#figured this would be the best place for them

[artemisiasmuse]

always known | CH.3

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem! kook reader

CW: 18+ mdni, smut eventually, angst, mean rafe, jealousy, possessive rafe, kook typical classism (not from y/n tho), abusive family dynamics, not really canon/au, swearing, drinking, no coke tho, ward cameron

SUMMARY: rafe’s childhood best friend y/n returns to figure eight by herself and finds rafe hates her for some reason, their friendship has gone down the drain and they can hardly remain cordial, and there’s one thing causing all of it: why can’t rafe just move on?

TROPE: childhood best friends to enemies to lovers

WORD COUNT: 3k

MASTERLIST

< previous next >

rafe realizes he may have made a mistake when he overhears you and sarah arguing at a party. he’s walking past the room you two are in and the door is slightly open. it’s not entirely his fault your raised voice stuns him, you sound so hurt and his body goes into some sort of panic state from the sound alone. his feet feel heavy, unmovable, so he leans against the wall next to the door.

“sarah i can’t, the last time was so fucking awkward okay!” you can’t believe she’s actually suggesting you stay at tannyhill while your place gets fixed. your dishwasher, which you found out was from 1981, had broken and caused your place to flood. the repair company said it would take at least a couple of weeks, not to mention the headache of replacing your furniture. you even had to get ready in the car with plastic bags of your clothes. thankfully since your room was on the second floor your clothes and important belongings were unharmed but there was no way you could stay there with the ground floor being unusable. you planned to book a hotel or crash at one of your OBU friend’s dorms when sarah cameron swooped in to save you. at least she thought she was saving you, but here you were feeling nauseous from her suggestion.

“he doesn’t hate you, come on, that's crazy, and besides it's my house too he doesn’t decide who goes in and out. rose and dad adore you, they’d love to-“ he flinched at sarah’s words, so this was about him. that’s why you were so angry. he hadn’t heard you angry since the last party, it was still far better than your sadness. he hadn’t seen you much since the bar burger thing and it was for the best, you had seemed happy with your new friends and he didn’t want to ruin that. topper and kelce managed to keep him in the loop even if he didn’t ask about it, mentioning that you had arrived with your friends. rafe might not be talking to you but it was an impossible task to ignore you. the black mini skirt and plain grey crop top you were wearing might as well have been a wedding dress in his eyes. there was no other girl in the party, in all of outer banks, the whole world, he’d rather look at even for a few seconds. his absence in your life was a good thing right? then why did he feel like breaking down the door between you two from the sound of you in distress.

“please sarah i can’t-“ and he hears your voice crack and then the small sobs that follow it, the solo cup in his hand crunches. he wants to so badly go in and beg you to stop crying. he knows he doesn’t deserve to hear this but he still can’t move, his stomach twists at the sound of your broken breathing, it takes him back to when you would cry in his arms and he would hug you until you stopped. now he can’t even approach you and it’s all his fault. his eyes sting with unshed tears, he wills them away.

“i should beat rafe’s ass” rafe thinks that’s the best thing sarah has said in a while. you panic at the statement, wiping your tears. you couldn’t stand to break this illusion of ignorance between you two. you’d been stealing glances at him all night, even your college friends had deduced that the “hot blonde buzzcut” was off limits. you didn’t correct them, only saying that it was complicated and you hadn’t even spoken to him but he looked better for it.

“no, don’t say anything to him, i just need to get used to it s’all. we used to be best friends ya know, i loved him so much, i mean i still do but sometimes i don’t know if he even remembers me.” you can’t pretend in front of sarah, not when you see his face in hers. her brown eyes stare into yours, they’re not the shade that you’re used to. it’s always like this. you get a bit drunk and you start looking for the closest thing in the eyes of others. that’s how you ended up with your two exes, ultimately realizing the shade would never be close enough.

even now you wonder if rafe’s okay, if he’s doing better now that you’re out of his life again. he looked so uncomfortable with you around and seeing him now still makes you feel horrible but you can tell he’s happier. you can’t help the tears that keep streaming. rafe flinches at your words, hearing you say that you love him is breaking his heart and he clenches his hand by his side. it’s a privilege to be loved by you, even if it’s not the way he wants.

“you’re kinda impossible to forget.” rafe takes it back, that’s the best thing sarah said. how could he possibly forget you? you were itched into his bones, your initials tattooed on his heart, even in his dreams you haunted him. he goes to sleep looking at the framed photo of you two in kindergarten and wakes up to the one of you in middle school, looking shy and slightly goofy in your formal wear for the school dance. and he could’ve removed them, rose had even suggested it, but that just felt wrong. much like the distance between you two right now.

“thanks sare love you.” he could hear your voice muffled, sarah hugged you close.

“love you too, now stop messing up your makeup, you're too pretty to cry over him.” with that he took his drink back to the kitchen and replaced it with something harder.

rafe nearly faints when he sees you in his kitchen the next morning. he thinks he might have discovered some new level of drunk that makes you hallucinate. you’re clearly hungover too, your eyes barely open as you trudge around. clad in an oversized shirt and gym shorts that look like they might be from high school, you’re entirely too endearing to be real. when you see him you mumble something about sarah saying it was fine. he knows it’s fine, he actually thinks seeing you back in the house is the most fine he’s ever felt in years. you’re looking for something he notices, unsuccessful in your search. he curiously watches on, unbelieving that after this long you’d know where things are.

“hey uhm where’s the cereal bowls? i swear they were over here before-“ and you’re right they were where you were standing, rafe shuts his eyes for a few beats to find some semblance of self control. when he opens them he’s looking away from you and grabbing a glass of water for the painkiller he desperately needs.

“next to the fridge.” he motions towards the cabinet on the left and you nod.

“that makes more sense.” rafe doesn’t tell you that wheezie had said the same thing before insisting the bowls be moved there.

“oh-“ your hands reach for a bowl but your gaze is captivated by the explosion of colors stark against uniform white bowls. it’s the bowl you and rafe painted together after pottery class, your initials engraved into it and your eyes water at the sight. your heart aches at how different your friendship is now compared to the love and respect gone into making the bowl only years ago. looking at it now the bowl is pretty hideous, none of the colors complement one another but somehow it makes sense.

“hey why are you-“ his voice plants you firmly back into reality, it doesn’t have the soft lilt it used to have, the one he reserved for you. it sounds almost angry. once again hard and distant and it jolts you back into obedience, grabbing a regular one and wiping at your eyes. rafe feels like he might throw up when he watches you physically flinch from his words. the thought that he scared you of all people made what little resolve he had left crumble. you were the only one who understood him, the only one who insisted he wasn’t the monster rose thought he was, that ward was a terrible father for how he treated you. you couldn’t be scared of him, you were the only one. now you flinched from his voice alone.

“i’m sorry.” you’re apologizing for something you’re not entirely sure of and rafe begins to hate himself. why couldn’t he be normal? why did he have this insatiable urge to make you his? all the anger and frustration he felt when you left was nothing in the face of seeing you cry because of him. and it’s the second time it’s happening in the span of twenty-four hours.

“come here.” you look up shocked and find him with an arm outstretched to pull you into his side. his expression is cracking like yours, his brows drawn together and his head hung low, he looks almost apologetic. you’re so shocked you think you might be dreaming so you don’t hold back. you loop your arms around his waist and bury yourself into his chest breathing in his scent and relishing in the warmth while you can. you’re sure you’ll wake up soon but the scent of his detergent and something that’s just him is starting to seem real. rafe breathes out in relief as he hugs you back properly and he can feel tears against his chest. at least now he can comfort you, if he hugs you long enough you’ll stop right?

“i’m sorry.” you say it again, rafe clicks his tongue at your words, they’re muffled and said into his chest but he hears them still. you’re so small in his arms now, curves and soft skin make you feel fragile in his hold and he curls around you protectively, his chin resting on top of your shoulder as his arms hold your upper back.

“why are you apologizing?” his voice is softer now and murmured into your ear and you cry more, your heart breaking at the sound. the edge dulled, if he cuts you now it will be worse, you won’t survive it. he feels you shake in his arms and he tightens them instinctively, you might just hold your breath until the illusion shatters. until he leaves you.

“i don’t know, i feel like i must have done something wrong for you to be mad at me.” the admission breaks you in two, you’d been holding onto it for years, the guilt of wronging your best friend, the frustration of not knowing what you did. you clutch the worn cotton of his shirt, the fabric presses against your fingertips like it might just be real.

“you’re forgiven, you've always been forgiven, i'm just mad at myself.” the words are a relief and a burden, you hate that he blames himself, for what you’re not entirely sure but you don’t press him, you have him in your arms that is enough for now. rafe doesn’t miss the way your hands are still clenching around the material of his shirt, but you let go. you let it all go. in the face of losing him forever you let a lot of things go, you’ll be his friend forever if that’s what it takes.

“that makes zero sense, rafey.” there’s the nickname, the one you called him hundreds of times maybe even more. your voice devoid of sadness, he can hear the teasing in your tone and its familiar, welcome. he breathes out in relief when he hears it and it still lights a fire within him just like the first time you said it and he realized you might just be more than a friend. you feel the breath on the shell of your ear, this isn’t a dream but maybe you should keep pretending it is. you lean back to look at him, hands falling to your sides and he releases you, his own hands resting on your waist instead. you don’t move away, you let him and he nearly cries himself.

“yeah i know.” a small smile curls his lips and you return it tenfold, a grin taking over your face. rafe decides he’d do anything to keep you smiling instead of crying over him.

after that you and rafe slowly fall back into friendship, he helps you clean up your place and move out any damaged furniture. you get to know him again and he does the same, he hasn’t changed much. he still has this hard exterior for everyone else, one that he sheds for a select few but you know him. you know he’s still the little boy who would stop everyone’s game of tag to tie your shoelaces or sneak out and run to your place after you texted him that your parents were arguing again and you couldn’t stop crying just so he could hold you through it. ward still underestimates him and at the same time expects too much and rose still pretends he’ll leave soon enough so she can continue ignoring him.

there is a slight change to one thing though, your rafe is now absurdly, annoyingly hot. sure you’d had a crush on him in middle school, maybe even a bit more than that but you had never considered him hot. now he’s a man and when he acts like one it sends your system into shock. for instance, he carried your couch out by himself, arms straining and glistening with sweat, making you feel a bit dizzy, you blamed it on the heat and made him set it down for you to sit on, just so you didn’t have something to stare at. that didn’t work since he dragged the couch with you on it. or then when a waiter got your order wrong and proceeded to tell you that you must have misspoken, refusing to take the blame. rafe quickly shut it down asking him to remake the dish, in a way only he could without any room for arguing. you could have handled it yourself, maybe you would have been nicer about it, but knowing that you didn’t have to, that rafe would take care of it made something coil in your stomach. one time he even dropped you to class just as an excuse to get coffee with you. he’d told you to have a good day in a way that stunned you into silence. the image of him leaning over the console to open the door for you and watching you climb out had you zoned out for half of the class. you were starting to grow attached to him in a different way, something less pure and innocent than what you had always known. the fact that your place was still being restored and you were a few steps away from him every night didn’t help either.

staying at tannyhill had its pros and cons. the pros being obvious, 24/7 unfettered access to your best friend and your favorite siblings. the cons being the parents of said siblings. rose was as nice as she could be, she never fully understood your friendship with rafe and you didn’t need her to. ward, however, was unfortunately unchanged. he was out of the house most days working and when you finally did meet he made sure you knew that he was still an asshole.

“hey kiddo look at you, all grown up into a beautiful young lady! i am so happy you’re back, im sorry for not greeting you earlier. work has been keeping me out late” he gives you a warm side-hug that you accept graciously. he’d always been kind to you, rafe was the troublemaker of your duo anyways so he never had any reason to be otherwise. but you knew all the things he said to rafe, you knew how he treated him from the very beginning, so you could never really open up your heart to ward cameron. especially not when he was good at acting the perfect father in your face.

