” You explain.

Rafe smiles when he hears you laugh, not being able to keep his eyes off of your beautiful smile. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you laugh before. A real laugh, not the fake, flirty ones you flash to the guys at the club while working. It’s one of the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard.

“So, what then?” He genuinely asks. You’re shocked with the amount of effort he seems to be putting into this conversation, you never took him for much of a talker. 

“I don’t know…I just don’t get many chances I guess.” You say honestly, unsure why you’re sharing this with him of all people. You hate him.

“Bullshit.” Adds Rafe. “You’re a stripper.”

“Okay yeah, I’m a stripper, but that’s ‘cause I need the money. I don’t go home with the guys from the club, well…usually.” You pause for a moment. “...that’s just my job. Outside of the club I get to be myself…and I don’t know, it’s just different.”

“You’re afraid people won’t like who you really are?” His words take you by surprise, making your words get stuck in your throat.

You eventually manage to choke out a response. “Yeah, I…I guess so.” Rafe just nods. Not wanting to admit it, but he gets what you mean. You both sit in a comfortable silence the rest of the way to his place.

Arriving at Tanneyhill, Rafe parks the truck in his driveway and he quickly hops out, rounding the front of the truck and opening your door, allowing you to step out. He leads you up to the front door, grabbing his keys from his pocket and unlocking it, following you inside before shutting the door behind you two. 

You take a few steps down the hall, observing the room around you. Now that you’re seeing his home, you wish you tried to get even more money out of him. “C’mon”, he mumbles from behind you. Rafe grabs your duffel bag from you and walks in front of you, leading you upstairs to his bedroom. He sets the bag on a small couch in his room, turning around to look at you. He looks you up and down, admiring your body. His skin crawls with anticipation of what’s to come. He’s finally gonna get to do all the things he’s been dying to do to you since the first time he saw you at the club.

Rafe moves to sit on the bed, patting his lap without saying another word. You know what he wants. Slowly you make your way over to him, straddling his lap so that you’re facing him; your knees on the bed on either side of his legs. For a brief moment, you both stare at each other, getting momentarily lost in one another’s eyes. 

Carefully he places his hand on your face, cupping your jaw. His movements are slow and calculated as he leans in, enveloping your lips with his own. The kiss is slow and tender, everything you weren’t expecting. 

You pull back just enough to look over at the clock on his nightstand, noting the time in your head. You breathlessly mutter to him, “your hour starts now.” You can see him staring at your lips and without warning he leans in, kissing you. This time, he’s not being so gentle. 

Things escalate quickly; clearly he doesn’t want to waste any time with you. Rafe stands up, holding you while not breaking the kiss, he turns the two of you around and lays you on your back, crawling over you. His lips leave yours as he starts to kiss and suck at your neck, eventually finding your ear. Rafe takes your ear between his teeth, gently nipping at it. The feeling of his teeth grazing your skin sends a chill throughout your body. 

He gently whispers, “I’m gonna do what I want, but you just tell me if it’s too much, alright? Let me know if you want me to stop.” He presses a soft kiss to your ear as you nod.

“Mhm.” You mumble, acknowledging his words.

“No.” He shakes his head, “Say it.”

You oblige, looking at him as you speak. “I’ll tell you to stop if I need to.”

Rafe smirks. “Good girl.” He wastes no time before his lips come crashing onto yours again; somehow even more passionately than the last. 

A soft moan escapes your lips, only making him get even rougher. He kisses you sloppily, his tongue making sure to explore every bit of your mouth. He hovers over you, one hand pressing into the mattress beside your head, holding himself up. And with his free hand, he begins to slide off your shirt. 

You try to help him get you out of your shirt by maneuvering yourself around as best you can underneath him. Once your shirt is off, very little is left to the imagination in your work top, which is just a very lacy piece of lingerie. His hand then works at the button on your shorts, once he’s got that undone he starts tugging them off of you, tossing it to his floor. Once you’re in your little work ‘outfit’, he takes a moment to admire you up close. 

He’s seen you in skimpy little things like this before, he needs to see the rest of you; all of you. He starts to try and get you out of your lingerie, but there’s too many straps and clips, he can’t get you out of it quick enough. He starts to get frustrated, pausing your kiss as he leans back trying to get a good look at what he’s working with. Rafe’s impatience gets to him and he mumbles a quick “fuck this” just before ripping the thin fabric right off of you. 

You let out an involuntary gasp, causing him to look at your face which has an annoyed expression. This was one of your new outfits for work and he just ruined it. 

He leans in and presses a soft, wet kiss to your slightly parted lips. “Calm down, I’ll pay for it.” You don’t get a change to respond before he’s pulling the damaged fabric off of you, tossing it onto the floor as well. “Fuuckk, baby.” He mutters, running his free hand down your bare skin, tracing the shape of you as he admires your bare body. “Oh my god,” he whispers, almost inaudibly. “So fucking beautiful.” His mouth finds your chest, immediately latching onto one of your nipples; he sucks at it until he eventually pulls off to give attention to your other breast. His eyes are trained up on you, watching as your head tilts back in pleasure. 

Rafe pulls his mouth off with a pop! He stands up from the bed, walking over to his dresser. He opens up the top drawer, taking something out and coming back to you. You see a bundle of rope in his hands, your eyes widen in surprise. You hadn’t expected to be into all that. He really had this planned out. Your excitement builds; the wetness between your legs growing. Rafe sees the thoughts going on in your head.

He tries to reassure you, “relax, it’s fine, m’gonna take real good care of you baby.” He instructs you to scoot up towards the headboard of his bed. Quickly and skillfully, he ties your wrists to the bed, making sure it’s not tight enough to cause pain and not loose enough for you to slip out. You’re not sure how you feel about being tied up and against your will, it definitely leaves you very vulnerable; very out of control. However, for some reason you feel like you can almost trust him. Because so far, since leaving the club, he’s been very tentative and reassuring, even gentle at times. Which is not at all what you had expected from Rafe Cameron. 

Soon, his mouth is on you, his tongue lapping up your arousal. You struggle against your restraints, feeling like you need to grip onto something. Your hips try to run from him, only causing him to grab ahold of your thighs, keeping you in place. 

“F-fuuck…” You whine.

Rafe mumbles against your cunt and you can feel the vibrations in your core. As his tongue fucks you ruthlessly, you find it hard to keep quiet, a sea of moans escaping from your lips.

“Feel good, hm? You like that?” You pout at the loss of his mouth on you, causing him to chuckle before resuming his actions. His tongue circles your clit, only stopping to suck on it. The heat is building in your lower stomach, almost getting unbearable.

“Ohhh…shitshitshitshitshit” You almost scream. “Fuck! Oh fuck Rafe. Please, please don’t…don’t stop.” Rafe pulls back, “told you you’d be begging.” Your hips buck up, chasing after his mouth, missing the feeling of his tongue. But ultimately, Rafe obeys, his mouth continuing its ministations on you. He adds a finger to the mix, slowly tracing up and down your entrance as he sucks at your clit. He slides his long digit inside of you without warning, thrusting it in and out, curling it up to hit the spongy spot deep inside you. “Fuck,” You cry. “I…fuck. G-gonna cum, Rafe!” Your wrists tug against the rope; hurting just a bit, making you whimper in pain. Though you’re distracted by the feeling of your orgasm creeping in. 

Rafe hears your cry and he can tell it’s different from your other moans. His head snaps up from between your legs, making you miss his warm, wet mouth on you. He continues his earlier actions, adding a second finger in you, trying to stretch you out as much as he can; to prepare you for him. Your legs wrap around his head as the barrier in your stomach finally breaks, letting your excruciatingly good orgasm wash over you.

He slowly works you down from your high, pulling his fingers out from you, making you squeeze around nothing, your body hating the absence of him. His tongue continues to lap up all your juices. Then he begins to kiss his way back up your body. When he meets your lips, he kisses you tenderly again, letting you taste yourself on his lips. While kissing you, his hands work on freeing your wrists. He sees the red marks they had left, feeling proud yet also feeling a bit bad for causing you pain. “You did so good…” He praises.

You tug his shirt up over his head and run your hands down his toned chest, still attempting to catch your breath from earlier. Then you work at his belt, tossing it aside and pulling off his pants, also tossing them aside. Now that he’s left in just his boxers, you sit up. You get Rafe to lay down where you had been. Using the same rope to tie his wrists to the bed; though you’re not too confident in your knot-tying abilities and you’re unsure if it’ll be able to contain him. 

“W-what are you doing?” He asks almost nervously. Rafe hadn’t been expecting for you to take charge of him, usually that doesn’t happen to him. He pulls against his restraints a bit, quickly finding out the pain that comes with. 

“Shh…relax, it’s fine.” You recite to him. He smirks, recognizing his own words.

“Fuckin’ brat.” He spits, trying to seem upset, although he really just thinks it’s the hottest fucking thing ever. 

You travel down his body, straddling his legs as you start to slowly pull his boxers off of him. Rafe’s hard cock springs out, shooting up into the air. You gasp at the sight. You can see why he’s always so cocky now, it’s because he’s got the means to back it up. 

Your hands find him, gently stroking his cock. Rafe’s head tips back, his eyes shutting in pleasure for a moment. Quickly, he’s watching you again, not wanting to miss the sight of this. Slowly, you put your mouth onto him. Rafe tries to remain in control by bucking his hips up off the bed, shoving his cock deep down your throat, making you gag in response. You pull off of him for a moment and he chuckles. Knowing he has a limited time with you, you don’t wait too long before sinking your mouth back down on him. As your confidence builds, so does your pace. 

“Shiiitt baby, feels so fucking good.” He groans. Already, you can feel his dick twitching in your mouth, causing him to whine. Big, tough Rafe Cameron whining underneath you, completely at your mercy. He doesn’t seem so threatening now that you’ve seen him like this. “W-wait, wait baby, wait.” He manages, his words just spilling out. He struggles against his restraints some more before continuing. “Not yet; I don’t wanna cum yet.” You understand, pulling your mouth off of him. You move to undo his restraints, his mouth finding your tits as you lean over him to untie the rope. 

The second he’s free, you’re already somehow on your back with him on top of you. Rafe leans over you and you press open-mouthed, wet kisses all across his chest as he does so. He grabs something from his nightstand and when he pulls back you can see the small, shiny wrapper in his hand. Smart, a condom. You hadn’t even thought of that, but it was probably a good idea.

You place your hands over his, taking the condom from him. As fast as you can, you open it and reach down between you two, rolling it onto his cock until it reaches the base. He leans back down on top of you, kissing your neck and jaw. He whispers, “can I?”

You respond jokingly, “that’s what you’re paying for, isn’t it?” Rafe just stares at you, his expression showing his annoyance and frustration with you. Before he asks you to ‘say it’, you add to your previous statement. “Yes, Rafe. Fuck me.”

Rafe doesn’t need any further permission as he lines himself up with your cunt. He wishes he could feel your wetness on his skin, but he knew wearing a condom was the smart thing. Slowly, he presses in. Only entering you about two inches, letting you adjust to him before adding a few more inches. Slowly; inch by inch, Rafe enters you, eventually bottoming out. Rafe stays still for a couple moments until you give him a small nod. He moves his hips slowly, rocking in and out of you at a comfortable pace. Your hands wrap around him, hooking underneath his biceps. Your palms grip onto his back, your nails only slightly digging into his skin. His pace begins to pick up, getting loud moans and whines to come from you. 

“Mmmnn…nnhhgghh f-fuuckk, Rafe!” You cry out, a tear rolling down your cheek. 

The sight of your tear only turns him on more, in a dark and twisted way. He uses his thumb to wipe away your warm, salty tear off of your cheek. 

Despite his gentle touch, Rafe is now drilling into you without regard for your poor cunt. Shamelessly fucking you with a condom on. He looks at the sticky, white mess leaking from your perfect cunt; creating a slick film that coats his entire cock. He reaches out to grab you by your hair, forcing your neck down so that you’re looking at where you and him connect, “See that? That’s all you baby.” 

When you’re greeted with the sight of his entire length buried deep inside of you, your eyes begin to roll back as your next orgasm approaches. Rafe clicks his tongue at you, pulling entirely out of you. After a few moments without him inside of you, you immediately start to pout. A whine escapes your lips, “Rafe…”, your hips buck up, as if trying to draw his attention back to your needy cunt. 

A small, cocky grin spreads across his face at the sight. His grip tightens in your hair as he begins to tug, directing your gaze right where he wants it, on him. “You gotta fuckin’ see this, baby.” Rafe says proudly, looking back down at your messy pussy. Quickly, he thrusts back into you with force and you watch as your cunt swallows him whole. “See that? See what you do for me?” Rafe speaks in a tone that sounds as though he’s praising you, but he knows that your body has no other option than to take him. “See how fuckin’ well you take me? This pussy was fuckin’ made for my cock.” 

Rafe groans, pre-cum now leaking into the condom as his pace becomes sporadic. Still going through the aftershocks of your most recent orgasm, your cunt continues to squeeze tightly around him.

“Holy f-fuck.” Rafe stutters, his fingers moving to your clit, rubbing it in circles. His movements are getting sloppy, arithmetic as he tries to draw another orgasm from you before he finishes. “God fucking damn.” Rafe’s head tips back, you lean up to kiss his neck, occasionally nipping at it, your moans being muffled by him.  

Your third orgasm approaches, your entire body trembling as you shriek. “Rafe! Fuck, fuck, I-fuck!” Your screams become muted when he kisses you, shutting you up. Rafe’s own orgasm starts to creep in, his thrusts getting harder for a moment before he stills inside of you. You can feel his cock twitch, followed by the feeling of his hot cum as it fills the condom. He slowly moves, easing you both back down from your highs. Eventually, he pulls out of you, rolling off to the side and laying on his back beside you. 

You work on catching your breath as you turn your head to look over at the time; you have about fifteen minutes left with him. You don’t know what he has in store for you now, he’s already succeeded in making you cum three times within forty-five minutes. While he takes a moment to rest, you decide to get on top of him. You pull off his condom, tying the end of it in a knot. Without giving him any kind of warning, you put your mouth back on him, sucking his warm, sticky seed off of his dick. One of his large hands shoots up to hold the back of your head, pushing your mouth all the way down on him. You can feel his semi-hard cock already growing harder again. 

“S-shit, babe.” He groans, pulling you up, bringing your face to his and meeting you with another kiss, as if to thank you. 

You stand up, your legs shaky. You half walk, half stumble into the adjoining bathroom, tossing the condom in the trash. You make your way back to the bed, laying next to him. You turn your head to look at him. “What else can I do for you? Time’s almost up.” You ask softly. 

Rafe huffs, pissed off that you had to remind him that this isn’t real, he’s paying for this, for you. Without a word, he flips over on top of you, his hand wrapping around your throat. There’s something different about him now. His eyes; they carry a bit of darkness, his movements now rough and aggressive. He squeezes your neck lightly, making you gasp in surprise. “Rafe…”

“Shhh…you’re gonna take what I give you.” He squeezes tighter, making it harder for you to breathe, but not impossible. He leans down, kissing all over your neck and chest, leaving bites and bruises in his wake. You let out a small whine involuntarily; you can feel his touch throughout your whole body, like a jolt of electricity. “Shut up, whore.” 

Suddenly, Rafe’s thrusting into you again. But wait, he’s not wearing a condom. In your surprise, this way feels so much better. You can feel the warmth and smoothness of his cock as it easily slides in and out of you, making the most lewd noises. You try to speak, but his hand tightens around your throat one final time, actually making it impossible for you to breathe. He stares into your eyes, watching as your face turns red and your panic sets in. You put your hands on his arm, hitting and tugging on it. Just as your vision starts to go dark, he eases his grip. You gasp for air, taking in as much as you can while he continues his attack on your pussy. 

