#do not ask me how long it took to sift through

[babymorte]

question…is it a dick move to make him match the money he spent on other women to buy something really nice for chunky? like im 100000% being vindictive here but like if i wasted this much time im never getting back i think its kind of justified 🤔

[inkedinshadows]

Where You Belong

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary: last part of "A Helping Hand". When Y/N realizes Azriel is her mate, it's only a matter of who will admit it first.

Warnings: language if you really squint, Azzie being a little (just a little, I promise) cocky, but honestly who can blame him

Word count: 4.5k

A/N: here it is. Sorry for the long wait. Hope you like it! 💙

A Helping Hand (part 1), Echoes of the Bond (part 2)

֍֍֍֍֍

Y/N didn't see anyone until dinner.

She spent the day alone, roaming the family library in the House of Wind, sifting through the books until she found one that piqued her interest. From that moment on, she'd been curled up in one of the cushioned armchairs that dotted the room. Occasionally, thoughts of her last conversation with Azriel interrupted her reading, but she did her best to block them out. She didn't want to think about his mate.

Only when her stomach grumbled did she rise from her comfortable position. Placing the book on the table next to her seat, she left the library and headed toward the dining room.

Indistinct chatter was coming from inside, and she quickened her steps, a smile already on her face as she pushed the door open.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to Azriel, standing in a corner with Cassian and Rhysand. But before she could even consider taking a step in their direction, Feyre appeared in front of her.

“Y/N!” Her friend linked their arms to lead her toward the table. “I was just about to come looking for you. Sit next to me.”

Y/N obliged, and everyone slowly took their seats around the table. Though she noticed Lucien's presence seemed to make everyone a bit wary, the atmosphere was lighter with Feyre back with them. Rhys, who was sitting on his mate's other side, looked particularly relaxed.

As food appeared on the empty plates and conversations started around the table, Feyre turned to face her.

“I'm sorry I didn't greet you properly this morning,” she said. “But my mind was… elsewhere.”

Y/N peered over at Rhysand, who was talking to Lucien and Cassian but seemed to be listening to their conversation.

She looked back at Feyre with a smile. “I know, Fey. Don't worry about it. I'm just happy I have my friend back.”

Feyre returned her smile, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I am too. I was worried about you, you know. How are you adjusting to this life?”

Taking a bite of her food, Y/N used the few seconds to weigh how much to tell Feyre. She wouldn't usually hesitate – not with her, never with her – but maybe a family dinner right after she'd come back to the Night Court wasn't the right moment for this sort of talk.

“I struggled at the beginning,” she said finally, avoiding details for the moment. “But Azriel helped a lot, and I'm doing much better now.”

As if mentioning him was enough to summon his attention, she felt his eyes settle on her from the other end of the table. She met his gaze with a smile, and the corner of his lips twitched upwards in response.

“Azriel?” Feyre's surprised tone brought Y/N's mind back to her friend, and the Shadowsinger refocused on his own conversation. Y/N rubbed a little spot on her chest.

“I'm glad he helped,” Feyre continued. “And that you're doing okay.”

Y/N nodded and took another bite of her food, but her thoughts were already drifting back to the spymaster. Now that they were in the same room again, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, and she kept going back to that morning – Azriel’s words about his mate.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

Feyre always had a knack for knowing when something was on her mind. Even when Y/N thought she was concealing her thoughts, the youngest Archeron could pick up on them.

“I was just wondering… how does it feel to have a mate?” Y/N asked, her gaze drifting back to Azriel for a moment before returning to Feyre. “I mean, what kind of bond is it?”

Feyre’s expression softened, her eyes settling on Rhysand, warmth shining in them. As if sensing it, the High Lord turned towards her with a smile that spoke volumes about his feelings for her.

“It’s a bond between souls,” Feyre finally answered. “Like an invisible thread binding two people, a tug toward each other. If two mates accept the bond, then they belong together.”

A tug. Y/N had been feeling a tug toward something for a while now. What if it was toward someone instead?

“Honestly, I hope you'll get to experience it one day,” her friend went on. “It's a connection on a new, deeper level. It's always there, even when you're apart.”

“I hope so too,” she murmured, her hand once more massaging her chest.

There was a pause as they both took a sip of their drinks, the conversation still buzzing around the table. Y/N's thoughts wandered back to Azriel, his quiet presence and the comfort he had provided. There was something more there, something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

“Have you ever met Azriel's mate?” she said suddenly, breaking the silence between them.

Feyre's brow furrowed in confusion. “He doesn't have a mate.”

Y/N's fork paused halfway to her mouth. “He told me he did,” she said slowly. Something dangerously close to hope stirred in her chest.

Feyre's frown deepened, and she shook her head slightly. “I had no idea.” She cast a glance at the Shadowsinger. “He never mentioned having a mate. I always assumed he didn’t.”

Y/N's heart raced as she processed the new information. Why would Azriel lie about something like that? She glanced down the table at him, her mind racing with questions.

A wisp of shadow curled around his ear, and his eyes slid toward her. He almost imperceptibly raised an eyebrow, but this time she didn’t meet his gaze and looked down instead.

“I don’t understand,” she murmured, more to herself than to Feyre. “Why would he tell me that?”

Feyre reached out and placed a comforting hand on her arm. “Maybe there's more to it than just that,” she suggested gently. “He’s quite reserved. I’m sure you’ve noticed that too.”

Y/N nodded, her thoughts a whirlwind. She knew Feyre was right. She needed to confront Azriel, to understand why he had lied to her or why he’d told the truth to her only and not to the others.

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur, the Inner Circle and Lucien delving into a more serious discussion about war and High Lords, most of which Y/N didn’t really comprehend – even less so when her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Azriel and Feyre's words about the mating bond.

As they finished their meal and began to disperse, Y/N wished everyone goodnight and quickly slipped out of the dining room. She needed to be alone, a moment of quiet to think things through before talking to Azriel.

Because things didn’t really make sense right now.

Either Azriel had lied, or he really did have a mate. But if that was true, why didn’t his friends know? And why would he spend so much time with her and away from his mate?

His mate – the one he’d found just recently, who was as kind and gentle as she was, who he would leave behind every time Y/N needed help.

That last part didn’t sound much like the Azriel she'd gotten to know over the last few weeks, though.

With a sigh, Y/N closed the door to her bedroom and started getting ready for the night. 

Tomorrow, she’d find Azriel. But for now, all she wanted was to turn off her thoughts, if such a thing was even possible.

Sliding under the bedsheets, she tossed and turned for a while, trying to keep her mind blank and fall asleep instead. But every time she thought she was about to enter the realm of dreams, some kind of insect would fly so close to brush her face and she had to bat it away constantly.

After what was probably the fourth time in just as many minutes, she groaned and finally opened her eyes to find the culprit.

It wasn't a fly, like she’d thought.

In the dim moonlight, she could just make out one of Azriel’s shadows hovering right over her nose. She’d gotten so used to their subtle presence in her room that she’d forgotten about it. But that tendril was definitely seeking her attention now, and she watched as it surged forward and gently brushed against her cheek.

Something slid into place inside of her.

Azriel's shadows had been with her since she'd been given this room. They seemed to like her, and judging by Cassian’s reaction that morning, it wasn't common to be favored by the dark companions of the Shadowsinger.

And then there was that tug that Feyre had mentioned – a tug toward each other. She had felt it often during the last three weeks and it always seemed to grow stronger when Azriel was close.

It's always there, even when you're apart. She could feel it now too, like a thrumming presence next to her heart.

What had Azriel said about his mate? That Y/N reminded him of her, that they were a lot alike… and that he'd found her recently.

Just like she had met Azriel only recently.

She jolted upright as realization settled upon her.

But… could it be true? Could it really be that she was the mate Azriel had mentioned? The signs were there, yet he hadn't said anything about it. Not even that morning, when she had blatantly asked if he had one.

Every remnant of doubt and uncertainty faded away when she noticed the rising darkness in the room. From the tiny cracks on the floor and the little gaps under the furniture, shadows were now slithering out of their hiding spots to gather at the foot of her bed, seemingly writhing in what she thought was excitement. The lone tendril that had woken her caressed her cheek once more.

“Alright, alright,” she chuckled, waving it away. “I get it. He’s my mate.”

The solitary strand stilled its movements, and she took the chance to shoot it a warning look, though she couldn’t help the smile on her lips. “Now let me sleep, okay? I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

She was now too tired to go looking for Azriel’s room. She didn’t even know if he was in his room anyway. Besides, this was not a conversation she wanted to have when her mind was a bit sleepy. Better to let the realization fully settle in and deal with it in the morning.

The shadows seemed to understand, because they halted their swirling, and even the stray tendril drew back, returning to the pool of darkness next to her bed.

Y/N lay back down and closed her eyes again. A small smile still graced her lips when she finally fell asleep.

She woke up only a few hours later, her breath gasping and Azriel’s name on her tongue.

A nightmare, nothing more. She tried to calm down, silently repeating it in her head. It was just a nightmare.

But she had to check on Azriel. Her stomach was clutched by an uneasiness that she couldn’t shake. Yet she didn’t move.

It was the middle of the night. Surely Azriel was sleeping by now, and she didn’t want to disturb him, not for something as silly as a nightmare. He’d done enough for her already.

She tried to go back to sleep, to ignore that invisible thread that was pulling at her chest and the thoughts that kept drifting back to Azriel. But every effort seemed useless.

She sat up, running a hand through her hair. The shadows seemed to stir on the floor as if knowing she was considering getting up.

She had no idea where Azriel’s room was. But after realizing they were mates and now the nightmare… she had to see him. It was like a physical need, nudging her to go.

As soon as she rose from her bed, a single wisp of shadow flew from the floor to her, curling around her wrist. She had a feeling she knew exactly which tendril it was.

The bond seemed to pulse in her chest as she headed for the door. But once she was outside, she didn’t know where to go. Nesta and Elain were in the same hallway, but what about Azriel? Maybe he wasn’t even on the same floor, for all she knew.

The bracelet of darkness tugged her toward the left end of the hallway, and she looked down with a frown. It did it again.

“You want me to go in that direction?” she whispered, taking a single, tentative step.

A third tug.

This was a potentially bad idea. She should have stayed in bed. Azriel was no doubt sleeping, and she would only bother him.