“it’s no problem ward, thank you for your hospitality.” you did mean that last part even if you didn’t particularly like him. your parents also seemed to get along with him so spoiling any kind of relationship wouldn’t help you.

“oh come on tannyhill is your home too you know that, rafe really needed you back here too. how are your folks doing?” you bristle at his words, it had been a while since you’d spoken to him. you’d forgotten how casually he disparaged your best friend.

“they’re doing well, they send their best wishes and love.” your words came out automatically, your mind on autopilot. you had to say something but the fear of disappointing your parents loomed over your head. ward knew you, he knew you would never fall out of line as long as he knew your parents.

“i’ll reach out to your father, it’s been a while since we caught up.” a silent threat, you nodded at his words turning to leave. there was a lump in your throat and your heart pounded in your chest, it screamed for you to stick up for rafe but your head relented. you were almost out of earshot of ward when you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“ward?” you called out, making sure he was still able to talk.

“yes sweetie?” his head turned toward you, warmth in his eyes. you supposed he must see the little girl who walked home with rafe hand-in-hand. you do hope he can take you seriously.

“rafe doesn’t need me, i think he just needs love and support. he’s been doing fine without me.” ward couldn’t tell you just how wrong you were. he could however parse the subtle jab sent his way.

“you were always wise beyond your years.” he says it with that smug smile you can’t read and leaves first. you’ll tell yourself you won this round but really there were no winners only one person who was losing.

rafe is none the wiser to your conversation which you take as a plus, you’d worried ward would reprimand him for what you said. you don’t talk about ward though it was never your favorite topic anyways. and you don’t talk about the five year gap, even though it keeps you up some nights.

a/n: war is over 🙏 i’m too much a softie to continue the angst + there’s only a few chaps left and we have to get freaky!

taglist: @clar2aa @ggraycelynn @rafestoothbrush @woweewoowa @mattyskies @always4tuesdayss @ashy-kit @chalahyung01 @rafeysslut @beabogsims @someoneisreading @rlalliehayes @artbymin @pogueprincesa @crvcified-kinx @ltristessedureratoujours @lilithblackkk

[arietem]

sunset skies, bonfire nights

summary: you and jj have a will-they-won't-they thing going on for the last year. you are ready to take things to the next level on the first bonfire party of the summer. it's about to be steamy

jj maybank x fem!reader

ꕤ friends to lovers, smut, piv, unprotected sex on the beach (oops), sex in public ꕤ

You were slowly losing your mind, rampaging through your closet, looking for something to wear for the bonfire tonight. It was the first party of the summer and the night when you would finally make your move. You physically couldn't hold back anymore, and even if nothing came from it, you would at least know you tried. Either way, you just needed to wear something that you would feel a million dollars in (plus, something that would make your blondie feral).

Your plan for tonight was to look sexy as hell, have the best time ever, and possibly have some action in the Twinkie on the way back to the Chateau. (No, the rest of the gang being there will not deter you, you can be quiet when needed). Sounds like a good plan, right?

After what felt like fucking forever, your eye caught a sparkly silver bikini top stuffed in the back of your closet, still with the tags on. You bought it some time ago, but left it untouched since it was a little tight on you, pushing up your boobs, threatening to spill them out of the garment. You usually wouldn't go for something so impractical while on the beach, but, well, isn't tonight the perfect occasion for accentuating your girls a little bit? Finally, you decided on a high-waisted denim skirt and the bikini top, with cute flip-flops on your feet. You left your hair to dry naturally, with beachy waves ready for someone's fingers to go through them.

Since the beach was not far from your house, you decided to walk there, giving you ample time to prepare yourself for the quest ahead. Ever since you moved to this place a year ago, you have been playing this seemingly never-ending game of push and pull with JJ, which has honestly left you frustrated and ready to get to the next level. Sure, you hooked up with other guys in the meantime, but they hadn't been able to hit that spot (literally and figuratively). And yes, you've seen JJ with other girls, but come on, he had to feel this sizzling tension between you two.

When you got closer to the beach, you could see that the party had already started, and a pretty big crowd was gathering. Excitement bubbled in your stomach, giving you a good feeling for tonight. "Babe!" You turned around when you heard your name, spotting Sarah walking towards you. "OMG, you look incredible!"

"Hi, Sare! So do you!" You pulled her in for a big hug. If Sarah was here, John B was not too far from her, and if John B was here, that meant JJ must have been somewhere close too. "But do you really think so? I haven't worn this top yet. Isn't it kinda too much?"

"God, no, it's perfect", she wiggled her eyebrows. "I'm so glad you're here! Kie is somewhere having fun with some Touron, and I need some girl power with me here." She nodded her head over your shoulder, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. You turned to see what she was referring to and saw exactly who you expected to, John B and JJ, of course. JJ was doing a handstand over the keg, with JB holding his legs. Typical boy shit.

"Why are they such boys?" You rolled your eyes too, but in reality, you didn't mind that they were having fun, you knew how hard their lives could be. You took Sarah by the hand and walked in the boys' direction, not wasting any time. You reached them just as JJ was wiping his mouth on his hand, a proud look on his face. Guess he was the keg king for the night.

"You done yet?" You made sure he could hear the playful tone in your voice and waited for him to look your way.

"Just getting start-" Yeah, he saw you, alright. "Whoa!" Seeing his reaction to your outfit boosted your confidence in the direction this night could go in. His breath hitched, and his blue eyes sparkled while he looked you up and down. Yeah, you couldn't lie, you were drinking in his attention, loving the butterflies his gaze unleashed in your stomach. You purposefully fingered your necklace, dragging his eyes to your cleavage again, not that he needed that push anyways.

"So, we're gonna get something to drink that is not a beer. Have fun, you guys!" Sarah wiggled her fingers in a goodbye and winked at you, dragging John B towards the coolers. You gave yourself a split second to sigh in her direction before turning towards JJ once again. This is what you wanted, and you were not going to chicken out this time.

When you turned around, JJ quickly looked up at your face. You narrowed your eyes, knowing what he was checking out. "You like what you see?" You could also be cocky when you needed to be. Why should he have all the fun? Remember, the goal for tonight was to have fun together.

"Oh, I like it very much." JJ smiled, and his delicious dimple came into focus. You wanted to lick it and trace his jaw with your teeth. It was getting harder and harder for you to contain yourself. It had to be now or never, baby.

"Come on, JJ, I gotta show you something." You grabbed his wrist and started heading towards a quieter part of the beach, further away from the fire. There, you could tell him what was on your mind and hopefully do something about it. "Someone's impatient today, huh?"

You ignored his muttering behind you and led you two to a tree you could mostly hide behind. "Soo, what did you want to show me?"

"Who's impatient now?" You couldn't help but tease him just a little bit. Still, he was right, you were impatient, which is why you crashed your lips to his, not letting him say anything else. At first, he was frozen, taken aback by your advance, but then…then he woke up and grabbed the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. His other hand wrapped around your lower back, playing with the strap of your top.

After what felt like a long time of heated making out, you gasped and broke apart. He put his hands on your shoulders, towering over you. "That was…intense", he chuckled and nudged your chin up with his fingers.

You felt drunk, unable to find your words for a few moments. Intense was the right word, and you needed more of it. "Please, JJ, less talking and more whatever this is." You hooked your pointer finger in his shark tooth necklace and brought him closer again, leaning back on the tree.

This time, his hands wandered under your skirt, where the real surprise awaited him. You could tell the moment he discovered you weren't wearing any underwear. He let out the hottest whimper and pressed himself harder into you. It was impossible to ignore the bulge in the front of his cargo shorts, but when you reached for his belt buckle, he stopped you.

"Are you sure?", JJ whispered in your ear, nibbling slightly. "I was sure for literally this whole year, I just didn't know if you wanted it." You gasped slightly when he blew cold air on the wet spot on your neck.

"Fuck, I wanted to do this forever." He turned you over so you were now facing the tree, hitching your skirt up, giving you a little slap on your ass. God, he was turning you on so hard. You bent a bit so you could graze the tent in his pants. The belt unbuckling and zipper sliding down sounded so loud in the night, but you knew nobody could actually hear you over the music and laughter. Still, you loved to hear it, and it was making you even wetter, if that was possible.

JJ lined himself up with your slit, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail, pulling slightly and making your back arch. You can hear him moan when he enters you and starts pounding, slowly at first and then faster and faster. Both of you are on a high right now, messy and sweaty, skin on skin slapping in the dark night, only the glow of the fire in the distance.

You can feel your core tightening, a sure sign that you are close to the finish line. "JJ, I'm so clo-o-se", you panted out, reaching behind you to grab his thigh. At that, JJ pulled the string on your bikini, making it unravel from your back. With his free hand, he pinched your nipple. The zap you felt when he did that was the last straw. You clenched around him and cried out when your release hit you.

JJ let go of your hair and grabbed your hips, bottoming out inside you. A few more thrusts and you could hear his grunts, "fuuuck yes, baby". He stilled behind you and trailed faint kisses along your spine, catching your top and tying it at your back.

You finally found your voice, "this, this was fucking intense." You laughed hard and straightened your skirt when he pulled out. You could feel some dripping going down your leg, but honestly, you couldn't be bothered, it was too dark for anybody to notice anything.

You turned to face him, still breathing hard. "Why the fuck we haven't been doing this for the last year?"

"We better get caught up then."

"Yes, sir." You gave him a mock salute and turned to get back to the party, to mingle with your girls a little bit. Right when you started walking, knowing he would follow, he smacked your ass again, a little stronger this time.

"JJ!" You threw a glare in his direction but couldn't stop your lips from growing into a smile.

Mission officially accomplished. ;)

[inbabylontheywept]

I went to summer camp as a kid. Six times, actually. I have many fond memories, and even more terrible ones. Here's one that's a mixture of both.

To set the stage, I had just spent the night in the infirmary due to a big fight I had with almost my entire tent. They never wanted to sleep, and were always obnoxiously loud with a lantern dubbed "the sun" that let me see movement around me with my eyes closed from the shadows passing over it. I was sleep-deprived, overstimulated, autistic-but-unaware-of-that, and twelve years old, and I already disliked these girls because they talked shit about me behind my back and took advantage of naivety. This unfortunate combination lead to a blowout meltdown in which I said some things I regret, so the counselors decided it'd be best if I spent some time away.

Now, this had the unforeseen consequence of putting me in a place with less supervision. This place also had some strange bugs. They were small, about the size of my pinky fingernail. Most of their bodies were in their tails, which curved downwards like a reverse scorpion. They were black and white, sort of striped, with six legs and no wings. Their fangs were very thin, but long, extending out from their faces like brownish parentheses. They had a propensity to bite.

Perhaps you can see where this is going.

While messing around with these bugs, I noticed that when they bit, they didn't just chomp and leave. They sunk their fangs in and they kept them there for a long time. Naturally, I decided to see what would happen if I let them, nay, encouraged them to bite me, as an experiment. When would they extricate their incisors from my flesh? Would my reaction to the bites vary depending on the amount of time each bite lasted?

I let these bugs bite me four times, once for about 13 minutes, once for about 5 minutes, once for about 1 minute, and once for 45 seconds (I didn't have a watch, so these are estimates). Then, I forged a peaceful resolution with my tentmates and we went to watch the beginning of Color War.

Except, turns out it's stupid to let unidentified insects taste your blood. The bites swelled up huge. I got chills. My stomach hurt intensely. My counselor took me back to the infirmary to get them checked out.

Needless to say, this was not easy to explain to the nurse on duty ("WHY" "For science!"). His first thought was we needed to figure out what bit me. If only it were that simple.

We combed through the databases for insects in the state. We expanded our search to arachnids, even, although it certainly wasn't one. I drew a little mock-up on a Post-It to show him. There was not a single match. To this day, I have no idea what it was that I let bite me. I was given orders to come back tomorrow to get them checked by a doctor, and also return every morning and night for a week to put warm compresses and medicinal ointments on the bites, and a strong directive to never do anything like that again, with a side of "What the hell were you thinking????"