You’re about to see stars again for the fourth time tonight when he suddenly pulls out of you. You whine at the loss of him, frustrated that he denied you of your orgasm. Rafe rolls off of you, making your brows furrow in confusion. “What the fuck?” You question.

He looks over to the clock on his nightstand and you follow his gaze. “Time’s up.” He says plainly. You knew what he was doing. This sneaky motherfucker. He purposely got you to your climax right as the hour ended so you’d prove him right and beg for more; beg to let you cum one more time. As much as you wanted to prove him wrong and just leave, you need this, you need to feel him fill you up.

Before he can protest, you straddle his lap, sinking yourself down onto his cock. Immediately he groans, taking hold of your hips. He holds you still, not letting you move yet. “Knew you’d want more.” He says, now guiding you to grind on his dick, this new position lets him hit a new depth inside you. “M’not paying for this now.”

You don’t respond, instead using your energy to bounce up and down his length. Your climax is already near, your entire body shaking and spent from the past three orgasms he gave you. Rafe helps you out, his strong hand gripping onto you as he holds you up, drilling up into your cunt at a god-like pace. How is someone this talented, this fucking perfect, paying for sex? Surely he could get any girl he wants. Although you’re not complaining, four orgasms and a thousand dollars? How could it get any better than that? 

You yell out as the band in your stomach snaps, the pressure being relieved as a stream of your liquids squirt out of you, splashing onto his stomach, dripping down to his sheets underneath you both. You’re just as shocked as he is when this happens. You didn’t even know you could do that.

“Fuck,” Rafe growls, continuing to fuck up into your shaking body. Rafe doesn’t warn you before shooting his load into you. But the warmth and fulfillment of his seed feels too fucking good to be mad about. Slowly, you pull yourself off of him. He has to help lift you off of his cock since your body is completely spent. “You’re fucking amazing.” He presses a long, soft kiss to your head. 

After helping you clean up a bit, you change into your own clothes. Rafe drives you back to the club, the ride awfully quiet, both of you being too exhausted to talk. When you get there, he pulls his wallet out, grabbing out a large wad of cash and handing it to you. You quickly count it, and then recount it, when your results don’t change, you look up at him with furrowed brows. “That’s for being so fucking good.” Rafe had given you two thousand instead of one. This boosts your confidence a bit, an hour of sex with you is worth two thousand dollars? God, you should’ve fucked Rafe sooner. You get out of his truck and walk towards the club. Rafe speeds off out of the parking lot. 

It’s late, but Barry’s still here, though the crowd has definitely shrunken in the last hour. You walk in and find Barry in the back room. He laughs as he takes in your disheveled appearance; your hair and makeup are disastrous. 

“Looks like someone had a good time, huh? Now where’s my money?” He asks. You pull out the cash, counting 500 and tossing it to him. 

“There. That’s seventy-five percent of what I made.” You start to walk out. But his voice calls you back.

“Shit, you made two thousand in one hour just for fuckin’ him? You got some magic fuckin’ pussy or sum?” He laughs. “I might have to start sellin’ you out more, don’t I?”

Too tired to argue, you walk out. You don’t want to admit it, but you wouldn’t hate having to do that again with Rafe, whether it’s paid or unpaid.

Thank you for reading! I greatly appreciate it! PLEASE feel free to leave Rafe x reader requests!! I LOVE getting them!

[fictionalmenxyn]

hi can you write rafe x wife. Happily married and have 3 teen kids. Sons friends comes over and talks about mom as milf( idk maybe something else up to u) and Rafe and his wife hear it! Then Rafe f*cks her

of course I can!!

•———•

ఌ𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧ఌ

Pairing: husband!rafe x wife!reader

Warnings: SMUT, language, p in v, fingering, no mentions of protection (be safe, wrap it before u tap it!), breeding kink, dirty talk, possessive/jealous Rafe.

Feel free to send more reqs! Thinking of doing dad!Rafe so send me things you’d like to see! Or more husband!rafe idm! Anything!

🝮🝮🝮

Just getting home from work, you got out of your Range Rover. Collecting your handbag, laptop and some papers from the back seat.

You headed into yours and Rafe’s estate. Walking through the front door. You already knew your three sons had friends over. Your eldest, Cody had asked you over text. You slip your heels off by the door and walk through the large foyer and over to the spacious living room. You smiled as you saw your boys Cody (17), Morgan (16) and Ollie (14 1/2). You spoke “hey boys, you all having fun?” They all said their “heys” and “yeah, thanks”.

You subtly noticed the way their friends eyed you up. Teenage boys never really cared if you saw them checking woman out. Well, these lot didn’t. You looked over to the attached large kitchen, smiling as you see Rafe.

You walked over, putting your things onto the counter. Rafe was leaning forward. His elbows on the counter as he watched the tv from the kitchen as your sons and their friends had soccer on. You walked over to Rafe. Smiling as you put your hand on his back. “Hey, love, you ok?” He turns his head to look at you. His famous grin plastered on his face. “Yeah, all good, how’s work?” He pulls you by the waist. Giving you a soft but firm kiss, showing you how much he missed you since you left this morning. You pull away to answer “good, made some great photos today, all I have to do is change the lighting and tone..” he smiled and pecked your lips “good, can I watch it while you do it?”

Rafe loved what you did. You were a photographer for models, perfume/jewellery commercials or fashion designers. You took the photos and edited them to put on magazines or advertisements. He loved how much you enjoyed your job to.

You nodded “of course, Rafey” he smiled “good girl..” you pecked his cheek.

You sat at the island counter, going through the photos on your laptop. As Rafe leaned against the counter, arms crossed, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

You both overheard Cody and his friend talk. His friend, Jack, asked “dude, is that your older sister or something?” Cody asked “who?” Jack replied “the one that’s in the kitchen with your dad.” Cody shook his head “nah man, that’s my mom.” Jack replied “no fucking way?? She’s so hot, dude, your mom is such a milf, no joke.”

Rafe practically chocked on his drink, as your eyes widen and press your hand to your forehead. A quiet gasp escaped your lips. What did Jack just say? You couldn’t be going mad, Rafe heard the same thing.

Cody spoke “shut up! Don’t say that!” Jack shrugged nonchalantly “dude, I’m just saying, I’d tap that if I could.”

Your eyes widen, Rafe’s jaw clenched. Rafe didn’t need to be and wasn’t jealous… not exactly… he just didn’t like the fact that a seventeen year old friend of your sons had just said that about you… his wife, the mother of his children, his childhood friend, his lover…

Through the rest of the day, Rafe stuck to your side. You’d changed into some sweats and a crop top. Once you were done you both sat on the couch; Rafe next to you. He had his arm around you the whole time. Occasionally kissing your cheek or temple. Showing the boys, your his. He’s the one that put that beautiful diamond ring on your finger. He’s the one that put three beautiful and handsome boys in you. He helped you create life. He’s the one that gives you happiness.

🝮🝮🝮

Soon after, the sun started to set. Your three sons had asked both Rafe and yourself if they could stay the night at one of the boys house. Rafe agreed and told them to be safe and have fun.

As soon as he had shut that front door. You were in for a real treat tonight. Rafe walked back over to the couch. He put his one knee on the seat and he placed a hand on the side of your neck. His cold metal of his rings and watch press gently into your warm neck. He crashes his lips into yours like a starved man. His tongue quick to be shoved into your mouth. You knew what he was up to. You could tell it from the exact moment Cody’s friend said what he said about you.

You knew Rafe since day one, knew him better than he knew himself. So you knew what he was doing. And you were definitely not complaining.

Rafe placed one hand one your thigh and guided you so you laid back on the couch. While he stayed on top of you. He groaned against your lips. He mumbled “‘m gonna make you feel so good, baby” you gasped softly when you feel Rafe’s hips press against yours. He puts his free hand from your thigh, moving it to the waistband of your sweats.

Putting his hand down your sweats he could feel the material of your panties and your soft, wet skin. He groaned “you wearing the black lace ones?” You nodded. He grinned “all f’me…mine” you mumbled “yes, Rafey…”

His fingers slowly move up and down against your heat. You moaned softly. You gasp when you felt his middle finger slip in. He tilted his head and started to kiss along your neck. He groaned, his finger slowly pulling in and out. As he inhaled the sent of your vanilla perfume, he groaned once again. He mumbled against your soft skin “feel so good on my finger, want another, babe?” You nodded. He replied “words. y/n.” You whispered “another, please, Rafe” he slipped his ring finger in. Causing you to gasp softly.

After a few more seconds he pulled his fingers out. You whimpered, he grinned “oh we aren’t done, just wanna take you upstairs… prefer the bed.” Your mouth practically waters as you watch him move his fingers to his mouth. Cleaning you off his digits.

He picks you up, over his shoulder. Taking you upstairs and not wasting anymore time.

Placing you down on the bed, he was quick to take your clothes off. All piece of clothing on the floor. While he starts to take his off, you watched in awe. Your reaction to him will always be the same. It’s like looking at him for the first time, over and over. You never got tired of him. Never have and never will.

You watched as he was swift to remove his boxers. His huge length springing free. He moved onto the bed. His lips go to yours as his hand moves to his length. Pumping it a few times, then lining up with your entrance. You gasp as he started to push in. Once he was all the way in he leaned over you. His chain dangles by your chin. His hands either side of your shoulders. His biceps flex as he looks down at you.

“You’re so pretty under me, sweetheart.” You moaned softly as he slowly started to move in and out. He chuckled lowly “you know, what the boys said… was right..” he groaned. “You are a milf… my milf… such a hot momma, baby… I know you want another… want me to give you one?” You moaned as he picked up the pace a little more. “Words, sweetheart.” You nodded “yes, fuck! Want another…”

He moaned hearing your words, “fuck Y/n, I’ll give you another… I’ll fill you up, make your baby bump come back. Love you baby bumps… every one of them…” you moaned. His one hand moves to your lower stomach, pushing on the bulge on your lower abdomen. Causing you to moan, as he goes deeper.

He picks up his pace, he moaned “fuck, gonna make you pregnant again. Wanna see you with my baby in you again.” He goes harder. “Fuck can feel you round me, that make you excited, baby? Thinking of me getting you pregnant again?”

You nodded, grabbing onto his bicep. Nails digging into his tan skin. He groans at the feeling. He spoke “gonna give ya a girl this time, I wanna girl, so I can spoil you both, yeah? Let you two have the world.” You moan “oh Rafey!” He grinned. “Yeah? Like that?” You nodded. He leaned back. Grabbing your hips, guiding you against him as he thrusts into you.

He can feel your close, “gonna come f’me? Let me have it, sweetheart. You do that f’me and I’ll do it for ya..” you placed your hand on his chest. Then holding his chain. Wanting him closer, he knew you well. He knew that meant you were about to finish. He leaned down. You moaned “fuck, gonna-” “do it, finish over my cock f’me, love…” those words hit you like a brick wall. Every. God. Damn. Time.

And he knew it too.

You moaned one last time, then finishing. Causing you to tighten around him. He chased his realise and finished inside you.

He moaned as he slowed his pace. Still thrusting, just slowing down. Chasing both of your climaxes. Once he came to a spot. You had you usual ‘thank you’. He kissed both cheeks, then your forehead, temples, chin, nose and then your lips. He mumbled against your lips “you ok? Feel good, baby? You did so good..” You nodded “so good.”

He gently pulled out, causing you both to inhale sharply. He gently picked you up. Going ahead and doing your aftercare. For all the time you both knew each other. And past Rafe, with his many hook ups. Not once did he do aftercare. But for you? His childhood friend to girlfriend to fiancée to wife to mother of his children?

He’d give you the world, he’d kill for you. Protect you. Die for you, live for you. He’d do anything for you. Even if it’s as simple as aftercare. He loves you. You love him.

🝮🝮🝮

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　TIKTOK TRENDS | PART 5

SUMMARY: 4 times that Y/N and Matt made a couple's trend on tiktok.

WARNING: Kissing (?).

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anons.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

1. We listen, and we don't judge

Y/N's phone was set up, angled perfectly to capture herself and Matt sitting in front of Matt's computer desk in their room, with his arm lazily draped over Y/N’s shoulder, caressing her covered skin.

"Alright, people, welcome back. We’re doing the 'We Listen and We Don’t Judge' trend because, apparently, you guys are crazy to see us admitting some things." Y/N starts, glancing at Matt, who’s watching her through her phone screen with a small smile decorating his features. "Keyword: don’t judge, okay?" She emphasizes, holding up a finger to his face. "I know how you get."

"I’m the least judgmental person, you know." Matt counters, looking directly at her, smirking. "Ladies first."

Y/N looks at the camera dramatically, as if preparing for a confession of a lifetime.

"Okay... so... I’ve been lying about being afraid to get my driver’s license-"

Matt’s jaw drops in faux shock.

"What?!"

"Wait, wait, wait." She quickly holds up her hand. "I say I’m scared, but I’m really not. I just don’t want to drive because I love it when you drive me everywhere so I can be your passenger princess."

Matt covers his face with both hands, groaning.

"Y/N! Are you serious right now?" His voice sounds muffled by his palms.

"Yes!" She giggles. "Because I know you’ll always do it. Even if it's the middle of the night."

He shakes his head, clearly trying not to smile.

"Can't believe I have a second Chris in my life... We listen, and we don’t judge, I guess." He rolls his eyes at her playfully.

"Hey! Don't compare me to Christop-"

"Shh, it's my turn now." Matt straightens up. "Sometimes, when I’m separating our clothes for laundry..." He pauses dramatically.

Y/N narrows her eyes at him.

"What?"

"I... smell your panties to check if they’re, like, really dirty."

Her mouth falls open.

"MATT!"

"What?!" He exclaims defensively. "We listen, and we don’t judge, remember?"

"That’s not listening. That’s borderline psychotic!" She laughs, smacking his arm.

"It’s efficient!" He insists, laughing along with her. "And they always smell good, by the way."

"Okay, okay. That's what intimacy and three years living together do to you, guys." She says, sighing dramatically. "My turn again." Y/N leans forward conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Sometimes, especially during the winter, when there are dirty dishes in the sink, I pretend not to see them, so you’ll wash them."

Matt throws his head back in exaggerated disbelief.

"Are you kidding me?! You make me wash dishes all the time purposefully, then?"

"We listen, and we don’t judge!" She says quickly, pointing at him.

"Y/N, I knew it! I’d be like, 'How did she miss that giant pile of plates?', because I know that Chris doesn't wash his for anything in this world and Nick is cleaner than that."

"It’s selective blindness." She admits, shrugging innocently. "And don't call me dirty, asshole!"

"Unreal." He mutters, but his smile lets it be known that he isn't mad. "Okay, my turn. Remember when I went to Boston by plane alone last month, and I decided last minute I wanted you to come with me?"

Y/N nods.

"Yeah, and you surprised me with a plane ticket. It was so sweet."

"Well, the tickets were super expensive exactly because it was last minute, like a thousand dollars more than when I bought mine." Matt starts, scratching the back of his neck. "But I bought it anyway because I didn’t want us to be on separate planes. If the plane crashed, I wanted us to die together."

Y/N stares at him in shock.

"MATT. WHAT THE-"

"We listen, and we don’t judge!" He defends himself, holding up his hands.

"That is so sweet and so morbid at the same time!" She exclaims.

Matt shrugs.

"It made sense to me at the time."

Y/N takes a deep breath, clearly trying not to laugh too hard.

"Can't believe you spent more than a thousand dollars on a plane ticket to Boston." She shook her head in disbelief.

"Can't blame me for wanting to have my girl back home with me." He muttered, smiling shyly at her.

She pouts, looking at the camera with a 'Are you seeing this cuteness?' look.

"You're really sweet, you know that?" She takes his hand closer to hers, taking it to her mouth and sealing his skin with her lips. "Alright. Here’s another one. I always let you serve me my plate when I cook any meal because I know you’ll put more food on mine than yours."

Matt raises an eyebrow.

"And you call me psychotic?"