Yet her feet moved, and she didn’t fight the shadow as it guided her through the hallways.

~~~~~~

Azriel knew Y/N had left her room the moment she closed the door behind her thanks to his shadows. What he hadn't expected was that she was coming here, yet a few tendrils curled around his ear, whispering the same word over and over.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

A moment later, he heard her soft footsteps down the hallway. They stopped right outside his door.

He waited for her to knock, but when no sound came, he debated whether he should go open the door and let her know he was aware of her presence.

Just as he stood up, three light and quick taps on the wood resonated in the room.

Azriel swallowed. Maybe this could be his chance to tell her about the mating bond.

He walked up to the door, opening it to reveal Y/N, barefoot and clad only in her nightgown. She was fidgeting with her hands and he could bet he heard her hold her breath when she saw him.

“Did I wake you?”

Azriel glanced down at the Illyrian leathers he was still wearing. “No,” he answered with a small smile.

Only at that moment did he realize a shadow was wrapped around her wrist, just like that morning. Knowing it had been caught, the stray tendril flew back to hover around his wings with the others. His dark companions seemed to be as captivated by her as their master was.

Azriel took a better look at her. She was beautiful, even with her unbound hair a bit tousled on one side of her head. That detail, and the fact that she hadn’t bothered wearing slippers, told him she had slept – at least for a while. But judging by her fidgeting and her presence here, something was gnawing at her.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, moving to the side in a silent invite to step in. “Did you have a nightmare?”

She didn't hesitate to walk past him. “Yes.”

Her sweet scent filled his nostrils, clouding his mind so much that he barely heard her answer. She was looking at him now, her brows furrowed.

“I thought you didn't have them anymore,” he finally replied.

“Not usually, but… this one was different.” He didn't miss the tension in her voice, or how she was avoiding his gaze. “It was about you, Azriel.”

His eyes widened. If she was upset about something, if he'd maybe hurt her in her dreams… but she probably wouldn't be looking for him if that was the case, right?

“It was about that day in Hybern,” she went on. “But I wasn't being pushed into the Cauldron. It was…”

When her voice trailed off and she didn't continue, Azriel stepped closer to her and gently brushed her arm. For someone who'd lived for more than five hundred years, he wasn't sure how to act around her. He didn't know if he was allowed to touch her to comfort her, despite the help he'd already offered her multiple times. Things were different now.

“It's okay, Y/N,” he said gently. “You don't need to tell me.”

But she shook her head. “You were dead,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “In the dream, you… you were dead and I couldn't do anything.”

Before he even knew what he was doing, Azriel wrapped her in his arms. He stroked her hair, his shadows joining in and swirling through her locks.

“I'm alright. It was just a nightmare,” he whispered. He felt a sob tear through her body, and for a horrible moment he thought she'd shrink back into herself like weeks ago.

And so Azriel kept murmuring soothing words while he held her close, to prevent her from turning again into a shell of herself or having another panic attack.

Yet when Y/N pulled away just enough to look up at him, her eyes were dry. Azriel could get lost in their depths.

“I know what you are, Az,” she said, and time seemed to slow as his mind came up with all the different possibilities of what she meant.

But what she said after wasn't one of them.

“I know you're my mate.”

Time stopped completely. Azriel froze, his shadows with him, halting their swaying around her.

He seemed to watch in slow motion as she brought up a hand to cup his cheek. As her eyes softened and a smile appeared on her face.

Maybe this was all some kind of dream. Maybe he'd fallen asleep without realizing. But his shadows were whispering to him again.

Real. Real. This is real.

Azriel let himself enjoy it then. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. His hand came up to cradle hers, a small sigh leaving his lips as he relaxed.

“You are my mate.”

How she knew, Azriel had no idea. He knew for a fact his brothers and Amren – the only ones who had figured it out – wouldn't tell her before he could. And if Y/N had pieced it together herself, it still wouldn't matter.

The only thing that mattered was that she was here now, and she didn't seem upset or angry.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you,” he finally replied. When he opened his eyes, she was smiling up at him.

The sight threatened to make him crumble. He wanted to pull her closer and kiss that soft smile.

Y/N just shrugged. “It's alright. I'm not sure I would have understood it if you'd told me sooner.” Her thumb brushed against his cheek before she stepped back, and Azriel reluctantly let go of her hand and mimicked her movement.

“But you could have told me this morning,” she added, her tone amused. “When I asked if you had a mate.”

Azriel ran his fingers through his hair as he offered her a small, nervous smile. “You caught me off guard. It doesn't happen often.”

“Oh?” she chuckled, the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. He even forgot to say something else.

Instead, he reached for the bond he'd kept buried deep down and let it come back to the surface. He gave it a tentative, gentle tug and watched as Y/N tensed and her eyes widened, her hand going to that spot he'd seen her rub multiple times already.

A moment later, he felt her tug back. And knowing she wasn't running away from it, from him, he closed the distance between them once more. His hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back and earning a small gasp in return. The need to kiss her was taking over his senses and he struggled to keep control.

Normally he'd go for it, the fact that Y/N didn't pull away and instead seemed to wait for his next move enough to tell him she wasn't going to reject him. And if she were any other girl, he'd do it. But with her, he needed to be sure. He didn't want to rush anything.

“Do you still think what you said earlier?” he asked in a hushed tone. “That my mate was lucky to have me?”

“I'm only more convinced of it now that I know it's me,” she murmured. Her smile lit up her whole face as she moved even closer. “I'm lucky to have you.”

For the first time in centuries, Azriel was feeling overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by her scent now permeating his room, by their bodies brushing against each other, by the mating bond finally out in the open and not hidden in the depths of his soul.

“No, I'm the lucky one to have you, Y/N.”

Their eyes met again and he was about to ask her if he could kiss her – Cauldron, he might even beg for it – when her gaze dropped to his lips. He waited one heartbeat, two, but when she still hadn't looked up by the third one, it was both the confirmation and permission Azriel needed.

With his hand still cradling the back of her head, he pulled her closer while he leaned down. They met halfway and Azriel’s first thought was that he would gladly stay like this forever.

Her lips were soft and warm, and they parted slightly, allowing his tongue to slip inside. He felt her hands on his chest and his wings rustled quietly behind him, an involuntary reaction to her touch.

But Y/N pulled back, the absence of her lips on his like a sudden emptiness in his heart.

His fingers tightened in her hair and when she moaned softly against his mouth, Azriel knew he was a goner.

Her cheeks had taken on a light shade of pink that made him smile. He was so lost drinking her in that he almost missed the words she whispered.

“Stay with me tonight.”

His smile widened. “You're in my room, Y/N.”

“Right.” She chuckled even as she blushed, the sight endearing. “Then let me stay with you for tonight.”

Azriel tucked her hair behind her ear. “You can stay with me every time you want. Every night, if that's what you wish.” He leaned down to press a tender kiss to her lips. “Wait in bed. I just need to get changed.”

She nodded and stepped back, his hand falling away from her cheek.

As he moved towards his drawer, the shuffle of the sheets brought a smile to his lips. He fought the urge to turn and see her lying in his bed. His mate, in his bed. Something he had almost stopped hoping for, after so many centuries.

Eager to join her, he quickly took off his Illyrian leathers to replace them with his sleeping pants. 

He didn't need his shadows to whisper in his ear to know she was watching him. He paused just as he was reaching for the shirt and lifted his head instead.

“Like what you see?” he asked, a teasing not in his voice.

The only answer he got was a low mumble that he couldn't quite make out, which only made his smile widen. Cauldron, he really wanted to turn around and see her face. He was ready to bet she was blushing.

Deciding against wearing his shirt – definitely not because he was a smug bastard who wanted to see her reaction – he turned and walked towards the bed.

He was rewarded by Y/N quickly looking away, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red as she lay back down.

Azriel chuckled, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. A part of him felt a twinge of guilt, maybe he should have donned the shirt to spare her the embarrassment. But he couldn't deny he enjoyed seeing her flustered.

With a swift movement, he joined her under the bedsheets. “Y/N,” he called gently. “You know you don't have to shy away, right?”

He ran a hand down her spine and felt her shiver through the thin fabric of her nightgown. “You're my mate,” he continued. “You can look as much as you want.”

She scooted over until her back was pressed against his chest. Azriel immediately wrapped her in his arms and relished in the way her body seemed to fold into his, like that's where she belonged.

“Those are dangerous words, Azriel,” she warned. He could hear amusement in her voice and he knew she was smiling.

“Why?”

She intertwined their fingers and, to his greatest shock, brought them up to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss on the back of his hand.

It had been decades since Azriel had learned to accept his hands and his scars, decades since he'd stopped hiding them with gloves or in his pockets. He'd done horrible and unspeakable things with those hands, but to protect his court – his family – he'd do them again. And yet to have Y/N, his mate, openly kissing them so tenderly…

He wasn't sure he was breathing.

His shadows curled around his ear, whispering something about an answer, and he realized Y/N had turned her head to look at him. She was frowning, the expression creating a small crease between her brows that he had never noticed before.

“You didn't hear what I said, did you?”

She only smiled, turning around again. “I said that I might not stop looking then.”

Azriel felt a heat creep up his cheeks. “Sorry,” he murmured.

His arms held her tighter, pulling her closer until there was no space left between their bodies. As he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, he whispered, “You're very beautiful too, Y/N. I've had a hard time not staring at you since the moment I met you.”

With their joined hands resting close to her chest, Azriel could feel her heartbeat increase. Grinning from ear to ear, he waited as she shifted a bit like she was debating whether to turn around in his arms or not. But she eventually settled against him again and murmured a thank you.

Shying away from compliments, then. He would remember that. And he would shower her with compliments until she too believed she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid eyes on.

He wanted to start now, to make her turn around and kiss her again till their lips were swollen. Instead, he draped his wing over them, creating a little cocoon of darkness and warmth where only the two of them existed.

“It’s quite late,” he murmured against her neck. “We should sleep.”

 She hummed in agreement. “Goodnight, Azriel.”

“Goodnight.”

He closed his eyes, ready for the long hours it usually took him to fall asleep. It wasn't until he heard her voice again that he realized he was already falling into a peaceful slumber.

“Az?”

“Mh?”

Her voice was a whisper, barely audible even in the silence of the night. “This morning, when Cassian mentioned having the biggest wingspan and you snapped… is that a mate related thing, or just Illyrian?”

He had no idea how she'd come up with such a question at this hour. Smiling at her innocent curiosity, he tried not to let his mind wander into dangerous territory.

“I'll explain another time,” he mumbled. “Go to sleep, Y/N.”

She giggled, the sound like music to his ears. And with his mate in his arms – her scent filling his nose, her hair tickling his neck, her soft body pressed so perfectly against his – he knew he wanted to sleep like this every night.

After centuries of searching, Azriel had finally found the place he belonged.

֍֍֍֍֍

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy

A Helping Hand Tags: @myromanempiree @loving-and-dreaming @satttanx @a-courtof-azriel @randomdumsblog @whistle1whistle @thecraziestcrayon @tinystarfishgalaxy @jesskidding3 @starlitlakes

[lilacmingi]

WHEN YOU’RE ON YOUR PERIOD

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: ATEEZ x fem reader

Total word count: 8,580

Note: I tried to be vague here in terms of sanitary products since I know everyone has different preferences, but pads are mentioned in Mingi’s segment

★ ────────────────── ★

𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆 | 홍중 | w.c. 900

Your eyes snapped open as you were awoken by a wave of painful cramps in your abdomen, the intensity so bad it made you physically react and curl in on yourself, your eyes squeezing shut in response. When that didn't bring any relief, you rolled over on your stomach, then onto your back with your arms resting on either side of your head as you stared at the ceiling.

You tried not to move around too much so as not to disturb your boyfriend, Hongjoong, who was sleeping soundly beside you. No doubt was he up half the night working on music, so you knew he needed his rest.

Quietly, you slipped out of bed to the bathroom and sifted thought your box of sanitary items to get something to put on before sliding back under the covers, silently praying the cramps would ease up enough for you to doze off.

Your fingers curled around the sheets, hands balled into fists as you tried to ignore the pain and go back to sleep. Minutes passed, though it felt like hours, and the cramps were too much to bare, so much that an unconscious, quiet whimper slipped past your lips, your face twisted in agony as you pressed it into your pillow. You didn't realize you had woken up your sleeping boyfriend until he called your name drowsily.

"Y/n? You alright?"

There was no hiding it at this point.

"Just my period. You should go back to sleep."

He ignored your suggestion and propped himself on his elbow, eyes scanning you worriedly. "Are you hurting?"

You nodded.

"Is it bad?"

"Enough to keep me from going back to sleep." You winced as another intense wave of cramps hit your lower abdomen.

"Do you need some medicine?"

"I didn't want to take any unless I absolutely have to."

"I think you need some." He commented, pulling back the covers.

"No." You put your hand out, stopping him from getting up. "You were up late and I'm sure you've got to go to the company and work on music later today."

"I can work on it here just the same as I can at work. I've got all my equipment with me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." He nodded. "I'd rather be here at home to help take care of you anyway."

With that, he got up out of bed and shuffled down the hallway to the kitchen where he grabbed a bottle of water and some pain medication to soothe your cramps.

"Here, love." He handed the bottle to you after returning to the bedroom, which you gratefully took, dropping a couple pills into your hand.

"Thanks." You popped the tablets into your mouth and washed them down with water before placing the bottle on the nightstand and slumping against the headboard with closed eyes.

A frown etched its way into Hongjoong's flawless features as he brought a hand up to brush your hair away from your face. Being a man, he was unsure of the amount of pain you were in or how intense it was. Despite that, he wanted to make sure you were as comfortable as possible during this time. He was fully aware that this was something you'd dealt with for a long time, yet he had a strong desire to care for you and help you through this time of the month. He cared for you too much to watch you suffer.

Your eyes opened to find Hongjoong still standing over you worriedly, his hand resting on top of your head.

"You can lay back down, you know." You chuckled softly.

He stayed in place for a couple seconds before giving in and crawling back into bed with you, his concerned gaze trained on you the entire time.

"Come here." You beckoned him over and he was by your side in an instant.

"Are you going to be okay?" He asked, his hand finding your lower abdomen and rubbing gentle circles over it.

"Of course I will. I just need to give this medicine time to kick in and do it's thing."

"How are your cramps?"

"They still hurt and I'm still uncomfortable, but the little massage feels nice."

"Good." He smiled, applying a little more pressure causing your eyelids to slide closed.

It's true, the massage was enough to lessen the pain, only the tiniest bit, but it was the gesture that counted.

"Are you feeling hot? Or cold? Are you getting chills? Do you need more blankets? If you're too hot I can turn the air conditioner up or bring a fan in here."

"You act like I'm sick or something." You tittered softly at his rambling. "This is just something I have to deal with every month. I'm used to it."

"That doesn't mean I can't take care of you."

"I guess you're right."

"I know I'm right." He grinned. "You still didn't answer my question."

A light chuckle left you. "I'm fine, Joong."

"Alright. I'll stop with the questions now. But if you need anything, and I mean anything, you let me know. If you're craving something specific or need another bottle of water, anything, just say something."

A fond smile graced your features as you brought your hand up to Hongjoong's hair, lovingly running your fingers through it. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"You're just lucky, I guess." He grinned.

𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐖𝐀 | 성화 | w.c. 850

A knock at your front door sounded through your mostly quiet apartment as you lied in bed curled into a ball.

Not fully awake, you didn't register the persistent knocking for quite some time. Only when it got louder did you sit upright, letting out a frustrated groan. You had started your period the day before and your symptoms were terrible. Your cramps were so bad you had to lie down with a hot pack across your abdomen, the heat making you sweat, though every time you took the pack off, you got goosebumps along your skin and felt freezing cold. To make matters worse, there were breakouts on your face, blotting your skin with ugly, discolored spots, all of these things making you feel gross overall. You hoped whoever was at the door wasn't someone important as you went to answer it.

Your heart dropped to your feet when you saw your boyfriend standing outside.

"Seonghwa!" You exclaimed out of surprise, hurrying to cover your face. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to surprise you. Is it a bad time?"

Yes. Is what you wanted to say.

"I..." You trailed off.

"Are you sick?"

"No. I just look terrible right now."

"That doesn't bother me." He chuckled.

You flinched away when you felt his fingers trying to wrap around your wrists.

"No." You groaned, keeping your hands planted firmly on your face. "It's that time of the month and I'm sweaty, my clothes are soaked, my face is covered in breakouts, I'm bloated, and I'm cramping so so badly that I want to cry."

"Hey." He called out softly, pulling your hands away.

You avoided eye contact with him, not wanting him to see you in such a disheveled state.

His gaze softened when he looked at you, a gentle smile gracing his lips.

"You still look beautiful to me."

You wanted to roll your eyes, but you knew Seonghwa was a genuine person and maybe, even though it was hard to believe, you did look beautiful in his eyes.

"Come on. I have an idea." He took your hand, stepping into your apartment and closing the door behind him before leading you to your bathroom.

You weren't sure what he had in mind, but whatever it was he seemed pleased with himself, so you weren't going to stop him.

Once in your bathroom, he let go of your hand and started rummaging through your cabinets.

"Alright, let's see." He muttered to himself, scanning the items in your bathroom closet.

"Hwa, what are you doing?" You finally asked, a light chuckle accompanying your question.

"I'm giving you a spa day."

"A spa day?" You echoed, your heart fluttering slightly.

"Yeah." He pulled a towel and washcloth from the bathroom closet. "You're feeling bad and what better way to help than to have a spa day? Plus, you deserve to be pampered."

You didn't know if it was your period or your overwhelming love and appreciation for Seonghwa, but you felt like crying.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, my love." He placed a kiss on your forehead. "Bath or shower?"

"Shower."

Though a bath would be nice, nothing beat the feeling of hot water hitting your lower abdomen, right where the cramps were.

Seonghwa was nice enough to get the shower running for you, sticking his hand in to check the water temperature and make sure it was hot enough.

You thanked him as he left the room, removing your clothes after the door clicked shut. The warm steam hitting your skin as you stepped into the shower was a welcomed feeling. You managed to get through your usual shower routine, the hot water helping to soothe your persistently painful cramps, at least long enough for you to finish bathing.

Once out of the shower, you changed into the fresh pair of clothes you brought with you and used the feminine product you had laid out.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you found Seonghwa laid out on your bed.

"How was your shower?"

"Wonderful. I even cleansed my face while I was in there. I feel so refreshed."

"Well, we're not done yet." He got up off the bed. "Come on."

Guiding you back into the bathroom, Seonghwa opened up a little cabinet beside your sink where all your skincare products were stored and pulled out a small box of acne patches.

He plucked one of the star-shaped pimple patches off the plastic sheet, gently instructing you to stay still while he placed the patch onto your face, covering one of the blemishes.

"One more." He murmured, pulling off a second one and sticking it to your chin.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He placed a kiss to your forehead. "Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?"

"I'm fine for now. Thank you, though. What I would really like is to cuddle up in bed with you, a heating pad, and something to watch."

"I can arrange that." He smiled happily. "But first, let's get you some pain medicine for those pesky cramps."

"That sounds like a good idea."

𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐎 | 윤호 | w.c. 1,500

Music echoed throughout the practice room as Yunho danced, hitting each move with sharp precision. His facial expressions were intense and full of emotion as if he were putting on an actual performance on stage in front of fans.

You sat in a chair by the wall, watching him with a mesmerized gaze, enraptured by not only him, but his talent and overflowing passion for dancing. Every so often he would glance at you through the mirror, giving you a little smirk before continuing with his routine, knowing the effect he had on you, especially with the sleeves of his t-shirt rolled up to show off his arms.

As you watched, you were suddenly hit with a wave of cramps so painful it caused you to lean forward a bit, almost curling in on yourself. Your face scrunched up in response to the sharp pain.

You had started your period the night before and was expecting to be hit with these terrible cramps sooner or later—it always happened. When you first start, things are light as your body prepares to run its natural cycle, then on the first official day it hits... and it hits hard. Normally, you're woken up in the early morning hours with the most awful cramps, one's that prevent you from sleeping for a while, but on days like this it hits when you're least expecting it.

Rummaging through your bag, you retrieved a small bottle of menstrual pain relief pills, grateful that you carried some with you at all times. Shaking one out into your palm, you grabbed the bottle of water by your chair and used it to take the medication, thankfully going unnoticed by Yunho. Though you wished it would work right away and rid you of this pain and discomfort, you knew that wouldn't happen.

Attempting to ignore the throbbing in your abdomen, you continued watching your boyfriend move across the wooden flooring of the practice room, hoping for a distraction.

Who were you kidding? Nothing could distract you from from the stabbing pain you were experiencing.

The song ended and Yunho moved over to mess with his phone, choosing another song to dance to, his chest heaving up and down as he huffed out short breaths.

"You're doing so good." You praised him, putting on a smile.

"Thanks." He panted. "I think I'm gonna do a couple more songs before I take a break."

"Don't overwork yourself, okay?"

"I know." He smiled softly, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead.

The next song started to play and he moved back to the center of the room to begin the routine. You crossed your legs and wrapped your arms around your midsection, curling in a bit in an attempt to get some relief. It seemed one of the best positions to be in during your monthly was curling up in a ball, of course, you couldn't exactly do that right now as you were sitting in a chair.

Your cramps eased up for a moment only to return a few seconds later, goosebumps rising on your skin as the air in the practice room suddenly felt cooler than it was moments before. At the same time, you felt yourself starting to sweat a bit.

Great. You groaned internally.

These were the worst kind of cramps; the ones where you're hot but you're cold at the same time, unable to find a comfortable temperature.

Halfway through the song, Yunho noticed your behavior. He caught you squeezing your eyes shut every so often, seeing an uncomfortable expression on your face and the stiffness in your posture. His dancing immediately ceased as he headed towards you, turning the music down.

"Are you okay, love? You look a little washed out." He commented, placing his hand on your forehead. "What's going on?"

"I got hit with the worst cramps ever." You groaned, giving up your act as you slumped forward in both defeat and agony.

"Oh, baby." Yunho cooed, crouching on the floor beside you, his hand rubbing your back. "Do you need some medicine?"

"I took some a few minutes ago. Just waiting for it to kick in."

"Why don't I take you home so you can rest."

"No. You need to practice."

"I've been practicing long enough. You need to be somewhere with a heating pad."

"That sounds nice." You sighed, imagining the soothing heat pressed against your aching lower abdomen.

"Let's go."

"I can't help but feel like I'm preventing you from practicing." You murmured after stepping into the elevator.

"You're not." He assured you, grabbing hold of your hand. "I wanted to get a little practice in and I did."

The last thing you wanted was to be a burden. Yunho was a famous K-pop idol whose group had a giant fanbase. He needed to practice hard and spend hours at the company to perfect and improve his dancing and performance skills. Somehow, you felt you were a distraction that would cause your boyfriend to get in trouble with the entertainment company for "slacking off".

Yunho, who could tell by the distant look in your eyes that you were lost in a whirl of troublesome and perhaps even negative thoughts, gave your hand a light squeeze, bringing you back to reality.

"Are you hungry?" He asked. "Dancing really worked up my appetite."

"Yeah." You nodded. "I had a light breakfast so I could definitely go for some food."

"Good. We can go back to the dorm and I'll order us something. You can pick whatever you want. Oh, I have a heating pad too. That should help with your cramps."

"But I don't have any... stuff there." You responded.

You had one or two menstrual items with you in your bag, but that wouldn't be enough to last you a visit at Yunho's.

"Oh. Don't worry about it. I can stop by a store on the way and buy whatever you need."

His offer was so sweet it had you falling for him all over again.

"You don't have to do all that."

"I don't mind." His round eyes sparkled with the genuine desire to help you out in any way he possibly could.

The elevator doors slid open and the both of you headed through the lobby and out onto the sidewalk where Yunho's car was parked on the curb.

At the dorm, Yunho handed you the plastic bag with the feminine products he had purchased for you on the way.

"What would you like to eat? I can go ahead and order it."

After going through a list of things you were craving, you decided on one and let Yunho know.

Just before he left the room to place the order, he stopped at the doorway. "If you want to change into something more comfortable, you have free range of my closet."

As soon as he left the room, you wasted no time scurrying over to his closet and rummaging through his shirts. What you currently had on was comfortable, but there was no way you'd pass up the opportunity to wear Yunho's clothes.

Pulling one of your favorite shirts of his from the closet, you brought it with you to the bathroom where you switched out feminine products and changed into the cozy shirt.

Yunho returned just a couple minutes later to inform you the order had been placed before rummaging through his closet, pulling out a heating pad.

"Come on." He beckoned, pulling back the covers of his bed and nodding towards the empty space.

You slid under the sheets, staring up at Yunho who worked to plug up the pad.