A couple of months later, after camp, I went to my friend's bar mitzvah. The woman in the row behind me tapped my shoulder. She asked me how the bug bites were. It was the doctor from the infirmary.

-- @dr-robert-chase-apologist

That was a beautiful ending. I have a similar story, but less gruesome than letting bugs bite me. My family used to go up to trips to the Mogollon Mountains two or three times a year. The woods were where my dad always felt the most at peace.

My dad used that time to hike through the trees. And I grew into that eventually, but when I was very little, I felt a particular kinship to the small things of this world. Worms and beetles and woodlice and those peculiar Arizona grasshopers with wings the size of jellybeans and tummies the size of my thumb.

And on one trip, there was an incredible number of these beautiful, fuzzy caterpillars. Picture below.

I went a little crazy about them. They were fluffy, and they were had pretty colors, and they had the cutest, softest, stubbiest little suction cup feets that I'd ever seen. Watching them climb up stalks of grass or over fallen branches was enchanting.

So I caught, like, twenty of them, and most got put in a little terrarium where I could watch them do cute caterpillar things. Mostly eat fresh pine needles and wriggle gregariously. But some I kept out just to play with. I'd put them on my palm, and I'd watch them crawl all the way up to my neck, then I'd move them somewhere else. They tickled, and I was charmed to be their jungle gym.

But apparently, those little hairs break off like fiberglass, and they have some kind of venom on them, so I had these strange, wriggling, almost tattoo like rashes all over my arms up to my neck. Very embarrassing to explain to my parents.

There was an entomologist on the street that I grew up on named Freddie. And he wasn't just a bug expert, he was specifically a caterpillar expert. He had a garden in his backyard that was specifically tailored for butterflies, he'd always draw in clouds of Monarchs during their migration. My parents asked him about the mysterious itchy caterpillars, and he said they were lophocampa ingens, and that I was lucky that I didn't inhale those hairs. They can stick inside your throat and make it swell closed. Scary little bastards.

I'd still see them after that, but never in such numbers. And while I appreciated them, I always tried to keep a few feet of distance. Just to be safe.

(Also, just wanted to clarify that I didn't remember the name for 20 years, I googled "irticating caterpillar Mogollon", and saw the picture. It wasn't until I read the caption that I was like oh yeaaaaah, that's what he called them. But it was one of those memories I could never have pulled at will.)

[moody-alcoholic]

This Is Going To Hurt

Part 1 - Die Another Day

Summary: Poly141 x reader, established relationship, medic reader, kidnapped reader, mini fic.

CW: Dead dove don’t eat, torture, waterboarding, descriptions of wounds, kidnapping, assault, blood, strangulation.

AN: I'm posting this early. Lets see how that goes...

Part 2

Enjoy <3

You wake to darkness.

Your head throbs, there’s a stinging down your arm. 

The floor feels like sand, you force yourself to sit up against the wall. There’s sand everywhere, in your mouth, nose, eyes, even under your clothes.

The dark has you disorientated, you can’t remember what happened, you were in the convoy. You remember the drive, the truck ahead of you being blown off the road. You don’t remember much after that. 

You decide to crawl, you need to know how big this place is, find an exit. Maybe you’re at a safehouse somewhere. No, there’s no safehouse you know that has sand for the floor. As soon as you move you cough, your throat is dry, your lips are raw and cracked. 

You bring your hand up spluttering as it sends throbbing pains through your head. A door opens and light floods the room, the coughing stops as you bring your hand up to block the light.

You hear shouting in arabic. Shit, this is not good. You feel round your body, you've been stripped to just underwear and a shirt. The figure moves from the door and you hear more voices. People rush in the room, you don’t have anything to defend yourself with. 

You kick and fight as best as you can. Digging your heels into the floor as the strangers pick you up by your underarms and drag out the room. Your left arm stings, you grit your teeth trying to press your feet down. They just lift you up off the floor, pulling you along. 

You’re taken into another room and thrown on the ground. This room has a light, you look round your head still throbbing, you don’t get time to take in your surroundings or assess damage before the door opens again. A man with his face covered walks in dragging a chair behind him. He places it down in the middle of the room as you back away.

“Sit.” He says in English, you can hear the thick arabic accent. There’s another man guarding the door with an AK in his hands. You swallow hard not moving, They’re going to have to force you if they want anything. 

You can just about see his eyes, that’s all you can see. You don’t know where you are or if anyone else is here too. You hope not, you hope they’re all okay. Fuck. What if they’re here with you, in a different part of this place. You’re not even sure what to call it, it’s barely a building. 

“Sit.” He says again. You hold your ground staring him down. He says something in Arabic before coming over to you. His fist slams into the side of your face. It snaps your head to the side. His hand comes down gripping a fist of your hair. You cry out as you’re dragged over to the chair, your eyes fill with water fogging your vision. 

He lets go of your hair as he and the other man haul you to your feed and throw you into the chair. You blink the tears away. They don’t bother tying you down. What are you going to do? Run? You wouldn’t stand a chance. You can’t believe this, you have assume you’re alone, you have to assume no one is coming for you. 

“British, medic.” He says. You look over at the other man in the room. Maybe if he didn’t have a gun you could take them. You’ve spared enough with Johnny and Simon, they’ve taught you how to fight 2 people at once. You’d be shot before you would even be able to get a good hit off. 

“What unit?” He asks, you look back over to him. You wish you could see his expression, it would give you a better idea of what he’s thinking. Now you can understand why people find Ghost so intimidating. You won’t give him anything. 

You’ve been trained for this. Not much, but you have a better chance than most. 

“What base were you stationed at?” He asks moving closer to you. You can taste blood in your mouth, your arm still stings, you’ve definitely been injured. His fist crashes into your cheek again. You grip the seat of the chair so you don’t fall off. This time you feel your teeth bite down on the inside of your mouth. 

“Let’s try again. What unit?” He’s already raising his voice. You cough clearing your airway. The taste of blood makes your stomach turn. You can feel adrenaline flowing through you now, your head stops spinning, your pain turns into a dull throbbing. You feel your heart rate pick up. 

The man's hand grips around your throat forcing you to look up at him. You can’t breathe your hands squeeze the chair. 

“What is the name of your unit?”He shouts through gritted teeth. You almost want to laugh, you’ll never tell him, you’ll never give them up. But you would like to be able to breathe again. You build up a ball of blood and saliva in your mouth and spit it in his face. 

You regret it as soon as you’ve done it. He lets your neck go though and you suck in a gulp of air. It makes you cough again, your hand going up to your neck, it’s raw, painfull. The man shouts something in Arabic and the man on the door moves. 

You’re still gasping for air when the butt of his weapon crashes into your head. Your body is thrown off the chair to the ground. You squeeze your eyes closed as nausea rises in you, there’s a ringing in your ears and a throb in your head.

He flips you to your back and you look up at him. His hands rap round your throat, his knee pressing on your chest. You try and fight him, scratching, kicking your legs. Black spots start appearing in your vision. 

This is it, this is how you die. You just hope you were right and you’re the only one here. 

Simon, Johnny, Kyle and John, that's who you think about. That’s all you think about in your last moments. 

___

Johnny clenches his jaw, he’s tried to ignore the anger bubbling in him. 

Price hasn’t stopped pacing, Laswell tried to calm him down first. That went about as well as Simon’s attempt. He doesn't know what to say, what to do. For once he’s happy to just wait for orders. 

He hears Gaz walk back into the room. He goes over to the table and puts a file down. Ghost walks over to pick it up. 

“Shepherds on the line.” Laswell says. 

“Put him through.” Price stops pacing and pulls a laptop round to face him. 

“Anything new?” Gaz asks, leaning over. Johnny just shakes his head. 

“Captain it is 2am, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Shepherd's voice comes through the laptop speakers. 

“The convoy was compromised.” Price says. 

“And this could not wait until the morning because?” Shepherd sighs.

“We have one MIA.” 

“Who?” 

“Does it fucking matter?” Price snaps. It makes Johnny’s stomach turns. 

“I warned you taking the medic was a bad idea captain.” Shepherd says. Johnny hears Gaz grit his teeth. “I don’t know what you want me to say?” 

“We’re going after her.” Price says. 

“John. Don’t make me do this:” He warns. He’s not going to stop them, no one is going to stop them. Johnny’s still not quite sure why Price wanted to call him in the first place. 

“How did the convoy get compromised?” Price asks stepping away from the laptop. Ghost hands him the file. 

“You tell me?” Shepherd replies. Johnny looks over at Laswell, she hasn’t moved. 

“You gave us the intel.” 

“You organised the convoy.”  Shepherd says, Johnny can hear the irritation in his voice. 

“Based on your intel.” John turns around handing the folder to Laswell. Now Johnny’s curious.

“What’s in the folder?” He whispers to Gaz. He shrugs, he didn’t look. 

“What happened to the convoy? Were there casualties?” Shepherd asks. 

“5 KIA, 1 MIA.” Simon says, Johnny looks over at him. Ghost was more than happy to lock himself in a room and do Price’s paperwork while Price went on a rampage. 

“No body?” 

“No body.” Price replies. 

“Look again. We cannot push into al-qatala territory. If they have her-” 

“They have her.” Price interrupts him. 

“You have your orders Captain. Clean up your mess, finish the job then we will talk about getting her back.” Shepherd orders, raising his voice. 

“I’m done cleaning up your messes General.” Price says leaning back over the laptop. “Laswell will send you the intel.” 

“Don’t do this John. You’re making the wrong decision.” Shepherd says. Price just lets out a sigh. “If they have her she’s a prisoner of war. We have a protocol for this.” 

“I’m not waiting for you to negotiate. I’m done, we’re getting her back, with or without your permission.” Price says ignoring Shepherd's comments. 

“John.” Laswell pipes up, everyone turns to look at her. She gets up showing him something on her laptop. Ghost looks over his shoulder.

“If you do this, Captain we will have to stop you.” Shepherd says. 

“I’d like to see you try.” Price says, he nods at Laswell and she ends the call. 

“What now?” Gaz asks, stepping up to the table. 

“They have her, she’s alive.” There’s a collective sigh around the room. It only lasts a few seconds, silent glances are shared between them. 

“Gaz, Soap. We need a vehicle. Ghost, we need ammo, explosives. We need to leave here stocked.” Price says ordering people around. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Laswell asks, Price shoots her a glare. 

“We’re getting her back.” John says. 

“He’ll send the shadows after you. I can try and hold them off for as long as I can. I can buy you 48 hours max.” Laswell says. 

“That’s all we’ll need.” John replies. “Don’t sacrifice yourself for us Kate. We'll handle it.” 

___

When you open your eyes again the pain in your head is worse. There’s a bright light above you that forces you close your eyes. 

“Don’t move.” Someone says, this time the accent is not as thick, there is a hint of something there. You turn your head to the side, you see someone’s hands are on you. You see the gash on your arm. It stings as they dab round it. 

You’re laid on something hard, a table you think. You try to move your arms and legs, this time you are tied down. You can feel wet on your back, you can’t tell if it’s sweat or water. You look round the rest of the room. There’s a breeze, you can feel it, cool and refreshing. There’s a sink and a hose, buckets of water and dirty rags. 

You know what’s going to happen. 

You look back at the person. His face is also covered, this time instead of bandanas and scarves it’s just a balaclava. It reminds you of Ghost, Simon, one of the people you promised you would spend the rest of your life with. 

Maybe they’re looking for you, it doesn’t matter you have to assume the worst. 

“They’re going to hurt you. I would recommend talking.” The stranger says,  definitely an accent from somewhere else. You watch as he wraps your arm in bandages. 

If you talk they’ll kill you. Surely he knows that.  

You’re not going to talk, you’re not going to give up the people you love. You try to remember what John taught you. You need to focus on a happy place, something you can retreat into while they torture you. 

Torture you, it makes you swallow hard, fear rises in you. You can’t panic, panicking will make it worse. 