"You’re predictable!" She shoots back, grinning. "And the more food, the better."

He chuckles.

"Fine. We listen, and we don’t judge. My turn again. When I go to take a shower and say I forgot to grab my towel..."

Y/N immediately narrows her eyes.

"Oh no. What now?"

"I didn’t actually forget it. I’m just too lazy to grab it myself, so I call you to bring it to me."

"Matthew!" She exclaims, smacking his arm again.

He laughs, unbothered.

"Hey, you bring it every time, so I figured it wasn’t a big deal."

She rolls her eyes, trying not to laugh.

"Of course I do! I don't want you to drip all over our bedroom." Her voice gets high-pitched. "Unbelievable." Y/N takes a deep breath while looking at her phone camera. "Okay, last one from me. When you go record videos with Nick and Chris out of the house, I play Fortnite on your computer."

Matt’s eyes widen.

"No way!"

"Yes way!"

"On my account?"

"Yup!"

Matt gasps, scandalized.

"You’re out here ruining my stats?"

"No! I’m good, I promise!"

He narrows his eyes at her, clearly skeptical but amused.

"Chat, she's lucky she's cute."

Y/N grins and leans against him, softly caressing his hand with her fingers.

"Your turn to end it, babe."

Matt thinks for a moment, then grins.

"Alright. Final confession. One time, you needed my help to open this sweet jar I had just bought. It was one of those really stubborn, super-sealed ones, and you couldn’t get it open no matter how hard you tried."

"So...?" Y/N pulls away from him, frowning in confusion.

"The thing is, when I got it open, you looked at me in this way that... let’s just say I felt very appreciative of my strength." He wetted his lips, trying to hide his smile.

"Matt!" She exclaimed, searching his eyes with wide ones, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

"Wait, wait, it gets better!" He said, waving her off. "So later, I went back to that sweet jar and tightened it as hard as I possibly could just so you'd have to ask me for help again."

Y/N mouth open in disbelief.

"You did not."

"Oh, I absolutely did." He said proudly, his grin stretching from ear to ear. "And it worked! Next day, you were struggling with it again, and there I was, showing up to save your day."

Y/N swatted his arm, though she couldn’t help but laugh.

"You’re the worst! I can’t believe you manipulated me with a sweet jar."

"It’s called strategy, babe." He said, dodging her playful hits. "And you totally fell for it."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

2. A boy who's jacked and kind

The soft hum of Sabrina's song filled the room as Y/N set her phone up on the dresser, already recording, before standing in front of Matt, a sweet smile tugging at her lips as she looked into the front camera. Her hands rested loosely at her sides, and her bright expression mirrored the expectation to finally do the TikTok trend.

Behind her, Matt stood tall, his brown hair slightly messy decorating his straight face. His posture was casual, hands resting on his hips, as he waited for the right moment.

As the verse "A boy who’s jacked and kind” began to play, Matt immediately lowered himself behind her, bending slightly to grab Y/N by her thighs. The motion was swift but careful, his hands wrapping securely around her legs just above her knees. Without breaking a sweat, he hoisted her into the air, lifting her as though she weighed nothing.

Y/N let out a loud, surprised laugh, but it didn’t break her radiant smile to the phone. She reached down instinctively to hold onto his shoulder, her fingers brushing the collar of his pink shirt for stability.

Matt straightened up, effortlessly placing her on his right shoulder. His grip on her thighs was firm yet gentle, ensuring she wouldn’t lose her balance. With Y/N sitting comfortably on him, Matt turned his attention back to the front camera.

Grinning brightly, he flexed his left bicep exaggeratedly, his arm bulging just enough to make the flex appear, a contrast to his lean frame.

The two of them looked like they were in Disneyland, their expressions full of joy. Matt’s smile stretched wide, his boyish expression evident as he proudly held Y/N on his shoulder. Meanwhile, Y/N’s laughter was silent as she leaned forward slightly, her cheeks flushing with amusement.

When posted, Y/N made sure to put the caption as: those push-ups are really getting him somewhere.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

3. Being rude to my triplet's girlfriend to see his reaction

The phone was already recording when the Crumbl Cookies were neatly arranged on the wooden table. The pastel pink box was opened, revealing an assortment of cookies that looked almost too pretty to eat. Y/N sat between Matt and Chris, her eyes wide with excitement as she leaned closer to it. Nick stood opposite them, fiddling with his phone to adjust the camera angle.

"This is so cute." Y/N said, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. "I can’t believe I’m finally doing a Crumbl Cookie review with you guys!"

Matt smiled at her, his hand naturally finding its place on her knee beneath the table.

"You'll love the lemon one." He said, his tone warm and encouraging.

Chris and Nick exchanged a quick glance, their smirks barely concealed. They had planned this little prank earlier that morning, where they would pretend to be rude to Matt's girlfriend just to see his reaction. Y/N was in on it, of course, and she’d been surprisingly eager to play along.

"Alright, let’s get this over with." Nick said, his tone sharp as he rolled his eyes dramatically, sitting by Chris's side. "Can we just start? I don’t want to sit here all day."

Y/N blinked, her smile faltering just slightly.

"Oh, um, okay..." She said softly, glancing at Matt, who immediately noticed the change in her tone.

"What’s the rush?" Matt asked, narrowing his eyes at Nick.

"Yeah, Nick." Chris chimed in, turning slightly so he could look into Nick's eyes. "Not like this is going to be a life-changing experience or anything. It’s just cookies."

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, her hand fidgeting with her napkin.

"I mean, I’m just really excited." She said, her voice quieter now, playing her part. "I've seen you guys do this when you went back to Boston, and I really wanted to do it too."

Matt’s jaw tensed as he looked between his brothers.

"What the fuck is wrong with you two? You both like some of those."

Nick scoffed, picking up a cookie and taking a careless bite.

"Honestly, I don’t get the hype. They’re just cookies. We've tried all of it with Nate already. You don’t have to act like it’s a five-star restaurant or something."

Chris snorted, grabbing his own cookie and making a point to ignore Y/N entirely.

"Yeah, and she hasn’t even tried them yet. Bet she’s gonna overreact or something."

Matt’s hand left Y/N’s knee as he sat up straighter, his protective instincts kicking in.

"What the fuck are you guys on about?" He snapped, his voice sharper now. "Why are you being such assholes?"

Y/N pretended to shrink in her seat, her lips pressing together as if she were holding back tears. Matt noticed immediately and turned his full attention to her.

"Babe, hey." He said softly while his hands found hers, squeezing her fingers, his voice and act a stark contrast to the anger he’d just directed at his brothers. "Don’t listen to them, okay? They’re just being idiots. We can eat all of it if you want to."

Y/N nodded, her eyes wide as she tried to maintain her act.

"I just... I was really excited, but maybe it’s not a big deal. We can do another-"

"No, it is a big deal." Matt said firmly, his gaze flicking back to Nick and Chris with a glare that could melt ice. "What are you two on about? She’s excited about this, and you’re just shitting on it for no reason."

Chris held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, chill, Matt. It’s not that serious."

Matt’s eyes narrowed, his voice rising.

"Not that serious? Are you fucking kidding me? You’re being rude as hell to my girlfriend. How is that not serious?"

Nick laughed nervously, clearly trying to stay in character but faltering under Matt’s hard stare.

"We’re just saying it’s not a big deal. No need to get all worked up."

Matt scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You’re unbelievable. Seriously, what’s wrong with you? Do you not know how to treat people with respect?"

Y/N placed a gentle hand on Matt’s arm, trying to calm him down.

"Matt, it’s okay..."

"No, it’s not okay." He said, his voice softening as he looked at her but still laced with frustration. "You don’t deserve to be treated like this, especially not by them." He pointed at his brothers with disdain. "You two can get out of here if it's so hard to eat cookies, and-"

Chris finally cracked, unable to hold back his laughter any longer, interrupting the middle triplet.

"Okay, okay, stop. Matt, it’s a joke!"

Nick followed suit, laughing as he raised his hands defensively.

"Yeah, it’s a TikTok trend! We were just messing with you to see how you’d react."

Matt froze, his brows furrowing as he processed their words.

"A trend?"

Y/N bit her lip, finally breaking character as she let out a soft laugh.

"Yeah... I knew about it. I’m sorry, babe, but we wanted to see how you’d feel in this situation."

Matt’s expression shifted from anger to disbelief as he leaned back in his chair.

"You’re kidding me."

Chris grinned, still laughing.

"Dude, you were ready to kill us. You’re such a good boyfriend. It’s actually insane."

"You guys are fucking idiots." Matt ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head with a mix of exasperation and amusement. "I'm going to bed. C'mon, Y/N."

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4. Rating kisses

The warm glow of fairy lights lit up the cozy bedroom as Y/N adjusted her phone on her right hand, Matt's fingers brushing against her thigh as she settled by his side on the edge of the bed.

"So." Y/N began. "This filter gives us ten different types of kisses, and we have to rate each one of them."

Matr tilted her head, smirking.

"And this is your excuse to receive ten kisses from me in one sitting?"

Y/N gasped dramatically, her hand flying to her chest.

"Excuse me? This is for science! We are conducting a very serious experiment here."

Matt rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile.

"Fine. Let’s see how you do, Ms. Science."

She hit the screen, and the filter started spinning before landing on the first kiss: Cheek Kiss.

Matt leaned closer, cupping her face with one hand as he pressed a soft, warm kiss to her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her blush. He pulled back, a smug look on his face.

"Well?" He prompted, his eyebrows wiggling jokingly.

"Hmm... I’ll give it a 2." She shrugged, biting back a grin when seeing his reaction to her saying. "It was nice, but we’ve got nine more to go. Gotta leave room for improvement."

Matt muttered something under his breath about "ungrateful test subjects", but the filter moved on to the next kiss: Neck Kiss.

Y/N’s lips curved into a large grin, and her cheeks turned pink.

"Don’t make this weird, Matthew."

"Oh, I would never." He said, his voice dripping with mock innocence.

He scooted closer, gently brushing her hair aside. His lips brushed against the curve of her neck, soft and slow, sending a shiver down her spine. She let out an involuntary squeak, his warm breath tickling her skin, and Matt pulled back with a satisfied smile.

"Okay." She said, trying to compose herself. "That’s a 3."

"Damn right it is." He said, leaning back triumphantly.

The next kiss popped up: Forehead Kiss.

Matt’s expression softened immediately. He reached out, cupping her face with both hands, bending her head before leaning in to press a tender kiss to her forehead. It wasn’t rushed or playful, just sweet and sincere, filled with affection.

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, her heart melting at the gesture. When she opened them, her voice was soft.

"That’s a 4. I really love this one."

Matt smiled, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

"I do, too."

The fourth kiss was Spiderman Kiss.

Matt immediately leaned back, his head hanging on the air above the mattress, almost bending his whole spine with his hair falling around.

"Alright, let’s do this." He said, his voice muffled by his awkward position.

Y/N laughed, leaning over him and pressing an upside-down kiss to his lips, the angle making it clumsy but undeniably sweet.

They pulled apart, both laughing.

"Okay, that’s a 7." Y/N said, still giggling. "Cute, but kind of impractical."

"Agreed." Matt said, sitting back up and rubbing his aching neck.

The next kiss was Nose Kiss.

Y/N laughed softly as Matt leaned in again, rubbing their noses together in an exaggerated Eskimo kiss before pecking the tip of her nose lightly.

"You're adorable." She looked into his eyes for a second. "I’ll give it a 5."

Then came the Bite Kiss.

Matt’s grin turned mischievous.

"Now this one, I'm the best at."

"Don’t be too hard!" Y/N warned, but her voice wavered slightly. "You left a bruise on my shoulder the last time you decided that biting me was a good idea."

He ignored her comment and lifted her arm, his teeth closing around the exposed skin. He pulled back with a boyish grin not even a second later, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"It's romantic. You have to accept that." Matt rolled his eyes playfully, kissing quickly the spot he had just bitten.

"Shut up. Now, that’s a 9 just because I'm sure there's worse than that."

"Hey! There are no bad kisses around here." Matt's voice got high-pitched.

The next was Air Kiss. They both leaned back, dramatically blowing kisses at each other with exaggerated sound effects.

"That’s an 8." Y/N declared.

"Okay." Matt nodded.

The next kiss, Hand Kiss, took a more romantic turn. Matt gently took her hand in his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles before he lifted it to his lips. His kiss was slow and deliberate, his eyes locking with hers as he pulled away.

Y/N’s heart fluttered.

"Okay, kind sir, that’s a 6. Sweet, but it doesn’t beat the others."

Matt pouted.

"Tough crowd."

When Foot Kiss appeared, Y/N recoiled.

"No way. Absolutely not."

"Come on, we’ve committed this far!" Matt argued, leaning down and grabbing her bare foot before she could escape. He pressed a quick kiss to the top of it, grinning as she dissolved into laughter, kicking against his hands lightly, causing the phone to tremble.

"That’s a 10." She said through her giggles, trying to breathe in while sitting up again.

"Fair." He admitted, wiping his lips jokingly.

Finally, the last kiss appeared: Lip Kiss.

Matt’s teasing demeanor softened as he leaned in, his hand cupping her jaw and his thumb caressing her cheek. His lips met hers in a slow, lingering kiss that made the rest of the world fade away. It was gentle but filled with so much love that Y/N felt her heart swell in her chest.

When he pulled back, she looked at him with a dazed smile.

"That’s a 1. Obviously."

Matt grinned, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"How does it feel to scientifically prove I’m the best kisser ever?"

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes to her phone camera.

"Don’t let it go to your head, King of Kisses."

"Too late." Matt said, pressing another kiss to the side of her head.

[jinxvex]

could u perhaps do casual dominance hcs w sevika..? :3

♱ casual dominance w/ gf!sevika headcanons!! ♱

i've been mf WAITING for this one!! it's time to get down to the biz folks... 🙈😏🤫

cw: sfw & kinda nsfw towards the end!, possessiveness, manhandling, dumbification??, curse words, touching, suggestive themes!

♱ sevika is, without a doubt, the dominant one in the relationship. that's not to say a woman can't be versatile! it's just what she prefers. the dynamic between you two is not only what makes things work well in your relationship, it makes you perfect for each other.

♱ she doesn't mind a few swear words from you here and there, but she is on it if you're beginning to pick up the habit of using them. she doesn't like her sweet girl using such filthy language! unless she's fucking it out of you. a simple "fuck! god damn it!" when you drop something has her going, "hey, watch your mouth." or "language, baby. where's my sweet girl at?"

♱ i mentioned this in another post, but she's the driver! that hand would be on your thigh, squeezing as the other rests on the steering wheel—just to let you know she's still thinking of you as you two quietly listen to music. you enjoy each other's company that way.

♱ sevika does not tolerate attitude from you. whew, girl! you'd be in for a treat if you rolled your eyes at her or gave her lip because you happened to be in one of your moods. she isn't afraid to scold you. she absolutely grabs your chin to force you to look her in the eye, "who do you think you're talking to, huh?" + "nuh-uh, baby. no."

♱ she literally picks you up by your waist to move you wherever she wants you to go (AHHH). + (think when loris was bringing vi back to her apartment when she was drunk and emo but in a hot wlw way).

��� sevika LOVES to rub the front of your thighs when you sit on her lap, whether that be when she's gambling or at home. she doesn't even let you try and get up, you're stuck there for hours!

♱ sevika enjoys turning your brain to mush; she loves watching your eyes gloss over as she talks down to you and tells you what to do. she knows you'd do anything to be her good girl.

"hey, go hand me my cards, baby." she demands gently as you two get up from the couch, ready to venture to the last drop. she pats your ass softly before you nod and briskly rush over to where her cards rest on the kitchen table. when you return, you drop the cards into her large mech hand. your eyes peer deep into hers for confirmation that you did good. she leans in for a kiss, a kiss that deepens and lasts. as you kiss passionately, her human hand snakes up to your neck and presses down firmly before pulling away, "that's a good girl." + "mm thank you, baby. what would i do without my woman?" she smirks against your open mouth.