"You should lie down and use this while we wait on the food. Then maybe your cramps will be gone and you can fully enjoy your meal."

Your heart swelled with adoration at his words.

Yunho laid the heating pad across your stomach before resting his hand on top of it.

"How's that feel?" His gentle voice asked.

"So good." You sighed out, closing your eyes. "My cramps eased up a bit on the ride over here, but this heat is doing wonders."

"Good." The smile in Yunho's voice was evident as he leaned in, brushing your hair away from your forehead to place a gentle kiss there.

You peeled your eyes open to see Yunho grabbing his dog-shaped body pillow which he designed for his birthday merchandise.

"Here. You can hold Pudeongie."

You chuckled, taking the pillow from him and hugging it to your side. Though you preferred to cuddle with Yunho, you couldn't exactly do that with the heating pad laying over your lower abdomen.

"Thank you for taking care of me." You hummed.

"You're welcome, beautiful." He combed a hand through your hair. "I need to get a quick shower and wash all this sweat off. Then we can cuddle properly while we wait for our food."

A content smile settled onto your features. "That sounds perfect."

𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐆 | 여상 | w.c. 1,000

Twice. That's how many times you cried over a commercial that day. Why? Well, you were blaming it on your period, especially since grocery store commercials didn't normally tug at your heartstrings on a normal day. I mean, how can you possibly keep it together when there's a commercial about an animated man who's little granddaughter pulls out an old recipe book from his deceased wife that he hadn't opened in years?

You were wiping away tears that were threatening to spill when your phone chimed from its spot beside you on the couch. Flipping the device over, you were met with your boyfriend's contact photo taking up the entirety of your screen. It was a FaceTime call. Your thumb swiped to accept the call, holding the phone up so he could see you.

"Hi, angel." He flashed that heart-melting smile of his, waving to the camera.

Judging by the background, he was at his dorm in his bedroom.

"Hi, Sangie."

His large eyes suddenly became sad, worried even, while his lips stuck into a pout. "Were you crying? Are you okay?"

"Oh." You glanced at yourself in the camera, noticing the slightly glossy look your eyes were currently sporting.

It wasn't super obvious that you had been tearing up, but Yeosang was always so perceptive when it came to you.

"My emotions are all crazy. I got choked up watching a commercial." You chuckled, finding it a bit humorous.

"So you're not sad?" He wanted to be certain that you weren't upset.

"No." You laughed softly. "Just hormonal."

Yeosang's brows raised, his eyes becoming wider in sudden realization. Then came the flood of questions.

"Do you need anything? Are you hurting? Should I pick up some pads? Tampons? Do you have enough pain relievers? Are you drinking lots of water? I heard being active helps cramps. Have you been active? Are you taking vitamins? There are supplements that help ease period symptoms. Should I get you some of those?"

"I'm fine, Yeosang." You cut in before he could continue, chuckling endearingly at his concerned rambling. "I'm not hurting too bad. It's only the third day so my cramps aren't too bad. They come and go, but they're not as severe as they were on day one. Yes I'm drinking water, maybe not enough, but I'm drinking it. And I've been lounging on the couch since I got out of bed."

"Ah. Sorry. I guess I got carried away." That tiny, shy smile of his made its appearance as he rubbed the back of his neck in a sheepish manner. "Have you been eating fruits or something healthy?"

You nearly snorted. "Actually, I've been indulging in some of the cravings I've been having." You lifted a bag of your favorite chips to the camera. "So, what are you up to?"

"I called because I don't have a schedule today and I wanted to see if you'd like to hang out."

Just the thought of spending time with Yeosang made your heart soar with excitement.

"I would love to."

"Since you're on your period, I'll come to your place. If that's okay with you."

"Yeah." You nodded. "That's perfect, actually."

"Okay." He beamed. "I'll start making my way right now."

"I'll be waiting." You waved. "Love you."

"Love you too."

The FaceTime ended and you tossed your phone back to the couch cushion, briefly considering wether or not you should leave your comfortable spot on the sofa and put some makeup on. It didn't take long for you to to completely disregard the idea. After all, you had just FaceTimed him and he saw your makeup-free (and slightly blemished) face so there was no need covering it up.

A gentle knock on your front door sounded just fifteen minutes after your call with Yeosang. You leapt from your seat and scurried to answer the door. The man you had been longing to see stepped inside, wrapping his arms around you in a cozy embrace while he gently rocked the both of you side to side.

"I'm so happy to see you."

"I'm happy to see you too, precious." He pulled away, gazing at you with those sparkly, brown eyes of his. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm cramping, but it's nothing too bad. Not right now, anyway."

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

"What do you feel like doing?"

"Well, I was watching TV on the couch but I'd kind of like to lie down."

"Okay then we'll cuddle in bed and have a movie marathon."

You hummed in agreement and tugged Yeosang further into your home, guiding him to your bedroom where the both of you got comfortable under the covers.

Your boyfriend had barely gotten situated before you were resting your head on his chest and snuggling into his side.

It was a blessing that Yeosang wanted to come over because it's exactly what you needed at that moment. Being cuddled up next to him made your heart swell and provided you with a cozy feeling in your chest.

"What would you like to watch?" He reached for the remote.

"Actually, do you think you could sing to me?"

Yeosang stiffened just the slightest bit, clearly not expecting the request.

"Of course. Any song suggestions?"

"Whatever you want to sing." You murmured, snuggling further into his chest.

A gentle smile graced Yeosang's statuesque features as he began singing a current favorite song of his. His fingers ran through your hair in a gentle and soothing manner, your eyes fluttering closed in response as you listened to his silky voice, which was doing a great job at distracting you from your cramps that were thankfully going away on their own, albeit slowly.

Yeosang's voice was heavenly. From his low register to his faint lisp that could be heard in his singing. It all had your heart doing somersaults in your chest.

"So beautiful." You murmured sleepily, as Yeosang's gentle ministrations were making you drowsy. "Thank you, Yeo."

This was all you needed.

𝐒𝐀𝐍 | 산 | w.c. 1,400

4 AM. That's what time you were finally able to get to sleep the night before. It was that time of the month and your incessant cramps were so bad not even Midol could fix it. You were miserable. Normally, you could ignore any mild cramps that would inconveniently hit just as you were going to bed, but these were the kind that kept you awake, the pain just a little too intense for you to relax, leaving you tossing and turning for hours on end. Between the cramps and having to get up to pee every five minutes, there was no way you could rest.

It was after barely after 4 AM when your cramps eased up just enough for you to relax and finally doze off.

Presently, it was 12 PM, which meant you got a decent eight hours of sleep, even though your body felt like it needed just a smidge more.

You pushed yourself out of bed, giving a brief glance at the fitted sheet wrapped around the mattress to make sure you didn't have any overnight leaks. With no stains in sight, you shuffled to the bathroom where you went through your usual routine and freshened up, which woke you up a bit and made you feel a little less crappy.

You swapped your PJs for some loose-fitting sweats and one of your boyfriend's shirts that he left at your place before heading to the living room to turn on the television. After a few moments of mindless channel surfing, you found a show that grabbed your attention and decided to watch.

It didn't take long for your cramps to start up again. The ache, while annoying, wasn't anything too unbearable, not like last night, anyway. So you ignored it, sinking further into the couch cushions while keeping your eyes locked on the TV.

You made it through the remainder of the episode before the cramps really ramped up, the sudden increase in pain and discomfort causing you to lurch forward.

Your face contorted in agony, the sharp jabs in your abdomen leading you to jump to your feet and make a beeline for the kitchen where the medicine was kept. You tore open the cabinet and located the pain medicine you so desperately needed. Since your cramps were just as bad as they were in the early morning hours, you took two pills, assuring you'd get the minimum amount of pain relief.

With a hot pack laid across your lower abdominal area, you settled back into the couch cushions and proceeded to watch television, doing your best to focus on the show. Sometimes having a distraction helped to take your attention off the wrath Mother Nature was thrusting upon your uterus.

At some point, you unconsciously started rocking back and forth, partially hunched over. The heat paired with the movement seemed to be helping just a little, however now a very thin layer of sweat covered your forehead and on your shirt where the hot pack was pressed against your abdomen was a damp spot. You huffed, pulling off the hot pack to fan your shirt a bit and cool off. That only caused a wave of goosebumps to rise along your skin, the air in your home being a little too cold for your linking. So you laid the hot pack back across your abdomen. This went back and forth for the next ten minutes or so, only adding to your frustration and discomfort.

"Ha. Ha. I love being a woman." You commented dryly to no one at all, wrapping your arms around your midsection.

You probably looked pathetic all crumpled up and curled in on yourself but you were in the privacy of your own home and you were in extreme pain. You'd do whatever it took to get it to go away.

The stabbing cramps had gotten so bad in such a short amount of time. Your brain was in a haze and all you could think about was the pain. Just when you felt you had reached your limit, your phone rang.

Fumbling for the device, you lifted it to see who was calling. It was San, your loving boyfriend whom you were suddenly missing very much. You accepted the call and raised the phone to your ear.

"Hello, gorgeous." His silky voice came through the speaker.

"Hi, Sannie." You did your best to sound cheery, but the greeting came out as a sort of pained grunt.

"Are you okay?" The pout in his voice was evident.

"No. Not really." You answered honestly. "I'm on my period."

A tiny gasp was heard on his end followed by an, "Oh no."

"Yeah."

"You poor thing." He cooed. "Why don't I come take care of you."

"That would be great."

"I'll be over there as soon as I can, baby."

Less than 20 minutes later, there was a knock at your door which had your heart jumping for joy. As soon as you opened the door, San walked in and pulled you into a hug.

"Hi dear." He murmured as he stroked the top of your head. "Are you hurting?"

"Very much so."

"Ah." He nodded knowingly as you parted ways. "I know what I have to do."

He balled his hands into fists, crouching down at bit so he was level with your lower abdomen. Before you had the chance to question what he was doing, he began to punch the area where your uterus was, stopping right in front of it because, well, he would never actually hit you.

"Stop!" He demanded sharply, going in for another punch. "Stop it."

The phrase was uttered during each strike of his fist, his words being punctuated by his actions.

The chuckles that had begun to spill from your lips were now turning into full on laughter as your boyfriend continued punching at your lower abdomen, demanding that it "stop".

"Thank you, Sannie." You giggled.

The both of you made yourselves comfortable on the couch where San immediately wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

"If you need anything, let me know."

"Okay." You tittered softly.

Having San with you provided a good enough distraction to take your mind off the discomfort in your abdominal area. He would make comments about something on TV and ask questions to help keep you occupied with things besides period pains.

At some point, you stood up and excused yourself to go switch feminine products, doing so in just a couple minutes.

It was only when you were returning to the living room that you realized your abdominal cramps had gone away but a persistent, dull ache had become present in your lower back.

Your face twitched slightly as you shuffled towards the couch, catching your always observant boyfriend's attention.

"What is it?" He asked.

"I'm having cramps in my back."

"You have period cramps in your back?" San asked in disbelief.

"Sometimes." You sighed, unconsciously massaging your lower spine.

Your boyfriend was baffled. San knew periods could be a pain and there were lots of symptoms that varied in intensity, but this was crazy. Why would you get pain in other areas? He didn't think that was very fair.

"Come here." San took your hands, leading you to your bedroom where he insisted you lie down on your stomach.

You did as he asked, getting yourself comfortable on the mattress before feeling it dip under San's weight.

"Tell me where it hurts." His hands placed themselves on your spine.

"Lower."

His palms slid further down your back.

"Right there."

San's thumbs rubbed over the muscles a few times, making long upward strokes as he applied pressure on the sore spots. A sigh passed through your slightly parted lips as relief washed over you.

"Is that good?" He inquired tentatively.

"So good."

San hated that this was something you had to deal with every month. Even though that's just how things were and he couldn't do anything about it, it didn't seem fair.

"I'm sorry you're feeling so icky, pretty."

"I'm far from pretty right now." You chuckled.

"Not true."

His ministrations came to a halt as you lifted your head just enough to glance back at him.

"I'm serious." He insisted with a pout.

"You're too sweet." You dropped your head back onto the pillow as he continued massaging.

"Only for you, lovely."

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈 | 민기 | w.c. 900

If there was one thing about your period, it was that it showed up at the most inconvenient time.

Mingi's body moved with such fluidity that it had you mesmerized—hypnotized, even. His body control was out of this world and never failed to hold your attention. His oversized sleeveless tee hung off his slim figure, the thin fabric swinging about as he danced with rigor and passion. His movements were so intense sometimes that the hem of his shirt would fly up and reveal his tiny waist and smooth stomach. The sight was a small blessing to your eyes and just another perk of watching him get in an extra practice session on his weekend off. His brows were pulled together in concentration, his sharp eyes fixed on his reflection, inspecting his own movements. He had no idea you were practically drooling over him in the corner of the room.

You were having a wonderful time when suddenly you felt it... the gush.

Right away, you sat upright and pushed yourself up from your seat, standing stiffly in place.

This abrupt and unusual reaction caught Mingi's attention almost immediately and had him scrambling to pause the music.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I just need to go to the bathroom." You excused yourself and headed straight for the practice room door, trying your best to walk normally instead of the usual stiff-legged hobble you would be doing if you were at home.

You had started your period the day prior and it was already in full swing, hitting you with all it had. This morning before you left, everything was light, so you assumed this time around you'd ease into it, but you were so very wrong.

In the bathroom, you closed the stall door behind you, making sure to lock it before taking a seat to assess the damage.

"Oh boy." You whispered under your breath, reaching for your bag and rummaging for an extra pad in the inner side zipper. Empty.

Oh no.

Normally, you had extra feminine hygiene products with you, however, it seemed this time you had forgotten to replace them.

Great.

After washing your hands, you returned to the practice room, shifting from one foot to the other. It appeared that Mingi hadn't moved since you left the room, his normally narrow eyes now round with worry.

"Is everything okay?"

"Uh." You rubbed the back of your neck.

Just say it. It's a normal thing, Y/n. You reminded yourself. There's nothing to be embarrassed about.

"I don't have any pads with me." You confessed embarrassedly.

Mingi blinked owlishly a few times, not quite understanding what you meant.

You gave a vague nod down towards your lower half, trying to communicate without saying it outright.

Mingi's eyes became wider in realization.

"Ohh!"

"Yeah." You sighed. "I forgot to put more in my bag and I need one... like right now."

You were about to apologize for needing to leave so abruptly so you could take care of the problem when Mingi spoke up.

"Stay here. I'll go find you one."

"What?" You questioned, your eyes following him as he hurriedly exited the practice room.

Without receiving a response, you dropped down into the chair you occupied before your hasty exit moments earlier, waiting patiently for your boyfriend to return.

Mingi moved down the halls of KQ, searching for any staff that may be nearby. He popped his head into empty offices and meeting rooms, turning corners and scouring the place for any employees wandering about. The entertainment company had many staff members, so it shouldn't be that hard.

He came upon one of the lounges, poking his head into the room to find two female staff members having a quick snack together.

"Excuse me." He spoke timidly, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed to ask for feminine products. "Do either of you happen to have any... pads?"

He was quick to put himself back in place, reminding himself that he was helping you out.

You were his girlfriend and if you needed a pad then gosh darn it he was going to get one for you, embarrassed or not.

"Oh. I'm sorry I don't." One of the women apologized.

"I do, but I left my bag in my office on the next floor." The other responded.

"Ah."

Mingi didn't want to inconvenience the woman, especially since she probably had a busy schedule so he thanked them both and left, continuing his search.

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth while his eyes darted around, reading the labels on each door that lined the hall in search of his next place to check.

After three tries, Mingi was able to get you a pad, which he hoped was enough to sustain you for the duration of his solo practice.

Your boyfriend reentered the practice room, holding up the plastic-wrapped square like it was a trophy.

"I got it."

You plucked the item from his hand, pulling him into a hug.

"You didn't have to do that. I was just gonna go to a nearby store and buy some."

"I knew I could find one quicker by asking around."

You smiled softly. "Thank you."

"Of course." He brushed your hair out of your face. "You feeling alright?"

"For now."

"If you need to go home, just let me know."

"I will. Thanks, Mingi."

𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 | 우영 | w.c. 980

You stepped down the aisle that housed all the feminine products you could ever need, Wooyoung coming to a stop beside you as you eyed the pad and tampon section.

"So what size pu—"

"Don't even finish that sentence." You cut him off, raising your hand to stop him. "I don't want to hear that phrase or that word come out of your mouth."

"Yes ma'am." He saluted.

Huffing, you proceeded further down the aisle until you found what you were looking for.

While scanning the different sizes of products available on the shelves, your ever curious boyfriend wandered up and down the aisle to keep himself busy.

Once you acquired what you were looking for, you turned to see Wooyoung holding a box of tampons, examining the packaging.

"You put these inside you?" He asked in disbelief.

"Woo, put those back."

He did as he was told, his face twisted in either disgust or discomfort, you couldn't tell, as he did so.

"Alright. I've got everything I need." You announced, preparing to head to the register until you realized Wooyoung stayed put, staring with furrowed brows at the plethora of feminine products lining the shelves.

"What is it?"

"Why are there so many?" He asked. "How do you even know what to get?"

"It all depends on what you're comfortable with. Some people prefer tampons, others prefer pads."

"Okay but the pictures on these are different." He pointed to a section of pads.

"Right. Some have wings so the pad stays in place and doesn't squish up and some don't. Again, that's all depending on personal preference. Some pads are thin while others are thick so they can absorb more. They vary in size as well. Some people like longer pads so they don't have a leak while they're sleeping or lying down."

Wooyoung's eyes remained wide, his brows pulled together as he soaked in all this new information, scanning over each plastic package.

"How do you know if you need thin pads or thick ones?"

"That depends on your flow."

"Flow?" He echoed.

You did not expect to be having an in-depth conversation about periods with your boyfriend in the middle of the feminine hygiene aisle but there you were.

Then again, he grew up with brothers. Of course he wouldn't know everything about a woman's menstrual cycle. Also you didn't think that was something that a mother would talk to her son about, especially in detail.

"You know how you can barely turn a faucet on and the water runs just a little, but when you turn it more, a lot of water comes out?"

He nodded.

"That's how it is with periods."

"So you can turn it off?"

"Unfortunately not. That's why we need these things." You gestured to the array of feminine products. "What I mean is, with some people their flow is heavy while others are lighter, so you buy products according to that."

"It's not the same for everyone?"

"Not at all. Some people have very heavy flows. I've even heard of people buying bladder leak pads because they're more absorbent."

"It gets that bad?" Wooyoung gaped.

"Mhm." You nodded.

"And it's the same for the other things too?"

"Tampons."

"Right. That."

"Yes. They've got different sizes according to your flow as well."

"Wow. That's so complicated."

"Not when you've lived with it most of your life." You chuckled. "Let's go."

"Girls get cravings for chocolate when they're on their period, right?" Wooyoung asked as the both of you made your way towards the front of the store.

"It's not always chocolate, but yes. Cravings tend to happen." You responded.

"What do you usually crave?" He asked.

"Usually sweet stuff, but it differs."

"Should I get you some?"

Your expression softened as you looked at him, seeing the genuine care in his eyes.

"Sure."

"Come on then. Let's go see what they have." Wooyoung took hold of your free hand, pulling you towards the snack aisle which was packed with junk food and sweets.

You perused the shelves, trying to figure out what sounded good at the moment.

"Pick whatever you want." Wooyoung told you. "My treat."

That made you stop. "What?"

"Your period stuff, snacks, I'll pay for all of it."

For someone who was making period jokes earlier, he sure was being sweet.

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, thanking him for his thoughtful offer.

On the way home, you decided to tease Wooyoung since he barely knew anything about periods, curious to see his reaction to a particular prank you'd seen circulating the internet.

"Did you know pads and tampons come in different flavors?"

Wooyoung's eyes widened. "Flavors?"

"Yeah. Didn't you notice the colors and pictures on the packaging?"

"Yes."

"The color is whatever flavor they are. Green is green apple, purple is grape, pink is strawberry and so on."

"Wait really?"

"Yeah."

"Why? What's the point?"

You shrugged, holding back a grin.

"Are you being serious right now? Do they really have flavors?"

"No." You laughed, throwing your head back as you let loose a string of cackles.

"Y/n, that's so mean." Wooyoung pouted. "I almost believed you."

"Sorry." You laughed. "I just wanted to see if I could get by with it."

"I bought you snacks." His full lips were stuck out as he spoke, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I was just teasing, love." You nudged him.

Unable to keep up his act any longer, Wooyoung cracked a small smile.

"That was pretty good, actually."

"I know." You grinned.

"I think you should make it up to me though"

"How?" Your eyes narrowed, wondering what sort of deal he was preparing to strike up.

"Play video games with me when we get home."

A smiled made its way onto your face at his proposal. "I think that can be arranged."

𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎 | 종호 | w.c. 1,050

The sunlight that seeped in through the window hit your closed eyelids, the intrusion pulling you from your sleep just enough to make you aware of it. You rolled over in bed keeping your eyes shut, snuggling further into your plush pillow. As you slowly began to wake, you stretched your arm across the bed, reaching for Jongho only to be met with an empty space, the palm of your hand hitting the sheets that were crumpled from being haphazardly tossed back into place. The lack of his presence made you frown, sitting up on your elbow while searching the room.

All thoughts of your temporarily missing boyfriend flew right out the bedroom window as a sticky and somewhat uncomfortable feeling below caught your attention. The all too familiar heart-stopping feeling was something you knew well. Without wasting another second, you shot up out of bed, jerking back the covers to find an ugly, red stain on the fitted sheet.

"No, no, no, no, no." You murmured the same word over and over again in a panic.

This was Jongho's bed and it was his sheets you'd just ruined.

"Crap." You hissed, rushing to your bag to grab an extra pair of underwear and fresh pants, taking your toiletry bag with you as you slipped into the bathroom to clean yourself up. While in the bathroom, you managed to get most of the bloodstain off your panties thanks to some cold water and hand soap, which seemed to do the trick. The process was repeated for your pajama bottoms.

Once you were finished, you went back to Jongho's room and promptly stripped his bed, wadding your stained underwear and pajama pants up with them.

You weren't sure where Jongho was, but you hoped you could make it to the laundry room without being noticed.

The universe must've been against you because as soon as you stepped out of the bedroom, Jongho was standing there in the hallway.

"Jongho." You uttered his name dumbly.

"Y/n, you're awake." He smiled softly, his eyes dropping down to the crumpled wad of fabric in your arms. "Why do you have the sheets?"

"I sweat pretty bad last night." You lied. "I didn't want to leave your sheets stinky so I'm going to wash them."

"Oh. You don't have to do that. I can wash them."

You pulled the heap away from him just as he reached out to take them from you. "It's okay. I got it. Really."

He held his hands up in surrender. "Alright."

You hurried past him and into the laundry room, lying the sheet across the top of the washer and dryer along with your underwear and pajama bottoms as you rummaged through Jongho's detergent to see if he had a stain stick or something to pretreat the splotch before tossing it into the wash.

You pushed past bleach, fabric softener, and laundry scent crystals, but you couldn't seem to find any stain remover.

Jongho heard your noisy rummaging from the other room, going to check on you and see if you needed any help. When he stepped into the laundry room he saw his sheets laid out, a dark red stain standing out against the gray fabric. Along with it was your panties and the pair of pajama bottoms you had worn to bed the night before, an equally as noticeable stain on them as well.

Your eyes were blown wide like a deer in the headlights as embarrassment and mortification hit you like a massive wave, your entire face set on fire due to the situation.

Not only had Jongho seen the ugly stain you left on his (probably expensive) sheets, but your underwear and pajama bottoms as well.

You should have moved. You should have scrambled to grab your panties and hidden them behind your back, but you were completely frozen in place, unable to move. As if that wasn't bad enough, you could feel what was sure to be a painful series of cramps coming on in your lower abdomen.

Jongho's eyes met yours and you let loose, sputtering what could only be classified as word vomit.

"I'm so sorry I ruined your sheets. I promise I'll get the stain out. I know it's gross and it's embarrassing."

"It's not gross." He responded, his expression showing no disgust whatsoever. "You can't control it."

"What?"

Jongho shrugged. "It's only natural."

You couldn't ignore the way your heart thumped. Of course Jongho wouldn't think something like this was a big deal. You should've known better. Nothing ever phased him.

Jongho's eyes drifted back over to the sheets on the washer where your undergarment was still laid out for him to see.

"Don't look at those." You stepped in front of your unmentionables to block his view.

"Why?" He chuckled amusedly. "It's just underwear. You've seen mine before."

"That's because you don't know how to keep your room clean and they're tossed on the floor."

"Touché. But it's still just underwear. No big deal." He stepped forward, rubbing the top of your head. "You're worrying too much, pretty."

You huffed softly, sticking out your bottom lip in reluctant defeat.

"Now let's take care of these sheets. What were you looking for in here?"

"Something to pretreat the stain."

"Ah." Jongho moved over to his laundry products, pulling out a spray bottle. "I believe this is what you were searching for. This should do the trick. I've used it to get coffee stains out of my clothes plenty of times. Works like a charm."

"Thanks." You took the bottle from him and sprayed the stains on everything before tossing them into the washing machine.