They’re not going to kill you, they want intel. They hit the convoy but they need intel, otherwise you’d be dead. 

Something went wrong, and now they have you. 

The stranger stands up dragging his chair to the corner of the room and coming back with a roll of cling film. You look away as he starts to wrap your arm, fear bubbles in you again, the pit in your stomach won’t go away this time.  

This is going to hurt, it’s going to be hard. You have to stay strong though. If you love them you have to stay strong. 

The door to the room opens and another voice addresses the man wrapping your arm in plastic. You look back up at the ceiling, the light burns your eyes. Someone’s hand pulls your head to the side.

Another covered face. Another repetitive voice. 

“What is the name of your unit?” He asks, you think it’s the same voice from before. You don’t say anything. He lets your face go, you hear the door open again. More people come into the room, more people talking in arabic. 

You turn your head to the other side, the person who patched you up is gone. A hand grips your hair pulling your head back on the table. You’re forced to look up at the ceiling, the light and the grip on your hair makes tears form. 

“What base are you stationed at?” The same voice asks. You grit your teeth, your lips are sore now too, cracked and dry, they won’t be like that for long. 

The sound of sloshing water makes you feel sick. You can do this. 

You close your eyes. You need to find a happy place, somewhere you can focus on. 

Johnny and his smile. The way he looks at you with those pretty blue eyes. 

Johnny and his pretty blue eyes, that's what you’re going to focus on. 

If you want to keep them alive, you have to suffer. 

A wet rag is pressed over your nose and mouth, you hear the hose start. This is it, you have to be brave. You have to be silent. 

Your body is already pulsing with pain. This is really going to hurt.

Part 2

Banners by plum98

[seungkw1]

sugar sweet in a million ways — lsm

💿 birthday - ten 🎶

♡ pairing: lee seokmin x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut, pwp [18+ mdni] ♡ wc: 2.9k ♡ warnings: sub!seokmin, (very)softdom!reader, but lowkey also switch!seokmin and switch!reader oops, unprotected piv sex (fr do not do this), mutual masturbation, fingers in mouth, cowgirl, breast/nipple play, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), creampie, size kink!!!, dk nose appreciation!!!, LOTS of whining sorry i wrote it what do u expect, seokmin is down BAD dude, excellent aftercare, fluff at the end | petnames (m. receiving - good boy, pretty) ♡ a/n: happy birthday @miniseokminnies!!!! figured my first dk fic should be dedicated to the world’s biggest cuties g hehe. hope u like and hope i did your mans justice, i did my very best <3

Seokmin is - and always has been - a sweetheart. The man who steals kisses then runs away giggling, who gets excited every time he gets to tell you about a dog he met that day, who buys you flowers for no reason other than to see you smile. He simply would walk to the ends of the earth and back for you. 

Seokmin is the epitome of the ideal lover - always treating you tenderly, checking in every step of the way to make sure he’s loving you exactly the way you want him to, prioritizing your pleasure above all else. And goddamn does he know to touch you in all the right places. His hand resting on the back of your neck as he draws you into a deep kiss, his soft lips kissing your breasts as he navigates your body with ease, his tongue dancing across your pussy as he savors your taste, his cock filling you to the brim - not just fucking you, but thoroughly loving every inch of you. He is everything you could ever want in a partner - and so much more. 

Seokmin loves you dearly - but three months into your relationship, you find out he’s been harboring a secret. Without a doubt, he absolutely adores showering you with affection, treating the bedroom as the altar upon which he worships you. But, beyond the confidence and gentle masculinity lies a man who wishes, sometimes, that the roles were reversed - a man who yearns for you to take control.

“Ready, love?”

Seokmin nods, the expression on his face already pathetic, and you haven’t even started yet.

You flash him a sweet smile from across the room. Seokmin sits on the bed, back resting against the headboard, legs outstretched over the sheets, wearing nothing but a pair of soft gray sweatpants. The outline of his cock stands out against the light fabric - with no underwear on either, his bulge is practically on full display. You can already see him getting hard. 

“What’s the rule again, baby? Tell me,” you instruct.

You see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows, anxious but excited. 

“No touching myself until you say so,” he answers. It comes out barely more than a whisper. 

“Good boy.”

His cock twitches. You smirk, pleased with how easily you’re able to get a rise out of him.

You recline comfortably in your chair, still fully clothed. Your hands reach to your breasts, lightly squeezing them through your sweater. Seokmin takes a deep inhale, exhaling steadily in a futile attempt to mellow his accelerating heart rate. Reaching for the hem, you begin to lift your top, taking your sweet time as you peel the sweater from your torso. As you reach your chest, you tug the knit fabric up and over your bra, taking a moment to caress yourself once more through the cute lacy undergarment. He shifts slightly upon the mattress. Pulling the sweater over your head and off your body, you toss it aside, letting one hand slip downwards. You spread your thighs, letting your dainty skirt drape across your lap enough to showcase a great deal of skin, but still covering your core. 

“Should I keep going?” you ask, fiddling lightly with the skirt’s hem. 

“Please,” he begs immediately. 

You lift the skirt up, revealing your bare pussy.

“Oh,” he utters, his voice deepening. 

You grin, shifting so you can lift your legs, swinging your calves over the chair’s arms to give him the clearest view. You drag your fingertips up your cunt, collecting the arousal that has pooled there and bringing it up to your lips, leisurely licking it off. Seokmin’s cock has quickly grown in his pants, forming a sizable tent in his own lap.

Your hand drifts back to your clit, stroking it gently, evoking a low hum resonating from your lips. You close your eyes as your fingertips work the bud, caressing it delicately with a practiced hand. When you open your eyes again, Seokmin is squirming. Despite his attempts to remain still, his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, his jaw clenched, the bedsheets crumpled in his palms as he grips onto them tightly.

“You like watching me, baby?” you coo at him.

“Mhmm,” he mumbles pitifully with a fervent nod. 

“I bet you want to touch yourself right now, don’t you?”

“Y-yeah,” his voice wavers. “Can I…”

“Not yet,” you decline. “But take those pants off for me, would you?”

He obeys, gripping the waist of the sweats and lifting it over his thick, fully-erect cock. He shimmies out of the pants and lets them plop onto the floor. You gaze at him longingly, mouth watering at the sight of him before you, fully nude and painfully hard, utterly losing his mind over you. This is agonizing for you both - you’d love nothing more than to leap out the chair and throw yourself at him, but you know the delayed gratification will be well worth the wait.

You let out a soft whine as you slip two fingers inside of your drenched, aching cunt, eager to be filled. Slowly you begin to fuck yourself, letting low hums of pleasure drift from your lips; it feels good, but you know this is nothing compared to how good Seokmin is going to feel inside you. Growing restless, you quicken your pace, squirming against the seat as excitement swells in your gut. Seokmin’s head falls back against the headboard, eyes glassy as he watches you. His white-knuckled grasp upon the sheets has only tightened, the fabric furrowed around his fists. His cock stands tall, its head bumping against his stomach as it pulses wantingly, desperate for relief. 

“Oh my god, I’m gonna die,” he groans, his chest rising high and falling deep with each labored breath. “Please let me touch myself.”

You nod, gazing at him through heavy eyelids. 

“Go ahead, baby.”

His hand flies to his cock, gripping it tightly in his fist. He lets out a sharp, loud moan.

“Oh fuckkkk.”

He begins to steadily stroke his length, fighting against the urge to jerk his cock at breakneck speed lest he cum all over himself in three seconds. As badly as he craves release, it needs to be in your mouth, in your pussy - anywhere, he doesn’t care, as long as it’s for you.

Slowly you retrieve your fingers from your cunt - any more, and you risk cumming far too soon. Swinging your legs to the floor you rise, sauntering over to Seokmin. He gazes up at you, hopelessly pathetic, hand rhythmically rising and falling as you approach. Leaning over him, you bring your fingers to his lips; eagerly he accepts, sweetness gracing his tongue as he savors your juices - a taste he can never get enough of. With an abrupt release he lets go of his cock, leaving it throbbing against the air, desperate for relief. You draw your fingers from his mouth and wrap them around his girth. He whimpers as you drag the mix of spit and juices up and down his length.

“Does it feel good, love?” you coo at him.

“So good,” he exhales breathily. 

“You know what I want?” you mutter softly, leaning in, your noses brushing as your lips hover in front of his. 

“What is it, baby?”

His breath is hot on your lips, his eyes gazing up at you from under thick dark lashes, ready to give you anything you desire. 

Slowly you climb onto the bed, swinging one leg over his lap, resting your knees against his outer thighs as you straddle him. You grip his cock in your palm, guiding it toward your core, running the head along your slit.

“Ohhh my god,” Seokmin whines as his cock throbs in your hand. “So wet…”

He reaches for your skirt, lifting the fabric up so he can see. Your pussy glistens as you grind against his cock, the stickiness of your arousal spreading over its length. You align his tip at your entrance, lowering yourself slowly, the head pressing against your hole for the briefest of moments - but your cunt is too eager. It slips inside you with ease, causing Seokmin to let out a pitiful moan as your walls swallow his cock. You rest your palms against his chest as you slowly accept more of his length, groaning softly as he bottoms out. You sit there for a few moments, letting yourself adjust to the stretch - because no matter how many times you’ve fucked him, his size never fails to overwhelm you.

Breathing heavily, your chest rises and falls right in front of Seokmin’s face. He gathers your skirt in his left hand, keeping it lifted as he slips his right hand around your waist, reaching up your back and undoing the clasp on your bra. He practically yanks the garment off your body, chucking it across the room before grasping onto your breast. He kneads the soft skin in his hand, giving your boob a few good squeezes before guiding it to his mouth. The tip of his tongue flicks across your nipple, licking it delicately, before suddenly latching on. Your head falls back, soft moans escaping your lips as he starts to suck on the bud. Reflexively your hips grind back and forth, and you begin to ride him.

“Oh my god, Seokmin…”

The sound of you moaning his name sends an electric shock through his body. His mouth glides to your other breast, sucking the nipple as your pussy wraps around his cock so deliciously. You begin to bounce faster, and faster - he releases your nipple, grabbing onto your hips and pushing your skirt up again to watch his cock disappear into your cunt. His thumb reaches for your clit, easily locating the sensitive bud, making you cry out at the gentle pressure - heat rising in your belly as your body begins to tense up. 

“Fuck that feels so good,” you whine as you sink onto Seokmin’s cock over and over again. “Make me cum, baby.” 

He increases the pressure upon your clit, making you moan his name again. You clutch onto his chest, fingernails digging into his tan skin as you ride him, tears running down your cheeks as his thick cock fills your pussy with each stroke. Finally, the sensations become wholly overwhelming - your orgasm takes over, pleasure pulsing through your body as you cum on his cock. He rubs your clit perfectly, just the way you like it, guiding you through your climax as your body shakes atop him. The high is incredible, and you savor every lasting moment of it. 

He slows as your body starts to relax, releasing the bud and wrapping his arms around you as you collapse onto him. You cling to his torso, burying your face in his neck as you catch your breath, deep sighs filling the room as you come back down to earth. Seokmin rubs your back softly, kissing your cheek lovingly as you lay there entangled with him. As you recover the ability to form coherent thoughts, you realize just how hard his cock is, throbbing against your walls as it rests inside of you. You sit up, smiling as you see your partner’s face - he gazes up at you, desperation off the fucking charts. As if drunk off your orgasm, you can’t help but let out a giggle, 

“You look so pretty like this,” you coo as you run your hand through his hair. He gulps, using all of his willpower to not just cum in you right this moment. He groans as you shift, slowly letting his length slip out of you. He looks down, the sight of your drenched pussy dripping onto his wet cock making his mouth water.

“You’ve been such a good boy for me,” you praise. “Where do you want to cum?” You stroke his jawline with your fingertips, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek, but he shakes his head.

“Not yet,” he mutters.