♱ if anyone is staring at you in public/trying to flirt with you, TRUST she's pulling you in for the sexiest, NASTIEST kiss and sticking her tongue down your throat (IN FRONT OF THEM). she makes out with you as she glares into their eyes from across the room! her eyes would be screaming, "she's mine, and if you ever look at her again, you're dead."

(i would LIKE to say she orders for both of you at a restaurant, but you'd definitely be the one going all, "yes! thank you! and she'll have the chicken salad with toasted croutons!" as she sticks her face into the menu LMAOFOOO.)

♱ for some reason, sevika does not let you pay. ever! she loves being able to take care of you—to provide for you.

"i got it this time, gorgeous." you huff and turn towards her, "you pay every time, vika!" you exclaim as she pulls you in closer to whisper into your ear, "let me take care of you, hmm?" + "just wanna give my girl the world. can i do that for you?"

♱ oh! and if you try to run when she's fucking you from behind, she IS placing her hand at the small of your back to keep you still so you can take everything she gives you! she goes, “mhm, take it. don’t run.” + “you need this, slut.” that's all!

needless to say, she loves you real bad!! 🫣

[snoopyearss]

When jjk characters call you ‘clingy’

Feat. crybaby-ish!reader

Gojo, geto, toji

Cw: hurt, guilt, angst (if you squint)

This is inspiration from a mini series i read a few days ago by user @fumekara. It was so good, I love me some angst to hurt/comfort.

But i also wrote this from personal experience too, my bad yall i treat this like my own personal diary

Anyway, enjoy!

Satoru Gojo

He was pissed. He doesn’t typically show it much, but when he does, he gets kind of scary. He’s more quiet, his voice gets deeper, and his whole body language just shifts. So when the higher-ups piss him off after a very long meeting, the last thing he needs is someone to pounce on him. He usually loves it when you greet him at the door when you’re home for work. But today, he just wanted to strip off his clothes and hop into bed.

Gojo huffs as he leaves the elevator of your shared apartment and grabs his keys from his pocket to unlock the door. As he opens the door, he sees you in the kitchen grabbing ingredients for dinner. “Hi baby,” You softly greeted him. “Hey.” was all he said back. It confused you for a second because he’s never greeted you like that before.

“Is everything okay?” You walk up to him to try to kiss him on his cheek. “God- Y/n, please.” He grumbled, walking right past you and placing his briefcase on the table. “I’m just trying to help,” you defended, walking up to take his coat off for him. “At least let me take your coat-” That’s when he snapped. Something he’s never done to you before. “Y/n, I fuckin’ got it! Geez, you’re so fucking clingy!” He aggressively shrugged your hands off his shoulder. It scared you a bit, to see him so angry at you. You were confused, all you wanted to do was make him feel better. Were you really that clingy?

“I-I’m sorry.” your voice came out shaky and defeated. Hearing how small your voice sounded in response to him lashing out made Satoru’s heart shatter into thousands of pieces. He wanted to turn around and apologize, but the words weren’t coming out. By the time he turned to face you, Your back was already facing him, preparing dinner for the both of you as tears rolled down your face.

Suguru Geto

It was 2 weeks after Suguru deflected. 2 weeks since he committed mass murder in that village. 2 weeks since he left Satoru, Shoko, and the others. It was weighing on him and you could tell. Nothing but him, his two adopted girls, a few people who believed in his cause, and you.

You promised him you would go wherever he would go, and he was so grateful for it. He loves you deeply and would do anything for you. But some days just threw everything on him at one time, today was one of those days. Monkeys non-sorcerers begging him to exercise curses left and right, Nanako and Mimiko begging him to take them shopping, missing payments from those begging for his service. It was all too much. And the guilt was eating away at him.

He genuinely wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying and it annoyed him how much talking you were doing in his ear at that moment. You were both sitting outside watching the two girls play in the yard. “Y/n,” He interrupted you. “Don’t you have something better to do than to just bother me?” He sighed sounding so condescending. “What do you mean?”

“Must you always cling to me? Isn’t there something else you can do besides following me everywhere I go, at all times of the day?!” His voice raised a bit as if he was talking to a non-sorcerer. “I didn’t realize I was. I was only trying to tell you about what me and the girls did today,” You defended. “You’re always so busy, I rarely get to see you anymore.”

“Yeah, because you’re always underneath me. Sometimes-” He stopped mid-sentence because of the saddened look on your face. His eyes softened a bit. “Sometimes I just need my space.” He sighed. You only nodded and started to walk back inside. “Ok, I understand.” Your voice cracked. Leaving Suguru alone to think about what he had just said to you. As if he didn’t feel guilt then, he definitely feels guilt now.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji was a bit frustrated today. He was cheated out of his money after doing a side job, the bet he placed on the race he kept constantly telling you about fell through, leaving him with zero, and to top it all off, the child support payment was coming up. You being an empath and knowing your boyfriend so well, you wanted to help him any way you could.

He was sitting in the chair by the island in the kitchen with his fingers combing through his hair. He was on the phone with multiple people at once, trying to solve his money issues. “Shiu, you guaranteed me way more money than this! How am I supposed to cover this months child support with this amount?!” You walked up to where he was, wondering what all the commotion was about. “Baby?” You softly called out. You could hear Shiu on the other line trying to calm him down and explain the situation.

“That sounds like a bunch of bull and you know it Shiu, you better have my money by next week thursday or else I’m taking it myself.” He grumbled and hung up the phone. “Baby,” You gently placed a hand on his broad shoulder.

“What, Y/n.” He sternly said. You merely blinked a few times. “I was just checking to see if you were okay. What’s with the attitude?”

“I’m fuckin’ frustrated okay? Please leave. You aren’t helping right now.” He waved you off.

“I barely did anything, I just wanted to know if you needed help with anything-”

“Jesus, I said enough! I don’t need your help. Fuck, you’re so clingy.” His voice booming caused you to remove your hand from his shoulder in fear. Seeing your reaction caused him to think about what he said and how he said it. The last think he wanted to do was scare you. He wanted you to feel safe around him. But with the way you jumped at how he raised his voice, it saddened him a bit.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” He was cut off by the sound of his child wailing in the background. “I’ll take care of it.” You said in the smallest voice, not even leaving him time to protest against it and apologize.

“Fuck.”

Part 2

[flowersforbucky]

down bad

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.9k

author's note: i couldn't stop thinking about bucky being able to use his metal hand as a vibrator and therefore this was born.

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (female receiving), fingering, bucky being used as a human vibrator, multiple orgasms, language, consumption of alcohol, reader is afab, no use of y/n, slightly possessive bucky, 18+ only

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Natasha mutters through a mouth full of popcorn. “Tyler from the statistics department? Are we talking about the same Tyler from statistics?”

“Nat, for the fourth time, yes. Tyler from statistics. The only Tyler from statistics that I know.” You reach for the bottle of Moscato that the two of you are sharing, pouring yourself some more wine.

“Nuh-uh,” Natasha shakes her head. “I don't believe you. There's no way he could be that bad.” She takes a sip from her own glass of wine. “He's too gorgeous,” she shrugs, turning to face you on the couch. The romantic comedy you had picked out for your bi-monthly movie night plays forgotten in the background.

“Trust me,” you sigh. “I was just as shocked as you are. But I swear on my life, he stuck his tongue in my ear. In my fucking ear, but wouldn't go down on me.” You can tell by the look on her face that Nat is trying her hardest not to laugh.

“He said his dick game is ‘too good to need to eat a girl out’.” You shake your head, cringing at the memory. “Which is also what he said when I merely suggested that he use my vibrator on me instead. He looked like I had kicked his dog.”

“Well?” she asks, a pained expression across her features. “Was it? Too good?”

“I didn't stay to find out,” you admit. “I faked a work emergency and dipped.” A laugh breaks through her pursed lips.

“I'm sorry–” she says, although her face says otherwise. “I shouldn't laugh. You just have the worst luck with men. Isn't that the third failed hook-up in what? Six months?”

“Don't fucking remind me,” you groan, throwing your head back on the couch and staring up at the living room ceiling. “I think I've lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to me by another person again.”

Nat opens her mouth to speak, but quickly closes it when you both notice voices approaching from the hallway.

Sam and Bucky enter the room a moment later, both dressed uncharacteristically nice. You suddenly feel the desire to conceal yourself with the fleece throw blanket laying across your lap. You and Nat usually plan your movie nights for when the tower is relatively empty, so you're just wearing a pair of old sweatpants and a tank top. Bare-faced and hair unstyled, the fact that Bucky's gaze is locked on you as the two of them approach where you and Nat are lounging doesn't help. He's not smiling - but there's a look on his face that you don't quite understand. The ghost of a smirk on his lips and a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

It's a look that makes you nervous - in addition to already feeling flutters in the pit of your stomach at how fucking good he looks.

“Hey, boys,” Nat greets them cheerily. “Where are the two of you going so dolled up?”

“There's a new nightclub in Brooklyn that a group of SHIELD trainees are going to tonight,” Sam answers. “They invited us and we've got nothing better to do. Figured we'd go check it out, get a few drinks. You ladies want to tag along? Or are you too busy watching - what is this, 10 Things I Hate About You?” He gestures towards the screen.

“Couldn't hurt to get out of the house for a while tonight, right?” Nat looks at you for confirmation, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Who knows, you might even meet someone,” she adds, nudging you with her elbow.

Bucky lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a cough, which he tries to play off as the latter. You narrow your eyes at him before glancing back to Natasha.

“For sure,” you agree, trying to ignore Bucky's bizarre behavior. “Couldn't hurt. You guys go on, we'll get ready and head there soon. Text us the name of the club?” You direct the last part to Sam in particular.

“You got it,” Sam says as he pulls his cell phone from his coat pocket. He turns to leave when both your and Nat’s phones chime with the club information. “Let's go man, our Uber's here,” he directs at Bucky.

“See you both soon,” he says before turning to follow Sam, though his gaze is still only on one of you.

“I'm gonna go throw on some make-up, curl my hair, and hope I can find something somewhat cute to–” Nat starts as soon as Bucky and Sam have turned back down the hallway.

“Was he acting kind of odd?” you interrupt her in a hushed tone.

“Barnes? Always. I've stopped reading into it too much.”

“Some spy you are,” you mumble. “Meet me back here when you're ready.”

— — — — —

One hour later, you're applying some last minute mascara and lip gloss in the backseat of an Uber on your way to downtown Brooklyn. Natasha sits beside you, ranting about an assignment that Fury has tasked her with and you swear you're trying your hardest to absorb everything she's saying - but your mind keeps going back to the way Bucky was looking at you just an hour ago.

What was with that little smirk? That curious glimmer in his eyes? Had he overheard your conversation with Nat? Had he developed the ability to read minds and knew you were thinking about how fucking hot he looked? Or was that thought simply written all over your face?

You knew you couldn't deny it. Bucky does look exceptionally attractive in his black suit, with his perfectly tousled hair - but you had found him to be ridiculously good looking since you'd first met him. Even in casual, everyday clothes, even in gym shorts and drenched in sweat, even covered in blood after particularly brutal miss–

“You girls have a great evening,” your Uber driver interrupts your train of thought as he comes to a stop in front of your destination.

You really need to get fucking laid. You definitely shouldn't be having these kinds of thoughts about Bucky. He's your coworker, your teammate, your training partner on many occasions, your friend…

Natasha thanks him and hands him a generous cash tip before climbing out of the car right after you.

“Thanks,” you tell her. “I'll buy our drinks.”

“Don't worry about me,” she tells you with a sly grin as you both flash the bouncer your IDs and enter the club. Despite the night still being relatively young, it's already bustling inside.

“You just focus on meeting people, mingling, maybe hitting it off with a super hot guy and taking him back to your place for some mind-blowing–”

“Super hot guy? Are you talking about me?” Sam’s voice interrupts Nat. You both turn around to see him and Bucky walking towards you, drinks in hand.

There's a roguish smile on Bucky's face as his eyes skim up and down your figure.

“You both look wonderful,” he compliments, but once again, his stare is focused only on you. If Natasha notices, she says nothing.

To be fair, you were impressed with how well you managed to put yourself together with such little notice. You found a black, backless mini dress crammed in the back of your closet that you had forgotten all about after snagging it on clearance forever ago. The form-fitting material hugs you in all the right ways, and paired with your favorite pair of strappy black heels, you're feeling infinitely more confident than you were when Bucky saw you just an hour prior.

“Thanks!” You chirp quickly, averting your gaze from him to take in your surroundings. To your left, the dance floor is lively, though not too overcrowded for your liking. To your right, there's a bar surrounded by tables filled with groups of people conversing - you vaguely recognize a couple of SHIELD agents huddled around one. The entire room is illuminated by the faint blue-green glow of the mood lighting, and the bass of the music vibrates through the floorboards.

Sam and Bucky excuse themselves to go say hey to the group of agents that had invited them, while Nat all but drags you over to the bar. You order a double shot of whiskey and throw it back as quickly as you can.

“I see what you mean now,” Nat whispers to you after downing her shot of tequila. “About Barnes,” she clarifies. “He's been eye-fucking you since we walked through the door.”

If you hadn't already swallowed your liquor, you would have spewed it all over her.

“He has not been eye-fucking me, Nat,” you say in an almost scolding tone.

“I'm just saying,” she throws her hands up. “There’s no way he could possibly be any worse than the last few guys you've gone for. I think you should go for it,” she shrugs.

“It's not that I don't think he'd be good,” you say defensively, forcing yourself to look away from where he and Sam are socializing with the small group of SHIELD agents a few tables away. “I just don't want things to be weird afterwards. We work together nearly every day, and we have a bunch of mutual friends–”

“Suit yourself,” she cuts you off in a tone of voice that very much says if you say so. “Now, are you going to dance with me or not?” She adds as she begins tugging you towards the ever-busying dance floor.

You spend the next half hour dancing with Nat before she's swept away by some black-haired doctor looking type. Good for her, you think as you watch them converse intimately at a small booth on the other side of the room.

Thanks to the liquid courage that runs through your veins, you're okay with the fact that Bucky stands just twenty feet away from you, watching you as you dance among the thick crowd of people.

You've made eye contact with him a few times now - on accident or on purpose, you're not sure at this point. But each time, your eyes lingers on his for a moment longer than the last.

You're mentally daring him to come here, to make a move, to do something other than stand to the sidelines of whatever conversation Sam and the others are engaged in.

The slightest bit of pressure on your waist snaps you back to the now congested dance floor.

You look up to find that the hand on your waist belongs to a tall man with shoulder length, sandy blonde hair. He's conventionally attractive enough, though not who you were hoping would come grab you on the dance floor.

“I'm Shawn,” he introduces himself, loudly enough for you to hear him over the roaring music. You tell him your name, pushing aside the pang of disappointment in your chest.

“Do you want to go somewhere a bit quieter to talk, maybe? Let me buy you a drin–”

“There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you,” a voice booms from behind you.

Shawn immediately retracts his hand from your waist, backing up a few inches as Bucky comes into view beside you.

“Must not have been looking too hard, I've been right here this whole time,” you jab back with a smug smile.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to–” Shawn says as he starts to back away.

“No worries, bud,” Bucky says in an overly friendly voice as he moves to stand in front of you, blocking you from Shawn's view entirely.

“Took you long enough,” you tell Bucky once the man is out of ear shot, once again beginning to sway to the music. “Get bored of listening to Sam hype himself up to the newbies?”

He takes a step closer, angling himself behind you. The crowd of people surrounding you edges you closer to him - your bare back brushing against the cool satin fabric of his suit.

“Maybe,” his chest vibrates against your skin when he speaks. He places his hands on either side of your hips - eliciting goosebumps across your skin in a way that no one else has in a long, long time.