"I'll start the wash." Jongho volunteered, messing with the settings and starting the laundry cycle.

He came up and rubbed your back soothingly.

"You feeling alright?"

"For now. The cramps haven't started up yet, but I'm sure they will."

"If they do, I've got a heating pad you can use."

Your gaze softened while a gentle smile graced your features. "Thank you."

"Of course." He stroked your hair in a caring manner. "Are you hungry? You want anything to eat?"

"Some breakfast sounds nice."

"Alright. I'll make you your favorite." He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "You just sit and I'll make it."

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[eternal-evergreens]

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧JJK Men as Yanderes ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Post Format: Headcanons

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Ryomen Sukuna, Mahito, Choso Kamo

Word count: Each piece is roughly 750 words

Warnings: implied sabotage (Gojo, Toji, Choso), invasion of privacy (Gojo), kidnapping (Gojo, Sukuna), murder (Geto), kidnapping mention (Nanami, Toji), suicidal ideation (Nanami), light gore (Gojo, Sukuna, Mahito), reader injury (Sukuna), threats of bodily harm/mutilation (Mahito), sexual assault (Mahito), implied murder (Choso)

Satoru Gojo

You're nothing special. Not compared to him, at least. With no long line of sorcery or blue blood running through your veins, your family is just about as average as it gets.

You're nothing special---not to Jujutsu society, anyway. But who gives a shit about that? To Satoru, you're more than special.

You're everything.

He's always been the strongest, and yet, when he's with you, he just feels so weak.

Like a schoolgirl fawning over her latest crush, Satoru often finds himself checking his phone while away on missions, hoping to see your name appear on his screen. It doesn't have to be anything special—even a picture of some ugly animal with the caption "That's u, lol." is enough to get him going. Just knowing you were thinking of him at all, even in an unflattering light, makes him feel lightheaded in a way not even battle can emulate.

It's weird. It's embarrassing.

But he can't get enough.

Satoru wants you more than he's ever wanted anything, and he wants you to feel the same way. He'd do anything if it meant winning your heart.

If you asked him to kneel, he'd kneel. If you asked him to beg, he'd beg. If you asked him to rip out a man's heart and present it to you, he'd ask if he should do so on a silver or gold platter.

If you asked him to let you go, however...

You sigh and fall back onto the couch. It'd been a week since your landlord mysteriously kicked you out, and Satoru took you in with a frankly suspicious eagerness. To say that he was an overbearing roommate was to put it lightly.

He'd follow you around the flat from room to room, enter your bedroom without knocking, and once, you even caught him sifting through your laundry. He wasn't even embarrassed about getting caught, let alone the fact that he had done it in the first place.

You decided to start searching for a new roommate after that.

"Y'know," Satoru says, slinging his arms around your shoulders---you hadn't even heard him approach. You quickly close your computer, which happens to have very clearly been showcasing cheap apartments in the area. "I could have just taken ya'. Snatched you up off the street like some kidnapper."

"What...?"

"---But I decided to play nice instead. I thought we could forge a real relationship that way. But you've just been pushing me away. I'm starting to think I've been too lenient with ya'. Like maybe I should have just locked you up instead."

"That isn't funny, Satoru."

"Who said I was joking?" You open your mouth to respond, but Satoru cuts you off before you get the chance. "You want dinner? I can order us takeout. Anywhere you'd like."

Drop it, his eyes say. You do.

That very night, you pack a bag and head to the nearest hotel. In the morning, you'll ask your job if they can transfer you to another city. For tonight, you'd like to just get a good night's rest without the lingering fear of waking up to his figure looming over you.

You wake up to familiar surroundings. It doesn't register as strange until you remember checking into a hotel the night prior. You shoot up to get a better look around. Sure enough, you're in your own bedroom, not the hotel's.

But how...?

You're sure you left last night. Did you dream it? You go to check your phone, but it's not there.

Just then, the door opens. "Oh, you're up," your roommate says.

"Satoru, what's---"

"I called you in sick for work today," he says casually, "and tomorrow. Actually, starting today, you're unemployed."

"What?!"

"Don't worry. I can take care of us. I've got more than enough money."

Satoru wants you more than he's ever wanted anything, and he wants you to feel the same way. He'd do anything if it meant winning your heart.

If you asked him to kneel...If you asked him to beg...

If you asked him to let you go, however...

"C'mon, baby, you know I can't do that," he'd say, arms around your waist and head in your lap. "Ask me for something else, anything. Just not that. Do you want a pony? We can get a pony."

"No---"

"What about a cat? Or maybe you prefer dogs? I could get a purebred if you wanted one. I know it gets lonely being in the house all by yourself."

"I want to go outside, Satoru."

"We could get a fish tank, I guess. Though I doubt they'd make good company."

"Listen to me---"

"Actually, maybe that's for the best. Wouldn't want to compete for my lover's attention in my very own home, you know?"

Suguru Geto

When he was at his lowest, Suguru thought of you. It kept him going. It kept him sane.

So, of course, you were the first person he asked to join him in the creation of the new world. His world.

"Our world," he said, the look on his face desperate, pleading.

You declined, of course. His ideals went against everything you stood for as a Jujutsu sorcerer. As a person.

He took it well---or seemed to, at least. He flashed you a plastered-on smile and released your hands from his, leaving you with no further fuss.

For a while, that seemed to be the end of it.

Life went on. Though you would occasionally catch wind of his nefarious deeds, dealing with such things never fell within your purview. In fact, it almost seemed as if the higher-ups were purposefully keeping you from any cases that involved him.

You had all but forgotten about that fateful evening when a call from the higher-ups had you booking a flight to Okayama.

Apparently, there had been a sudden influx of cursed spirits in the region. And as the lead researcher in cursed phenomena, you were called to the scene.

You had already been given a file outlining the happenings, but out of courtesy, Yumi, the assistant supervisor assigned to the case alongside you, filled you in regardless.

"It's not that there's a higher rate of cursed spirits being born in this area," she said. "They're migrating here."

"Hmm," you look over the map on your tablet again; colour-coded dots mark the locations and grades of each (presumed) non-native sighting. The spacings are far from natural. They seem to have been made with intent, almost as if forming a pattern of some kind.

"We've set up a barrier to track the arrival of new cursed spirits. Nearly every curse from fourth to semi-first grade in the neighbouring towns has been coming here. Some of our windows have even spotted them moving together in groups."

"Was there anything strange about their behaviour? Like moving in single-file lines, with strange movements, or perhaps even speaking?" Yumi lights up.

"Yes, actually! They were all---"

Your screen flashes, suddenly restarting the tablet without your input.

"Huh...?"

"[Last]-San..." Your supervisor almost whispers. You tear your eyes from your screen to hers as she weakly holds up her tablet to you.

Over four hundred cursed spirits have been spotted crossing the Okayama border within the past fifteen minutes.

Your tablet finishes restarting, and you scramble to view the map again, hoping what you just saw was nothing more than a glitch.

The loading screen seems to take ages to complete, but when it does, the map shows exactly what you feared.

Oh. You get it now.

The pattern it was trying to spell out. It's "愛"

---"Love".

You hear a scream.

"Ah, it's good to see you again. How long has it been now?" A voice---one you're all too familiar with---says. "Two, no, maybe three years?" Suguru is wiping blood off of his hands. You don't want to look down. You can't look down.

Yumi is dead.

You looked down.

"I'm not sure why I phrased that like a question I didn't know the answer to," he says, smiling in a way that makes your heart ache. "I've been keeping track down to the days, you see."

"Were you...behind this?" You've never been one for combat. You can't use reverse cursed technique to save Yumi. You can't fight to save the others. There's nothing you can do.

You've never felt so helpless.

"I did," he admits casually. "I recently got my hands on a new curse. First-grade 'Pied Piper', its technique creates a sort of call-and-response between itself and other curses of a lower grade through a musical frequency only other curses can perceive. With that technique, I can manipulate the movements of curses I haven't yet acquired without leaving my residuals behind."

"But if it's coming from the technique of a curse you possess, your residuals would still be left behind," you counter.

"Ah, as quick on the uptake as always, [First]," he praises. "You're right, or you would be if this curse were under the control of my curse spirit manipulation. No, this curse was tamed, not subjugated."

"Why are you telling me this?"

He's going to kill you once he's finished explaining.

"I've always appreciated an inquisitive mind," he says. "especially when it's your inquisitive mind." Your mouth forms a vague 'O' shape as the realisation dawns on you.

"愛"

"Love"

...You're never getting away.

Kento Nanami

Nanami is someone who has never really been all that content with life.

Sorcery sucks. Corporate sucks. Japan sucks.

Sometimes, on his darkest days, Nanami thinks about what would have happened if he had joined Haibara—or better yet, if he had never even been born in the first place. If the world is this awful, wouldn't it be better to have never experienced it at all?

But then he met you, and suddenly, the world didn't seem all that bad.

Don't get him wrong, it's not like your presence suddenly made all the wrongs in the world right, but it did make him feel like they all mattered just a little bit less. Like maybe all this suffering was worth it, if it also meant he could see you smile.

So, of course, he'd do anything to keep you safe. To protect that smile.

The easiest way to ensure that, of course, would be to clip your wings. To lock you away somewhere where only he could reach you. A songbird that only sings for him, a dove in a birdcage.

He'd treat you like royalty, of course. His job pays well, but he's a somewhat frugal person by nature, so he has plenty of savings lying around. Whatever you wanted, he'd get you.

As long as you stayed safe, he couldn't ask for anything more. Even if you didn't love him, as long as your smile could be protected, that would be enough.

He's in the middle of researching what kind of restraints would cause the least damage and irritation to your skin when he realises what a grave mistake he was about to make.

'If the world is this awful, wouldn't it be better to have never experienced it at all?'

What if...

What if you started feeling that way, too?

What if, in trying to protect your smile, he ends up being the one to take it away?

He could offer you all the material things in the world, but if it comes at the price of your freedom, it might still not make you happy. After all, it was the same for him.

If money didn't make him happy, why would you be different?

Sorcery sucks. Corporate sucks. Japan sucks.

Nanami is worse.

He doesn't deserve you. It's with this thought in mind that he begins to avoid you. He refuses to meet your gaze, leaves the room when you enter, and declines all missions that involve your presence.

He feels like he's going crazy. Separation has made him sloppy and reckless. He comes home with more injuries, and a part of him thinks he deserves it.

Bags begin to form under his eyes as two weeks go by without the haven of your presence. He sees you everywhere now. The girl across the street is dressed in a substyle you like. The model in that magazine has your eyes. The cafe down the block is having a special on your coffee order.

"Nanamin, why're you avoiding [Last] all of a sudden? They do something to you?" Nanami scoffs at the remark but doesn't answer. He turns to leave but stops when Gojo continues. "Y'know, they actually came cryin' to me about it. Said they had no idea why you suddenly started treatin' 'em like they've got the plague." Nanami turns to look at Gojo, who's fiddling with his blindfold. "You should make up with them soon. Can't leave our cute little assistant supervisor feeling so down, you know?"

Nanami hates to admit it, but Gojo might be right.

'What if, in trying to protect your smile, he ends up being the one to take it away?'

Fuck. He can't do anything right.

He really doesn't deserve you, but what can he do? If he leaves, you won't smile anymore, but if he stays, you'll be smiling at a monster.

But what can he do? He'd do anything to protect that smile.

Even if it means hiding his fangs.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji is a man who takes what he wants and doesn't care if he has to get his hands dirty in order to take it.

Naturally, this applies to you as well.

It's strange, he's never wanted someone as badly as he wants you. Not his past flings, not even his late wife.

Toji is no stranger to romance. He was married, after all. He knows love. It's a familiar feeling.

That's why he's inclined to believe that what he feels for you isn't love. No, what he feels for you is far too primal to be love. It's rough and all-consuming. It's nothing like the soothing feeling he had around his wife.

Love wraps around one's heart like a warm blanket. This wraps around his heart like a python.

But if it's not love, what is it?

Actually, scratch that. It doesn't matter.

Whatever it is, it's some form of desire. And if he desires something, then all he has to do is take it.

Yes, it's better to keep these kinds of things simple rather than getting tied up in technicalities.

There is a problem, however. He'd like nothing more than to just lock you up and keep you for himself, but with his somewhat unstable income and his habit of bouncing around from place to place, that isn't exactly feasible.

Ah, what to do...?

He could settle down or stop spending his money as soon as he earns it, but where's the fun in that?

No, rather than try to adapt to your lifestyle, he'd much rather force you to adapt to his. Still, he supposes some sacrifices will be necessary, as his lifestyle is currently only fit for one.

You'll have to quit your job since you'll be moving around from place to place alongside him, but he'll just take on some more jobs to cover the extra cost; it's no big deal.

He proposes the idea to you so matter-of-factly that it's almost as if he believes you to have already agreed to the plan beforehand. In reality, this is your first time hearing of such a thing, and you're so stunned that you momentarily lose your voice.

You've known this man for two, no, maybe three weeks, and yet he's asking you to drop everything and come overseas with him? You're not even friends! He's just a regular at the cafe you're employed with.

It dawns on you that he must be joking, so you chuckle awkwardly and avert your gaze. Perhaps you simply haven't known him long enough to gauge his sense of humour. You feel a little embarrassed for nearly having taken him so seriously.

Then, he shows you the plane tickets.

Bewildered, you end up being more blunt than you perhaps meant to: "I'm not going," you say, pushing his tickets back to him.

"Sweetheart," he says dryly. "I'm not asking." You shoot him a strained, confused smile, which quickly morphs into a more genuine one as the door chimes.

To think you'd ever be happy to serve a customer. It's a foreign sentiment, but if it means an end to this strange interaction, you'd happily serve a hundred---no, maybe even a thousand customers.

You take their order and get to making their drink, shooting quick glances at the man---Toji, you think---from behind the bar.

He hasn't taken his eyes off of you.

It's days like this that you wish the company wasn't so stingy about hiring more than one person for shifts. You're about to clock out, and if that man is going to stay until closing, you'd really like to have a coworker walk you back to your car.

It's twenty minutes until closing when Toji finally leaves. You let out an unconscious sigh of relief, feeling your shoulders relax. That was weird, but you shouldn't have to see him again, right? He's going overseas tomorrow, after all.

Yeah, you won't see him again. Thank goodness.

It's with that thought in mind that you flip the "We're open!" sign to its side and lock the doors. It's only 6 PM, but the fall season means it's already dark. You shiver from a cool breeze as you make your way towards your car at last.

Huh. Flat tire.

Ryomen Sukuna

Those who know of Sukuna will inevitably feel sorry for anyone who happens to catch his gaze. Sorcerer or not, none will ever possess even a fraction of the strength he carries, and for someone like Sukuna, that means you're no better than a bug to be trampled on.

What a poor, pitiful thing you are. You must be treated more like a pet than a person. A plaything for him to toy with, to discard once you've ceased to entertain.

However, this interpretation couldn't be more wrong.

What others fail to realise is that Sukuna would never waste his time on someone he doesn't consider his equal. Weak as you may be, there's something about you that seems different in his eyes.

Like a precious gem left unpolished, there's a certain allure to you that only a trained eye could see, and he'll be damned if he lets anyone else stake a claim on you first.

No, he'll be the one to bring out your true potential.

Sukuna has never met someone worthy of being his companion. This has never bothered him, however. Loneliness was not something he was familiar with. There are those who have tried, of course, to prove their worth, to stand by his side, but none have ever moved him.

None until you, that is.

The funny thing is that you don't even try to win his attention. You never once asked for his gaze to land upon you. And yet, he can't bring himself to look away.

Sukuna doesn't know what to do with you. You make him feel things he's never felt before.

Is this weakness? Is it love?

Is there a difference between the two at all?

Should he kill you? Should he keep you?

What can he do to make these feelings go away? What can he do to ensure they never go away?

In exchange for not pillaging your homeland, the townspeople offer you up as a sacrifice. It was Uraume's idea.

At midnight, you're dragged out of the comfort of your home and tied to a stake, where you stay for hours. By dawn, you've worn yourself out with struggle, dried blood sticking to your hands and the ropes around your wrists, when a white-haired stranger comes to collect you.

The stranger undoes your bindings, but only the ones keeping you bound to the pole. You're dragged along like a dog on a leash for countless hours until you eventually arrive at the largest estate you've ever seen in your life. It's midday when you're untied and allowed to bathe. The warm water releases all the tension from your aching muscles, and as you bathe, the white-haired fellow replaces the garments you arrived in with robes made of fine silk.

The stranger's name is Uraume, they tell you. They'll be taking care of you until their master is ready to meet with you.

"What happens after that?" you ask tentatively.

Uruame flashes you a smile that refuses to answer.

Before you know it, a full week has passed you by. You're still yet to see this so-called master, but Uraume tells you not to worry. After all, the master has already seen you lots of times, they say.

The thought of being watched in secret sends a shiver down your spine.

Though the prison is large, you're confined to only one wing of the estate, and after a week of having nothing to do but wander, you have the entire layout memorized. Bored and unattended, you decide to venture out into the unknown past the garden's gates. There, you come face-to-face with the largest man you've ever laid eyes upon.

A hulking figure with four arms and fiery pink hair turns to you, and in an instant, you fall to the ground, only vaguely aware of the blood pooling around you and the pain across your chest.

In truth, Sukuna had tried to kill you, but his technique missed your vitals. It takes him a moment of watching your blood ooze out of the open wound to realize he did it on purpose. Before he even realizes it, he's picked you up in his lower arms and applied reverse cursed technique to your injury. You've lost consciousness, and your pulse is weak, but you aren't dead. Relief floods through Sukuna's veins as he listens to your soft breathing.

From that day on, you're never to leave his side unless absolutely necessary. From that day on, Sukuna has someone worthy of standing by his side, not as a servant, nor a pet, but as a companion. From that day on, Sukuna has a lover.

Whether you like it or not.

Mahito

As a curse born from the hatred and fear humans feel towards their own kind, Mahito relishes humanity's anguish and despair. He kills without a second thought, not caring who he hurts or who gets swept up into his path of mass destruction.

So why is it that this particular human sways him so? Why is it that he thinks your soul looks pretty, just the way it is? Why does he want to touch you but not to warp you beyond repair?

Why does he want you to look at him? Why does he want to scoop your eyes out of your sockets so that you can never look away?

To be a curse is to always follow your own desires, no matter how contradictory or inconsistent---that's the motto that Mahito lives by.

So, of course, this philosophy applies to you as well.

It doesn't make sense, and he doesn't understand it. But that doesn't matter to him. Why would it? He's a curse, and curses take what they want. What he wants is you, so, of course, he has to take you, too.

Mahito doesn't spend long watching you before he makes his move. First, he has to check if you can even see curses to begin with. If you can, that'll make things easier. But if you can't...well, that'll be fun too.

He bumps into you at the train station around 2 AM. It was a late night at work, and you're now dead on your feet. There's no one around, so it's the perfect time for him to test you. He taps your shoulder with a smile.

If you don't react, he starts feeling you up, talking aloud about how much he wants you as his hands roam your body.

"Mm, you're so weak," he says, palm on your stomach. "Look at you, all unguarded. If I wanted to, I could take your soul and just—" he squeezes the flesh on your abdomen. "—until you go splat! Hmm, but I don't really want to do that. I wonder why?" His hand trails down to your hips, brushing past—but not quite landing on—your private areas.

"It's weird, isn't it? You can't even see me. You don't even know I exist. But I know you exist." He grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers together. "Humans usually wear rings when they're married, right? I wonder why you don't have one? You're such a catch," he giggles. "Ah, well, I guess it's better for me. Less work, y'know?Though, I would have liked to see the look on your face, coming home to dear, sweet hubby, all mangled up in your living room. I wouldn't even bother transfiguring him. No, I'd want you to see his face clearly, all contorted in pain with his guts splayed out all over the floor."

He follows you home. You still can't see him, but you at least seem a little aware of his presence, with the way you keep glancing over your shoulder, randomly picking up the pace and taking more turns than necessary.

How fascinating! You can't see him, and yet you can sense him? He's swooning already.

"Don't worry, [First]," he says, arms around your shoulders as you fumble with your keys. "You'll be able to see me soon. And after that, you're never getting rid of me."

If you do react, however, he holds himself back, opting to strike up a lighthearted conversation with you instead.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing here all alone?" He asks. "Don't you know the subway is dangerous at night?" You visibly bristle, clearly on guard. He grins.

"Do you need something?" You ask, clutching your bag to your chest and stepping back. His grin widens, easily closing the distance you've just created.

"You're lonely, aren't you? All you do is work; you don't even have any friends! It's kind of pathetic, really. That's okay, though, I like you anyway. I might be the only one."

"What do you---"

"I could help you, you know. Ease your loneliness, maybe?" He's touching you now. Nothing outright inappropriate, but you could smell his intentions from a mile away.

"No thanks," you say. The train stops, and you hurry off the platform. Fortunately, the stranger doesn't get off with you. He waves at you as the doors close, and you run all the way home.

Finally feeling safe, you don't bother to do anything more than kick off your shoes before collapsing on your bed. It creaks under your weight, then creaks again. You freeze, your eyes shooting open.

"Heya," the stranger says. "Fancy seeing you again."

Choso Kamo

If you were to describe him in one word, 'inexperienced' may be your best bet.

Though it's true that he has 'lived' for over one hundred and fifty years, he spent most of that time as a cursed womb, unable to truly experience the outside world for himself. Even after being incarnated and absorbing the memories of his host, Choso finds himself unable to relate to any of his body's experiences. He knows what love is and what lovers do, but only from a technical standpoint. To actually experience it is something he's never even dreamed of doing.

So, of course, when he starts feeling these things for you, he's unable to properly put a label on them. At first, he thinks he's sick, which isn't unreasonable, considering his rather long list of symptoms (fever, shakes, sweats, heart palpitations, and clouded mind, he notes dutifully).

However, that idea is quickly shut down. Being a cursed womb death painting, it's highly unlikely that he even can get sick; plus, his symptoms only seem to surface when you're around (or when he's thinking of you, which, admittedly, is often).

Did you curse him? No, you don't have a technique like that.

Then, what...?

It takes him a somewhat embarrassingly long time for him to realise the truth behind his feelings. It isn't until after he catches himself staring at your lips and thinking about how soft they'd feel against his that he concludes he likes you.

So, he's figured it out. Now what...?

Choso searches through his host's memories in an attempt to figure out how to woo you. Unfortunately for him, his host was a frat boy with commitment issues who knew more about one-night stands than how to build the foundations for an actual relationship.

So, Choso consults Yuki Tsukimo, who he, with his very limited circle of friends, considers to be an expert.

As expected, Yuki is ecstatic at the news that Choso has found his type. Immediately, she's giving an impromptu lecture on the ways of the heart.

"First, you have to figure out their type," she says, wagging a finger. "If it's a match, you're all good. If not, you either need to give up or double down."

Through Yuki's mentoring, Choso learned the general rules for signalling romantic interest. Flowers, chocolates, walks in the park, walks on the beach—a lot of walking in general, actually—candlelit dinner, pick-up lines—he's got it all memorized.

The problem is that his throat gets dry, and his knees lock up when he so much as thinks about talking to you.

So he takes to following you with his eyes instead.

"It's just until I gather the courage to talk to them," he tells himself. "I'll stop once I figure out their type."

Right, if he can't ask you about your interests, he'll just have to observe them instead.

So, he watches you. All the time. Eventually, he all but forgets about his previous plan of it being a temporary habit.

It's just so...addicting. Watching you go about your day like normal. Completely unaware of his presence in the shadows. 

He learns about your hobbies, your interests, what kind of shows you like, your favourite foods, whether you still keep stuffed animals in your room, and more. He has a mental folder of all your likes and dislikes. And while there are some things he’s not able to learn, some places he’s not able to follow, it’s enough. Just knowing this much is perfect. 

He doesn't do anything. He doesn't plan to, either. He’s content with just watching. It's comfortable like this. He doesn't want anything to change. So, he forgets about stopping, and instead sinks even deeper into his newfound obsession.

If he had it his way, things would stay like this forever. Him, never confessing, and you, never knowing. But, unfortunately, fate had other plans in mind.

It was 10:15 AM, and you were at a local coffee shop by yourself when the barista handed you their number with your receipt. You shyly accepted, and just a day later, the two of you had plans for a date the next week.

Unfortunately, your 'date' canceled last minute and blocked you with no explanation.

It's a good thing, then, that your good friend Choso just so happened to bump into you, lending you his shoulder to cry on.

Well, there's no reason to waste a good dinner reservation, right?

You never do go back to that cafe, but if you did, you'd find the barista missing from the register.

[zephyrchama]

The Most Popular Book

(Obey Me! brothers and reader)

"Oh? Levi, what are you doing in here?"

Asmodeus had just returned home after a long, busy day. Brand name bags adorned his arm and he still had sunglasses on. While en route to his own room, the surprised demon happened to find your bedroom door wide open. The person brazenly rummaging around inside was not you, but Leviathan.

The Avatar of Envy was opening drawers, sliding his hands across shelves, and turning everything over. He jumped at being caught, but quickly regained composure upon seeing who it was, and with clear annoyance said, "I left my charger in here and can't find it."