“What? What do you m- whoa!” you yelp as he flips you over onto your back, rolling himself on top of you. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, but you start to giggle as he kisses your neck. His kisses trail down your body, across your breasts and over your stomach as he scoots down the bed. Finally, he reaches your core, his lips hovering above your still-pulsating clit. You nearly shriek as he grabs your thighs, shifting your hips as he lifts your legs up, knees just about meeting your chest as he practically folds you in half. He begins kissing your inner thigh, making his way down to your core - he sticks his tongue out, nearly licking your pussy, but instead he starts kissing your other thigh.

“Stop teasing me,” you laugh as he nips at the tender skin with his teeth. He grins, giving you a wink. 

“You got it, babe,” he replies, before burying his face in your cunt.

“Oh FUCK,” you cry out as he sticks his tongue into your hole, his nose rubbing against your clit deliciously.

“Tell me what you want, love,” he mumbles into your folds. “I’ll do anything you want.”

“Oh god, keep doing that,” you beg. “Feels so fucking good.”

Your body begins to wriggle beneath him, chest rising and falling as he fucks you with his tongue, hips grinding your clit further against his nose. You stroke his hair, running your fingers through the dark locks as he eats you out hungrily. You grip onto the sheets with your other hand, trying to still yourself, but to no avail. He knows exactly how to touch you to drive you fucking crazy.

“Want your fingers in me, please,” you whine breathily.

Seokmin looks up at you, brown eyes normally so soft and kind now overtaken with pure lust. His fingertips flutter through your folds, touching you gently, tracing circles around your clit before slipping two fingers inside you. You cry out as he pushes them deep into your pussy, curling his long fingers upwards to reach your g-spot with ease. Electricity jolts through your body as he latches his lips onto your clit, suckling on the bud as he fucks you. His tempo is slow at first, easing you toward another orgasm; but as you squirm against the bed he begins to quicken his pace. His fingers pulse in and out of your hole as his tongue dances skillfully across your clit, making you see stars as your eyes roll back into your head. You cum again, even harder this time, a powerful shockwave pulsing through your body as your cries of pleasure ring through the air. Seokmin’s name escapes your lips between the otherwise unintelligible babbling; he holds as still as possible, not letting himself grind his cock into the mattress - because he’s so fucking turned on right now that any amount of friction against his dick would make him cum all over the place. He yearns so badly for release, but he knows exactly what you both want.

Retrieving his fingers from your cunt, he crawls back up to you, his leaking cock pressing against your core. He brings his fingertips up to your lips; you eagerly put them in your mouth, tasting yourself as you suck your juices from his hand. He slips his cock inside you once more, your soaking pussy gratefully accepting his size. He slides his hands to your wrists, pinning your arms above your head as he starts fucking you. He doesn’t go slow this time, he can’t - it doesn’t even matter, because he’s already about to cum.

“Oh my god, baby, feels so good, so perfect…”

You wrap your arms around him, pulling his body into yours with a tight squeeze - and with that, he releases.

He moans loudly as he cums, his cock pulsating into you as hot ropes of cum spill against your walls. The overwhelming sensation of fullness makes you let out a string of whimpers into Seokmin’s ear. 

“Fuckkkk, baby,” he groans, his cock still releasing inside you. After every last drop of his cum fills your pussy, his body relaxes, squashing you against the bed. 

“Hey!” you squeal with a giggle as you sink into the mattress. “You’re squishing me!”

Seokmin raises his head, looking at you lovingly through heavy eyelids. 

“Sorry, love,” he tells you with a big cheesy grin. He lifts himself up, shifting his weight off of you, slowly retrieving his cock from inside you. As his length leaves you, you feel his cum spilling from your pussy. You sigh at the sudden emptiness, reaching up to grab his face, drawing him in for a kiss. 

“I love you,” he mutters softly into your lips. “So much.”

“I love you too,” you mutter back, before kissing him a dozen times more. 

Quickly but gently he gets you cleaned up, heeding great care to your comfort - but always with Seokmin, you could never be more comfortable. He smiles to himself as he watches you struggle to keep your eyes open; you always get so sleepy after sex, and he finds it incredibly endearing. Crawling back into the bed, he pulls the sheets over the both of you, tucking you in as he wraps his arms around you and squeezes you tight. You giggle, snuggling yourself deep into Seokmin’s embrace. Neither of you had bothered with clothes; the warmth of his body radiates against your skin as he holds you - it should be too toasty, given that both of you are covered in a thin sheen of sweat, blood pumping and endorphins rushing. But, as everything always is with Seokmin - it's perfect. 

taglist: @kyeomiis, @tinycatharsis, @hannieween, @smiileflower, @exomew, @seventeenhot

[happypopcornprincess]

Chapter 1 || I Can See You

Pairings - Joaquin Torres X fem!Reader

Premise - At a glamorous gala, Y/N's life intertwines with Joaquin's. A pact ensues, while a dangerous mission looms.

Word Count - 2.8K

Warnings: SMUT, Angst, Mentions of blood, domestic violence

a/n - This story is based between the events of Endgame and Brave New World. In this AU, Tony Stark survived and the New characters of the MCU are on the way to be the new recruits of the Avengers. Hope you guys like this <3

Series Masterlist

Avengers Compound, Post Endgame

If it wasn’t for Pepper to quite literally threaten you to attend her Annual Charity Gala, you wouldn’t even be here. The atmosphere around you was straight out of some high society drama. The grey walls of the newly reconstructed avengers compound were covered in silver tones, a huge silver chandelier hanging in the middle of the hall, there was laughter in the air, and everyone was dressed to the nines. 

Just how a party was supposed to be… when the host was the one and only Pepper Potts. Tony was there too, even though his hand was still recovering from the snap, but he was cheery and loud as always.

You sipped your champagne in silence, standing far away from the dance floor. 

You were chosen by Sam from MIT to help the Avengers. You had trained with the new recruits, Kate, Peter… They were good kids. Training with them was… well, it was something. Sam was great, and helped you all adjust. Honestly, the Avengers? They were intimidating. superhuman intimidating. But you had your strengths. Sharpshooting was always your thing. And you threw yourself into the training, every single bit of it. They told you it was for intel missions, to keep you out of direct harm's way. But that wasn't enough. You wanted more. Because you were not aiming for 'safe.' 

You were aiming to be an Avenger.

Your job was to figure out how Kingpin just vanished into thin air after Christmas. The task has taken over your daily routine after you met Kate Bishop. It’s been months of interviewing eyewitnesses, going on the streets undercover, nights of no sleep with a shit ton of coffee, and just when you think you’re about to solve it… you meet a dead end.

“Trying to hide behind the curtains again are we y/n?” Bucky’s voice made you look to your right, and there he was. Standing next to you wearing a sharp three-piece black suit, his hair slicked back.

You finally understood what Steve meant when he would say girls back then would throw themselves at Bucky.

He turned to you in disgust, “Are you checking me out?”

“You wish, asshole.” You mutter in your glass.

You and Bucky had developed an unlikely friendship after the blip bought him back. He was pardoned, and moved into a quaint apartment complex deep in the city, unknown to the fact that you lived right next to his place.

On a stormy night after the nightmares won’t let you both sleep, sharing one bottle of whiskey between you was all it took for you to spill your life to him. You have turned into each other’s best friends and occasional love life advisor, although it was kind of a package deal.

Which is why you knew the reason he was so dressed up for the first time since you met.

“You see Sam anywhere?” he asks you nonchalantly.

You give him a sly smirk, “Why? Can’t wait to shove your tongue down his throat?”

Bucky gives you a sideward glance, and goes back to looking at the crowd.

He was still figuring out his feelings towards both men and women, especially towards one man.

Returning from the Flag Smashers situation, he would not shut up how ‘annoying’ and ‘frustratingly righteous’ Sam Wilson is, how his smirk makes him want to ‘strangle’ him.

You asked him one evening if he was having a ‘full-on-bi-panic’ and he threw a pillow at your face.

“y/n! there you are!” Sam bellows as he walks towards the two of you, wearing a crisp grey suit over a white button up, looking as dapper as always.

“Sam!” you laugh, giving him a tight hug. He was your mentor, someone you looked up to. And hopefully your bestie’s future boyfriend.

“You look absolutely gorgeous!” he threw you one of his classic smiles as he retreated.

You look down to the pastel pink knee length dress you were wearing.

Hustling the life of an avenger straight out of MIT, it was the only dress you owned. And after paying for it out of your own pocket you realize fancy dresses cost a hand and a leg, and you refuse to part from it.

“Thank you Sam I-” you were about to thank him but stopped once you noticed him absolutely gawking at Bucky.

“Hey Bucky.” He smiled.

“Hey Sam.” Bucky gave him a nod.

You almost roll your eyes at the exchange, wondering when they will move on from the weird talking phase.

“Hello.”

An angelic voice interrupted your train of thoughts. Looking away your eyes meet a pair of the warmest brown eyes. He was standing behind Sam. A tall, tan-skinned man, wearing a crisp black suit stood in front of you. His curls fell on his forehead, and his smile was intoxicating.

He looked like a high surf tide; calling out for you to test the waters.

You extend your right hand, smiling at him. “Hey, I’m y/n”

He held it with his right, it made your heart race when he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles, his hands warm and his lips soft, sending a jolt through your body.

Oh, he’s mischief alright!

You were left speechless when he straightened, a smirk thrown out your way as Sam spoke up, “This is the guy I told y’all about! Lt. Joaquin Torres.” He slapped a hand on Joaquin’s back, smiling with pride.

“And this is y/n y/l/n, fresh transfer from MIT. She’s our tech genius, and a walking journal on film recommendations.”

Laughter followed as your eyes couldn’t help but stay trained on Joaquin. Thinking back on the time when Sam told the team about the new Falcon joining them after a while, you somehow manage to speak up at that moment, “Welcome to the circus.” You take a deliberately long sip of your float, never breaking eye contact.

He gulped nervously, eyes wide, clearly startled by you flirting. 

“You haven’t had a drink yet Lieutenant? Let’s get you something.” you smile involuntarily.

He stands back for you to lead the way, “Sure. And it’s just Joaquin, please.” he laughs just after, his honey laced voice paired with your tad bit hazy mind doing wonders to your imagination.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/--/-

They keep watchful eyes on us So it's best that we move fast and keep quiet You won't believe half the things I see inside my head Wait 'til you see half the things that haven’t happened yet

“Wait a minute…” you smiled, “you cannot possibly think Love Actually is better than The Holiday?”

“It’s the perfect rom com!” Joaquin laughs, “it covered basically every rom com trope under the sun.”

“But, listen to me, but…” you say, your slightly tipsy self leaning on the wall behind you, as Joaquin stood in front of you, holding his own glass of whiskey, “Quantity never matters in front of quality. All characters in The Holiday are well written with meaningful backgrounds and great character redemption arcs. And it’s got Jude Law.”

Joaquin raises his hands, “Jude Law.”

“Jude Law.” you laugh, at how he was mocking a defeated pose.

“When Sam told me I can’t lose a movie debate with you, I couldn’t believe him.”

You try to curtsey, “thank you.”

“Wanna get out of here?” Joaquin blurted out abruptly.

It took you a while to gain your consciousness, and a laugh left your lips at what he just said. You saw his eyes traveling to your lips, and how his breath fastened as you took a deliberately long sip of your drink.

You smirked, “sure.”

—/—/—

You find yourself sneaking through the backdoor and upstairs towards the living quarters of the Avengers compound as you drag Joaquin by his coat as you slip into an unassigned room. The furniture was still uncovered, but there was a couch in a corner right next to the opened windows where moonlight pooled in.

Perfect.

The alcohol surging through your system gives you newfound courage, and seconds later Joaquin was being thrown on the couch by you. His pupils dilated, his gaze trained on you and his scent lingering in the air, you straddled him without hesitation.

 “Are you good?” His breathy voice went straight to your core, and without a word you crashed your lips on his.

He’s gonna be the death of me.