“Or maybe I just wanted to save you from wasting your time on another guy who can't make you come.”

Your movements come to an abrupt pause as his words hit you.

He had fucking overheard your conversation with Natasha.

At a loss for words, you turn to face him. There's a shit-eating grin spread across his face. He thinks this is hilarious and it's obvious.

“Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to eavesdrop?”

“Is it really eavesdropping if I have superhuman hearing?” He takes a step closer to you, closing what little distance was separating you. The peaks of your breasts brush against his chest.

“So what happens now that you've saved me from another unsatisfactory hook-up?” You challenge, staring up at him in the neon blue lighting.

You can smell hints of cedarwood and sage from his cologne in your close proximity. It's so delicious that it's dizzying.

“Let me take you somewhere more private than this dance floor and I'll show you.”

“You seem to have a lot of confidence in your ability to give me a better experience,” you say, leaning forward so that your face is just inches from his.

He responds by placing his flesh hand on the small of your back and pulling you flush against him. The tips of his fingers continue to dance down the skin of your exposed spine. His vibranium hand comes to cradle your jaw, his metal thumb tracing your bottom lip.

His mouth forms a dark smirk - and then you feel it. It starts soft and subtle and then gradually increases in intensity.

His fucking thumb is vibrating against your lip.

If you hadn't been standing in the middle of a crowded dance floor at a nightclub in downtown Brooklyn, you would have taken that thumb into your mouth and sucked on it right then and there.

“What do you say?” he asks, now tugging on your bottom lip with the pulsing digit. “Are you going to let me take you to the first empty room I can find in this place and make you come?”

“I say show me the way.”

He removes his hand from your face and turns you in the direction of the back of the club. He guides you through the throng of dancers, keeping his hands placed firmly on either side of your waist from behind. His vibranium fingers still hum softly, reminding you of what he says is to come.

Directly past the dance floor, there's a hallway blocked off by a rope with a sign that reads employees only. Taking a quick look around, you see that all of the patrons surrounding you and Bucky are paying you no mind. Bucky unhooks the flimsy rope and the two of you slip down the hallway.

He jiggles the handles of several doors that all turn out to be locked. Not wanting to waste any time or draw any attention to yourselves with picking locks, you continue down the dark corridor until the heavy music from the heart of the club fades to a muted roar.

The very last door opens without a hitch.

Thanks to the pale orange glow of a table lamp on a desk in the corner of the room, you can see that you're in a makeshift office/supply room - a couple of filing cabinets, cleaning supplies, extra glassware, and some sound equipment strewn haphazardly throughout the limited space.

Bucky clicks the lock into place as soon as he closes the door behind him.

You're going to turn around him and tell him that he doesn't have to do this - that as badly as you want this, you don't want to ruin your friendship, that as badly as you want him, he doesn't have anything to prove to you - but his lips are already on yours as soon as you start to open your mouth.

He doesn't take his lips off of yours as he guides you backwards to the rickety wooden desk. The backs of your thighs hit the table and Bucky effortlessly lifts you to sit on the edge, giving him the perfect angle to deepen the kiss - with his tongue exploring your mouth, you're unable to stop yourself from groaning into the kiss.

You fist your fingers into his hair, tugging just hard enough so that he hisses into your mouth. His own hands trail from the sides of your stomach and down your thighs, until he reaches the tail of your dress. You instinctively part your legs for him, as much as the restrictive fabric will allow, and his vibranium hand shoots between your thighs.

He teases you, dragging his index finger along the cloth of your panties that you know you're close to soaking through already. Just as the tip of his finger pauses above your clit, his finger begins emitting the softest vibration.

You break the kiss, breathless as you throw your head back at the sensation. Bucky takes it as an opportunity to attach his lips to the pulse point of your throat, nipping your flesh with his teeth followed by a wet kiss.

He continues with the ministrations through your panties until you're rutting against his hand, needing more. He tugs your underwear to the side and increases the intensity of the vibration before nudging his middle finger past your entrance.

You have to hold onto his shoulders to steady yourself - despite the fact that you're sitting, your body feels like jelly beneath his touch. He adds in his index finger with ease before cupping your pussy in his palm - the heel of his hand pulsating against your clit.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you cry against his mouth.

“You're so fucking wet for me, you know that?” He coos, thrusting both of his fingers against the spongy-flesh of your walls.

You can feel the vibrations of his hand all the way from your belly to your toes.

You begin grinding your hips to meet the movement of his fingers, fucking yourself against his hand. There's a familiar knot forming in your lower belly as he curls his fingers inside you -

“I want you to think about me and how good I'm making you feel every time you think about letting some fuckin’ nobody touch you,” he says in a low voice next to your ear. “I want you to think about riding my fingers until you come all over my hand.”

His words send you over the edge and you do exactly that - your pussy clenching around his fingers as you ride them through your orgasm. While you're still coming down from the high of your climax, Bucky pulls his metal fingers out of you and brings them to your lips, inserting his index finger in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the slick metal as he brings the vibrations to a halt and then slowly pulls the finger from your mouth.

He picks you up off the edge of the desk and plants you back on the ground - your legs still shaking from how hard you had come.

“Turn around and lean over the desk,” he instructs you, soft but authoritative.

You don't know if it's because of the way he's looking at you or because of how good he's already made you feel, but in that moment, you would've done anything he asked of you.

You bend over the desk, supporting yourself by leaning on your forearms. You peak back over your shoulder to look at Bucky - he hikes your dress up, baring your ass to him.

He lets out an audible groan before he has even pulled your panties down to your ankles.

He kneels on the ground behind you, his face inches away from your cunt. He uses both his flesh and metal hands to spread you open for him, and then his tongue is licking up your center from behind.

God, you hope no one tries to come into this room. The door may be locked but the sounds that someone would hear if they even walked up to the door…

Bucky knows just how to make you writhe above him. He's soft when he's kissing up your folds and unsparing when he's sucking your clit between his lips. His hands hold your ass in a firm grasp that teeters between pleasure and pain.

You grind back against his face and he moans so deeply that you feel the vibration of it up your core. Your eyes roll back into your head as you clutch the sides of the desk to better support yourself.

His enthusiasm alone has you spiraling towards a second climax embarrassingly fast.

“You know,” he murmurs against your sensitive pussy. “When I overheard you say that someone had refused to go down on you, I couldn't believe it. What a fuckin idiot to pass this up.” He gives your ass cheek a firm slap with his flesh hand before diving his face between your legs once more.

It's just seconds before you feel the telltale pressure growing in your lower belly once more. You go limp against the table, Bucky placing his hands on the backs of your thighs to help keep you upright as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

You continue to lay against the desk as you regain control of your breathing. Bucky stands up, tugging your panties up your legs and back around your waist as he does. He then shimmies your dress back down into place so that you're once again looking club-appropriate.

When you turn around to face him, he's wiping your slick from his lower face on the sleeve of his suit, once again displaying a shit-eating grin.

“What was it you said?” He asks in mocking contemplation. “You had lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to you by another person again?”

“I think you've made your point. You're fantastic at eating pussy and you're a walking human-sex toy.” You roll your eyes at him and start to walk towards the door, but he grabs your wrist in his metal hand, stopping you.

He pulls you back to him and brings his flesh hand to cradle your jawline. He stares at you in a heavy, uncertain silence for a split second before bringing his lips to yours.

It's a kiss that's a bit more hesitant, and a lot less rushed than the one before. You taste yourself all over him, warm and salty. He takes his time getting lost in your mouth - you savor every second and it still comes to and end all too once.

“Couldn't help myself,” he smiles softly when he pulls away. “Just had to kiss you one last time.”

You can't help the way your heart skips a beat when he says the word last.

You clear your throat. “We should probably go find Sam and Natasha,” you say, giving him a small smile in return. “I'm sure they're both wondering where the hell we are.”

You spend the rest of the evening attempting to mingle with friends, but there's one thought that torments you for the remaining duration of the night - just a few hours ago, you doubted that you'd ever have a satisfactory hook-up ever again.

Now, you had to wonder if anyone else could ever make you feel as good as Bucky did.

♡♡♡♡♡

i left this kind of open-ended soooo leave it to your own interpretation what happens next for them 🤭

as always comments/reblogs are infinitely appreciated. thanks for reading!

my masterlist

[gothicfied]

can you write a squid game fic or head cannons of other characters finding out the reader is struggling with self harm? If so, thank you and I understand it is a sensitive topics and may be uncomfortable to write.

Squid Game season 2 characters x reader who struggles with sh

Featuring: Thanos / Player 230, Se-mi / Player 380, Cho Hyun-ju / Player 120, Nam-gyu / Player 124, Kang Dae-ho / Player 388, Park Min-su / Player 125, Kim Jun-hee / Player 222

(Trigger) Warnings: Mention/Talk about sh, depression, and things of this nature, this is comfort/angst, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

Summary: Basically what the ask says

A/N: hey! I hope this is what you imagined, sorry if some of these are ooc😞🙏

Thanos / Player 230

જ⁀➴ Before he really knew, he'd constantly make your life a living hell, basically making fun of your shyness. He'd make certain comments to which he knew you wouldn't react to or would try to persuade you to vote in favor of the game containing.

જ⁀➴ You'd constantly tell him off and to leave you alone. It didn't really help, though. Thanos would just sit down next to you and talk your ear off about what he wanted to do with that prize money.

જ⁀➴ When you stood up to leave, rollung your eyes at him, he grabbed you by your wrist.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Thanos blurted out, giving you an offended glare. "You know, it's really rude to just leave a conversation like that." When you tried to get out of his grip, your sleeves rode up your arm, revealing scars you weren't proud of or wanted him to see. When you realized it, he did too, immediately letting go of you.

જ⁀➴ Since Thanos knew what it meant to struggle with mental health he did actually leave you alone for now. But, after the next game, he approached you again and sat down next to you. "I'm sorry about yesterday." he said, patting you on the back.

જ⁀➴ He related to you in a way, but didn't want to ask you about what went on in your private life. Now you just appreciated that he seemingly didn't overstep any boundaries anymore and even checked up from you every now and then.

Se-mi / Player 380

જ⁀➴ You and her had been a duo ever since she came up to you and complimented your looks. Even if you denied it or not, she'd repeat it multiple times, winning you over with her charm quickly.

જ⁀➴ You two had the same mindset on a lot of things, originally voting 'O', thinking you were able to survive one more lousy game. That game was a death scare. Nothing about it was funny anymore. You appreciated your life too much these days to die like this.

જ⁀➴ When the second favor didn't go your way, both Se-mi and you now voting 'X', you felt helpless. One night, the two of you were sitting on her bed, just talking about your past and how you got to this point in the first place. While Se-mi was more secluded, only telling you that 'there are so much worse things she had to face when she got out' you trusted her enough to tell her about a sensitive time in your life.

"I'm not really secretive about this anymore," you pushed your sleeves up, revealing faded scars along your forearm, "but yeah. It was all pretty fucked up. The whole debt thing didn't make it any better." Se-mi looked at you with raised eyebrows, her fingers tracing the lines on your wrists. "I knew you were strong. Don't worry, we'll get out of here."

જ⁀➴ She put in double the work to protect you — She just wanted you to start a better life with that money and be happy, free from debt and all of it.

Cho Hyun-ju / Player 120

જ⁀➴ Hyun-ju noticed from the start that you were more secluded, more prone to cry, panicked easily. It was clear to her that you were struggling with this situation, perhaps even more than that. She made it her task to help you as much as she could, comfort you and keep you close to her and her group.

જ⁀➴ You'd often rant to her and tell her what bothered you after she reassured her she'd take care of anything possible. Hyun-ju was the anker you needed in this shithole and you just appreciated her very much. Everything she did seemed to be out of genuine interest and not just to gain your trust and abuse it.

જ⁀➴ Accidentally, Hyun-ju did catch a glimpse of the scars you were so desperate to hide. She didn't mention it, feeling like it wasn't her place to comment on it. Her heart did break for you, though.

જ⁀➴ From then on, she made sure to speak softer to you and distract you from all the horror around you.

Hyun-ju hugged you tightly against her chest, her arms engulfing your figure. "Tonight things could get a bit scary," she mumbled into your hair while she rested her face against your head, "I just want you to know now rather than find out later. I'll keep you safe, you know that." You just nodded, reciprocating the hug after a few moments.

Nam-gyu / Player 124

જ⁀➴ When he found out, as you didn't make the effort to hide them or anything, he did refrain from provoking you in any way. Nam-gyu related, as he considered his drug use not to be the best thing he could do to his body.

જ⁀➴ Both of you hung around in the same group, since Thanos really wanted you on his team, constantly giving you compliments and flirting with you. It annoyed him to a degree, scoffing everytime Thanos tried to talk to him about how pretty you were, how much he wanted you, give you the world. In Nam-gyu's opinion, he didn't get you.. didn't get what you went through, at all.

જ⁀➴ One evening before lights out, the two of you were teasing each other about something and laughed together — something that rarely occured amongst the other players.

"Want me to show you something?" Nam-gyu asked you, leaning a bit closer. Chuckling, you replied with a 'mhm' and watched him pull up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing skin tracks along the inside of his elbow. You raised an eyebrow: "Oh?" You took his arm to get a closer look, tracing his skin with your fingertips. "Well, we all have our stories, huh?" The man nodded at your wrists, making you look at them too, like you didn't already know what he meant.

જ⁀➴ The both of you grew close to each other, much to his amuse. He was a junkie, you were depressed.. it's like a disaster in the making. But, you didn't care. He was sweet and weirdly kind to you — Not in the way Thanos was. You made sure to hug Nam-gyu a few times more after that, in case it could be the last timd you'd get to do that.

Kang Dae-ho / Player 388

જ⁀➴ You were glad to be on Gi-hun's team from the start, since Dae-ho and you got along really well. As a former Marine, which he was super proud of obviously, he declared he'd protect you immediately after you met, making you laugh.

જ⁀➴ He was kind, strong and funny, but maybe a bit oblivious at times.

During the six-legged pentathlon, you two sat next to each other, cheering the current active team on. Yelling and screaming filled the area as they crossed the finish lind just in time, making everyone erupt in cheers. Dae-ho immediately hugged you with joy, excited to see the five live another day, at least. After pulling back witha laugh, you gave him a small high five with your sleeve rolled back. When noticing scars along your wrist and forearm, the former marine gasped pretty loudly. "What?" you asked with genuine concerning, fearing something was wrong with you. "Oh, I'm so sorry," Dae-ho pulled your sleeve back over your arm. "Dude," he looked at you with wide eyes "it's fine." You needed to hold back a laugh.

જ⁀➴ Dae-ho felt so bad to havs accidentally seen something you've been struggling with, that he couldn't help but apologize profusely. You repeated to him that it wasn't a big deal for you and that you were working on this problem, but he didn't stop nonetheless.

જ⁀➴ You thought it was cute how much he seemed to care for you and how often he came up to you just to tell you that he appreciated you. And Dae-ho did, he didn't just say that to make you feel better.

Park Min-su / Player 125

જ⁀➴ Min-su is just shy over all. When he noticed it, he wouldn't say a thing. He'd be dead silent, maybe even a bit scared to talk to you. He was just scared he'd make it awkward, somehow hinting that he knew about your scars. Min-su was just someone who overthought a lot and even you noticed it.

જ⁀➴ After a bit, it annoyed you — The sudden lack of his presence next to you, the fact that he wouldn't properly talk to you anymore, it was all just weird and confusing. So, you decided to ask him directly.

"Did I do something wrong?" your voice wasn't stern, but Min-su could tell that you were kind of upset. "Ah, no-" he quickly replied back, shaking his head, "it's really not you!" He looked at you with his typical innocent face, making it hard for you to keep pressing him about this matter. "Then what is it, seriously?"

જ⁀➴ He explained what he saw and said that he just felt so sorry. Well, at least he didn't speak to you because he didn't want to hurt or upset you, which was really thoughtful.