Exhausted but never one to pass up on quality bonding time, Asmodeus decided to make this his business, too. "Should you really be in here when they're not home? Won't they get mad?"

"I'm just getting my charger and leaving, that's it." Leviathan was grumpier than usual when his D.D.D. battery ran out. He started sifting through your bed sheets for the lost cable, tossing pillows onto the floor and dragging the blanket off in case you used it and the cord had been tucked in somewhere.

Amid the plush bedding, something hard audibly hit the carpet. Leviathan and Asmodeus both turned towards it, expecting to find the square end of a plug. Instead, the culprit was an unassuming little book that had fallen out of your pillowcase.

"Is that a dirty book?" Asmodeus asked in delight. "Hurry and open it, I wanna see what they're into."

"I don't think so? It's not flashy, there's nothing on the back. Don't those usually have pictures all over?" Leviathan picked it up and turned the unassuming tome over. "Nothing on the front, either."

He cracked it open to a random page, spent five seconds reading it, and had all color drain from his face. He slammed the book shut with both hands and tried to shove it back in the pillowcase. "I-i-it's nothing. This is nothing. I think I'm done, I'll find my c-c... cabl... I'll find it later."

This would not fly with Asmodeus. This just made him more curious. "What is it?"

Asmodeus lunged and snatched the pillow from out of Leviathan's hands, who was still too stunned to react properly. All he could do was protest loudly as Asmodeus victoriously retrieved the mystery book and opened it.

He squealed. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Put it back! Idiot!" Leviathan shouted.

No commotion in the House of Lamentation could go unnoticed for long. Other residents were already on their way to scold them for being loud. Belphegor and Satan were the first to arrive, disgruntled that their meeting in the library had been disturbed.

"Can you keep it down?" the youngest reprimanded. "We're in the middle of something."

"I can't hear myself think over your nonsense," Satan added. However, he was quick to notice how unusual it was for the Avatar of Lust to be reading of his own accord. Not a magazine, but an actual book was in Asmodeus' grip. This piqued Satan's interest. "What do you have there?"

"Nothing," Leviathan insisted. His desperate attempts to pilfer it from Asmodeus made it very clear that this was not 'nothing.'

"You're not going to believe this," Asmodeus giggled.

Beelzebub, Mammon, and Lucifer just so happened to come around the corner at the same time. Beelzebub, who had been doing his own thing l, was glad to see where his twin had gone off to and stayed silent to watch the mess unfold.

Mammon was acting like a high and mighty big brother ready to punish his silly little siblings for acting out. He had an oddly serious air about him. He was followed closely by Lucifer, who had been in the middle of lecturing Mammon and wanted to quickly get back to that punishment. They arrived right in time to hear Asmodeus announce, "Levi found a diary!"

It took mere seconds for everyone to put two and two together - a diary was found. They were in your room. It obviously belonged to none other than you. It appeared you were actively using this diary. The diary they now had access to.

"Hey now! Give me that!" Mammon commanded, shouldering past Satan to confiscate the diary. His ears were pink. "What are you all thinkin'? You're not s'pposed to be lookin' at that!"

Belphegor was quick to quip, "I suppose you want us to give it to you for safe keeping?"

"That's right!" Mammon nodded. "I'll hold on to this until they come home so none of you can read it."

"And you'll get to read it all by yourself. You're so obvious." Satan crossed his arms and glared at Mammon, who shrugged.

Lucifer was next to pluck it from Mammon's grip. "If anyone is holding on to this for safe keeping, it will be me."

"We should put it back where it was," Beelzebub said. "That way, they won't find out and get embarrassed. Or mad."

Leviathan latched on to this idea quickly. "Yes! Exactly! Beel's right! Let's just put it back!" He shook the pillowcase, ready to put things back to how they were, eager for this situation to end.

"What were you doing in here to begin with?" Lucifer asked, full of suspicion. He eyed the messy shelves and floor. "You know this room is off-limits when they're not home."

"Yeah, Levi! What's wrong with you?" Mammon shouted, glad to pin blame on somebody else for once.

"I was looking for my charger! That's it! Perfectly innocent!" Leviathan insisted.

Lucifer sighed and said, "you should have waited for them to return. Now look at this mess. I expect you to clean this all up before-"

"Hey, Satan! No fair!" Asmodeus yelled. At some point during the verbal squabble, Satan had managed to get his fingers on the coveted book and was now skimming its pages covered in your handwriting. Lucifer narrowed his eyes and frowned as a menacing disposition took hold.

"We should read it together," Belphegor said as Mammon tackled Satan to the ground in an attempt to wrestle the diary away. "Somebody read it aloud to us."

"No! We couldn't possibly...!" Leviathan's resolve was wavering. "Could we...? No! We shouldn't... Unless they wrote something about me? Maybe?"

"We should put it back," Beelzebub repeated, squeezing his hands together nervously. "I don't think they want us reading that. If they want us to know something, they would just tell us."

Nobody was paying attention because at the same time, in between punches to the face, Satan confirmed that, "they wrote about all of us. I don't know what, though."

Belphegor and Asmodeus jumped into the fray, wanting to get their hands on it at any cost. Who knew what could be written about them inside of that book? Belphegor grabbed Satan from the back as Asmodeus kicked Mammon's leg aside, trying to snatch the tome from above. Mammon snarled and proclaimed, "That diary's mine! Y'hear? All mine!"

One by one, demon forms began to take over. Your possessions scattered around the room and rolled under the bed as tails and leathery wings whipped through the air. The edges of your diary got dented and the page edges became scratched, even though whoever was in possession of it at any given time was fiercely protective of it.

Belphegor had the book pressed against his chest and was curled defensively around it while Lucifer picked him up and shook the youngest brother like an empty bag. Beelzebub did not like this. He side-stepped over Leviathan, who was preoccupied with attempting to bite Lucifer's ankle and shake Mammon off his tail, and body-checked the eldest into dropping his twin. Asmodeus and Satan were ready and waiting, clawing to reclaim the diary.

Everyone was howling and shouting in the world's most violent game of keep-away. It was a jarring sight. You froze in your tracks at the doorway. Limbs tangled together, feathers and scales flew everywhere, there were several fresh dents in the floor. A really powerful "stay" was going to be needed if you were to put a stop to the situation. At the very least, it was going to be a doozy to write about in your diary.

[shojizbae]

Rave Baby

Spencer Reid x Reader

After a long case, some of the team pitstops at your apartment, and Morgan takes the liberty of searching through some memories. He comes across some scandalous photos that light a fire in Reid.

This last case was challenging. To make it worse, the power had gone out in DC due to a blackout. With a chirp, I told the team that I always had a generator and that we could cool with some coronas in my fridge. Hotch had declined, stating the necessity of returning to his wife and son. I had thrown open all the windows and cranked the AC, attempting to push out all the hot air. With my permission, Derek had distributed beers from my fridge and found a bag of chips.

A battery-powered radio was located, and my CDs were run through to find something to unwind with. With a sigh, Emily sank onto my couch and sipped her beer.

"Uhh, I can't tell you how nice your apartment is."

"Yeah," JJ groaned from the corner, holding her hair up and sticking her face in the AC vent. Derek was still looking through my belongings when he came across a Scooter CD.

"Well, well, well, where did a girl like you find this type of music?" I looked at the album cover.

"Oh, that's from my college days." I tried to dismiss it. This isn't the sort of stuff I would share with my coworkers.

"Really? Let's go ahead and pop this in."

"No don't!" I tried to launch it at him before he could open it, but it was too late. A few photos I took the night I bought that CD slipped into his lap.

"Woah ho ho!" Spencer, who had been content to sift through my shitty romance novels, peaked his head up like a prairie dog at the sound of Derek's chuckle. "What do we have here?" He held up one photo, and I hid behind my beer bottle.

"That was years ago," I whined

"What is this?" Spencer came to the group, attention fully peaked

"It's (Y/n). At a rave." Spencer snatched the photo out of Morgans's hand like a cat but Emily nearly yelled

"Shut up, let me see." she slammed her glass bottle on the table and grabbed one of the photos from him

"No way," JJ stated, following Spencer into the circle to look at the evidence. "I could never imagine you at a rave. I've seen you get upset that you left your clothes in the washing machine."

"They'll get moldy," I whined

"Holy shit. Where was this?" Emily inspects a photo of me in a bikini, fluffy leg warmers, and a matching bucket hat. "Look at your butt where were you hiding this." She makes an attempt to check me out, but I sink further into my couch

"I don't know, I was never sober in the 72 hours around a rave."

"Oh yeah? What did you take?" Morgan begged

"All sorts of crap, mostly hallucinogens. My rave mentor told me music is better when you're high."

"So why'd you stop going?" Emily asked

"I grew up."

"You grew up?" JJ asked, putting the photo on the table

"Yeah," I rubbed my hands up and down my thigh and sighed. I wasn't entirely ready to trauma-dump the team, but here I was. "My uncle, who basically raised me, passed on Thanksgiving in the sophomore year of my bachelor's. Hallucinogens made it easy not to grieve, and loud music blocked my ability to think. I would dance around and tell everyone that 'tonight was the night,' and I was 'finally free,' but I would just see him after a while. He would ask me, 'Why are you doing this, my dove?'. I couldn't ignore him anymore, so I just stopped. Put all my teeny bikinis in a box and put it past me." I cleared my throat, realizing that I had put a damper on the mood

"We could play the CD. I think I'll still remember the rhythm." I switched in the discs and let the synth radiate through my living room. Immediately, I felt the groove, letting it carry my limbs airily around me. I felt myself disconnect as the beat continued to pump. Before I could drift away wholly, Emilie's voice brought me down to earth.

"You packed all this away? That means you still have it?"

"Yeah, in a box in the back of my closet." before I could discover my mistake, she darted to the back of my apartment, and JJ took off with her.

"Oh hell, I gotta see this." Derek got up and dropped the last of the photos. Reid dutifully packed them up and sifted through the photos, stopping on one.

"What did you find, Spence?" I crawled toward him slowly. I gasped at the photo. My Rave mom, Zoe, who was only 4 months older than me, and I were posing together. He sifted through the images with it and stacked them. I gasped at the image. The photo on the top was of Zoe throwing up a peace sign, showing the neon pink paint on her palms, and a green hand was playfully on my throat. Both of our bodies had been splattered with neon ain't, but noticeably, I had two big hands brink on the triangle bikini we wore. One pink, one green.

The picture below was of Zoe and I very dramatically kissing. Zoe had made smudged hand prints on my ass. I had a leg up on her hip, and you could see drool and lipstick around each other mouths.

"I hardly even remember that night, and I thought it was trendy to act gay." I pulled the pictures from his hand and returned them to the case. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Why are you apologizing? Y-you had fun."

"Yeah, but you're my colleague. This is embarrassing and you probably are ashamed of me."

"Actually, I'm jealous. In college, I had no friends and didn't go to parties. I was, I am, a loser. You had fun."

"Did you not hear my spiel about using drugs not to think?"

"Yeah, but you were hot." That shocked you. He was only two beers deep, and Reid was spilling his secrets.

You laughed in shock.

"Spencer, you can't say things like that." I slapped at his chest playfully.

"WELL!" I could hear Derek's strained voice. "This!" he put the giant plastic tub on the floor next to us. "This is one heavy bucket of slutty clothes."

"I want to try something on!" JJ greedily popped the snaps on the cover. With giggles, JJ and Emily started pulling out bikinis that looked like they were made out of spider webs.

"Woah ho ho!" Derek giggled, holding up a low-rise thong. "I hope you wore a jacket."

"Alright, that's enough!" I grabbed it from his reach

"Hey, could I borrow one of these?" JJ asked. "Will has been asking for something new."

"Yeah, but don't borrow it. I don't want it back." I made a face of disgust

"Yeah, I might want to just wear one around my apartment?" Emily held something balled up

"Take as many as you want. I won't wear them again. I should sell them. I could finally go on vacation."

"Woah woah woah, if you sell these, what will you wear on vacation?" Derek joked

"Clothes." I snatched another piece of hosiery from him. My knees cracked as I stood and got another beer from the kitchen. "Now, get out of my panties." I swatted him with the bottoms as I walked by

by some stroke of God, the lights flicked back on, and across the street, I could see the surrounding building come back to life.

"Well, I've got to get to my house before my ice cream spoils." Emily stood and collected a few pieces of fabric.

"Yeah, and completely unrelated. I have to call Will." JJ juts out her lip in an admission of guilt. They snuck out the door, giggling and tucking crazy fabric in their bags.

"I should get going too, wonder boy. You need a ride home?"

"No, I should be fine. There's a train in the next hour." Reid was still immersed in the photos.

"Well, don't bug her too badly." He left with a wink

"Why are you still looking at those? They're ancient."

"The date on the back says 1998, making you 20 years old. You're 28." Finally, he puts the photos down. "I'm having a hard time picturing you going to a rave. You only read sappy novels from the seventies. I saw three copies of Tuck Everlasting on your shelves." All the talk from my coworkers and the five beers in my system made me more than angry and bold.

Stupid ideas were my biggest export when I was inebriated.

"Well, I know the FBI has kept me in shape. I'm going to my bedroom and try these on." I gave a coy smile as I took a handful of sets and strutted off to the back of my place.

"W-what do you mean you're going to try them on."

"I've gotta see if they still fit."

[lowkeyrobin]

HII so I was reading your who you write for and saw you write for Charlie Bushnell, so I was wondering if I could get like reader and Charlie at like the an interview???

Thank you -🍄

hell yeah of course 🙏🙏 ; thank you 🍄anon, hope you enjoy 🫶🫶 ; i dunno how but this got a little off topic?? I apologize

CHARLIE BUSHNELL ; the interview

summary ; youre a journalist, he's an actor

warnings ; language, little cringe kissing scene (totally sfw dw)

disclaimers ; I said "scandalous ankles" because back in the olden days ankles and showing any skin was considered scandalous, for anyone who didn't know. reader is described to be not into fitness stuff, also don't mind me not knowing shit about fitness/weightlifting

word count ; 883

masterlist

"Hi, welc-hum inside." You smile, waving to Charlie as he enters the room. You then cringe at yourself in embarrassment. "Sorry, hi, welcome." You awkwardly chuckle, "I apologize, my words are all tangled today"

"You're good" He waves, a comforting smile on his face. He wears a black t-shirt with a logo in the corner and design on the back, paired with some jorts and sneakers like he just came from the gym. You didn't mind though, you urged your guests to come comfortable over casual.

Video interviews that weren't in front of a live crowd were the best for both of you, thank God. Meeting this Godsend of a man nearly gave you a heart attack. Just looking at his gorgeous eyes and his perfect features, nothing was wrong with him whatsoever. He was genuinely a 10/10.

He sits down in the guest chair across from yours, watching you sift through a desk a few feet away, looking for something. Your dress pants rise at the ankles every time you make a step, revealing more of your scandalous ankles, covered by socks.

You finally sit down, apologizing for taking so long to find your notebook where you held a few questions and conversation starters. The cameras begin rolling, and you introduce yourself and Charlie as per usual.

"So, what's it like being on set, with all the cameras, lights, props, and green screens? What are the action scenes like?"

Charlie lightly smiles as he gives you an answer, using his hands to talk a little bit. He seemed a little tense and nervous, but you didn't point it out or blame him, it took you years to be fully comfortable where you sat.

"What even are you? Cause like, you're an interviewer but also a journalist, what do you prefer being called?" The curly haired boy asks you.

You shrug, "Journalist, I guess. Interviewer could be put like, inside the circle of journalism, I'd say. I'm a journalist before I'm an interviewer"

He nods, giving you a gorgeous smile that you had to quickly look away for. You discreetly hide your flushed face, looking down at your notebook.

You write down some memorable quotes as you sit and chat with him, bringing up some interesting conversation and learning more about being on set and the production behind media.

After the cameras are off, you thank him and invite him to stay for some aftertalk and lunch. You came in with a large bowl of taco salad you needed to finish before it went bad and were offering it to anyone who wanted it. He accepts the offer, staying back in the break room with you to eat some of that salad you'd brought in. In his words, it was very much better than whatever fast food he was going to go get before returning home.

Your conversation quickly turns into one regarding music and working out, although you weren't too into fitness, the occasional jog here and there keeping you healthy, apparently.

You both stand up, setting your bowls and forks in the dishwasher to get them cleaned. You stand against the counter as he leans his hand against it a couple feet away.

He pulls up his t-shirt sleeve, flexing his arm to show off his muscles. He's trying to impress you, mostly, but you had asked how frequently he worked out. Not his fault.

"Usually lift about 145"

You nod, paying more attention to his face than his muscles. Not exactly your question, but you'd take it.

"You okay?" He asks, seeing you zoned out staring at him.

"Yeah, sorry-"

"Am I that handsome to you?" He asks, lightly teasing you.

"Wh- I mean, hey now-"

He lightly giggles, stepping forward a bit.

You stare into his brown eyes, colored like a dark chocolate mocha. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, seeing your eyes almost glimmer as they stare into his.

He's just a guy, you're an interviewer, a journalist. This is weird, isn't it? Is it not?

"May I?..." He whispers, looking down at your lips, then up at your eyes.

Triangle Theory.

You nod, a soft smile painting your face.

He quickly embraces your lips with his, hands resting on your waist. You melt into his kiss, your bodies tied together. He picks you up, hands resting behind your thighs, placing you on the counter.

You quickly pull away, hands on his shoulders as he stands between your legs. "Okay, what the fuck? Do that again"

He smiles, looking up at you. His arms are now loosely wrapped around your hips and waist area, his curls falling into place like dominoes.

"You're an interesting one"

"Says you, actor guy"

"Don't try and play me at my own game"

You open your mouth to speak, but shut yourself up, seeing the smug look on his face.

He holds your left hand in his right, a slight panic running through both of your heads as he rubs your knuckles with his thumb.

You speak up now, finding your stomach filled with butterflies.

"You make me want to grab a dictionary and manually find the words I'm looking for to describe you and how attractive that was."

He lightly laughs, kissing your hand.

"Whatever you say, journalist"

[snowsinterlude]

doll parts.

(coriolanus snow x bella baxter!reader)

summary: having been brought back to live recently, you seemed to have lost your memories and still had a lot to re-learn. with that being said, you were personally intrigued by whatever 'fucking' is. luckily, coriolanus knew exactly how to teach you.

based on this ask.

c.w: horror (based in frankenstein and poor things), smut, coriolanus snow, nymphomaniac behavior (on the part of reader), spitting, p in v, porn with plot, rough sex, slapping (m. recieving), overstimulation, angry sex, squirting, edging, creampie, unproctected sex, innocent reader, naïve behavior, dumbification. casca highbottom is mentioned but he's not the main focus, 'virginity' loss, there's gonna be a lot of 'of course's" here

with the shocks of the electricity running through your new brain, you had opened your eyes to the sight of casca highbottom, a scientist who wanted to prove the point that he could bring people back to life.

of course, playing god wasn't exactly allowed, but what does corruption doesn't do?

with a white curly lock in your lustrous hair being something new to your forgotten appearance, you stared at the man in front of you, whom claimed to be your father. and of course he wasn't. he wanted to prove a point; this point being that he could create the perfect woman and shape her into the submissive obedient element you were supposed to become.

you didn't like that idea, and on the first minute he looked somewhere other than you when he brought you to see the outside world, you ran away, wanting to learn whatever you had to learn without the chains that casca highbottom had you in.

it didn't took long for you to come across coriolanus snow, a renowed academy student who was always against highbottom's experiments in dead people and animals. and he was so gentle to you, probably because of your doe heterochromatic eyes (another result of highbottom's tests on your previously dead body), or probably because of your innocent smile and the way your experience with the dead of living beings was killing mosquitoes and butterflies, saying that "there is no meaning for me to let this thing live if it annoys me."

of course, he took that out of your head with the argument that "then, if i, someday end up annoying you, would you kill me?" and you seemed to thought for a long while (that was his concern and the moment he gulped down), shaking your head, but saying "if you gave me anything other than kisses and books and shelter, i would." and he laughed at the way you said that, your eyes almost jumping out of your skull, always so sickeningly wide. you were so naïve, he truly wanted to open your kull, unspool your brain and sifting through it, trying to catch and pin down whatever it was that passed through your head.

he would never do it, though. not when you looked so pretty when swallowing his spit on that same night, licking your lips after a kiss.

then, in the day before, sitting on the couch on his studies, you looked at the page of the book you were leavmfing through, you saw an image of a woman and a man's silhouette. taking advantage of the few things highbottom teached you, you read outloud:

"mis...sio...neh...ry" of course, you still had a lot of difficulty reading, but nothing that could cause harm, coriolanus still tried his best to teach you how to read. he was always so... kind. you wanted to eat him up. but pretty things sometimes are accessories that can't go into your stomach, and that's what coriolanus told you when you tried eating a ladybug, claiming she was too cute for you not to eat it. "coryo,"

"yes, doll?" he asked, reading the papers he had on his hands.

"what is missionary sex?" that caught him off guard.

so now, after explaining how it worked and why it existed, the platinum blonde man finished by saying it could bring pleasure to your body, but it was mainly used for reproduction purposes.

you didn't really care about that last part, the second you heard him talking about 'pleasure', you immediatly got up, almost abruptly walking to him, your bare feet stepping on whatever it had on the ground, the skirt of your dress, that he got used to seeing you without, the shows you were supposed to wear to an early party that you never put on, his jacket, some papers, and finally, you were in front of him.

"i wanna do it," you voiced, taking the papers out of his hand "i wanna do it with you." and "i wanna have missionary with you." you said, eyes wide open to stare at him, you almost never blinkedat all.

"it's sex, doll. missionary is just a position." he said, laughing. though the thought of you riding him made his dick throb.

"position?" you asked, cocking your head to the side. "then there's more?" he nodded to you.

"there are much more positions on the kamasutra than pages on the bible." he said, and you smiled happily, your teeth showing up as well as your voice echoed:

"show me." you said "sex me- fuck, is fucking, right? fuck me. in the positions of the kamasutra." you said.

and god, he was so happy to take you by the waist, kiss you and lead your leg to wrap around his waist.

it didn't took many minutes for you to be without your bloomers, your panties put aside for him to grind his cock on your cunt, teasing you, and you didn't knew, but you felt like you were soaked up in something sticky- your wetness. "t-that's not missionary," you moaned, bucking your hips back at his teasing moves.

"you're right," he answered, groaning as he kissed your frowning face. "that's the clasp position, doll." with his hands on your waist, and yours on his shoulders, he finally penetrated you, earning a long moan out of your mouth.

you weren't a virgin, though you didn't know that, you used to have a husband on your previous life before you died, but you were never satisfied and you have never been- not until he slowly thrusted inside your pussy, making you feel every inch of his dick inside you.

"fuck!" you cried, a cry without tears as you undid the buttons of his shirt.

"what is it?" he asked, a moan leaving his throat as you ripped the shirt and bite his neck, too impatient to unbutton all of the buttons that were prohibiting you from seeing his body.

"i wanna see you," you moaned, slowly bucking your hips back, mouth agape as you let a rude moan leave your head "i wanna see your body."

he chuckled at your words, his hands still holding your body to keep you still as he fucked you. however, it wasn't bad, but you wanted to see how it would feel if it was fast.

"f-faster, please. just wanna see- s-see how it feels." you pleaded, your eyesight blurry as you looked down, seeing how your bare pussy took him in so well, almost devouring him into you.

he promptly obeyed you, going faster and deeper, a moan leaving your throat as his skin slapped against yours. and to see you squirming under him felt like heaven- a sight that no one but him could capture.

even when your walls squeezed his cock and you came around him, your pussy gushing around him, your stamina was still higher than his, which led to you edging him, not letting him cum until you felt so tired that you'd be passed out by his side.

which didn't happen for a long time. for at least six rounds, you were still edging him, slapping him every time he was ready to cum. you didn't allow it.

and by now, you were riding him non-stop, your eyes shut closed as you yourself abused your cunt on his cock, who throbbed painfully and made him throw his head back when he finally cummed inside you, stuffing you rope after rope.

"hey!" you called out slapping his chest, as he still gripped his nails on your skin, marking small crescent moon phases on your skin. he looked at you with an angry frown. "i don't wanna stop just now! i want more!" you said, not caring about his growling state, you thought it looked cute on him.

"god, you're terrible." he grunted, changing positions. "just this one more time and it's over." you nodded, agreeing with him as he finally slapped your clit, making you mewl and squirm under him. "see? you're too sensible, if we keep going," he thrusted "you're gonna have a difficult time walking straight."

"i can always dance." you said, legs spread to let him pound into you. he chuckled, slapping your thigh.

"let's see." he kissed you with a slight open mouth, his tongue battling with yours as he thrusted into you, letting you be a pillow princess for once in the day as you scarred his back with your nails, his pace was quicker than before, probably quicker than yours, and it made you melt entirely, your breathing became heavy and rapid.

when he pinched your clit, you felt strangely dumber, moaning into the kiss that was soon broke apart.

he spit into your mouth, his eyes boring into yours. "swallow it." and you did, crying from the pleasure as he rubbed your clit. "good girl, doll." he smiled.

"d-don't stop, coryo, please. just a bit more and i'll cum- i-i promise i'll let you rest after!" you mewled, squirming as he pound into you.

"hm, i don't know, doll. when i said i wanted to cum you didn't really allowed me to. why should i allow you?" he asked, pecking your temple.

"please. please! i can't hold it in!" you said, your boobs bouncing into the corset you were still wearing. he got rid of it in the blink of an eye, and you didn't even noticed where it had gone, too focused on the pleasure in between your legs as you cried.

he smiled to the view of your body. of course there was a bunch of scars there and there that were already healed, specially the one that connected your neck, but it didn't really mattered to his dick, neither to him. he loved just how doe eyed you were, how dumbly you asked about things and how you didn't questioned him more than once about something, like now.

"i-i'm sorry, i-i just wanted more. i didn't thought about your pleasure- s-sorry, please, let me cum! pleease!!"