The taste of expensive champagne hit your mouth, Joaquin’s tongue slipping in your mouth sliding in with fervor. Your gasp is swallowed by his lips, his hands travelling south towards the zipper of your dress.

Your hands fumble with his coat, taking it off of him and raising his shirt just enough to slide your hands underneath. Warm, toned muscles met your hands, and the way he sucked your lips made you forget everything. You couldn’t breathe, but couldn’t move away from him either, entirely lost in taking him in.

Joaquin jerked back all of a sudden, making you whine.

“Wait, wait…” He breathed out, his breath cooling your skin.

“Just kiss me.” You exhaled, grabbing his tie to pull him in, but he leaned back.

Joaquin gently held your wrists, “y/n… hey, look at me,” he breathlessly said, “look at me for a second.”

You do, at his messy hair, puffy lips, and blown out pupils.

He holds out his hand, “how many fingers am I holding up.”

You scrunch your brows in confusion, eyes drifting to his fingers in front of your face. You get the tunnel vision every time you’ve had a bit too much whiskey, you see double.

Concentrating hard on your answer, you slur out, “four?”

Joaquin closes his eyes, looking up and huffing out a breath, “you’re very drunk.” You feel his hands on your waist, and he carefully sits you down on the couch next to him.

You whine at the loss of his touch as he gets up from the couch. He returns a minute later with a bottle of water, sitting next to you and making you drink the entire thing.

“Can we go back to the part where you kiss me until I forget my name?” you breathe out.

Joaquin laughs out, settling down next to you and leaning back on the couch. You straighten your dress, and sit with your shoulders touching. You steal a glance his way.

His coat was gone, his tie hung loose on his neck, his white button shirt straining on his arms…

Someone works out…

The faint moonlight hitting from behind him made the outline of the veins on his neck visible.

I want to lick it...

You scrunch your eyes as soon as you hear that inside your head.

Wow, he’s right, I am drunk.

“As much as I’d like to do that,” he looks your way, “I can’t. You’re very drunk.”

A smile itches on your face, and you ask, “so what should we do then?”

“Talk?” he suggests, turning to you, resting his head on the backrest and looking you right in your eyes. “I know nothing about you. You know nothing about me. Let’s talk.”

You laugh out loud, “okay,” the smile refusing to leave your face, “what do you want to know?”

“Anything.” he says with a warm smile on his face.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

You wake up in an unfamiliar room and a blinding headache, on a mattress too soft for your liking, the sunlight hitting your face with full force.

Grunting, you sit up, rubbing your forehead.

Something slips off your body, and you look down and find someone has covered you with a black suit coat while you slept.

The man with the warm eyes and gentle touch.

You laugh, rubbing your head at the absurdity of the situation.

You wear it over your dress and walk out of the room, after last night’s party everybody would be sleeping in. You can sneak out unnoticed.

You swiftly call an uber, and shove your hands inside the pockets of Joaquin’s coat.

The feel of rough paper makes you stop in your tracks, you take it out of the pocket to see a torn piece of labeling paper inside, a note greeting you.

9546-555-6783 See you soon, I guess? (Take care of my coat till then? It’s my favorite suit.) -         Joaquin

-/-/-/-/-/-

You brush past me in the hallway And you don't think I, I, I can see ya, do ya? I’ve been watchin' you for ages And I spend my time tryin' not to feel it

Joaquin joined the team a week later. He chose to stay on the compound, and soon blended in with the new avengers. Peter and Kate grew especially fond of him. When Shang-Chi joined the ranks, he, too, was welcomed into your close-knit circle.

You spared during training, made breakfast together, had constant debates on cinema and stories. He loved the classics, and you had a nick for science fiction. You should have cancelled out each other, but your differences only made your bond stronger. The differences weren't a barrier; they were a bridge. You shared tech skills learned during your time at  MIT, revealing the details of coding and circuits. In return, he shared practical knowledge from his air force background; survival techniques and tactical strategies.

Your apartment, though smaller than the compound's common areas, became the gathering spot for your group. Lazy weekends of your teams were spent at your place, you'd watch old movies, host game nights, and then collapse on any available surface.

Peter had a habit of entering your apartment through your window, and Kate never got used to it. Takeout was a foreign concept with your friends. Instead, Shang-Chi and Joaquin would take over the kitchen, making a mouth watering combination of asian food and mexican food, that could best possibly win them masterchef if they ever could.

These people, this band of young individuals navigating life… they became your chosen family. They were your support system, your confidantes, your partners in crime.

No one seemed to notice the stolen glances, the lingering touches, the quiet conversations that stretched late into the night. Or perhaps they did notice, and simply didn't care. 

-/-/-/-/-/-

But what would you do if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?

Clouds grumbled above, as angry raindrops splattered on your apartment window. You were sitting on your couch with three devices settled in front of you: a laptop and two tablets running algorithms and analytics for locating kingpin. Kate had gathered intel that he still had someone in the states giving him updates and keeping him safe. But where?

That was a question you were determined to get answers to. Which is why you had made it your mission to get to the base of this.

Amidst the thunderous rain outside, you hear a knock on the door, and from the corner of your eye you witness Joaquin enter, carrying takeout containers.

“You’ll have to use the fork for the noodles, I just ran out of chopsticks!” you shout, without even looking at his direction.

“Y/n” Joaquin huffed out in frustration, “please tell me you didn’t ‘sense’ Thai food from me.”

“I did.” you laugh, looking at the bewildered Joaquin standing in your kitchen. He had jeans and a sleeveless gym shirt on. Involuntarily your eyes went to his toned arms, and you did a quick diversion of your thoughts to the TV.

”I come bearing sustenance. Chow Mein and Thai green curry, extra spicy, just how you like it.” he says, followed by the scrunching of the takeout container.

You sit up straighter with a smile itching on your lips, your favorite food just when you were low on inspiration. “You're a lifesaver, these logistics are killing me.”

Joaquin sets the containers on the coffee table. He sits next to you, close enough that your thighs brush. He huffs out, “Tell me about it. Sam's been drilling us on contingency plans all day. I swear, he's got a backup plan for the backup plan.”

You laugh, “That's Sam for you. Always prepared.”

You open the containers, the aroma of the curry filling the room, and digging into the food in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“You got something on your…” Joaquin speaks, and you look at him with a particularly big bite in your mouth. 

“Hmm?” you mutter.”

He reaches out and gently wipes a bit of sauce from the corner of your mouth. The gesture is intimate, lingering a moment too long. If you don’t count your sparring training, this was the closest you had been since ‘that’ night at the charity gala. Your hands grab his arm on their own.

It feels… good. Too good. It's been so long since anyone touched you like this. Desired you. Like you mattered. Like you weren't just… a disappointment. You… you want this. You want him. 

But what if you mess it up? What if you push him away, like you did with… 

Your heart almost leapt out of your chest as he gently cupped your face in his hands, your gaze locked on his warm brown eyes. He leaned in towards your lips, a silent question in his expression. You paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing your face, and gently pulled back.

He too leaned back, respecting your space. The tension remained, but now it carried a hint of gentle inquiry.

Looking down, you fidgeted with your hands, "It's not that I don't… I just… we need to be sure about this." You huffed out in frustration, trying to articulate your tangled thoughts.

"I want you," he stated, his voice low and sincere. You looked up at him instantly, his pupils dilated, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. "I want you in ways you can't imagine, y/n. And I will walk out of here right now if you don't want this. We can forget this ever happened."

Thunder roared in the skies above, and lightning illuminated his face through the window as he paused, his expression open and honest. "But," he gulped, his eyes searching yours, "if you do want this… then…"

He left the rest unsaid, giving you the space to make your own choice.

Your internal conflict finally tipped towards action.

Oh, fuck this… 

His words were lost as soon as you crashed your lips on his.

—/—/—

You stumbled into your room, Joaquin’s lips didn’t leave yours as he threw the two of you on the bed. Pulling you under him, his hands were everywhere. Your mind could only catch up with a few, as it was too busy taking in all of him.

Joaquin made you feel like your entire body was on fire. Your hands flew straight to his hair, a moan leaving his lips. You did quick work on his clothes, leaving him in his boxers as he got busy removing yours.

No words were exchanged as he moved low, kissing and sucking your skin in all the places that made your vision hazy. You could only whine and gasp as he grabbed your legs and rested them on his shoulders.

And then he stopped.

You look down to see a mischievous grin plastered on his face, his pupils blown wide.

“Joaquin…” you breathe out, “stop teasing me.”

His eyes darken as he let out a low murmur against your skin and without warning dived in, a loud moan leaving your lips as pleasure rushed through your body.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

And I could see you being my addiction You can see me as a secret mission

“So… what is this?” you ask, lying next to him covered in sweat, panting. You rolled away next to him, completely exhausted from your acts that lasted three blissful hours.

“You’re asking this now?” he mutters, eyes fixed at the ceiling. “I’m pretty sure fraternizing between teammates is not allowed here.” He groans.

You close your eyes, trying to think about if that rule existed among the Avengers. As far as you knew nobody was involved with each other here. “We can be friends.” You suggest.

“What!” you feel the mattress shift and open your eyes to him leaning over you.

 “No, just… think about it.” You shift to lean on the headboard, gathering the sheets to cover your chest, “you’re new to the team.”

Joaquin takes a pillow to cover himself and sits cross-legged in front of you, “okay.”

You stop for a second, staring at his abs.

Y/n stop it! Focus!

“We can’t just go ahead and announce that we’re sleeping together, or dating. They will never let us live this down. Especially Bucky. And Kate. Maybe Sam…” You state, matter of factly.

“Wait, wait! Stop!” he gestures, eyebrows scrunched, “You want to date me?”

“No! I don’t like you like that!” almost scream out, “do you wanna date me?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then I don’t see a problem with… this!” You throw out your hands.

“What is this exactly?” Joaquin pointed between you two.

You groan, “ugh, you’re as thick as it gets!” You adjust the sheets around your body to free your hands, “what did you think of me the first time you saw me?”

“At the gala? Huh…” he thinks, “That you have the prettiest smile.” he shocks you with the last part, but then he adds on, “also you looked hot in that pink dress.”

There we go.

“Well, I thought you had a great voice, and your eyes were really pretty.” You truthfully admit, “also you looked like trouble… and I have a thing for bad boys.”

“I’m twenty-five.”

“Whatever.”

“You swear you don’t want anything other than sex with me?” he asks you.

You nod, “Yeah. You?”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

“Okay!”

Joaquin gets up from his place, picking up his boxers and putting them on, “So just to be clear… we’re friends.”

“Yep!” you catch your sweatshirt that he throws your way.

He puts on his shirt next, “With benefits.”

“Absolutely.” You say, debating whether you should get up the bed or not, exhaustion rolling over your senses.

“And you promise you won’t fall in love with me.” He points to you.

“Oh please, if anything you’ll be falling first.” You say through a yawn.

Joaquin laughs putting on his pants, “well, I’m gonna go get something to eat. You want something?”

“Do you mind if I take a nap? I’m tired.” You grimace.

He smiles at you, “Go ahead.”

You fall back on the bed, as you hear his footsteps going away… the sweet embrace of sleep following you next.

—/—/—

Few weeks later

Your place or mine?

Your screen lit up with the message from Joaquin. You smirked

Yours? In an hour? You press send, and let out a laugh as you see the blue tick instantly.

Done.

Before you could ask him the reason he got so worked up, you hear F.R.I.D.A.Y’s automated voice - Scan. Complete.

A low hum filled the operations center as you meticulously analyzed the fragmented data streams scanned by F.R.I.D.A.Y. Dozens of photographs presented infront of you but your eyes instantly locked in on one in particular. Your focus narrowed on a grainy image emerging from the static. 

Broad shoulders, crisply pressed suit, gold rings on the fingers… could it be…

“Y/n!” Kate and Peter shout in unison as you slapped a stack of files on the kitchen table. Sam, Bucky, Shang Chi, Joaquin, all who were just about to eat, whipped their heads towards the commotion.