જ⁀➴ You'd expect that he would now be the one to comfort you or something, but no it was the complete opposite. Min-su seemed to worried about you and kept asking you how you were feeling or if anything bothered you. You had to keep reassuring him that those times were in the past and that he didn't have to be so worried.

જ⁀➴ It was really cute though, so you let it slide.

Kim Jun-hee / Player 222 (implied fem!reader)

જ⁀➴ Since Jun-hee and you were pretty close in age, you two had found each other right away. You kept telling her that she needed more protection, or at least an ally like you, on her side sincs she was pregnant. You weren't really serious about that, just chuckling when bringing it up, but ut definitely made Jun-hee trust you a lot more. It was a critical situation she was in and she was glad to have you by her side.

જ⁀➴ You even banged on the door in the middle of the night to make the guards take her to the bathroom when she was to shy to do it herself.

As ths pink guard brought you to the womens bathroom, Jun-hee held onto you, clearly being in pain. A few minutes later, you were washing your hands and tried to fix yourself up, looking a bit disgusted in the mirror. "What is it?" Jun-hee emerged from one of the stalls, chuckling. "Man, I look like a damn zombie. Look what this place has done to us." Instead of getting a reply, you noticed that she was staring at your arms, at your scars. You had taken your jacket off for convenience and kind of forgot about them. "Oh, I'm sor-" Jun-hee interrupted you, "No! No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have stared like that!"

જ⁀➴ Obviously everyone had their struggles, but now her own kind of seemed insignificant next to yours. You were doing so much for her and she didn't even know that you were struggling. She should've thought of that.

જ⁀➴ When voicing that thought to you, you felt bad that you made her feel like that. With a hug, it was all sorted out. Jun-hee cared deeply for you and she could tell that you cared for her like that, too. It was nice to know that someone had your back in a place like this.

[soulprompts]

CARING FOR THE SICK PROMPTS.

i found this list and kinda fed into it each time i got the flu or a migraine, and u know what, it's just me revealing just how much i love the caring threads and the soft threads and the fondly exasperated "let me help you" threads! use at your pleasure, DO NOT ADD TO THE LIST NOR EDIT IT! i will be changing it accordingly!

" i found you passed out in the kitchen. you wanna stop working yourself so hard? or do i need to keep hitting the gym to carry you to bed every day? "

" you're burning up. "

" your neighbour called me and said you could use a nurse. looks like they were right, too. "

" you were told to take it easy, so... yeah. this is kinda on you. "

" you took a sick day. you NEVER take a sick day. so yeah, i got worried, and i figured i'd come over and keep an eye on you. "

" you texted me a long and incoherent text that held about 90% of the emoji list and about four different languages. figured it wouldn't hurt to drop by and see how you were doing. "

" how long have you been sick for? and don't lie. "

" you look like hell. "

" i brought you some soup; let me heat some up for you? "

" okay. it's time you went to the hospital. "

" hey… hello there, sleeping beauty. you gave me a bit of a scare yesterday. how are you feeling? "

" i swear, if you even think of getting out of that bed… "

" you know when i said to call if it's an emergency? a fever is most DEFINITELY considered an emergency! "

" if you think you're going to work like this, you better think again. "

" don't worry. my family swears by this remedy; just let it work its magic and you'll feel good as new in no time. "

" I don't care about getting sick. i'm not leaving you until you're back to full health. "

" you didn't stop to think that this might happen when you're burning the candle at both ends? "

" yeah, I can play the role of nurse AND say "I told you so" at the same time, actually. "

" you better drink every last drop of this tea, no matter how disgusting it is. "

" i told my boss it was an emergency so they've given me a full week to look after you. "

" quit being so stubborn and get into BED! "

" what part of doctor's orders hasn't sunk in yet? bed rest! for the WEEK! "

" right, where do you keep your saucepans? i'm going to make you my famous noodle soup. it's a cure-all, i'm telling you! "

" hey, unless you're going to the bathroom or the sofa, I don't want to see you out of that bed. got it? "

" when are you gonna start letting people look after you, huh? "

" i know, i know, i turned off all the lights once i figured you had the migraine. you want some tea? water? "

" don't be mad, but i saw your fridge, and... it frightened me. so i've taken you back to my place, and i'm gonna get deliveroo to bring some groceries to your place tomorrow. okay? "

" i know your appetite is a little off, so i ordered in a whole tonne of options. just try a little bit of something, please? for me? "

" i've brought half a pharmacy, enough movies and boardgames to last us a decade, and every single snack i could fit into the basket at the grocery store. so sit your butt down, eat your soup, and try and make the most of your bed rest for the next week, will you? "

ACTION PROMPTS ( SEND THE FULL LINE! and feel free to reverse if u wish! ):

[ TOUCH ]: sender gently rests a hand against the receiver's forehead to check their temperature.

[ DAMP ]: sender presses a cool cloth against the receiver's face, neck and forehead to try and lower their fever.

[ BLANKET ]: sender wraps another blanket around the receiver to try and stop them from shivering.

[ SPOON ]: sender gently coaxes spoons of soup into the receiver's mouth to build up their strength after an illness.

[ CARRY ]: sender, finding the receiver weakened/unconscious on the floor, immediately lifts them up and carries them back to bed.

[ AROUND ]: sender keeps a protective arm around the receiver to help them walk without the risk of stumbling or collapsing.

[ STAY ]: sender decides to stay by the receiver's bedside after learning that they're sick.

[ HAIR ]: sender smooths back the receiver's hair in a soothing gesture to try and help them go back to sleep.

[ TILT ]: sender tips a bottle of water up for the receiver to sip from.

[ HUM ]: sender hums/sings to soothe a sick receiver back to sleep.

[ BACK ]: sender gently rubs the receiver's back, either to soothe them or warm them while they're unwell.

[ SHARE ]: sender climbs into the receiver's sickbed with them, wrapping their arms around them to offer warmth and comfort.

[ SHOWER ]: sender, learning the receiver has a high fever, takes a cold shower with them in order to lower their temperature.

[ WAKEN ]: the receiver wakes up in bed, having been found unconscious by the sender and carried into the bed from the floor.

[ QUARANTINE ]: the sender and receiver, both being sick, decide to quarantine together and spend the recovery period with each other.

[thebearer]

making the bed |carmen berzatto x reader| part one

prompt: carmen's stressed. food critics, a newborn baby, balancing work life and married life and now dad life; he's bound to break, everyone knows it. but no one ever thought he'd lash out on you.

or, part one of the devastation fic. based off this ask from the other day. two more parts to come.

contains: mega angst. mega angst, with no resolution in this part. hurt, no comfort (in this chapter, will be later in part 3). mean!carmen, very mean. mom!reader x dad!carmen with newborn teddy. fighting, language, carmen says mean stuff he doesn't mean. past mentions of trauma, family trauma, mikey mentioned. very angsty and a little heavy, please read at your own discretion. word count- 3.5k+.

"Are you ok?"

Carmen now understood why that phrase used to send Donna into such a blind rage, lips pursing and jaw clenching more and more every time he heard it. First at work, then with you, it felt never ending.

It was beginning to feel like critic season with how many were coming in, snooty and demanding to be impressed. It couldn't have come at a worst time, right in the middle of busy season with the start of the holidays. Days at The Bear were filled with frantic panic, running around, making sure everything was perfect, accounted for, and Carmen always had the sinking feeling it wasn't- that he'd forgotten something, messed something up. 

It wasn't rare for him to work himself up like this, a normal that you always warned him about, but he'd always had a solitude. As long as he'd known you, he'd had a place to go, to unwind, to let himself rest and reset with you. And he still did, it was just shared now with a newborn.

Dorothea Michelle. Teddy, for short. The light of his life, yours too. Nearly two months old with a set of lungs that sounded much louder, much more developed than that. Nights were long, sleepless, spent trying to lull Teddy back to sleep, awake even if he wasn't up with her. Carmen couldn't allow himself the selfishness to relax, to rewind, to "take it easy" like everyone told him to. At work, he was the boss; at home, he was a dad.

"Fuck, fuck," Carmen's sleepy stare was broken by a lick of bubbling heat, the lamb's roux popping with the high heat, splashing all over Carmen's chef whites.

"Jeff, c'mon," Tina clicked, shaking her head, moving the pan to lower heat. "What're you doin'?"

Carmen grit his teeth, snatching a rag off the stainless steel counter tops, scrubbing the burgundy stain, huffing when it only spread the stain.

"What happened?" Sydney turned, looking from the burnt sauce to Carmen's stained chef shirt. "Oh,"

"Do we have a spare coat?" Carmen huffed, throwing the rag down with a firm smack against the counter.

"I don't think so, Carm." Sydney shook her head. "You took the last ones home with you two days ago. The wine-"

"-I know, Chef, I know." Carmen snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I-I can't fuckin' serve the critics lookin' like this. With shit all over me- fuck."

"Hey, easy, easy," Richie turned the corner, his hands held up. "What's goin' on?"

"Jeff got sauce over him. He doesn't have any clean clothes." Tina muttered, irritated that she had to fix his mess, more irritated that he wasn't taking care of himself. You have a baby, Jeff, you need to rest and take some time, she'd told him. Carmen only waved her off.

"Okay, okay, hey, that's no problem." Richie's voice raised, lifting over Carmen's. "You go home and change, get your spare, check on my beautiful goddaughter, and then come back with your A game. Yes?"

Carmen didn't even humor him with a snarky remark, yanking his coat off and stomping towards the office to grab his things. Richie and Tina looked at each other, shaking their head gently.

"Kids runnin' thin, T." Richie muttered with a sigh. "He's gonna break. It's gonna be bad."

"Yeah, he is. Gonna wear himself out before then." Tina shook her head. "Jeff needs a vacation." They both jumped at the slamming of the backdoor, Carmen's angry exit shaking the foundation.

"Needs to be fuckin' medicated. Fuckin' lunatic." Richie scoffed, rolling his eyes at Carmen's dramatics.

The drive home was filled with silence, Carmen's iron grip on the wheel, tearing through the traffic towards the house- his house, his home. 

Home, but it didn't provide the same comfort that it usually did. Carmen's shoulders still stayed tense, buzzing with rage, not dissipating when he thought of you, or of Teddy, knowing you'd both be there, excited to see him. 

You jumped at the sound of the car door slamming, peeking out the window to see Carmen's parked next to yours, furiously stomping up the front steps. You frowned, grabbing the baby monitor, walking towards the front door.

Carmen nearly hit you with how fiercely he flung the door open. "Woah," You reached for the door, stopping it before he could flick it shut. "Carm, don't slam it. Teddy's asleep. I just got her down." You frowned at him, shutting it slowly.

Carmen looked at you but didn't speak, looking through you with a rage that had your spine tingling before he finally broke his gaze, stomping towards the laundry room. "Carm? What’re you doing home? Don’t you have dinner soon?" You hesitated slightly, lingering in the doorway with an uncertainty you hadn’t felt with Carmen before. 

Carmen didn’t answer, his jaw still ground tight while he rummaged through the clean clothes, carelessly unfolding and shifting the folded clothes.

"Carmen," You said more firmly, caching his gaze. He didn't speak still, just stared at you- through you. "Are you ok?" You lifted a brow, features softening in worry.

Carmen paused, eyes closing, shoulders tensing in agitation. Are you ok? His ears rang, a familiar rage that he hadn't felt in years bubbling up deep in his chest. Frustrated and blinding and rampant, heat rushing through his veins, pulling himself further and further from reality into someplace different- someplace darker in his mind. 

"What's wrong?" You pressed, he could barely hear it, ears ringing at your question. "Did something happen? Did the critic come-"

"-Where's my chef whites?" Carmen barked, cutting you off, his chest tightening more and more with every heavy heave of his chest. You flinched at his tone.

"Uh, I-I haven't seen the whites. I washed your white tee-"

“-You what? Y-You what?” Carmen spat, eye widening with a wild, raged glint in his eye. Your stomach flipped and fell with fear, stepping back instinctively. 

“I-I washed your tee, Carm, that’s all that you left in the laundry basket-” 

"-Are you fucking kidding me?" Carmen boomed, his head spinning, body buzzing with rage. Your breath hitched, frozen in fear at the anger in his tone, the roar of his voice bouncing off the walls, echoing through your ears in a painful drum. 

Carmen moved, snatching the dirty clothes basket, dumping it into the ground with a shake until the dirty chef coat fell on top. He gripped the basket, flinging it across the room with a hard throw. The final push to his bad mood that sent him right over the edge, crashing into a pit of blinding fury, aggravation, breaking him from the inside out.

"Fuck!" Carmen roared, his voice shaking the walls, your breath leaving your lungs in a trembling exhale of fear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is- This is- Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” 

You tensed in shock, gripping the baby monitor in fear, maybe surprise, as it started to buzz to life with Teddy's startled whimpers. Her small cries pulled you out of your frozen state, something deeper than fear replacing the ache in your stomach. 

"Carmen-" You gaped, voice wobbling with uncertainty, taking slow shuffled steps towards the stairs. “Carmen, calm-calm down. Ok? Calm down.” 

“Calm down? You want me to fuckin’ calm down?” Carmen sneered, an angry red flush blossoming in splotchy deep hues up his neck, towards his cheeks. “You don’t do shit, nothin’ that I fuckin’ ask for! Just sit around all fuckin’ day an-and I’m supposed to calm down?” 

“Carmen,” Your voice wobbled, throat tight with tears, hurt and fear strangling your words. “I-You didn’t ask me to wash them. I-I didn’t know. They weren’t in the hamper-” 

“-I shouldn’t have to ask you to wash them!” Carmen roared, eyes so wide you thought they might pop right out of his head, neck vein protruding on exemplifying his rage. “You know what I’m going through! You know how much fuckin’ stress I’m under! I go to that-that shit hole, an-and work my fuckin’ ass off so you don’t have to! Then I come home, and I-I can’t even get a second of peace!” 

“Stop,” You hiss, finally regaining your composure, his words fully sinking into you  now, feeling the full effect of them. “I-I just had a baby. I’m still on maternity leave taking care of a baby- our baby, and I’m tired too. But I’m not yelling at you-” 

“-Oh, right. Right.” Carmen laughs sarcastically, humorless as he runs his hand down his face. It felt mocking, left you feeling small and too vulnerable for your liking. “Because in between your napping an-and feeding, you couldn’t stick a fucking jacket in the wash, right? You’re so busy.”  

“What is wrong with you?” You snap, hoping he can’t hear the tears in your voice, the way your voice shakes with emotion. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” Carmen scoffs, throwing his hands out. “I get no fuckin' sleep, go work my fuckin' ass off, a-and then I come home so I can go back and work my ass off some more, and-and you can’t do one simple fuckin’ thing? You can’t help me out? And then you wanna know what’s wrong with me? When you sit on your ass all fuckin’ day-” 

Teddy’s piercing wail pulls you out of your shocked trance, nose and throat burning with hurt filled tears you refuse to shed. Instead, you turn, climbing the stairs on shaky legs, the sound of Teddy’s cries growing louder and louder. Anchovy watches you from the top of the stairs, sensing the tension, your upset, sliding against your leg as if to comfort you. 

Carmen scoffs, hands buzzing and trembling with rage, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder with each of your footsteps on the stairs and down the hall. He can barely hear Teddy’s sobs, hands threading through his hair, pulling at his scalp. He sees you walk towards the bedroom, quickly, hugging Teddy to your chest. 

“Oh, don’t go fuckin’ do it now!” Carmen roared, your ignoring him only infuriating him further. “It won’t be ready in time now. I’ll just look like a fuckin’ idiot for the critic tonight! Not that you care! Why would you, huh? I-I mean just our livelihood, just our fuckin’ income!” 