"hm. no" he said, grabbing your ass and kissing your temple oh so kindly as he fucked you raw. "let's see how long you will last since you were so hungry for it."

and you didn't last much, just likenhe thought. the more you concentreated on the feeling of his dick on your cunt and the way his balls slapped against your ass, the closer you were to cumming again, and you did just after he came inside you again, smiling dumbly at him as you squirt on his cock, too sensitive from your previous orgasms.

"i'm sorry, coryo" you said, still teary eyed as you hugged him, hand pawing at his chest.

"for?" he frowned, he had already pulled his trousers up, guarding his dick into the fabric.

"f...for edging you, 'm sorry." you said, sleepy and pouty. he chuckled.

"it's okay," he said, caressing your head "at least you said sorry."

and you slept the most comfortable sleep of your post-mortem life, even drooling a bit on his chest, but he loved you just too much to do something about your innocent, naïve nature other than love and cherish it.

[moongreenlight]

GIRLIE PLS I NEED MORE YOUNG HOUSEWIFE x PRICE 😭😭

Instead of starting every ask response with “sorry it took me so long to get to this I suck” I’m just going to issue a blanket statement that I have like 45+ asks in my inbox rn and I get so overwhelmed looking at them that I just ignore them until I need to write something. I love you all for messaging me I love hearing your ideas and compliments please don’t stop sending them just bear with me as I sift through them. <3

Also- I got legit death threats on my first post like this. I’d like to make this ABUNDANTLY CLEAR that this is a LEGAL AGE GAP. It’s not grooming, it’s not predatory, it’s ENTIRELY LEGAL. You’re early twenties. He’s mid-to-late-thirties. Please do not bite my head off.

Anyway I’m back on my Price and his young housewife bullshit below the cut. Xoxoxo

Here’s the OG post if you need a refresher

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

There’s this scene in the MW3 campaign where Price and Farah are talking about where she got the missiles from and he’s trying to shoulder up with her, but she just shuts him down in the end. (Like always I hope you’ll trust me. Implicitly) (John Price the man that you are!!!!!!) and I really think that’s the household dynamic. He’s always the biggest in the room, but he’s got this incredible reverence and respect for women who can out-bitch him. Bends his rigid spine BACKWARDS for you. Would move mountains if you’d only ask.

Doesn’t always have to be serious things. Like maybe you’ve made friends with some moms in the neighborhood (it’s a point of pride for him that they’re all minimum 5 years older than you.) and they all go to this obscenely expensive Pilates class at six in the morning. You mention in passing that you’re signing up and the suburban white dad in him makes his ears perk.

“‘N how much ‘s this class going to cost me?”

“Dunno. Think it just goes on the account.”

“Course. Gym membership doesn’t cost enough as it is.”

And then all it takes is him seeing you in a matching workout set for all of his protest to die down. For SURE makes a comment about how he ‘didn’t know it’d be this worthwhile’

Loosely following that point, I think any real arguments get hostile very quickly. He’s not so egotistical that he won’t apologize, but I’m certain that it’s like pulling teeth to get him to that point. He can hold a grudge unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Borders heavily on immature when the two of you are in the thick of things. Starts shit just to start shit. (Secretly because he just loves makeup sex. Would rather eat you out until you’re sobbing than actually say the words “I’m sorry.”)

Having thoughts about him bringing you to some military ball. The both of you dressing up and sliding into the car that was sent for you just to sit on opposite ends of the backseat and not speak a single word. He burns through a cigar in record time and you toss back a few glasses of champagne. You both put on appearances getting out of the car. Hook your hand around his bicep while he shoves you inside with his hand on the small of your back. Hissing nasty quips back and forth about making this quick. Few hellos. Show your faces and then you can get home and get away from each other. Putting on appearances only goes so far, though, because when John is pissed- everyone feels it. Sucks the life out of a room and replaces it with an eerie feeling like a bomb’s about to go off.

He leaves you alone with a few other wives. Pulled away by Laswell with a promise of a ‘quick’ meeting. He comes back half an hour later fuming when he sees that somehow you’ve been pulled away from where he left you and found company chatting with his boys at the bar.

He gruffs some greetings before dragging you away by the arm so roughly that you have to stifle a yip.

“Are we leaving?”

“No.”

“So what is it, John? You’re making everyone think we’re miserable.”

“We are miserable.”

He’s yet to stop yanking you away. You have to do an awkward half-jog to follow him down a short hallway just outside the washrooms.

“Christ, would you just-“

“You look like a slag in that dress.”

He about throws you straight into the corner at the end of the hall. Muscles in his jaw ticking under the force that he’s using to grit his teeth.

“Sorry?”

His lips are brushing the shell of your ear. Bullying you further back into the wall. You’re entirely taken aback by his ferocity; especially because he usually prefers you wear something much more revealing than this. Some twisted point of pride, him seeing all the men your age drooling over you even after knowing you’re on his arm.

“Ought to let the boys pass you around. See if that won’t sort out that fucking attitude of yours.”

Theres some more protest from you, but it was entirely useless given how worked up he was. He ends up making good on his threat and shoving you into Ghost’s side when he brings you back out. He says something, but you can barely hear it over the blood rushing in your ears. Though you assume it’s a half-warning, half-explanation by the way Ghost snakes an arm loosely around your waist and gives a sharp nod. You get off relatively easy all things considered because Ghost is the only one smart enough not to take Price’s words at face value and sneak you away to some coat closet. That’s a permission granted only when John was present and in his right mind.

I cannot stress enough how much it gets him off to see you pregnant. Not like sexually, but he is nothing if not a glutton when it comes to feeding his ego. Likes it when you wear shirts that hug your swollen belly tight so he can see exactly how much your body is changing. Even better if they’re crop-tops that show off the skin that’s now littered with stretch-marks from growing his babies.

I have been saying this, but just to make it clear, he wants a small army of children. Like enough to have one of those trashy reality TV shows about how many kids you have. (In reality I’m getting 4/5 kids in total vibes) Loves coming home from work and seeing you carefully stirring a big pot on the stove while bouncing a baby on your hip, pulling a clingy toddler around on your leg, and situating your school-aged kids with their homework at the table.

But he most definitely hires a live-in nanny to help you out. Knows it’s not fair to leave you with that kind of responsibility. But also it just makes him so hot to see you mothering his kids that he needs to be able to take you away and not have to scramble to find something to occupy the kids.

Makes the nanny take over bath time more often than not so the two of you can take a bubble bath yourselves. He loves the casual intimacy of pouring two glasses of wine and having thirty or forty minutes to yourselves.

Having this visual of you before you’ve started having kids sitting in the tub after being strangely quiet all night. He offers you a heavily-poured glass of red and you’re a little glassy-eyed and staring up at him but making no move to take it.

“You alright, doll?”

“Mm?”

“Said you alright? Don’t want a drink?”

A long moment of silence from you. Long enough for him to perch on the rim of the tub and gently tip you up to look at him by putting a few fingers under your chin.

“John, I think I’m pregnant.”

“So no drink, then.”

[shurisasthmaticgf]

boyfriend enrichment activities: lando norris x black! fem reader

summary: you and your boyfriend spend a much needed day at the beach.

warnings: swearing

author's note: i thought of this after going to the beach and seeing a guy dig a hole in the sand for a solid four hours...so thanks to that guy for the inspo! as always feedback is highly encouraged and greatly appreciated.

a day at the beach was something that you'd been needing since the start of winter, and now that it was finally beach weather you couldn't wait to enjoy the sun with your boyfriend. the two of you had been working hard, lando was training hard as the season was in full swing while you were balancing your new job and travelling on weekends. although your job was much less physically demanding, you were still exhausted and in much need of a relaxation day.

you both spared a day between race weekends to run off to the beach for the first time in a long time. most times you'd plan everything down to the type of bottled water you'd bring in your cooler but this time you decided to forget the itinerary and just take a few things.

lando carried your oversized beach bag that brought an ache to his shoulder by the time you made it down to the water from the parking lot. meanwhile you carried along your favorite tiny cream colored Jacquemus bag that only fit a pack of tic tacs and a mini lip gloss. in one hand you held your phone and the other a small shovel and bucket set you'd gotten at a store right by the beach.

when the two of you finally found a good spot you laid down a outdoor blanket and your towels on top of it for a softer surface to lay on. you immediately began putting on sun cream, applying it liberally and rolling your eyes when it left a slight white cast against your brown skin. you didn't even have to ask before lando took the bottle and began rubbing the lotion onto your back, brushing your box braids away from your back first. when he was finished you did the same for him and just like that he was gone, running out to the water eagerly as the scorching hot sand burned the bottom of his feet.

you did enjoy the beach and as a kid you spent hours making sandcastles, finding seashells, swimming out to a sandbar for sea biscuits, or playing some ball game with your cousins on the sand during family vacations. however, today you just wanted to lay out and soak up the sun while watching your boyfriend frolic in the sea.

nearly half an hour passed before you felt fat drops of salt water fall onto your face. when you opened your eyes you saw your boyfriend's face mere inches from yours, his curls now dripping onto your skin. you pushed his face lightly with a laugh, "get your soggy ass away from me!" he shook his head and flung salt water onto you earning a screech followed by giggles. you passed him one of the towels from your bag and said, "here dry yourself with this." he wrapped it around himself and sat beside you, "the water is quite nice, it cooled the bottom of my feet after running out there." you hummed as you read the book you brought with you. lando simply watched you but you could tell he was itching to do something, he just didn't know what.

you watched as he eyed your beach bag then unclipped the claw clip from the side of it. he opened and closed it then smiled to himself before using it to sift through sand to find shells he thought you'd like. one by one he began lining them up on your thigh, but you didn't mind, he was in his own world while you were immersed in your book. eventually, gathering shells also grew boring and you'd dozed off with your book beside you and your beach hat covering your face. so, lando took to the sand once more but this time began digging a hole a few meters away from the spot you set up.

there was no telling how long you slept since you didn't know when you dozed off, but when you woke up lando wasn't beside you. grabbing your sunglasses you looked up from where you'd been laying and you nearly choked seeing the gigantic hole he dug in the sand. he noticed you staring at him and beamed, "look at the hole i dug." something about seeing him proud of this stupid sand hole he made just made you laugh even more so when you looked at the children's plastic shovel in his hand.

by the end of the day he was fast asleep and slightly snoring on his towel. you'd gotten him to take a walk with you to take pictures for social media and tried to show him how to balance rocks in a stack which he failed at miserably. the two of you also used the two buckets you had to try and see who could build the best sandcastle. you won with a quite impressive masterpiece but only because your boyfriend built his too close to the water and it got ruined by a large wave that ran right into it as he finished. however, the highlight of your day was finding a horseshoe crab and naming it Persephone then running over to show it to lando thinking he'd find it cool.

he did not find it cool.

he found it rather uncool.

so much so that he ran away screaming for you to put it down as you tried to bring it closer to him.

you smiled at the memory as you gazed at your sleeping boyfriend. after snapping a photo of his sleeping form you slowly you inched closer to him and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. lando's lip twitched into a sleepy smile and you placed a hand on his head, softly grazing his ear with your thumb. your shadow blocked his eyes from the sun as he slowly opened one and looked up to see you with your knees drawn to your chest, your face resting on your thighs. you shushed quietly and said, "go back to sleep, we don't have to leave yet." he let his eye fall back shut and you looked straight ahead at the sea. the turquoise expanse of the sea blurred into the sky's cerulean blue flecked with silvery clouds in the distance drew your attention with passing moments. you let out a soft sigh, smiling to yourself at how corny and cliche this moment seemed to be, yet it was all you needed after all this time. 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆞

callmeyn

liked by landonorris and 934,293 others

callmeyn my job is just...beach ⛱

view all 10,543 comments

alexandrasaintmleux pretty girl <3

⤷ callmeyn that's all you mama 🩵

⤷ charles_leclerc stop flirting with my girlfriend

⤷ callmeyn OUR girlfriend 😒🖐️

⤷ charles_leclerc i didn't agree to that-

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux too bad 😇

f1 it was all too much for little lando norris 🥺

⤷ callmeyn LMAOOOOO

username1 lando finding a horseshoe crab is so on brand 😭

⤷ callmeyn girl please i found Persephone and this man ran away from me yelling "no please!" when i picked her up and tried to show him 💀

mclaren why is my driver standing in a ditch? 🤨

⤷ callmeyn i woke up from a nap and there it was...him standing in it.

⤷ oscarpiastri i could dig a deeper one

⤷ alex_albon i could out dig both of you

⤷ maxverstappen1 i'd win hands down

lilymhe omg the little shells are so cute! 🤭

⤷ callmeyn ikr :(

username2 NEVER DIG STRAIGHT DOWN AT THE BEACH!

⤷ callmeyn don't worry pookie he knows, he just chose to do it anyways! 🥰

username1 stanley yelnats ahh 💀

⤷ callmeyn STANLEY YELNATS- you just unlocked a childhood memory omg

username3 why does my boyfriend do the same thing...

⤷ callmeyn ✨boyfriend enrichment activities✨

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆞

landonorris

by callmeyn and 785,997 others

landonorris use protection

view all 5,325 comments

mclaren ...p-pardon?

username4 WHAT IS THIS CAPTION 😭

username5 Y/N MARRY ME PLS I HAVE A MANSION AND MANY CARS 🙏

⤷ landonorris so do i, try again

⤷ username5 i'm not afraid of horseshoe crabs😈

⤷ username6 HELP HE BLOCKED ME AND I HAD TO MAKE A NEW ACCOUNT 😭😭😭

⤷ callmeyn UNBLOCK HER RIGHT NOW @/landonorris

oscarpiastri you do know you have the option to leave captions empty right 😐

⤷ landonorris i'm advising the public to use sun cream?

danielriccardo wait that's a nice ass sandcastle-

⤷ landonorris why thank you

⤷ callmeyn i'll let you have it since yours got washed away by the ocean at the last second 😁

⤷ f1 oh this is awkward...

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆞

the end.

[chvoswxtch]

we got a problem

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: you discover a shocking revelation about who's behind the defenders of freedom.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of guns & violence

word count: 4k

a/n: this chapter is a little on the shorter side, but it does contain a huge bombshell. ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [next chapter] | [series masterlist]

If someone had told you six months ago that you would be going shopping with Frank Castle, you would’ve done more than laugh maniacally; you would’ve recommended that they get a psychological evaluation. Hell, even seventy-two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed it. But here you were, in the women’s section, sifting through hangers and stacks of clothing with Frank following you closer than your own shadow, listening to his quiet grunts of irreverence and faint hums of approval when your fingers wandered over different items.

“I don’t get what the big deal is ‘bout this place. It’s just a store.”

All at once, your palm paused over a dark blue pair of jeans, and you looked up at Frank in a mock expression of horror while clutching your hand over your chest. 

“Target isn’t just a store, Frank. It’s a way of life. And we happen to be in a Super Target, which means not only do they have literally everything you could ever want, but there’s a built-in makeup store and a Starbucks.”

Frank rolled his eyes in exasperation and grumbled under his breath as he lifted the white grande cup up on cue, which looked comically tiny in his large hand, and brought it up to his lips to take a sip of the black coffee he had gotten.

“Yeah, don’t remind me I paid seven fuckin’ dollars for one goddamn cup of coffee.”

“Technically you paid eighteen because you were kind enough to buy my iced latte.”

“Is it even still a latte when you ask for fifteen extra fuckin’ shots of espresso?”

Narrowing your eyes slightly, you arched one of your brows and placed your hands on your hips while looking up at Frank. 

“I asked for two extra shots-“

“When it already came with four-“

“I don’t need to explain my caffeine intake to you. Now, if you’re finished with your interrogation, can you tell me how long we plan to be on the run for?”

A slight crease nestled between Frank’s brows while his features twisted into a look of incomprehension. Shoving one of his large hands into his jean pocket, he pursed his lips slightly in conjunction with shrugging his broad shoulders.

“However long it takes to figure out who’s behind this shit.”

“And…exactly how many outfits and tubes of toothpaste does that translate into?”

“Just get whatever ya want.”

Pinching at the bridge of your nose, you inhaled deeply and let out a slow breath before crossing your arms over your chest and staring up at Frank. 

“I don’t know how much you think journalists make, but I can’t exactly-“

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, I’m buyin’.”

Those words were certainly not what you were expecting to come from Frank’s mouth, and the shock was evident on your features. While you stared up at him, completely stunned, Frank gave a light shake of his head with a miniscule charming smile and took another sip of his coffee.

“You can’t use any of your credit cards. They could be trackin’ your bank accounts to figure out where you are.”

“I could pull out-“

“You use an ATM to get cash, they’ll know which one you pulled it from, and that gives ‘em a location. As far as they know, you’re dead somewhere. The longer they think that, the more time we got to figure this shit out.”

“Frank-“

“Just put the goddamn stuff in the cart, and finish your liquid heart attack. We got shit to do.”

Realizing that Frank was serious about his offer, a part of you felt guilty for all the items currently in your cart. You weren’t high maintenance by any means-okay maybe a little, but a girl has needs. You couldn’t get by with three shirts, two pairs of jeans, and a three in one bath product like Frank could. 

On the other hand, you were curious to see exactly how much you could get away with, and the urge to press his buttons was oh so tempting. A devious grin stretched slowly across your lips, and Frank narrowed his eyes at you in suspicion when he noticed the mischievous twinkle in your gaze.

“Well, if you insist.”

Dropping the jeans into the cart with a satisfied smirk, you pushed the cart over towards the makeup section in the middle of the store and could hear a disgruntled Frank muttering an ‘aw hell’ under his breath as he followed right behind you, much to your amusement, which caused laughter to bubble up from your chest. 

Shopping with Frank was your new favorite activity.

»»———　　———««

“How them sheets feel?”

A faint smirk curled at the edge of your mouth as you glanced at Frank over your shoulder from where you were laying on your stomach on one of the comfortable beds. He had managed to find a decent hotel outside the city, and got a room with two beds much to your disappointment, but anything was an upgrade compared to the seedy motel the two of you had camped out in the previous night.

“Like clouds.”

Frank raised one of his dark brows in silent amusement while looking over at you from his spot at the desk by the window. He let out a quiet grunt in response before his features morphed back in pure concentration while he averted his gaze back down to the gun he was currently cleaning. For a moment you completely forgot what you were doing and just watched him, completely mesmerized. His large hands moved methodically, but so fluidly as he cleaned each piece and re-assembled the weapon, like it was second nature and something he could probably do with ease in his sleep. The way his fingers were gliding over the pieces had your mind suddenly wandering to what else Frank’s hands might be good at. 

“Find anythin’ yet?”

Frank’s gruff voice tore you out of your impure thoughts, and your cheeks burned with heat realizing you had spent the past three minutes gawking at him. Clearing your throat, you turned your attention back to the documents in front of you, willing the black and white text to come back into focus as you found the paragraph you had left off on.

“Um…it seems like all the permits and the deed for the land are registered to a company called Fortis Allied. I can’t find a name attached to it, but all the paperwork is fairly recent. Everything looks like it was filed within the last year.”

“You say fortis? Like f-o-r-t-i-s?”

“Does that ring a bell for you?”

“It’s Latin.”

Scrunching up your brows, you turned your head to look at Frank again in a mixture of puzzlement and surprise.

“You know Latin?”

Frank had leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, his legs spread slightly making his lap look like an extremely comfortable and inviting seat. He held onto the handle of the gun in one hand and the rag he had been using to clean the pieces in the other, his dark brows knit as he stared over at you with his eyes squinted slightly in curiosity, like he was deep in thought about something.

“Marines’ got a motto, Semper Fidelis. It’s Latin, means always faithful. Navy’s got one kinda similar; Semper Fortis.”

Frank clicked his tongue against his cheek as he let out a dry and humorless scoff that only fueled your confusion further.

“And why is that funny?”

“Cause it means always courageous. And if these are the assholes we think they are, that’s pretty goddamn ironic.”

Staring down at the slew of papers spread on the bed in front before you, Frank’s Latin lesson presented more questions than it answered, and your lips pursed slightly.

“Defenders of Freedom and Courageous Allied. Their creativity is astounding.”

Frank snickered quietly behind you hearing the dry sarcasm seeping from your voice. Letting out a sigh of frustration, you reached for your phone that was charging on the nightstand. It had been dead for the past seventy-two hours, and as soon as it turned on, you had an overwhelming amount of missed calls and texts from people who thought you were either missing or dead, or both. About eighty percent of the missed calls and frantic voicemails were from Ellison, but to your surprise, there were quite a few missed calls and texts from Billy as well.

You had made sure to turn off your location so that your phone couldn’t be tracked, and Frank had been adamant about you shutting off your imessage. Deciding you had raised your boss’ blood pressure enough for three days, you sat up cross legged on the bed and grabbed one of the paper’s from the bed that had all the company’s information on it.

“I’m gonna call Ellison and see-”

“No.”

Looking over at Frank in surprise, you let out a quiet scoff of incredulity. 

“Frank, I have to tell him I’m alive. And he can help us-”

“The less people know you’re alive right now, the better. I told you, we can’t trust nobody right now.”

Dragging your palm down your face slowly in irritation, you shook your head in a show of defiance.

“I’m pretty sure my boss isn’t one of the people trying to kill me-”

“You don’t know that-”

“Yes Frank, I do. Ellison is practically the closest thing to family I have in this city, and considering that his best friend, and my mentor, was murdered by Wilson Fisk, I can say with absolute certainty that he is not involved in this shit.”

Frank’s hardened features softened slightly hearing the slight twinge of grief that resonated in your tone, and he was looking at you with those big brown puppy dog eyes of his that normally made your knees weak. But right now that infatuating sight was no match for the heaviness of guilt that filled your entire rib cage like raw cement every time you thought about Ben. 

You swallowed the pebble that threatened to swell into a boulder in your throat and stared down at your phone screen, your thumb hovering over Ellison’s contact.

“Fisk was never charged with murder.”

Frank’s voice sounded almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he should be saying that, but it was clear he was looking for an explanation behind your accusation, even though he wasn’t outright asking. It was almost eerie how he always seemed to know when to explicitly ask you something, and when to craft an open invitation to let you come to him.

“Ben was writing a story about him. He was going to expose him for who he really was. He got too close, and Fisk killed him for it. He broke into his home and strangled him to death, but he didn’t leave any fingerprints or evidence, and his hard drive was wiped clean. Ben’s d-his case is still considered an unsolved homicide.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Frank slowly stand up from the chair he was sitting in. He tentatively took a few steps towards you and sat down on the edge of the bed next to you, his eyes searching your avoidant gaze.

“What makes you so sure that’s what happened though?”

“Because I pushed him into doing the story.”

The way your voice slightly broke off towards the end of your sentence broke Frank’s heart. The remorse you felt was evident as it rose along your waterline.

“He didn’t wanna do the story. He told me to let it go, and I didn’t. If I had just left it alone-”

Frank wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in closer towards him, cradling your head against his chest as he held you close and kept his voice soft.

“Hey, hey…don’t do that. Don’t put that on yourself. Whatever happened, it ain’t your fault, you got that? Don’t take the blame for somethin’ that someone else did. He did the story cause he knew you were right, yeah? He believed in you, sweetheart. And that piece of shit Fisk is rottin’ in prison where he belongs, gettin’ exactly what he’s got comin’ to ‘em, trust me.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head as he slowly carded his fingers through your hair in an attempt to soothe you. 

“I just feel like it’s all my fault. Like I…I could’ve prevented it.”

For a moment Frank was silent. Eventually he let out a heavy exhale through his large nose and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“I know.”

The deafted way he spoke those two words made it sound like Frank was telling you that he knew exactly what you were feeling, and an ominous thought crossed your mind as you found yourself wondering if he felt that way about his wife’s death. 

He let go of your head and reached into his pocket, pulling out the burner phone that he used. Frank handed the flip phone to you, and you lifted your head to stare up at him curiously. 

“Let ‘em know you’re alright, but make sure he knows it’s important no one else knows nothin’ ‘bout you, yeah?”

“You can trust him, Frank. He’ll help us.”

»»———　　———««

Forty five minutes later, you managed to calm an absolutely hysterical and pissed off Ellison, changed his mind about firing you once you were no longer considered missing/dead, and caught him up on everything that had happened since the night you were attacked three days ago. He agreed to help you and Frank do some digging into the company listed on the permits for the warehouse that burnt down, and in addition to emailing you everything he could find about the company, he also sent you copies of the reports on the two men that had attacked you.

“You were right.”

Frank’s head instantly snapped over in your direction, and his thick brows rose up his forehead slightly in bewilderment.

“‘Scuse me?”

“Cavella and Walker were in the Navy.”

Holding out your phone for Frank to see, you showed him the article you were currently reading on your phone that had a picture of the two men in their Naval uniform. Frank seemed to completely ignore your comment and was looking at you instead of the screen.

“You mind repeatin’ that?”

“I said Cav-”

“Nah, what you said before that ‘bout me bein’ right.”

As you caught the delighted smirk that tugged at the edge of Frank’s mouth, you rolled your eyes playfully and shook your head with a soft laugh, returning your attention to the article.

“Shut up, I tell you when you’re right.”

“Yeah, only after I gotta fix that bratty attitude of yours. The other ninety nine percent of the time, you gotta fight with me ‘bout every goddamn little thing.”

“Don’t be so fun to argue with, and I’ll stop.”