“I think I've found him,” you announced, pointing to the figure.

Sam and Bucky shared a look, and rushed towards you as you opened up a holographic display on your tab. Joaquin and you share a look, he was amused, a small smile on his face letting you know he was excited for what you found out, you smirked and quickly look away trying to focus on the scene infront of you.

“All this time I was searching for him here… but…” Cross-referencing facial recognition, thermal readings, and satellite data, you enlarged a section of the display, revealing a stark desert landscape. “The terrain, the temperature… it all points to one place... Mexico.”

A collective sense of surprise filled the room. 

'Mexico?' Peter questioned, 'What's he doing down there?' 

You zoomed in on a satellite image, enhanced thermal readings revealing a network of hidden structures. 'I don’t know, but he's planning something,' you stated, a sense of urgency creeping into your voice. 'Something big.' The implications hung heavy in the air. 

“This changes everything.” You nodded, your gaze fixed on the display. 'We need to move fast.”

To Be Continued...

A/N - Thank you everyone for sticking with me till the end of this fic! if you liked it please let me know through the asks and the comments. Next Chapter will be up soon... Love y'all, Take Care!

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[rafescherie]

SALT IN THE SUGAR BOWL — RAFE CAMERON

synopsisᝰ.ᐟ pogue!rafe decides to end things between the both of you, before either of you get too attached — but it's already passed that point, for the both of you.

warningᝰ.ᐟ angst really, sweetheart!kook!reader gets her heart smashed

cherie's note — heavily inspired by letthespiceflow on c.ai c: been using that bot a bit, and wanted to write a fic based off of the intro of the bot! they hv a lot of good bots on c.ai and spicychat as well, pls check them out if u like rafe cameron bots! part one of two!

rafe had never been one for the kook life — fancy boats, and stupid polo shirt outfits. more than one hundred spent on an outfit and it became one for 'special occasions', otherwise it would be covered in the filth of the garage floor, and deep obsidian motor oil. his hands were already stained, not something unusual for his line of work. despite his resentment for the kook life, and everyone on the other side of the island, they paid him a hell of a lot of money for the work he did — and he did it well. it had only been a few years since he had opened his own mechanic garage, months worth of projects to work on since the very first day. he was always kept busy — whether it was with upgrading a vehicle, or fixing somebody else's, he always had his hands full.

that's how he met you. so generously, he had offered to tow your vehicle back to the shop upon discovering it moiling the smoke from under it's hood — like your guardian angel sent from heaven, it was the least he could do for a pretty girl. his mother had taught him better, always trying to be a gentleman where he could be.

until today. this morning was different — the air hung thick with the aftermath of the hurricane in his brain from the night prior. he knew he needed to act on his thoughts, and do what was best. but he absolutely dreaded seeing the look on your face, and watching it completely shatter your heart.

"need the wrench, angel." he requested from beneath the heavy vehicle, grease smothered hand appearing from below to extend an open palm. bounding almost excitedly off of his leather-worn workbench, you placed the cold steel tool in his hand.

"so uh, listen," a grunt escaping his lips, absentmindedly going back to working on the vehicle. his muscles tensed with every torque of the wrench, biceps shining with a mixture of grease and sweat. the unmistakable sound of heavy bolts hitting the cold cement of the locally-owned garage rang through the bay, the hum of rock music playing throughout the shop.

his heart thundered against his chest — he felt like such a dickhead. it had only been a few months since the both of you had started seeing one another, and he was already planning on ending things. it wasn't something he wanted to do: it was something he needed to do. he hated knowing he was the reason you held yourself back from the possibility of college. no matter how much he had stressed to you that your schooling was important, especially given the opportunity of growing up on figure eight, it never seemed to stick with you. all you wanted was to be around him, and as much as he adored having you tag along every day, he didn't want to be the reason you would ruin your future.

"been thinking... maybe we should, cool things off, a bit."

the words stuck in your head for a minute, heart racing over the sentence. had you heard him right? there was certainly the possibility you had misunderstood. "what is that supposed to mean?"

rafe sighs, audible even from beneath the heavy vehicle he had been working on the last few months. the last thing he wanted to do was look at you, speak directly to you — the hurt in your eyes would eat him alive like no other, as if the guilt wasn't already working towards that alone.

"you know.." he starts, voice tame despite the race of his emotions, "you an' me."

you furrow your eyebrows, confused on the sudden shift. he had been so sweet just yesterday — peppering you with so much love you were sure you would have fainted on the spot. but maybe that was his attempt at sweethearting you — trying to help soothe the mental turmoil he was experiencing for ending things so suddenly with you. "what, why?"

he shakes his head, wishing you'd just drop it. but an explanation was what you deserved, after all. it was the least he could do. he drops the wrench onto the cement beneath the car, sliding out from underneath to kneel in front of you. he runs his tainted hand over his buzzed hair, another deep sigh falling from his nostrils.

"you're a smart girl, sweetheart. think about it — you're a kook, and i'm a pogue. you come from the rich side of the island, and i come from the cut. it wouldn't work," he starts, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around your fragile body, reassuring you it wasn't your fault, "besides, last thing you need in your life is someone who dropped out of high school, 'specially since you're headed to college in the fall."

ouch.

"rafe..." you trail on, biting the inside of your cheek in any sort of control against the tears that threatened to spill onto your flushed cheeks. "i- i thought you didn't care for all that?"

"i don't," he replies, ocean blue eyes looking around the shop in a desperate attempt to avoid eye contact.

"so where is this coming from?" you ask, heart thundering against your ribcage. desperation was laced within your voice, soft and trembling at the realization of the news you were being hit with.

he let out a sigh, hesitating before he opened his mouth to speak. there was no easy way to say this, so he opted for brutal honesty. his eyes never left yours as he said the words he dreaded most.

“it’s dangerous,” he started, his voice low as he slowly stood up in front of you. “it’s just asking for trouble. people would have my head. not to mention what your parents would say. we just…we can’t do this anymore.”

none of this was fair — neither to you, or to him. but there was no turning back now, the words had already popped out of his mouth, and the inevitable damage was already done. the look on your face was like a gut punch to his stomach, making him feel dizzy and sick all at the same time. he hated himself — really, he did.

one thing you knew for sure about rafe — he either didn’t care at all, or he cared too much. he always told you it didn’t matter what your parents thought or how anyone else would react; he promised he’d always take care of you. but as reality crashed down on you like a ton of bricks, that promise felt like a slap in the face. you hadn’t even realized you were crying until the hot tears streaked down your flushed cheeks, landing on the bare skin of your shoulders, exposed by your tank top.

"it's for the best, baby."

the oil on his hands smudges onto the denim fabric of his wrinkled, disheveled shirt before he lifts them to cup your face in his palms. his blue eyes search yours, the sting of salty tears making it harder to hold his gaze. but you don’t let him linger — you swat his hands away and turn for the exit, your footsteps heavy against the garage floor.

you stupidly wish to hear his footsteps trailing behind you as you walk back to your parked car — but they never come. how foolish, how naive, to think he would follow. even after he fell in love with you. even after he let you fall in love with him.

[sheepispink]

Is this a Date? ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི lt ghost x baker!reader, part of the Sweet as Sugar Series

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Summary: after your past hesitance, Simon asks you out on more of a silly date than a romantic one. Nonetheless, he begins to realise just how much you two really feel for eachother

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི a/n: fair warning that all the arcade games in this are based of the ones i go to, which are british obvs, so accurate? yes. particularly fun? probably not. Also i said chips but i know some of yall will call it fries. chips is the british word thanks for coming to my ted talk <3

PREV NEXT

———

Finally, Simon would be taking you out properly, just like he’d been trying to hype himself up to do for nearly three weeks. He gave you some time since you confessed your anxious thoughts to him, but you’re already feeling a lot better, practically radiating like the sun.

”Are you busy this week?” He considered texting you the question, but he was sitting in the cafe with you again and he just couldn’t wait any longer, half tempted to drag you out with him today.

You’re sitting opposite him in the empty shop, the closed sign bumping against the door. “Hmm.. don’t think so. My parents are taking over to give me a break.” He watches you eye the biscuit tin you leave out for him no matter how many times he insists that he doesn't always eat them, and passes you a bourbon. Your lips quirk up, a soft grin as you take a large bite into the chocolate biscuit, crumbs on your lips.

”A break huh? Well, if you haven't planned anything yet then why don't we go out?” You perk up instantly at that, a light clang of the teaspoon you just dropped on the table echoing out as the possibilities run through your head. Sure, you went to the farm and the winter festival with him, but actually going out? ..Is this a date?

“Where would we go?”

Before you know it, it’s Thursday and he’s wrapped you up in his jacket, the one he knows you love. Since you seemed to have such a great time at the festival, he figures he’d play it safe this time and take you to everyone’s favourite destination— the arcade. His decision is right, of course, confirmed by your eyes brightening as you step out of his car and he has to convince you to let him lock the car first before you start dragging him inside.

“Oooh! Let’s do the shooting!” You exclaim, pulling him along to the little booth and he picks up the fake gun, eyeing it with slight distaste. It’s not close to a real gun in the slightest, but he pushes that thought away as you grab the gun and pull a playful pose, pretending to look through the scope. “Alright, alright.” He places the coins into the slots, watching as the zombies start to approach.

Turning his brain off becomes increasingly easier with you, especially as you aren't afraid to express yourself or act the slightest bit silly, yelling at him to get the ones approaching you on the right. “Simon! I’m gonna die!” You squeal, still pretending your very best to act like a proper fighter as you dramatically move the gun around to aim at all the approaching enemies. “Got your back, love.” He mutters, already forgetting that these games are practically light work compared to anything he’s ever done before, his eyes locked onto the screen as he destroys anything coming your way. By the end of it, you’ve got your hands in the air as you cheer and even he’s grinning wide as possible.

What he didnt expect for you to call out to a random stranger, the woman’s head turning to your voice. “Excuse me, can you take a picture of us?” He has no time to argue, you’re already pulling the fake gun up to your face like some kind of secret agent all while he can hold it across his chest like he does on missions. The woman smiles and returns your phone, only for you to drag him away before he can say anything else.

The pair of you continue through the arcade, him even laughing when you fail to keep up with the dance game you insisted you were brilliant at. It’s not your fault he sneakily picked the hard mode to watch you scramble to get all the notes, but he won't admit that. Next, you drag him over to the air hockey table, a mischievous look on your face as you begin to rack up points like they’re nothing (only because you screamed “Ow!” and he immediately dropped his pusher). “That’s cheating.” You watch his eyes narrow and his stern voice comes through, and you immediately panic like a deer in headlights, eyes so wide you don't notice him pushing the puck straight into your goal. “Hey!”

This time he pulls you along, leading you to a new side of the arcade since it recently got refurbished and towards a booth that has a target behind the barrier. Curious, you raise an eyebrow before looking at the sign above. “Try beating me now.” Damnit, you know he’s smirking behind that mask and you’d be damned because watching him hurl every axe to the centre of that target had to be the definition of attractive. Unlike you, where the axe bounced off the target altogether whilst he tried his best not to stifle his laugh. It really was quite comical, the way you huffed under your breath as it continued to miss, only grazing the edge before bouncing off again. “I-it’s not funny!” He’s had to turn away from how hard he’s laughing right now, and you’re half tempted to give him a fake punch for that though you know he’d only just laugh harder. “Sorry, i’m sorry, i’ll teach you.”

He steps behind you, his hands curving over yours to help fix your lousy form into one that will definitely produce some better results. Well, at least it sticks this time.. on the edge of the target that is. “Simon!” You exclaim as he bursts out laughing again, thankful for his mask as his face is practically burning hot now. “Okay, okay—“ He adjusts you again, helping you tilt your arm back enough and aim it at the centre. Slowly stepping back, he signalls you to throw it. Your brows furrow as you concentrate, arm going a little further back before you throw it forward and it finally hits directly on the bullseye. “I did it! Look—“ You cheer, instantly spinning around to throw your arms tight around his middle as if it was something you’ve done a million times before, like it was something you’d have done for years. The touch immediately fries his harshly trained nerves, the muscles in his stomach tensing as he looks down at the sight of you squeezing him as hard as you possibly can— he can't say his stomach did not flip at least a little. You seem to notice, eyes quickly glancing up at him. Though, before you can stammer out an apology, he scoffs and pinches your cheeks. “Took you long enough.”