You swallowed back your tears, head tilting towards the ceiling, hands shaking with every shove of your things into the overnight bag. Just enough to get you through the night, the next day. A few essentials, Teddy’s spare onesies, a charger, your wallet- you stopped mid-shove of your items into the weekender bag, the sun’s rays catching in your wedding ring. Your heart fell, more and more, you weren’t sure how that was even possible. 

Carmen’s furious voice was still booming from downstairs, ringing and shaking in his furious fit. Richie and Sugar both warned you about Carmen’s tantrums, brought them up to embarrass him, tease him about it until he was red faced and hissing hushed threats at them. You never, never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be on the receiving end of one. 

You jumped, another slam of something Carmen had thrown, maybe hit in a fit of rage, causing Teddy to wail louder, Anchovy skittering nervously away. Tears leaked out of your eyes, twisting the ring off your finger, setting it on Carmen’s bedside table. Pulling the carrier out of the closet, Anchovy got in much easier than usual, which you were thankful for. 

Carmen was gripping the marble of the countertop when he heard you again, walking from the bottom of the stairs, quick steps towards the door to the garage, Teddy’s voice nearly hoarse from her crying. You kept your head high, tunnel-visioned towards your car, ignoring his heavy breathing and frantic pacing. 

“Wha-What are you doin’?” Carmen’s voice was softer now, still with a jagged edge that was cutting and harsh. The car door opened, the baby carrier hooked into the car seat. 

“Hey, wha- what are you- where’re you goin’? What’re you doin’?” Carmen’s heart dropped in a damning rush of hour, stumbling on heavy legs towards the garage. You ignored him, shushing Teddy gently, running a calming hand over her wet cheek, trying to coax her paci into her mouth. 

“Baby, no-no, no. Hey, no, I-I- What-” Carmen’s chest felt tight, mind numbing and racing, stuttering nervously. You reached for your bag, his hand reaching to grab the strap. “Whe-Where’re you-”

“-Don’t touch me.” You hissed, teeth bared, eyes shining with tears. Carmen flinched, pulling his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.” You sneered, pinning him with a watery glare that had his stomach turning in sickening fear. 

“Baby, hey, w-wait-C’mon, d-don’t-You don’t, you don’t need to do this, ok? I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Carmen choked out the words, frantic and unsure, his hands shaking when they ghosted over you back just for a moment. Wanting to touch you, to hold you, to grab you and keep you from leaving, but too scared to. Instead, he grabbed the car door you flung open, holding it when you tried to yank it closed. 

“Let go.” You hissed, sniffling back wet, snotty tears of fury and hurt. 

“Please, don’t-do-don’t do this. Please, baby, I-I’m sorry.” Carmen begged, blue eyes deepening with the burning red hues of tears, bloodshot and lashes wet. “Don’t-Don’t do this-” 

“-I didn’t do this.” You sneered, leaving Carmen flinching at your words. “Don’t you dare try to say this was me. After how you just talked to me? The shit you said to me in there? You think I’m going to stay?” Your voice cracked with emotion, lips pressing together to keep a cry in. 

“No, no, no, no, no, baby, please. Please, ju-just come inside. Come inside, please? Please, don’t-” 

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. To say that kinda stuff to me. That hurt, Carmen. That was mean.” You glared at him, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. “I don’t care if you’re stressed. I don’t care what’s going on- nothing, and I mean nothing, warrants you talking to me like that. Just because you fucked up, because you forgot to ask me to do it, because you’re stressed out- I don’t care what it is. You don’t talk to me like that, say those things when I’ve been home all day taking care of my ch- our child.” You nod back towards the sniffling baby, whimpering and crying half heartedly, her little eyelids drooping with sleep that was interrupted. 

Carmen felt sick, his knees tightening in fear, he was sure they might give out, that he might fall to the ground right there. Looking at the tiny baby, lip jutted and shaking in the mirror hooked on the back of the seat, then back at you, eyes red-rimmed and glaring at him with a hurt filled anger. 

“Don’t-” Carmen’s chest shook, a white-knuckled grip on the door. 

Your own hand curled around the door’s inner handle, yanking it away from him. “Move,” You hissed, pulling again. 

Carmen wasn’t sure why he let it go, why he let you shut it, locking the door in case he tried to open it again. Why he let you pull out of the driveway, why he didn’t stop you, why he didn’t run after you, only taking soft shuffles down the drive like a zombie as you drove away. Standing in the drive, Carmen swallowed down the spit that pooled in his mouth, stomach churning, sure he was going to be sick. 

He managed to trudge back to the garage, mind racing and far away, the ringing in his ears dulling but still deafening. It felt like he was in a dream- a nightmare, a hallucinating trance that felt like a sick, sick dream- Carmen was hoping it was. That he’d wake up and find you next to him asleep. That he could hug you, pull you into him, nose buried in your neck, still warm from your slumber. 

As the sun began to sink low into the sky, minutes turning into hours that Carmen sat motionless in the garage, staring in a trancelike state, he realized that this wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. No this was his reality, a horrific reality that he’d made into his own. Carmen sat, eyes trained on the concrete of the garage, voice racing and blending in his mind- his words, yours, Teddy’s cries, Natalie and Richie’s, flashbacks of his mother screaming fits. 

He didn’t move, frozen in chilling, eerie fear. What ifs and terrifying possible scenarios, consequences to his own actions that left him feeling sick, hands trembling. A spiraling of fears that only drug him deeper and deeper with every haunting replay of his outburst. Even the flashing of headlights turning into the driveway, filling the garage with light, didn’t pull him from his trance. 

“The fuck is he- Cousin!” Richie roared, laying on the horn. Carmen didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge that he heard it, only stared. Richie frowned, turning the car off, throwing the door open. 

“Cousin? Carm? What-What are you doin’? Dinner service started an hour ago. Syd is freakin’ the fuck out.” Richie threw his hands up, walking towards the man who still didn’t move. Richie’s heart skipped, flashbacks of Mikey flooding into his vision, parallels of the two brothers blurring before him. 

“Yo, Carm, you-you good?” Richie stepped into the garage, his spine tingling with icy fear. It was quiet, an eerie, unsettling quiet. “Cousin, hey, what-what’s wrong?” 

Carmen's chest rose and fell, tighter and tighter. He was suffocating, head spinning and mind racing so fast he felt light headed. He could barely hear Richie’s voice over the noise in his head, Richie’s hand shaking his shoulder finally breaking his trance enough to meet his eyes, rounded in fear filled question. 

“Carmen, what’s wrong? Is it- Don’t fuckin’ tell me it’s the baby. What the fuck is goin’ on-” 

“-She left.” Carmen’s voice shook, raspy and scared. His tongue still felt too thick, head still spinning. He wasn’t even sure he said it, Richie’s widening eyes the only thing confirming that he had said it. 

“What? Who-Who left? Who?” Richie looked around, like the clues might be there, sure that Carmen wasn’t talking about you. No, he wouldn’t- he couldn’t. Not you. 

Carmen’s breath hitched, a strangling of a sob caught in his throat, running his hand over his face. Richie didn’t miss the way it trembled, shaking even as it rested over his eyes. Your car was gone, the house too quiet, no baby Teddy crying, nothing but silence was left. 

Richie’s heartbeat crawled into a rapid, scared pace. “Why? Wh-Why would she-” Richie looked at Carmen, eyes wide but still, reading his expression. “No. No, Cousin, no. What-What did you do? Carmen,�� Richie grabbed both his shoulders, shaking him lightly until he met his gaze. “What did you do?” 

Carmen’s face began to crack, behind his eyes, Richie could see flashbacks of something- something he didn’t know what, but whatever it was, it was painful. That was evident by the fear that glossed over Carmen’s eyes, realization and horror. Carmen’s shoulders shook, frame rocking with a sob he tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Deep cries, guttural sobs breaking out of his frame, heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, fingers curled and clenched around his greasy curls in agony. 

The damning realization flooded over him, that you’d left. 

You’d left, you’d taken Teddy, taken Anchovy- you’d left because he’d driven you away. His angry outburst, petulant, mean, hurtful- he’d been so cruel to you. You. His wife, the love of his life, mother of his child, the one person who loved him endlessly without stipulations or boundaries, the one person who truly understood him. 

And he’d driven you away. 

He wished he could blame his mom, his dad, his family for fucking him up so severely, maybe Mikey, even, for leaving him the shit show that was the restaurant, making his anxieties worse and fuse shorter. But sitting in the empty garage, Richie standing above him in silent shock, his sobs and angry sniffles echoing off the cement floor, Carmen knew he had no one to blame but himself. 

He’d fucked up. Really fucked up. Fucked up in a way that made all the other times look obsolete. 

Carmen had fucked up, and for once, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t avoid it, ignore it, deflect it like other times. Half hearted apologies and promises of change wouldn’t work, you weren’t here for him to even try to give them to you, and he didn’t know where you went. 

Carmen wasn’t sure where you went, how to fix this, why he’d done what he did, and a million other things that raced through his mind. What he did know, sitting in the too quiet garage, chest stuttering with heaving cries, was that he’d do anything. 

Anything, to get you back home. To make it right. To fix this and make it up to you. 

He wasn’t sure how, but he’d give up everything. Anything. His restaurant, his dreams, his hopes, his life, at this point, to make it up to you. 

[wheres-mylove]

ice-cold revelations - modern!cregan stark x fem!velaryon!reader

Summary: You are in a risky secret relationship with your brother's best friend. What happens when Cregan's unexpected injury exposes your feelings? Well, isn't there somebody you forgot to ask?

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language!

Word count: 2.8k

The wind tore through the streets with a biting ferocity, tugging at (Y/N)’s skirt and making her instantly regret both her outfit choice and this entire trip to the bus stop.

“Stupid winter has to be coming,” she muttered, yanking a colorful scarf up to cover her nose. Her phone chimed in her pocket, vibrating with the familiar sound of a new message. She fumbled with one hand to pull it out, her fingers stiff from the cold.

🐺: jace wouldn’t stop bugging me about that earring under my bed

🐺: i convinced him sara must’ve left it when she crashed at our place lmao

(Y/N) raised her eyebrows, her breath fogging the air as she sighed. The last thing she needed was her brother playing the part of a suspicious rom-com wife, finding random jewelry in odd places and jumping to conclusions. At least he hadn’t figured out where he’d seen that earring before.

Jacaerys Velaryon, as much as she adored him, had a habit of being a little too protective. He was always there when she needed him. But he was also the kind of brother who, despite being only a few minutes older, seemed to think that fact gave him full control over her dating life. Any guy who so much as glanced her way was either a potential threat or one of his friends. And friends were off-limits. Too much drama, he’d say. Too awkward if things went south. Even more awkward if things somehow worked out. Conflict of interest. Absolutely not.

Which was precisely why, in the grand scheme of things, the most logical solution was for her to start dating his best friend and his hockey team captain, Cregan Stark.

Cregan was wonderful. The kind of guy who would do anything for her, no questions asked. That's what had brought them to where they were now. Hiding their relationship from her dramatic brother and quite literally gaslighting him.

Did she feel guilty? Absolutely. Did she know it would be a hundred times worse if Jace found out? Also yes.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a bus speeding past the stop, tires screeching as it flew by. Her bus. Of course.

With impressive force, she pressed the green phone icon.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s up?” Cregan answered in three seconds. Her irritation melted a little at the sound of his deep voice. Down bad.

“Hey, did you guys finish practice?”

“Yeah, just now, I couldn’t cut the boys any slack before tomorrow.”

“Any chance the strict captain could give me a ride home? I missed the bus. Or more like the bus missed me.”

“You’re kidding,” Cregan said, sympathy already thick in his voice. “Of course I’ll come get you.” He paused for a beat, then cleared his throat. “Only thing is… Jace wanted a ride too.”

“The gods are punishing me today,” she groaned.

“Call him. It'll be the same ride. Just, you know, he'll think it was his idea,” Cregan suggested.

“Are we bad people, Cregan?” she asked, half-serious now.

“Nah. He’ll find out eventually, just better if I’m in full hockey gear when it happens.”

“Fair enough,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smile. “Thanks. Love you. Bye.”

She hung up and immediately dialed her brother, requesting the same exact thing.

“Sure, you owe me one though,” he said cheerfully. “I don’t have my car today, so we’ll have to go with Stark. Is that a problem?”

“Nope.” No, her boyfriend wouldn’t be a problem.

(Y/N) Velaryon paced back and forth under the shelter of the bus stop, her boots crunching against the thin layer of frost that had already formed on the pavement. She rubbed her arms, trying to keep the cold at bay, when the familiar growl of a black Jeep Wrangler cut through the quiet. It rolled to a stop near the curb.

She jogged toward the car, her breath puffing out in small clouds, as the driver’s window slid down.

“Your chariot awaits, princess,” Cregan announced with a mock flourish.

“More like a toad,” Jace quipped from the passenger seat, his grin unmistakable.

“One more word and you’ll get my bag to the head. I’ve got half my textbooks in there,” she threatened playfully as she slid into the backseat.

The backseat of this car had witnessed many events, and that was the first thought that crossed her mind. One look at Cregan in the side mirror, and she knew he was thinking the same.

She pretended to be very engrossed in buckling her seatbelt.

“How was practice?” she asked out of politeness.

“Not bad. Stark was all business today, but it was necessary. Big day tomorrow,” Jace replied, fiddling with the radio. Cregan slapped his hand away as he slowed down for a red light.

“Great,” the girl muttered, not trusting her tongue around the two of them together.

An awkward silence fell, broken only by some random song. How long can a red light last?

“So, (Y/N),” Cregan began, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. His voice wavered, but Jace was in his own world, watching pedestrians crossing the street. “How’s it going? How was your day?”

“Pretty good,” she replied, playing with the hem of her skirt. “Though the classes dragged on.”

The devil on her shoulder won an uneven fight with the weak angel. She smirked.

“‘M absolutely knackered.”

Cregan inhaled slowly through his nose.

“Dude, it’s green,” Jace informed him, just before the car behind them honked.

“I can see,” Cregan reassured him, finally moving forward. “I’ll need your sister’s address since I’ve never been there before.”

If Jace had one more brain cell, he wouldn’t be so easily fooled.

“Sure thing,” her brother agreed, typing the info into the GPS on his phone. “Hey, kid, are you coming to the game tomorrow?”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” (Y/N) asked angrily, kicking his seat. “Baela’s taking me.”

“You know what I think?” Jace started, spreading his arms dramatically. “A girlfriend in the stands is such a power boost. Such a boost… I never play as well as when Baela supports me from the bleachers.”

“You never play well,” His sister muttered under her breath, but Jacaerys was currently listening only to himself.

“Cregan wouldn’t get it,” He patted Cregan on the shoulder in the meantime. “If you combined your skills with that support, if you brought a girl, trust me, your performance would be a hundred times better.”

“Talented people don’t need superstitions to play well, Jace,” (Y/N) chimed in, leaning forward. “Besides, Cregan is single.”

“Because he’s too serious and broody, girls don’t like that,” her brother declared in a know-it-all voice. She gave him a side-eye. “He is afraid of women.”

“Are you afraid of women, Stark?” she asked seriously, barely holding back laughter.

Cregan shot her a look in the mirror, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Terrified,” he deadpanned. “That’s why I’m thinking maybe your sister should be my good luck charm tomorrow. Just as a friend, of course.”

“Eh, it’s not the same,” Jace protested, scrunching his face.

“Don’t you believe in the power of friendship?” the driver asked with full seriousness.

“Can I get a jersey with your number?” (Y/N) batted her lashes playfully at her boyfriend.

A jersey with his number was already hanging in her closet.

“Alright, you’ll see, you need deeper feelings for it to work, otherwise it just won’t…”

Jacaerys continued his monologue all the way to her apartment. The girl sighed with relief once she was back in her room, the familiarity of it a welcome escape from the tension.

Two new messages.

🐺: you looked so pretty today

🐺: but next time wear a damn coat, or you’ll catch a cold!!!