Lighty shrugging your shoulders with a faint mischievous grin on your lips, Frank shook his head and let out a dry scoff in response.

“Ya’know, you remind me of another hot-headed smartass I know.”

“Your other favorite person?”

“He’s the fuckin’ Devil, and a goddamn pain in my ass. Hell of a lawyer, though. You oughta think ‘bout switchin’ professions and arguin’ for a livin’. Think you could give even him a run for his money.”

For some reason that made you laugh loudly. The kind of carefree laugh where you throw your head back like a little kid, eyes crinkling, stomach aching with pure joy. Frank was the first person to make you laugh like that in a long time.

“I’m perfectly happy where I’m at. Besides, I’m pretty sure I would be disbarred within the first hour. I don’t think you’re allowed to tell the opposing court to go fuck themselves when they say something out of pocket.”

“Pretty sure you ain’t allowed to throw shit at ‘em either.”

Turning your head to glare playfully over at Frank, he returned it instantly with a challenging arch of his dark brow. You couldn’t fight the grin that slowly stretched across your lips seeing the faux serious look on his face.

“I threw a pillow at you.”

“Two pillows. Hard as hell, too.”

“I had no idea you were so sensitive.”

“I’m fuckin’ delicate, goddamn it.”

The mock expression of offense on Frank’s face coupled with the serious tone of his voice made you double over with laughter. He couldn’t seem to keep his composure either, and he began to laugh along with you. Shaking your head slowly, you waved your hand at him dismissively and turned your attention back to your phone.

“Okay, I’m trying to solve a case here. Stop distracting me. I have more than two pillows in my arsenal right now.”

“That a threat?”

“It’s a promise, Castle.”

“I had no idea you were so ruthless.”

Frank grumbled quietly under his breath as he looked through the stack of papers with the ghost of a smile on his lips while you softly laughed, his dark eyes scanning the pages for anything either of you might have missed. 

As you looked through the documents Ellison had emailed you about Fortis Allied, perplexity creased in the middle of your forehead the more you looked through each page.

“It’s not a real company.”

“What?”

“Fortis Allied. It’s…it’s like a shell company. It’s just a front. And it’s owned by…”

As you read the signature on one of the forms you were looking at, your confusion melted into an expression of cognizance. Enlarging the signature, you turned to show your screen to Frank, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he read the letters, before his face shifted into a look of indignation.

“Son of a bitch.”

Owned and operated by Nicolas Cavella.

Before either of you could say anything, Frank’s phone started to ring. He glanced down at and read the name flashing across the screen, giving you a quick glance before flipping it open to answer.

“Yeah?”

He stood up and walked over towards the window, leaning against the wall with his back to you. Curiosity got the better of you, and your eyes fixated on him as you watched him intently.

“Been takin’ care of somethin’. What do ya need?” His voice sounded a little rougher than usual, and you caught the way he tensed slightly and watched as his eyes flickered over at you over his shoulder. You arched one of your brows silently, as if asking him who he was talking to and what was going on.

“Yeah…I know. Cause I turned ‘em off. You know why, Bill. Yeah, she’s fine.”

Billy.

It abruptly dawned on you that you weren’t sure if Frank had told Billy what happened. He was technically supposed to be with Steven right now. Where did Billy think Frank was? What had Frank told him? Why wasn’t Frank letting him help?

In the midst of your chaotic inner monologue, Frank’s head dropped between his shoulders for a moment and he let out a heavy exhale before turning to stare over at you with an unreadable expression.

“She’s with me.”

The way Frank said that sent a shiver cascading down your spine, and the room suddenly felt twenty degrees hotter. You watched as he lightly clenched his jaw and nodded, as if Billy were in the room and not on the other end of the line.

“Be there in an hour.”

Without another word, Frank snapped his phone shut, and you watched him inquisitively.

“What was that about?”

“I gotta go check in with Bill. That trustfund asshole is throwin’ a fit ‘bout me not bein’ ‘round.”

While Frank started to gather his wallet and his gun, you quickly got down from the bed, feeling your pulse start to quicken at the thought of him leaving.

“Wait, I thought Steven didn’t want you around?”

“And I didn’t wanna be ‘round, but I guess you gettin’ kidnapped and two cops gettin’ shot spooked ‘em. I won’t be gone long.”

Before Frank could take another step, you grabbed your bag and started to gather up all the paperwork back into the folder.

“I’m coming.”

Frank paused while reaching for his black denim jacket. He let out a deep exhale as she shook his head and motioned towards the bed for you to sit.

“It ain’t safe for you to be in the city right now. Just stay here and I’ll be-”

“Frank, we already talked about this. I’m safer with you, okay?”

“It’s only an hour away-”

“I don’t care if it’s five minutes down the street, I don’t want to be without you.”

Alone. You had meant to say, ‘I don’t want to be alone’. But the words had already left your lips, and Frank was already staring at you with that one look in his eyes that you could never seem to decode. He didn’t hesitate like he did when you asked to come on the stakeout with him. He walked over towards the door of the hotel room and opened it, gesturing with his head for you to follow him, and before you knew it, the New York City skyline was coming into view.

»»———　　———««

When Frank pulled up to the Anvil office and put his truck in park, he turned his head to look at you with a somewhat stern gaze.

“Just stay in the truck, alright? Won’t be long.”

“Okay.”

For a minute, Frank’s thick brows knit together before they rose up his forehead an inch, like he was shocked you simply agreed instead of arguing with him about coming in. He eyed you warily for another moment before letting out a quiet grunt and getting out, closing the driver side door behind himself. While you watched him march up the front steps of Anvil, it was incredibly amusing to see how many people rushed to get out of his way. You weren’t sure if it was because they knew him and knew to stay out of his way, or if it was because of his physical stature and the permanent broody look etched onto his sharp features. Either way, you couldn’t help but laugh.

While you sat there in the truck looking through your phone, you noticed that there was a red notification dot lingering over your voice notes app. Clicking on the app curiously, you were met with an error message that read “Failed to capture full recording”. Immediately you were puzzled, and then you noticed that your last recording was over four hours. When you checked the date and saw it was from three days ago, a soft gasp left your lips.

You had never stopped the recording with Walker and Cavella.

Your phone must have just kept recording until it eventually died. With everything that had happened the past three days, you had almost forgotten about the recording entirely. Pressing the play button, you turned up the volume and listened to the playback.

The sound of glass shattering and bullets flying along with your own panicked scream had you wincing and pulling the phone away from your ear. The sounds of one of the most traumatic nights of your life had your stomach twisting into anxious knots, and you felt the phantom pain in your bandaged hand of glass slicing it open all over again. But just as you were about to turn it off, something caught your attention and made your ears perk up.

Rewinding the recording a few seconds, you pressed play again.

“Pr…we…ot…fuc…lem.”

The sound of bullets being fired in the background made it difficult to make out the words. You rewound it a few seconds and played it again, furrowing your brows as you listened intently.

“Pr…we..got..fuc…problem.”

After quickly downloading one of those music recording apps on your phone, you imported the clip from the voice memo and tried to figure out how to isolate the audio to where you could hear it better. As you pressed play this time and listened, you could hear Cavella’s frantic shouting clear as day, and his words made your blood run cold.

“Price, we got a fucking problem!”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @twoshields @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @ferns-fics @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @yeah3459 @collaps3r @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @annalism @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @fearne-calloways-wife @cuntghoulie @marcysbear @lunaticgurly @xxdrixx @pretzelcows @aoi-targaryen @callacats @iloveabeltesfayehehe @keshaia @dumb-fawkin-bitch @lilylilyyyyyy

*if your tag isn't working, pls let me know!

[yourmomsawh0r3]

heatwave

joel miller x female wife reader

Joel was covered in dirt and sweat as he drove home from the construction site, his muscles aching from the day's labor. The sun was beginning its slow descent, but the heat wave showed no mercy, turning his truck into a sweltering oven. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and reached for the radio, sifting through stations in search of something to distract him from the oppressive heat.

Country, rock, talk radio nothing seemed to stick. He finally settled on a classic rock station playing an old favorite, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. Despite his exhaustion, there was a flicker of excitement in his chest. The thought of getting home to Y/N always made the end of a long workday bearable.

Joel glanced at the clock on the dashboard, noting it was later than usual. He pressed his foot a little harder on the gas, eager to get home. The streets of Texas flew by in a blur of familiar landmarks, and he maneuvered through traffic with practiced ease.

As he turned onto their street, Joel’s eyes scanned the houses, finally landing on his own. He spotted Y/N immediately, out in the yard, pushing the lawn mower. She stood out like a beacon in her matching hot pink Lulu tank and athletic shorts, drenched in sweat and looking utterly determined. Joel felt a pang of guilt and frustration mix with his concern. He should have mowed the lawn last week like he promised, but work had been relentless.

He pulled into the driveway and parked the truck, shutting off the engine with a sigh. The cool blast of air from the air-conditioned cab was a sharp contrast to the heat outside, but Joel knew he couldn't stay in there forever. He stepped out into the blazing sun and made his way towards Y/N, his worry growing with each step.

"Y/N! What the hell are you doing out here?" he called out, his voice a mix of irritation and concern.

She looked up, startled, then sighed and shut off the mower. "Cutting the grass, Joel. What does it look like?"

"You shouldn't be out in this heat," Joel growled, reaching her and taking the mower handle from her hands. "It's dangerous."

"I asked you last week to cut it," Y/N replied, frustration creeping into her voice. "And today we got a ticket from the HOA for unkempt grass. What was I supposed to do?"

Joel ran a hand through his hair, feeling the sweat trickle down his neck. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. Work's been crazy, but you shouldn't have to deal with this." He glanced at the ticket peeking out from under a rock on the front porch and sighed. "I'll finish up here. Go inside and cool off."

Y/N crossed her arms, a stubborn glint in her eyes. "Joel, I can handle it. I'm not made of glass."

"I know you're not," Joel softened his tone, stepping closer to her. "But that doesn't mean you should have to be out here doing this in this kind of heat. Please, go inside. Let me take care of it."

She looked at him for a moment, then her expression softened. "Fine," she relented, "but only because I’m about to melt."

Joel chuckled and leaned in to kiss her forehead, tasting the salt of her sweat. "Thank you."

Y/N headed inside, and Joel turned back to the lawn mower, determined to finish the job quickly. The sun beat down mercilessly, and sweat soon soaked through his shirt. As he worked, he couldn't help but think about how lucky he was to have Y/N. She was strong, stubborn, and fiercely independent, but she also had a heart of gold.

Finally, the lawn was done, and Joel wiped his brow, feeling a sense of satisfaction. He put the mower away and headed inside, where the cool air was a welcome relief. He found Y/N in the kitchen, a glass of iced tea in her hand. She'd changed into a fresh tank top and shorts, her skin still glistening from a quick shower.

"Finished," Joel announced, leaning against the doorframe. "And next time, I promise I won't let it get so bad."

Y/N smiled and handed him a glass of iced tea. "I'll hold you to that."

Joel took a long drink, savoring the cool liquid. "Thanks for taking care of things today, even if I wish you hadn't had to."

She shrugged, her smile softening. "That's what partners do, right? We take care of each other."

Joel set the glass down and pulled her into his arms, holding her close. "Yeah, we do. And I'm damn lucky to have you."

Y/N wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest. "I'm lucky to have you too, Joel."

They stood there for a moment, savoring the quiet and the closeness, before Joel pulled back just enough to kiss her. It was a slow, tender kiss, filled with all the love and gratitude he felt for her.

"How about we order some takeout and relax for the rest of the day?" Joel suggested when they finally broke apart.

"Sounds perfect," Y/N agreed, her eyes shining with affection.

As they settled onto the couch later, takeout containers spread out before them, Joel couldn't help but feel a deep sense of contentment. No matter what challenges they faced, he knew they'd always face them together. And that was more than enough for him.

After their dinner, Y/N stood up and stretched. "Alright, mister," she said with a playful grin. "It's time you learn how to make sweet tea the right way."

Joel raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh, is that so? I've been drinking sweet tea my whole life, darlin'."

"Trust me, once you taste mine, you'll realize you've been missing out," Y/N teased, leading him into the kitchen. She pulled out a jug, a pot, and a box of tea bags. "First, we need to boil some water."

Joel filled the pot with water and set it on the stove, turning up the heat. Y/N handed him a few tea bags, and he dropped them into the pot, watching as the water began to simmer and the tea bags started to release their rich, amber color.

"Now comes the important part," Y/N said, pulling out a measuring cup. "We need two cups of sugar."

Joel's eyes widened. "Two cups? That's a lot of sugar."

"Trust me," she said with a wink. "It's what makes it so good."

Joel measured out the sugar, pouring it into the jug. As the tea finished steeping, Y/N had him carefully pour the hot tea mixture into the jug over the sugar. He stirred, watching as the sugar dissolved into the hot tea.

"Now, we just add cold water to fill up the rest," Y/N instructed. Joel did as she said, filling the jug with cold water and giving it a final stir.

"All done?" he asked, looking at her expectantly.

"Almost. Now, we need to let it chill in the fridge for a bit," she said, placing the jug in the refrigerator. "But, since we don't want to wait too long, let's pour a couple of glasses over ice."

Joel grabbed two glasses and filled them with ice, while Y/N poured the freshly made sweet tea over the cubes. She handed one to Joel, who took a tentative sip.

As soon as the sweet tea hit his tongue, Joel's eyes widened. "Damn, that is good," he admitted, taking another, more appreciative sip. "Alright, you win. Your sweet tea is the best."

Y/N laughed, a proud smile lighting up her face. "Told you. Now you know the secret."

Joel leaned in and kissed her, tasting the sweetness of the tea on her lips. "Thank you for teaching me," he said softly. "And for always making everything better."

Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "That's what partners do, right? We make each other better."

Joel smiled, holding her tightly. "Yeah, we do."

They spent the rest of the night enjoying their perfect sweet tea, the heat wave outside forgotten as they savored each other's company.

[sarahs-secrets2]

Suit and Tie ˋ♡ˊ

phillip graves x fem!reader

help me pick out a suit yeah? 1.6k words

pet names, innuendos, alc, some swearing

graves masterlist!!

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

It was a slow day, as usual. High-end suits were not usually an everyday purchase for some, and the store's main cash flow was regulars who had their suits delivered. This meant another boring day of reorganizing an already spotless store. You busied yourself behind the counter pretending to be going over the delivery list for tomorrow when in reality it had already been looked over 3 times today.

That was until the door chimed, and a brand new customer walked in just an hour before closing. Perfect. Your eyes flickered up to greet him, and wow did he look out of place. Of course, it isn't polite to judge a book by its cover, but sometimes if you wanted to make enough commission to cover your rent a few assumptions were necessary. Typical customers came dressed for the part, maybe they were overcompensating but it sure made your job easier. This one was different, old blue jeans with obvious fraying, a blue button-up that was just a shade lighter than the jeans, and black dirty work boots. You had seen the type before but it had been awhile.

“Sorry sir, we don’t sell jeans here. Can I redirect you to a different store?” Maybe it was a tad rude but there was no way this guy was serious, and you weren't in the mood to have your time wasted. 

He laughed, walking further into the store and right up to the counter. The man rested his palms on the glass countertop, leaning closer as he whispered, “Good thing I’m not lookin’ for jeans.” A smirk danced on his lips as he leaned back and stood up straight. “Phillip Graves, I need a suit doll, help me pick one out?”

The forwardness caught you off guard, you could feel the heat rising to your face. Maybe he wasn't going to waste your time? Trying to keep your composure you walked out from behind the counter, heels clicking against the wooden floors in the suit shop. Phillip Graves, the name echoed in your head, bouncing around, and making sure you wouldn't forget it. “Can I ask what the occasion is?”

“Mhm,” he rubbed his jaw as he thought. While he took his time, you took in his appearance. A pretty blonde, blue eyes, a stubbled jawline with the faintest scar on his cheek, who was Phillip Graves? “Military thing,” he finally said.

“So you’re military?” you scoffed, now sifting through a rack of suits. 

“You could say that.” He walked over to join you by the racks. “I’m not sure if I’m goin’ yet, but better be prepared,” he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

“Do you know your inseam?” turning to face him, eyeing him up and down trying to gauge what it could be. 

“Got me there, not a clue. Been a long time since I got a real nice suit,”

“Figured,” you laughed, Graves tilted an eyebrow up at you jokingly. “Go to the fitting rooms, just over there,” you pointed off towards the pedestal in front of the big mirrors, “and I’ll get your measurements, then we can start trying some stuff on yeah?”

“Whatever the pretty lady says,” Phillip walked over to the mirrors and stepped up onto the pedestal. You were just a few paces behind him with a loose tape measure. Taking the measuring tape in both hands you kneeled down in front of him. It wasn't hard to feel how his eyes burned into you as you began to line the tape measure against his inner thigh. Your fingers ran down his leg along with the numbers as you took his measurements. Carefully you stood up, taking a mental note of the number of his inseam. 

“Large?” Phillip raised his eyebrows, “Maybe extra large?”

“No, and not how it works” you quickly retorted, lightly slapping his chest with the tape measure. “Stay here, I’ll go pull some options. Need a drink?”

“A drink? Thought this was a suit store, not a bar,”

“Well it’s a high-end suit store, and if you're willing to pay as much as these suits cost then I can swing one whiskey your way,” 

“And how am I supposed to say no to that?”

“Thought so,” smiling, you walked back into the main showroom looking for some options. After a few minutes of digging you pulled a few different suits and brought them back to Phillip. 

“Here you go Mr. Graves,” you hung each suit on a different hook in the fitting room and motioned for Phillip to go ahead. 

“Mr. Graves,” he smirked, “No one’s called me that in a while.” As you stepped out of the fitting room to make room for him, you scrunched your face in confusion to which he caught on. “Sorry, I’m a Commander, usually it’s just Commander or Phillip. I don’t really hear mister too often now,” 

“So which do you prefer, Commander?” 

Phillip could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand as you used his rank to address him. He wasn't blind, you were stunning. It didn't help that just minutes ago you were already on your knees for him. His heart nearly pounded out of his chest as he waited for you to get his measurements, any longer and Phillip could have sworn he was going to faint. Graves’ eyes met with yours, “Just call me Phillip hon’,”

“Well, let me go get you that drink Phillip. Go ahead and start trying these on,”

“Will do,” he winked, tugging the velvety curtain across the fitting room entryway. While Phillip tried on his first suit, you went to get his drink. The bar cart wasn't far, it was important to have it close for the clients to feel welcome. Pulling out a glass you poured the whiskey in, glancing at your watch you realized it was past close. If this was any other customer maybe you would've been bothered, but you had grown quite fond of Commander Phillip Graves. Deciding to treat yourself, you poured a second glass before setting the top-shelf bottle back down. 

“Phillip, I have that drink whenever you’re done in there,”

“Go ‘head and open the curtain for me, I’m just about done,” his voice was muffled as he spoke. Setting down your glass of whiskey, you walked over to the curtain with Phillip’s drink in hand and pulled back the divider. To your surprise, Phillip was nowhere near being done. The Commander was standing shirtless, only getting the dress pants on before giving up it seemed. 

“Ah thanks, darlin’,” he slipped the whiskey out of your grasp and took a swig before setting it down on the small table in the fitting room. Your mind was elsewhere, eyes too busy taking in the physique of the man in front of you. He was fit, clearly, the military would do that to you. There were various scars, probably from combat but if anything it made him that much more attractive. “See somethin’ you like?” the southern drawl snapped you from your trance. 

The Commander laughed before turning around facing the mirror in the fitting room, his back now towards you. Fuck, his back, his shoulder, his everything. If you hadn't just met this man today, especially considering the fact he is a customer, you would be all over him. Honestly, you weren't even sure if that was enough to stop you at this point. Graves began to slip the white button-up on, your eyes glued to his back intently watching how his muscles flexed. 

“I like that suit,” you quipped back, trying to play off your obvious staring. 

“Just the suit?” Phillip turned back around, now taking his time buttoning up the shirt. His abs peeking through the fabric 

“Just the suit, I picked it out you know,”

“I know, that’s why I like it,” he finished the buttons and glanced up at you.

“You need a tie, one second,” it was part excuse and part serious. He was a sweet talker, always knowing exactly what to say and it was becoming impossible to hide the effect he was having on you. Grabbing a pale blue tie, you returned having regained some composure. “Here try this, just for the full effect,”

“Look at you, thought I was just comin’ in for jeans, now you’re pickin’ me out ties,” he teased as he adjusted the tie around his neck in the mirror. 

“Hm and you still need new jeans,” you giggled, picking up your whiskey, and taking a small sip as you watched him finish getting dressed. Phillip was finally done and stepped out of the fitting room and back onto the pedestal. 

“How’s it look?”

Taking your time, you walked around him surveying the fit of the suit. Your hands ran along the sleeves of the jacket, “A bit loose through here, but we can get this tailored.” You continued and kneeled down in front of him again, tracing the inseam of the black dress pants. “And how’s the fit on these? Do you like it?”

Phillip let out a cough, “Yeah, these are good,” he shifted in place as you stood back up. 

“Perfect,” your hands ran down the collar, grabbing onto the lapels, “Well, now we know what fits, it all comes down to what you want to do,”

“What I wanna do?” he huffed out, his head rolling back slightly, “I wanna take you out on a proper date that’s what I wanna do,” 

“Oh?” it took you by surprise, in a good way. 

“I mean, already saw me half naked. I think we skipped a few steps but a date would be a good place to start. Don’t you think darlin’,” 

“I think a date is good,” you leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on Phillip’s cheek, “Now about these suits…”

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

[frostironfudge]

Hey girl, do you still do requests?

If so can you do something like those tiktok filters where you choose your soulmate but it's avengers choosing between each other who they'd want and reader cooses bucky all the time making the rest of them confused and later bucky pulls her into his lap when there is no place to sit and she tells him why she wants him and its all sweet reasons and at the end she says "the arm though..." you can end it here or add something else!😊😊

I'd Choose You - Bucky Barnes

Summary: based on the above prompt, i've sort of altered the filter used i hope thats okay

Warnings: none, pure fluff, some mutual pining, non canon compliant, the avengers are a big happy family.

Pairings: Bucky x Fem!Reader

An: i hope you enjoy it! I’m sorry it took this long!

Main Masterlist

You were hearing the same song playing from the living area over and over. The stirring of your pasta wasn't this repetitive. Turning the stove off you find Natasha and Wanda sprawled across the couch and watching videos via the projector.

You tilt your head watching the woman on the screen tilt her head side to side, picking between the avengers, in the end she lands on the picture of Wanda. She then goes on to explain her reason for picking Wanda, stating her perseverance and strength inspires her. Her friends come in on screen and they all giggle when she admits of the crush she has on her as well.

The screen moves upward another video with a man loads, he keeps on choosing, Tony Stark rolling his eyes at the other presented choices. His reasoning is the facial hair. You join Nat and Wanda's laughter.

"Is this the latest trend?" You ask as the next video loads. Natasha nods in response to your question.

"There are so many picking you as well." She assures scrolling upwards on the tablet till the old video she saw loads. You watch as your picture is paired against Steve's his picture disappears as yours is picked. It continues as you're picked over everyone else.

"What's all this?" Steve, Sam and Bucky walk into the living area. Their gazes fixed on the screen.

"It's a trend, picking their soulmate from amongst the avengers. Or picking the avenger they adore the most." Wanda explains, its silent again as the familiar song replays on the next video.

Sam does a hoot as he's picked in this video. Steve chuckles, you look at Bucky, he remains stoic. Then his eyes meet yours, a smile breaks out across his face drawing your own smile forth.

"You know what would be a great idea?" Sam pipes up.

Bucky looks at him then back at you, a silent conversation takes place. one in which he's telling you; 'Bird brain has an idea.' you shake your head at him. He knows you're chastising his little unsaid comment.

"What?" Nat turns to Sam.

"We should do this amongst us." He shrugs nonchalantly.

"I don't think that is a good idea. It could hurt sentiments." Steve reasons, Tony clicks his tongue. Entering with his coffee mug.

"Oh come on Cap, no one will say anything if you pick me." Tony teases Steve. The blonde's cheeks tinge red.

"Tony." He rolls his eyes.

"Go on Nat, lets see what Tweety Bird has in store for us." Tony raises his mug towards Sam.

"I'm not Tweety if anything I'm," Sam struggles to find a better bird character but flounders.

"Chuck?" Bucky offers.

"I'm not an angry bird." Sam glares at him.

"Getting angry there birdy." You giggle, Bucky laughs as Sam grumbles grabbing the tablet and setting it up to record,

"Just for that ya'll aren't getting picked." He warns before sifting through and picking Natasha, Steve give a little hey of protest when he is cut off first.

Tony points at you after most of them are done, some how Clint, Bruce, Vision, and even Peter were roped into the trend. You look at Bucky as you walk towards the set up.

Bucky bites his lip, he wants to be hopeful. This seemed to be the easiest way to confess his feelings for you. if you didn't reciprocate he could always say it is a platonic choice.

He watches as does everyone, right off the bat you're asked to pick between Steve and him. He exhales when you pick him.

Over and over you pick him, the choice is as easy as breathing for you. The picture of Bucky was from his first day reinstated and on a press release after a mission. You keep looking at it with a soft smile. Tilting your head to keep picking him.

At the end his picture moves from the side to the top of your head, you begin to move,

"Wait, you have to say why." Wanda reminds, a knowing smile on her face.

"Well, um, he's warm and fuzzy when we cuddle during movies," You look back at Bucky, "he's brilliant, a good listener, makes really good pancakes even if he burns the first three always." you laugh and Bucky's grin only widens.

"What else, Doll?" He walks over to you.

"Your eyes, always find my way to them."

"They do seek you out in every room." He cups your cheek.

"And this arm though." Your skin heats, Bucky smirks.

"What about it?" He questions, eager to know.

"Strong yet gentle." You breathe.