The fluorescent light above (Y/N)’s head flickered ominously, casting creepy shadows across the cramped janitor’s closet. She swore that if the bulb died completely, she'd either pee her pants or spiral into a full-blown claustrophobic meltdown. Leaning back against the wall, she tried to focus on the neatly arranged rows of brooms and mops. Soon, the door creaked open, revealing Cregan in all his glory.

Full hockey gear? Check. Helmet? Tucked under his arm. That goofy, ridiculous smile? Definitely check.

“You look so good,” she admitted, grabby hands already in the air. “Come here.”

Cregan shut the door behind him with a soft click, casting a glance at the flickering light overhead. He sighed, took one of her hands, and kissed her wrist softly. 

“We have to tell your brother,” Stark said, his voice serious as he placed his helmet on the wooden shelf beside them. “It’s not right that my girl has to sneak me a good-luck kiss in a smelly closet. You should be able to strut right into the locker room.”

His girl grinned. “You’ve got your gear on,” she pointed out. “We can tell him after the game. Besides, Baela’s softening him up for us. I asked her to.”

Baela Targaryen was known for sniffing out secrets, and the second she spotted (Y/N) wearing Cregan’s jersey before the game, she didn’t even need to ask. Her knowing look said it all, and within minutes, Velaryon girl spilled the truth, enduring Baela’s delighted squeal that had probably echoed for miles.

“I knew you had high standards, girl. Going straight for the captain!” Baela teased, laughing. “Jace obviously doesn’t know? He hasn’t said anything... and Stark’s still breathing.”

Thankfully, Baela had been more than willing to help, distracting Jace so Cregan could sneak away after the pre-game pep talk. Now, Cregan was looking at (Y/N) with pride, his eyes lingering on the jersey she wore. 

“She’s a real one for that,” he mused. “But seriously, we have to tell him. I want a picture of us on my lock screen, and that asshole keeps looking over my shoulder.”

She laughed, pulling him closer and kissing him hard, savoring the way his rough stubble tickled her skin.

“For now,” she murmured against his lips, “just focus on the game. You’re incredible. An amazing captain. And it’s going to go great. I believe in you.”

Cregan grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe one more kiss. Just to make sure we win.”

“The power of having a girl in the stands,” she teased, poking his chest playfully.

“Jace definitely exaggerated that theory,” Cregan confessed with a chuckle. “But honestly... I’m just glad you’re here.”

With butterflies in her stomach and a grin she couldn’t wipe off her face, (Y/N) found herself in the stands minutes later, sitting next to Baela. Her friend was watching the silent exchange of glances between her and Cregan with thinly veiled amusement.

“I always knew Jace was blind, but this is just tragic,” Baela remarked, elbowing her in the ribs. Jace, oblivious as ever, waved enthusiastically from the rink. Both girls waved back, cheering with the crowd.

“You’ll boo with me when the Dornish Spears come out, right?” (Y/N) asked.

Baela gave her a mock-serious look. “Technically, we shouldn’t. Obviously, I will,” she promised. 

The game was fast, brutal, and nearly deadlocked until the very end. (Y/N) had never yelled so much in her life, though her shouts were lost in the deafening roar of the crowd. Cregan played like a man possessed, commanding the ice with his usual grace. At least twenty times during the match, she found herself holding her breath, her heart leaping into her throat with every risky play. But she knew he had it under control. He always did.

Of course they won.

The victory rippled through the stands like a wave, and (Y/N) screamed herself hoarse as the crowd erupted around her. Cregan pulled off his helmet, his eyes scanning the stands until he found her. His smile—tired and breathtaking—was for her, and her alone. She didn’t regret the ringing in her ears or the scratch in her throat for a second. Moments later, he was swept up in a sea of celebrating teammates.

“Girl, are you crying?” Baela asked, pulling her into a hug.

“I don’t know,” She sniffled. “I’m just emotional. I just like that boy so fucking much, Bae.”

“I know, honey. Come on, they’re heading off the ice. Let’s congratulate them, and then have a crazy party or something. No time for tears.”

Cregan was one of the last players to leave the ice, trailing just behind Jace. But before he could step off, the captain of the opposing team, his face twisted with anger, skated up to him. For a moment, it looked like they might talk it out. But then, it all happened too fast.

The player from Dorne shoved Cregan hard against the wall. Stark, ever the calm one, simply raised his hands in a peaceful gesture.

And then he took a fist to the face. The sickening sound of bone cracking echoed across the rink.

“What the hell is going on? Jace!” Baela shouted, holding her friend back as she tried to rush forward.

Jace jumped back onto the ice, but by the time he got there, the other team had pulled their enraged captain away. Cregan stumbled off the ice just as (Y/N) reached him.

“Are you okay? Oh gods, let me see,” she fretted, her hands hovering near his face.

“What a fucking jerk!” Jace nearly screamed, skidding to a stop by the exit. “I called for help, they’ll be here in a second.”

(Y/N) carefully moved Cregan’s hand away, revealing the damage. His face was a swollen mess, his nose clearly broken.

“Do you think they’ll make me lie face-down on the ice?” Cregan joked weakly, leaning on her for support.

“Does it hurt a lot? Maybe you should sit down. Oh shit, I can’t believe—”

“Hey, sweetheart. Calm down,” Cregan murmured, his voice soothing despite the pain. “It hurts like hell, but I’ll live.”

Just then, the medic arrived, momentarily distracting Jace. But despite the chaos, he had clearly heard what Cregan just said. For a moment, Jace stood there, his face pale as the words and the image before him sank in.

“Sweetheart?” he echoed softly, but no one paid him any attention.

“Jace, maybe now’s not the time,” Baela said gently, stepping up beside him.

“I feel physically sick,” Jace muttered, staggering to the railing for support.

The medic handed Cregan an ice pack. “Hold this to your face for a bit. I’ll get you something for the pain right away, but a doctor’s gonna have to set that nose.”

Cregan winced but smiled through it. “You might wanna check on my friend first,” he said, gesturing toward Jace. “I can wait. He looks like he’s about to pass out.”

Jace did, in fact, end up passing out.

Cregan had to take a break from sports after that little adventure. He’d recovered, but now sported a slightly crooked nose—something his girlfriend found oddly hot.

(Y/N) saw his temporary recovery as the perfect chance to manipulate him into watching Teen Wolf with her every evening. After all, the title worked in her favor.

They were nestled on the couch, wrapped together in a soft gray blanket. It was their first time lounging in the living room of the apartment Cregan shared with her brother, rather than hiding behind the securely locked door of his bedroom. 

It would be perfect, really. If it weren’t for Jace’s constant, deliberate trips to the kitchen and bathroom, each one an obvious reminder that he was keeping an eye on them.

“Dear Jacaerys,” (Y/N) said, her patience wearing thin, “you do know we don’t need a chaperone, right?”

Jace barely paused, shooting her a sidelong glance before muttering, “You need someone to knock the stupid ideas out of your heads,” as he slammed the bathroom door.

Cregan chuckled softly, pulling her closer. “Give him some time,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “To be honest, I thought it would be worse. He’ll come around eventually.”

They’d already gone through several long, tension-filled conversations, with Baela stepping in as the voice of reason when things got too heated. They were careful now, avoiding anything that might provoke Jace further.

But Cregan was right—Jace was slowly coming around, even if he was still stubborn. The days of silent treatment had finally passed.

“This is on us for hiding things from him,” (Y/N) sighed, watching her brother embark on yet another purposeful long journey to the kitchen. “No more secrets now.”

“Your brother’s just looking out for you,” Cregan called out, raising his voice slightly so Jace could hear. “He doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, and I respect that. I don’t know anyone else who cares like he does.”

Jace stopped, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, eyes narrowed. His lips curved into a sweet, mischievous grin.

“Yeah,” he began, drawing out the word. “So tell me sister, when are you introducing him to Mom?”

[awrkive]

[TEASER] THE LOVE PROGNOSIS (m) — JJK.

for as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. the kind of girl who thought her high school jock boyfriend would make good on his promise of keeping contact until college. that girl who thought the guy she met at 19 at some sleazy frat party wanted more than just sex. the girl who thought that her boyfriend at 21 would finally be The One after he introduced her to his parents on New Year’s Eve. you’re the kind of girl who thought that it was smart to get a boyfriend in her first year of med school and get proposed to in fourth year.

but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.

PAIRING jungkook x female reader // mingyu x female reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

WORD COUNT 1.2k words for this teaser but the fic currently is at 22k words (heavily unedited). the final estimate is around 30-35k 🤓

WARNINGS/MISC medical!au, roommates!au, surgeon!jk, surgeon!reader (they are both 4th year residents and are co-workers), corporate lawyer!mingyu, oc and jk are bffs since med school but their love language is fighting each other <3, jk and mingyu are bffs during undergrad, jk sluts it out quite often😞, hopeless romantic!oc, weddings and engagement themes, the angst is a bit extreme (medium level tbh) on this one, it’s the… yearning? one sided-love?, the surgeons gang: jk, oc, nayeon, doyeon, taehyung <3, multiple sex scenes (will specify once the fic comes out), i personally have only acquired a degree on Bingewatching Grey’s Anatomy so my medical knowledge is.. you see.. greys anatomy 💔 BUT! i did a lot of research for this pls dont crucify me. the full list of warnings will be indicated when the full fic comes out 🙏🏼 anyways warnings particularly for this teaser: drunk oc, implied alcohol consumption, germaphobe jk lol

NOTES hello awrkive nation!!!!!!!!!!!!! i wanted to do something for jk’s birthday this september and this is what i came up with 😭 i am so soooo so incredibly excited to announce this fic to you guys 😵‍💫 ive been working on this on and off since the last week of july and its currently at 20k words so its coming along really well 🫂 its gonna be a HUGEE HUGEEE fic since its estimated to be around 30k words which will be a first for me hehe <3 pls look forward to it and REPLY TO THE COMMENT SECTION IF YOU WANT TO BE ON THE TAGLIST (pls do not send an ask for taglist request 🫶🏼) LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK!!!!! I WANNA HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS <33333

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“Hey, swing me.”

You tell Jungkook, situating yourself more comfortably on the wooden platform attached to the chains.

“A dollar per minute.” He says, standing up from his own seat and placing himself behind you.

“I thought you hate capitalism? What is this?”

“This is forced labor.” Jungkook says with a groan that you think is a feigned exasperation, since you begin to feel movement right after it.

“You broke my hairdryer the other day. Consider this your compensation.” You look up at him to give him a smarmy smile.

Fom where you’re seated, you realize just how… big his presence is. It’s not the looming, ominous type, though – it’s quite the opposite. When Jungkook surrounds you, you find a bit of comfort in it. A huge one if you want to be honest to yourself.

“And I already bought you a new one. We’re even.” Jungkook squints his eyes at you.

You laugh.

“You’re gonna borrow and break it again.”

He visibly winces. “Touché.”

Jungkook swings you while you talk about your day, just like usual. He asks you about your laparoscopy that kept you from having lunch with the rest of your friends at the hospital earlier that day, about your new scrub cap, and you gossip a little about the new lab tech having a crush on the scrub nurse you both know.

For all his complaints earlier, Jungkook seemingly doesn’t seem to mind having swung you for the past ten minutes now. He’s relaxed and gentle with his movements, and his voice is quaint and soft as he talks to you.

But then you start to feel bad for him so you tell him to stop, standing up from the swing.

“Okay, your turn.”

Jungkook gives you a big grin.

“Nice.”

You chuckle at his enthusiasm when he sits on the swing chair this time around. But when you attempt a push, he barely moves, prompting him to laugh.

“What weak ass push was that?” He says incredulously, looking at you.

You jut your bottom lip out. “You’re heavy and I’m drunk.”

The second time you push him is more forceful but then Jungkook voices out a complaint after the third, fourth, and every single time you do it. You roll your eyes at his tantrums, but then suddenly, you think of a much better idea.

You push him off the swing with all your remaining strength even though your body feels like jelly from all the alcohol you consumed an hour ago.

“What the fuck, __?”

You burst out in boisterous laughter at Jungkook’s state, his hands and knees planted on the ground. He then sits on it, clapping his palms together to get rid of some dust that gathered on his skin.

Without thinking too much about it, you make quick steps over to his direction and situate yourself beside him.

Jungkook looks at you, confused, but you only give him a grin.

“Let’s lie on the ground.”

“What? No!” Jungkook immediately opposes it. As you expected.

You scrunch your face. “Oh! Look at me! I’m Jeon Jungkook and I’m a germaphobe and I’m afraid of dirt!” You say, intentionally making your voice a pitch higher.

Jungkook deadpans. “Pathogens can kill your cells’ metabolic machinery, so, yeah? I’m afraid of dirt.”

You roll your eyes at him and while he goes off about how they can also cause a toxic massive immune reaction, you push his chest forcefully which catches him off guard, prompting him to lay on the ground. Before he can say anything, you take his arm out to spread beside you and you use it to rest your head on.

Jungkook stops his rambling after that.

“See, shut up.” You say, backhanding him slightly on the chest. You fix your gaze at the skies. “The sky is beautiful tonight. Worry about your pathogens next time.”

Jungkook chuckles, and you feel the vibration of his body as he does so, being so close to him. As you peer up to look at him, you see him folding his other arm to lie his head on it.

You smile, going back to looking at the sky.

“This is like in The Notebook.” Jungkook says after a beat of silence.

“Right?” You grin. “And with the pathogens, too.” You tease.

Jungkook laughs, pinching your arm in his reach. “God, shut up about your pathogens.”

You chuckle at the irony.

“That’s me,” you point upwards, referring to a big twinkling light in the sky. Then, you move your finger towards the star beside it. “And then that’s you, ‘cause I’m a bigger star than you.”

You feel Jungkook look at you from his position. “You are so drunk.”

That causes you to giggle, clutching your stomach because you can’t stop laughing at pretty much everything tonight.

“I feel like I'm not anymore. My head just feels like it’s floating but no, definitely not drunk.”

“Whatever you say.” Jungkook says, chest vibrating from laughing at you.

“Hm. Race you to sleep, Jungkook.” You snuggle on his armpit. As you do, you smell a waft of your water lily springs body wash from Bath and Body Works. “Can you stop using my body wash?”

“What?” You can hear Jungkook say, but as he calls your name and more, his voice starts fading. “__? Hey, don’t sleep on me.”

You hum, eyes still closed.

“__, hey!” Jungkook grazes your arms. You can feel your head moving as Jungkook starts to sit, guiding your back to sit upright. He calls you again, gently tapping your cheek to wake you up.

The truth is, you’re really sleepy, but not so much that you can’t hear him anymore or move on your own.

Jungkook gives up trying to wake you up, though, convinced by your acting. Soon, he goes over in front of you, reaching for your arms and placing them around his neck.

“Just put your legs around me, yeah?” He whispers against your hair once you’re glued against his back.

You hum, intending it to sound like a mumble so Jungkook thinks you don’t actually understand.

Jungkook fixes your legs around him, standing up, bouncing a little to get you nice and snug in his back. You smile at the prospect of a piggyback ride.

“I know you’re awake, silly,” He says suddenly, his voice painted with amusement.

You stifle your laughter against his neck, breaking your supposed to be convincing act.

“Race you to the car, Kook.” you whisper into his ear.

Jungkook scoffs, but he doesn’t say anything more until you reach his car. He wears your seatbelt for you, though, and tells you to drink more water from his tumbler.

You fall asleep easily mid-drive.

In the morning, you wake up with a banging headache, your eyes catching the sight of a post-it note on your desk with one tab of Advil.

morning/afternoon stinky i made porridge before i left for my shift just heat it up again when you wake up

ps: your medical bill from my personal care will be discussed later when i get back home. no friends discount allowed

— your angelic friend, kookie

You chuckle at the (annoyingly elaborate) sketch of an angry bunny on the side.

© 𝐀𝐖𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐕𝐄 2024. all rights reserved. copying, editing, reposting and translating any of my works are not allowed.