"I'd choose you." Bucky admits, his blue eyes convey something deeper. Something your had been waiting to be reciprocated.

"Oh Bucky." Your palm covers his own, held against your cheek.

Another silent conversation takes place, feelings affirmed.

His lips find yours, the softest of kisses shared, the rest of your family cheers.

"Finally." Sam adds.

-x-x-x-

Permanent Bucky Tag: @slutforsexyseabass

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Do It For Him | Keep Quiet For Me | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: You're on a family vacation but Jungkook wants you no matter the risk... Pairing: Daughter in law reader x Father in Law Jungkook (Yändere) Word Count: 2.3k~ Warnings: Explicit language, an injury and blood, smuttttt and infidelity (but it's difh so duh lmao) and barely edited but yeah that's normal for me lmao a/n: This is response to someone asking for a drabble of in regards to my answer on this ask thank you to the anon/s that were interested in this and sorry it took so long to get out 😭 I was very very burnt out on this story so I hope this'll make up for it Series Masterlist

"Do you need anything? I'm gonna run inside and go to the bathroom" I whisper to my husband while we're lounging outside with the rest of the family. "No that's okay, you go ahead" he says and I respond with a quick okay and give him a quick kiss before standing up. 

"Actually" he say, grabbing my hand to stop me from leaving just yet. I hum in acknowledgment, waiting to hear his request. "Do you think you could grab me another beer? Take your time in there though" he says giving me a sluggish smile, telling me he's fully relaxed and that I should probably follow up that beer with some water. "Sure honey" I say, grabbing both of our empty Kloud bottles and heading inside. 

Walking into the house I first go into the kitchen to throw away the bottles but on my way I grab my phone out of my pocket to check a notification that came in but before I'm even able to turn it on I feel one of the bottle slip from my grasp and fall on the floor, smashing and scattering the glass all over the floor. 

"Perfect" I groan under my breath and start crouching down to pick it all up. "Need a hand?" Jungkook asks raising his eyebrows after seeing the mess I've made. "No I'm fine I can take care of this on my own" I grumble and continue to pick up the shards while Jungkook just stands there staring at me. 

"What do you want Jungkook?" I ask after a few moments pass by and realize he's been starting at my chest this whole time. "Don't you think that bathing suit is a little...revealing?" he asks as he continues to stare, not even bothering to look me in the eye. 

"Last time I checked I didn't ask for your opinion and I'm still not asking for it now. Can you please just go back outside?" I ask and go to pick up another shard but when Jungkook tries to say something else I grab it too quickly and slice my hand.

"Shit" I say and stand up and grab a towel to prevent it from bleeding while I walk over to the bathroom to wash it. "There should be a first aid kit in there" Jungkook calls after me as he trails behind. "I know, why do you think I'm going to wash it in the bathroom instead of the kitchen?" I ask, pointing out how stupid it would be to tell me something I already am aware of. I've got accident prone kids so you would think it was important for me to find that right away. 

"Right" he mumbles to himself, trying to stem off the irritation in his voice. "What do you really want Jungkook?" I ask, since there's clearly something else he wants. 

"What I really wanna do is fuck that pretty attitude out of you but let's worry about fixing that hand up first Angel" he says, coming up behind me and placing a strong grasp on my hips as I wash the blood off. 

"Real funny Jeon now can you just leave? I can take care of this on my own" I say, clumsily trying to open the box but struggling to the point that Jungkook just opens it for me. "I said I could do it myself" I say, glaring at him even though I know I needed the help. "Sure you could" he responds with a taunting smile. 

Rolling my eyes at him I sift through the products and find an antiseptic and a bandaid big enough for the area. I go to rip the package open with my teeth but he takes it out of my hand before I'm able to. "I said I didn't want your help" I reply but hold out my hand anyways. "I know but you need it if we want to get this done before you bleed out" he says, focusing on the task at hand. 

"Don't be so dramatic I-" "Shh" "Did you ju-" "Shh" he shushes me again and I let out a big sigh but ultimately let him take care of it. 

"There, all better" he says, throwing away everything and I moved out of the way so he could use the sink to wash up. "Thank you" I mumble and he pauses for a second, "Thank you? Where's that smart mouth from earlier" he asks while drying his hands. "I was in pain and irritated alright just forget it" I say and turn to walk out. "That's the last time I'm saying thank you to you" I mumble and before I'm able to walk out of the bathroom he pull me back in. 

"What was that Angel? I didn't quiet catch that?" he asks, me now pressed up against the sink facing the mirror again with him pressing up against me. "I said that's the last time I'm saying thank you to you" I say glaring up at him in the mirror before focusing on trying to push him off. 

"Get off of me" I say, pushing my hips back against his and it then that I can feel how hard he's gotten. "That's not fair love. I took care of you and I think it's only fair if you help take care of me" he taunts rubbing his dick against my ass. "Jungkook stop everyone is outside" I plea, trying to knock some sense into him.

"Jungkook stop we can't do this" I say, slapping his hands away when they toy with the tie on my hip. "Why not angel? As long as you stay quiet no one will know" he says, pulling on the tie and sliding them down my legs, now only wearing my bikini top and a small cover I had over it which he slides down my shoulders next. 

"Let's take care of that attitude huh? Looks like someone forgot who they were talking to" he says, sliding his right hand down my stomach and his left up to hold my throat. "Jungkook please sto-" is all I manage to get out before he traces a finger through my folds, making me shudder at the contact. 

"Looks like someone was just begging to get fucked weren't they? Look" he say, showing me his finger, already soaked in my arousal. I try to look to turn my head away, hating that my body always responds to him but he grabs my jaw and turns me back to face the mirror. 

"Nuh uh, you're gonna be a good girl and watch. Watch me fuck that attitude right out of you just like I wanted to" he says, sliding his hand down from my jaw to my neck, applying just enough pressure to remind me of the control he has over me. 

"Let's see if you can cum on my fingers first huh? Think you could do that?" he asks and I don't answer, not wanting to play into his games. "Silent treatment huh? Cute" he says and applies more pressure before putting two fingers inside without warning. I choke back a moan, shocked up the stretch and the slight pain it brings. 

"If you want me to be gentle with you then you need to talk to me" he says, applying more pressure on my throat as if mocking me. Daring me to say something smart but I don't. "Let's try this again. You think you can cum on my fingers princess?" he asks and I shake my head slightly, wanting him to just fuck me and get this over with. 

"Really? Because I think you can. Let's test that theory" he says before he starts pushing his fingers in and out, dragging them along my walls while rubbing his thumb on my clit, all while holding my head up and making me watch as my face starts to contort in pleasure. "There you go princess, focus on how good it feels" he says, pumping his fingers in a bit faster and adding a third once I've stretched out enough. 

"You sure you can't cum? Because from the way you're body is talking to me looks like you're almost there" he taunts, taking note of how hard I'm squeezing his fingers and how my legs have already started shaking. I let out a choked back moan in response and I just hear a dry chuckle from behind, clearly enjoying my struggle in trying to keep quiet and he doesn't let up at all. 

"You're being stubborn aren't you? Trying to prove that I have to work harder to make you cum?" he growls in my ear as I continue to hold myself back, defying his claims and just waiting for him to fuck me and get it over with. 

"Fine since you want this cock so much then why don't you beg for it?" he says while taking out his cock and dragging them up and down my folds, making me purr at the sensation. 'Shit no I cannot give him the satisfaction of knowing that I'm enjoying this fuck!' 

"What was that?" he taunts, giving me a smug smile through the mirror which makes me look away again. He grabs my jaw roughly and brings my face back over again. "What was that princess? You like that?" he says doing it again, making my knees want to give out under me but he steadies me on my feet. 

"Something as simple as this is making you feel like that? Angel was sensitive now wasn't she? Just begging to get fucked and didn't know how to ask for it" he says and presses on my back making my cheek press up against the glass, my breath fogging up the mirror as he lines himself up, giving up on making me beg since we need to finish up fast before anyone notices. 

He pushes in without any notice leaving me biting down on my lip to muffle to sound but it only does so much. He inches inside of me giving me the smallest amount of time to adjust before he's bottomed out. 

"Look at you, such a dirty little slut letting me fuck you in here. Take you from behind while you watch us in the mirror. Is that something that turns you on Angel?" and at that my body betrays me and squeezes his cock, giving him the answer that he already knew would be true. "Fuck, you're incredible" he says, raking his eye up my form before meeting them in the mirror. 

"Keep quiet for me yeah? Wouldn't want anyone to know that you're taking my cock so well while your husband is outside now would we?" he says, trailing his hand up my back and finally untying the last two ties that are keeping my top on. "Or don't. I would love for them to hear what you sound like while you scream my name and beg for more but I don't think you want that now do you Princess?" he asks while placing a kiss on my neck. 

"N-no" I stutter out, knowing better than to not respond this time. He reaches his arm around and pulls me back up with his hand on my throat and makes me make eye contact with him through the mirror. "Then be good and cum on this cock. Can you do that?" he questions and I nod, not trusting my voice this time with the way he's rubbing up against my walls at this angle. 

He lets go of my throat and leaves me reaching out my arms to brace myself, my knuckle white from how hard I'm holding on and seconds later he pulls out, leaving just the tip inside before slamming into me, making me go on my tip toes from the force. He drills into me unapologetically while watching my face contort in pleasure through the mirror. 

I can't hold back and I end up letting out barely audible whimpers while he continues to abuse my aching cunt, already close to release. "Fuck Angel loosen up I can barely move" he grunts while I grip his dick so well, seconds from tipping over. "Cum" he growls in my ear and that's the last push I need to lose myself in the feeling, letting out a choked back sob and squirting all over him. 

"Shit" he grunts and picks up the pace of his thrusts, fucking me through my high and tipping himself over to reach his a minute later and he grabs onto my throat again, his other hand on my hip thrusting a few more times until he's spent and both of our releases are dripping out of me. 

"Fuck Princess I didn't know you could squirt" he says while roaming his hands up and down my body, touching me as much as he can before I push him off seconds later when that post nut clarity hits.

"Get out" I choke out, trying to calm myself down and bring my breathing back down to normal. "See you soon love" he says, placing a kiss on my shoulder before walking out. Not bothering to look around to see if anyone might see him leaving.  

I take a deep breath and turn on the shower, getting in and not bothering to wait for the water to heat up, letting myself deal with the chill it brings to my warm skin.

Standing with my face under the stream I try to drown out all the memories of what just happened and how I just let him do that to me. Why do I always just let him get his way? 

I can't keep doing this. I have to tell someone because this secret is suffocating me. 

If I keep it in much longer I don't know what'll become of the person I once was. 

I need to stop this, everything just needs to stop.   

Read the series from the beginning

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[bloodiedrogue]

A FOOLISH LOVER'S OFFERING (10)

SUMMARY: On the way to Moonrise you and Astarion talk about some important things.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,060

WARNINGS: Spoilers for Act 2 (henceforth there will be spoilers in all chapters here on out), ANGST, mentions of murder.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi this chapter single handedly took every brain cell I had to write so hopefully you like it because I just want to set it on fire for all the grief it has caused me!!

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

“Gods, I hate this place.”

Gripping your torch, you try your best to focus on the Harper’s. How they move through the shadows, navigating every twist and turn without issue, leading you through the pathways.

It hasn’t been long since you’ve started your journey. No longer can you see the shining veil of the Inn but, given what you know, you’re well aware that your destination isn’t nearly ahead either. There’s still plenty of walking to do. A few hour's journey at the least. Perhaps more if Astarion insists on continuing to walk so slowly.

At your side, his eyes scan the trees with a heavy breath, taking in the decrepit scenery at such a leisurely pace that it makes you huff and glance around, noting the distance between you and the others. At this point, you’re close enough that you can still see them but too far to hear what any of them are saying —something you’re certain Astarion’s done on purpose when he plants his arm around your shoulder.

“You know, I happen to find it quite charming. All the dread and despair. It’s a bit like being at home.” 

You give him a look, raising your brow only to receive a snort in response, confirming that he’s (thankfully) kidding. “Ha, you think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“Funny?” He moves his other hand to his chest, placing it against his leathers. “Darling, I’m hilarious.” 

“Yes, yes, a real jester.” 

His fingers flex around your shoulder, squeezing. “I’ll have you know I’ve always been funny. Even before all this vampiric bullshit.” 

“Yeah?”

He nods, a slight thought flashing across his face that makes you wonder what he’s thinking about. Given the circumstances, you assume it’s a thought of the past. Perhaps of his life before Cazador’s reign. When he was merely an elf roaming topside around Baldur’s Gate without a care in the world. You imagine he was funny back then. Mischievous. Probably a little too out there, even for a magistrate considering the personality you’ve grown to love. Based on pure assumption, he probably had more fun in one night than you in a lifetime, spending his hard-earning coin on good food and drinks and—

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” He pulls you tighter into him, using his free hand to pluck the torch out of your hand so that you can wrap yourself around him. As you do, both of you breathe a sigh of what feels like relief, even though you’re currently experiencing anything but.

“Sorry.”

“Well, you were staring at me, so I suppose I can forgive.” 

“Many thanks, my liege.” 

He growls suggestively under his breath, making you scoff. “My liege, hm, I could get behind that.” 

“Of course you could.” 

“My liege,” he repeats, tasting it on his tongue, eyeing you with a lusty gaze that doesn’t quite make its mark. 

Which only furthers the assumption that he’s deep inside his head still. Sifting through thoughts you’re completely unaware of as you walk in tandem to your potential untimely end. Almost immediately, it makes you wonder if maybe this is the right time to start asking questions. To finally speak up about the inquiries that have filed through your skull. Because after this, there’s no telling where you may find yourselves. You could be killed or locked away —lost to an abyss of some kind.

The options are endless; however, time is not, so instead of stewing in the silence you currently find yourselves in, you look up at him, taking in the shape of his face.

You’ve known him long enough now to know that the comments he often makes about his beauty are true. In appearance, he’s almost otherworldly. A beacon of well-aged flesh your eyes feel constantly drawn to. Whenever he’s around there’s this feeling of awe that comes forth. A subtle beating in your chest that quickens each time he’s present. When you look at him —really look at him— your eyes tend to open a little wider, surprised by how every feature seems to fit so perfectly in place. How everything feels uncharacteristically cohesive given his time spent abused beneath the moon, forced to stave and serve for all eternity. 

If it weren’t for the issue of Cazador you’d be convinced he was blessed by the Gods themselves. Melded by their very hands to create a being of such high temptation and desire. You imagine them brainstorming his existence. Tirelessly spending weeks on end crafting the perfect specimen that would ultimately end up broken. 

You realize then, taking in the lines that have developed throughout countless bouts of false grinning, that the very thing he loves most about himself was more than likely the result of his own downfall.

A downfall you find you’re still curious about. Even after your conversation, Astarion’s life before all this still holds an air of mystery. Between details already revealed, there are still patches of missing information. Sections of time where assumptions feel wrong but asking feels just as bad. And because of that, deep down, you know you should leave the curiosity alone. Pack it into the back of your mind for later use, but with the oncoming war and no determined outcome, you instead loosen your hold and take a side step. 

“Can I ask you something?”

He narrows his eyes, readjusting his position now that you’re not locked against him, suddenly looking awkward as he puffs out his chest. “Depends.” 

“On?”

“Whether or not the question is going to be depressing,” he replies. “Because you have that look in your eye.”

“What look?”

He reaches out to poke your forehead, pressing it roughly. “The one where your brows look like they’re going to become one at a moment’s notice.”

Swatting his hand away, you twitch your brows back into their proper positioning, annoyed. “I was going to ask about Cazador,” you tell him, truthfully. “I know he’s probably not a topic you want to discuss as we waltz to our potential doom but —I don’t know— I just have questions.” 

He sighs deeply, drawing out his breath before giving you an unimpressed look that speaks volumes.

He doesn’t want to talk about it. Nor do you, but at the same time, you’re at the point where you’re unable to deny your interest because Astarion’s your friend. A companion you cherish more than you know you should. A person whose well-being is so important you’d virtually do anything to maintain it. Which is why you’re determined to pry a bit more than usual. Taking these final moments you have to yourself to ask the one question you’ve been wondering for ages. 

“What will you do about him? When this is all over.”

Surprisingly, there’s no hesitation in his words when he tells you he’ll kill him. As you continue along the path, listening to him come up with all the vile ways he’d do it, you find yourself strangely calm. Numb almost to the descriptions of stakes being driven into hearts or knives slicing through jugular veins. Lost in the way he throws your torch around with every passing phrase.

“Personally, I think a stake to the heart’s a bit cheap,” you eventually comment, watching him laugh. Hearing the way the sound quickly flutters out and hits your ears, making you smile despite the subject matter. 

“It’s a classic for a reason, my dear.” 

“Is it though? I mean, in my experience there’s far better ways to kill someone.”

“Is there, now? Do tell.” 

You’re not sure if it’s just because you’ve grown used to the excessive violence throughout your journey or because Astarion’s tendencies have potentially rubbed off on you. Either way, as the two of you joke of his master’s demise you find yourself wondering if maybe such a result is even plausible. Sure, you’ve never killed a vampire. Hell, before Astarion you’re not even sure you’ve seen one up close, but for him, you’d be willing to try. Especially given the ever-growing lack of regard for your own safety.

“Honestly, the only thing that’s coming to mind is cutting him open and doing something to his innards.” 

His brows shoot up in surprise, making you laugh. “Mm, a cold-blooded killer after my own heart.”

You roll your eyes, prompting his hand to subtly grip your own. Tangling your fingers together, he raises your palm carefully up to his lips and places a lingering kiss. One that tickles your flesh long after he’s gone, leaving you grinning like a fool, wondering if this is what love feels like. 

You imagine it is. Deep beneath the surface, your chest is tight but not with fear. Instead, there’s only warmth that spreads —a growing sensation of heat that wraps around your lungs and heart. Filling you with this discomforting ache that only he can alleviate. So much so that it makes you want to scream sometimes, knowing he’s the cause. That somehow through his charms and tricks he’s managed to find a home inside your chest without permission. How he’s sliced you open with that wicked grin and crawled inside, calling you darling all the while. 

It makes you wonder if he feels the same. If all the afflictions he’s given you are returned in some capacity. If when you look at him his mouth goes dry or his heart skips a beat. Or the longing to be near is indeed reciprocated and not just another plot to keep you close.

Because sometimes it’s hard to tell. 

Throughout your journey, you’ve gone back and forth a hundred times, debating the possibilities —weighing the pros and cons of every interaction that you’ve ever had. Even now, knowing such trivial thoughts should be the last thing on your mind, you can’t help but wonder: does he care for you? Truly? Does he think of you? Does he look for you? Within his everyday thoughts does your presence linger in the background, waiting for the right moment to be put on full display for him to admire?

Does he love you?

“You know, if you ever need help with the whole murdering Cazador thing…”

It sounds ridiculous when you say it. So nonchalant and unfazed. Even you have to cringe at the way you trail off, waiting for him to speak. Praying that he’ll laugh or scoff or say literally anything to fill the silence you find yourselves walking through. 

It takes him a while but eventually, you hear him quietly sigh, his gaze moving to view your nervous face. “It won’t be easy, you know. Cazador isn’t some vagabond with a blade, he’s—“

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

He says it like a warning. As if he’s preparing to scold you for speaking out of term, narrowing his eyes with a huff. “Darling, I appreciate the enthusiasm but Cazador —he’s different. He’s not like the villains we’ve faced thus far. He isn’t motivated by greed or lust. The only thing he wants is power. Power over me —over you.” 

He pauses then, swallowing hard. Making it apparent then that this hypothetical conversation of murderous jokes has turned into something far more real. That your offering is no longer a mere gesture of kindness but instead a potential act of solidarity. One that you extend further by running your thumb along his, applying a bit of pressure at the joint, feeling him twitch. 

“You know there’s very little I wouldn’t do for you, right?” 

In an instant his eyes are on you, staring in surprise, trying to process the words that’ve just spilled through your lips. At first, they’re focused on their position, fully immersed in the way you clear your throat, trying to suppress a nervous laugh as you continue to grip his hand. Not long after though, they start to go distant, moving past your face to view the trees behind you, fizzling out of reality so quick that all you can do is try to pull him back. 

“I know you probably think I’m in idiot for even suggesting that fact that I may be capable of killing someone who spent centuries in control of so many people—“

“A bit, yes.” 

You snort, watching him slowly start to return to you, his lips curling into a half smile you can’t help but reach out and touch, stopping your stride. “But I would do anything you asked of me. Even if it meant death, I would kill that bastard for you without hesitation. Whatever way you wanted, whether it’s decapitation or throwing him off a bloody cliff or—“

The light of the torch shifts as his hand slips out of yours, taking hold of your head to guide you to his lips. To press his mouth to yours with such need that the breath within your lungs is ripped out. Swallowed behind his starving tongue —lapping whatever life you have to offer as his hand drifts over your cheek, taking hold of your flesh to keep you from leaving.

Standing still, you can feel the tenseness of his frame as it all happens. How aside from his mouth and hand the rest of him refuses to move, prompting you to reach out, running your hands along his sides, coaxing him to relax. 

When his body does, you slowly pull away, sucking in air like your life depends on it, watching with half-lidded eyes and swollen lips as he opens his mouth to speak, stuttering out something incoherent before swearing under his breath. 

Narrowing your eyes further, you watch him struggle to speak, wondering what could be going on in that complicated brain of his as he turns his body, releasing you from his grasp in favour of moving forward again.

Immediately, it makes you drop your jaw in annoyance, watching his hands move towards his hair, gripping his locks in frustration as you hear him mutter to himself and continue to move, leaving you behind. 

“Hold on, you’re just going to kiss me like that and walk away?” 

He doesn’t even turn to acknowledge you as you yell, making you even angrier as you race toward him, placing a rough hand against his shoulder to gain his attention. 

“Astarion—“

“Do you mean it?”

Your mouth twitches when he turns, looking at you with angry eyes. Scanning you with knitted brows filled with so much frustration all you can do is breathe and nod.

“Why?”

Because I love you. 

“Because…”

“Tell me.”

Your mouth is drier than it’s ever been, making it hard for you to form the words as you feel your tongue poke out to wet your lips. “I—“

His shoulder shifts from your grasp in one quick motion, leaving you bare —untethered and weak against the aggression of his eyes staring you down. “You know, I’ve spent centuries coming up with all the ways I’d do it. How I’d kill him if given the chance.”

You watch his gaze move to the trees again, travelling elsewhere even though you’re here, standing still in front of him, already wondering how you'll get him back.

“Despite the scenarios being nothing but my foolish imagination running rampant, every time I end up suffering. Forced further into madness —pushed to the brink of what my body is capable of handling.” He shakes his head before raising it, blinking back tears that make your body ache. “Even in my wildest dreams I cannot win against his torment and yet… the moment you mention it… the moment you look at me with those eyes—” 

Hearing him choke back a nervous laugh, this time it’s you who’s on him, clutching his face with both hands, pressing your thumbs to the inner corners of his eyes to wipe away the liquid that continues to pool.

“Why are you so willing to help me do the unimaginable?”

This time there’s no hesitation. No moment of thought that graces your mind as you smile up at him, pulling him further down with shaking hands to press your forehead to his. “It’s because I love you,” you tell him then. Barely above a whisper, you let it filter out like smoke, allowing it to envelop him entirely as you breathe and take him in, watching the way his lips unfurl and the anger laced within his features slips away. “And because the thought of allowing him to live after what he did to you fills me with a kind of rage I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.”

His hand moves to stroke the side of your neck. Gently, his fingers run across the bite marks he's inflicted, marking their positions with two subtle taps before they glide away, rooting themselves at the back of your head for support. Forcing you to remain in the moment, realizing what you’ve just said.

It’s hardly the right time to admit your feelings. But then again, given the circumstances, you quickly remember that there really isn’t one. Considering you're in the middle of a war, on your way to Ketheric’s base, it’s very unlikely you’ll have a spare moment to clear your mind and properly say all the things you’ve been itching to say. 

Until the end, it’ll always feel like something’s missing —like you’ve forgotten an important phrase or detail. That whatever you say will never be enough to fully convey the weight of how he makes you feel each time he looks you up and down or makes you laugh. 

Even as you stand before him now, holding him tight —watching the tears within his eyes threaten to spill once again, you know nothing you say will ever amount to the ache inside your chest, knowing that you’ve managed to give him the last sliver of hope you have to offer. 

“I love you, Astarion,” you repeat then, praying this time it holds its weight. That the nervous rush inside your stomach passes through and all you’re left with is the kind of warmth you’ve only read about in stories.

His jaw is slack as you repeat your confession, shifting in a way that makes you more nervous than it should, watching him blink and hearing him breathe —doing everything but speak the words you want to hear as Shadowheart calls your name, pulling you both away to notice the annoyed look on her face as she tells you to hurry up. 

-

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