———

Exhausted from your escapades, he takes you to a diner. Well it’s barely anything like actual American diners but they make good burgers, so who can complain? You order your usual, and when Simon sees you eye the milkshake options for too long you end up with a tall glass of it in front of you. Meanwhile, he decides to go for something new for once, figuring the description was exaggerating, before he ends up with a giant hunk of a burger before him. “Oh.” The sight has you giggling far too much.

“Those two idiots knocked out right on me. You’d think they’re kids coming back from playcare the way they fall asleep anywhere.” He huffs, describing to you the less gruesome details of his recent deployment.

“Hmm.. Soap is the one with the mohawk right? And Gaz… the one who wears a cap all the time?” You ask, snickering from his story and he nods along, confirming your questions.

“Soap looks lively— well by what I've seen anyway. You said Gaz got his name for being quiet huh? I bet he’s one of those types who randomly have the best quips?”

Simon smiles behind the mask, intrigued by your new captivation about his teammates. Sure, he’s used to talking with you about whatever, just as he is with others. But he never really talked about himself much, at least not more than a few opinions on what he liked— he was far more interested in whatever you’d say. He just never considered you’d be so interested in what he’d say too. You’ve asked before, and he never paid much attention, but now you’re even remembering things from past conversations and expressing intrigue in his life. He might need to step outside to breathe properly again.

”Yeah, he’s definitely that type. Johnny barely wins an argument with him around; I think Cap’ even has a hard time defending himself.” You giggle again, stealing some of the ketchup from his plate with a swipe of your chip. “Do you see them all the time?”

“Yeah. Practically have our rooms right beside each other. We watch the football games in the common room.” He rolls his eyes when you coo at him, saying “aww” and smiling wide at him like he’s a kid who made his first friend or something. You really are an exception huh? He can’t even get all that mad at you when you look at him with curiosity swirling in your eyes.

“Why don't you come down with them sometime? You can bring them to the bakery.” You hum, licking the ketchup off your lip as you chomp down on your last bite of the burger. For some reason, he thought you were joking— would you really entertain a bunch of random men just for the sake of them being his friends? It didn't make sense; you didn't even know them, nor had you met more than one either. ”Pretty sure Johnny would eat all your pastries, love. It’s not worth it.”

“Well, I guess I'll just have to make extra that day then. I’m serious, y’know? Bring them around at your usual time, I'll have tea and the pastries ready.” Now that was unexpected; you were actually willing to give up some of your time to welcome his teammates, ones that he’s never even introduced you to before. Wait— did you think he was rude for not introducing you before?

”I did plan to introduce you at some point— they’re just… busy.” Wow, he actually fumbled his words for once, at this rate his chest will falter as well with the rate you keep surprising him with your genuineness. “Huh? I know, I just thought it’d be nice for them to relax a bit, have something sweet.” You hum, sipping your milkshake he bought for you, before passing the glass over to him and for some reason he doesn't hesitate, slipping your straw beneath his mask as he takes a sip himself.

He ignores the taste of your lipgloss that lingers.

—————

He drives you home soon after, walking you all the way up to your apartment door. You start slipping off your shoes, the time already growing late since you had only gotten to the arcade at five o'clock. He stands awkwardly in the doorway, knowing he should probably say his goodbyes and leave now— because he’s not yours, and you're not his.

Yet.

Your head turns, a brow raised at him curiously. “Won't you come in?” His words clog in his throat, wondering if he should accept the offer. Surely you’d be heading to sleep soon enough anyways, wouldn’t it only be an inconvenience to keep you up any longer? He’s conflicted, wanting to leave you be but ever since the last time he was here, he’s thought about your home more than he’s yearned for a second of rest, which is very often.

“It’ll be late if you drive all the way back to base now. You can just crash on my couch again.” Your hand finds his sleeve, pulling him inside before he can utter a sound against you, and closing the door behind him. “Thanks for today by the way. ..Do you wanna get brunch tomorrow too?”

He thought dating was meant to be taken slow, something that’d develop over weeks and dates were planned apart. Well, that’s how everyone said it worked. Now here you were, not even parting for him and asking for more of his time. Trying to hide the swelling of his pupils is impossible and he has to bend down to undo the laces on his shoes just to try. “Is that even a question? Of course.”

He stands once more, but you’re looking at him with lovestruck eyes, affection pouring out of every crevice as you grin and hug him again for the second time that day. “I knew you wouldn't say no. I’ll make us some tea after I get changed.” Your eyes crinkle again sparkling with something you don't even attempt to hide before you step on your tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek where the mask doesn't quite cover.

Oh, so that’s what that look was—cheekiness, huh? Especially when you run away after that, scurrying into the bathroom as you snicker to himself. He looks up into the mirror in the hallway, realising his eyes have been struck wide.

————

You wander into the kitchen to start brewing the kettle, dressed in your favourite pajamas already whilst he heads to the bathroom to freshen up. He stares into your mirror, lingers of black paint still clinging onto his lashes. Should he take off his mask? It’s not like you haven't seen him sipping from his drink before, or even that time he fell asleep on the couch without pulling it down again. His fingers linger on the fabric, hesitating as his heart churns with the need to drop everything right now for you. His brain screams at him to act rationally but his gut tells him to take it slow, else he scares you off altogether. He sighs, conflicted, before a flash of light appears in the corner of his eye. Your phone had been left behind on the windowsill, a notification lighting it up. He picks it up so he can hand it back to you, only for it to flash again, the lock screen the picture of the two of you posing with your fake guns, your hand doing bunny ears behind his head. His own sits in his other hand, the picture of you with his stupidly oversized burger held up to your mischievous face flashing to life.

Maybe not today. But he’d definitely get you back for the surprise kiss, stepping out of the bathroom to sneak up behind you as you grab the milk from the fridge.

————-

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[captain-kit-adventuress]

No, mutual aid and general strikes are not the only shot left at staving those things off, but I don't have the bandwidth right now to spell out why.

We need an entire roster of solutions, of which mutual aid and general strikes can be a valuable part, because this is a multi-faceted problem, and honestly, if you're going to talk about leftist solutions to avoid violence, this is stuff you should know and already be involved with, or should at least be curious about researching in greater detail.

We are definitely not at the point yet where we need to be having the conversation about "it's this or violence!" I'm going to give the benefit of the doubt and assume no one here is advocating for accelerationism, because the Glorious Revolution is also not going to solve our problems, at least, not as currently portrayed.

Please know different ways of advocating for yourselves than just relying on neighbours and and strangers, and withholding labour. There is no point in going zero to sixty and missing out on all of the potential solutions in between.

One major, crucial step I haven't been seeing is calls for volunteers to help in building robust networks of support (even for mutual aid and/or striking), many of which already exist, and which a lot of leftists new to this sort of activism don't seem interested in doing. Ignoring that (beyond donating money, I mean) only sets up whatever mutual aid and general strike activity you have planned to fail. Mutual aid isn't going to get very far if there's no supply reserve (food, toilet paper, clean water, etc.) or solid network for distribution. And general strikes may actually be more dangerous now because it's looking like it will be very easy to get fired and you won't be able to rely on things like the NLRB and the EEOC and the DOL in general to back you up, which is when that mutual aid you haven't planned for becomes even more important so people aren't starving and homeless in the meantime.

A lot of the "solutions" I've seen proposed rely on normal channels to support them, but if you're going to go outside of the system, you have to first figure out how to do that without tanking the movement. Do you have a plan for if you can't use USPS, or UPS, or FedEx, or anyone else, for example, if normal package distribution channels fail (like if you need to send food or supplies to people who don't live close by)? And that's just one facet of providing larger-scale mutual aid. Do you have major networks in various cities to help support getting aid to the people who need it in rural areas, of which there are still an overwhelming amount in the US? Do you know how best to use a small amount of resources to make a big impact even if it's just in your local area, other than just having a plan in your head that's never been tested in the real world? Have you tried it when things are still accessible now or are you going to rely on making it up as you go along when push comes to shove, which puts a lot of the most vulnerable people you'll need to help in danger?

You don't start planning for this stuff when things are already bad, you get it in place as much as possible before then. I'm willing to bet that if anyone who wants to get involved mutual aid (like food banks as one existing example) or the labour movement would look beyond a simple internet search or their social media bubble, which trends toward echo chambers even under ideal conditions, they'll find that these resources already exist, or are at least being planned for, and they're perfectly happy for people to help but may need it in ways that don't seem obvious. That way, when push comes to shove, mutual aid and labour are already a well-oiled machine which can scale up--and the time for planning that is now, not the moment it's desperately needed--rather than getting off the ground in the first place.

Look for the helpers. Don't despair and assume that there's nothing between "things are bad and need to change" and "we're on the point of violence because things went bad so quickly." There need to be lots of points of entry to slowing this down, first.

votes don't influence policy, and now there's no way for anyone but 1% of the wealthiest to leverage buying power.

the only power anyone has left is withholding labor.

to do this we will absolutely require alternative sources of water and food.

if, as is so much more likely, everything falls apart, we will still need water and food.

Mutual Aid + General Strike are literally our only shot to stave off mass mayhem and aimless violence.

[eclipse-msoul]

BELONG TO ME IN OBLIVION

Reader X Romantic yandere Batfamily

chapter 6 :

You yawned as you stretched your arms back to release the tension.It was getting late now, seven o'clock you noted was the time. At Most a few minutes remained before you clocked out.

Your eyes flickered to the figure resting on the bed – an oxygen mask on his mouth and the ECG machine gave you his heart beat.The beeping sound was the only thing other than your breathing that sounded in the hospital room. 

The boy slept under your gaze. His black hair was dark like the night sky. They resembled the familiar ones, making it all the more painful for you. His heart beat had gotten stable in the few hours that he stayed here in rest and unconscious.

You heard the nurse call out to you, giving a Pat on your shoulder with an understanding smile.

She spoke softly with a tender gaze. “ Dr. (Name), you've been tending the patient for several hours. Go home and take a rest. I'll stay with him and make sure he's fine.”

You didn't decline. You nodded and bowed your head before walking out. “I'll leave him in your hands.” You said and walked out – not before passing another glance on the boy.. Few minutes passed before you saw a bright blue car and softly scoffed

The car parked in front of you while the large and brimming hospital stood at your back. His night sky-like hair came into view as he got out and blue eyes scanning for your familiar form darted back to you. He grinned with his known generous smile. 

“ (Name).” He called so tenderly that you felt your heartbeat. He walked closer to you not knowing how quickly and took your hand. He gently held it closer to his lips and stared into your flushed eyes with a knowing smirk. 

He could be so much when he wanted to. 

“ Thomas.” you replied under a giggle before his large muscular arm pulled you closer. You could feel his heart beat so loudly, It was strong yet strangely calm.You remained in his embrace till the twinkling rain began to pour. As always Gotham could never have a clear sky for long. 

He and you quickly rushed to the car and took a seat. Both of you grinned at each other's wet state before driving off. 

      ________________________________

Four hours before you clocked out

It was about to strike three o'clock, Gotham was full of clouds preventing any sunlight from reaching its people. In the vast and dangerous city of Gotham lies the central Gotham hospital.

Inside patients were constantly being rushed in – someone got stabbed during a fight, others got robbed and had a bullet in their head while some very unfortunate souls got taken victim by one of Gotham's most notorious Goons. 

You walked down the dark and barely lit hallway. After spending almost seven hours in the ER, you needed a break. Deciding it was time, your junior was given your duty and you went out to take a breath. 

The Hospital being almost thirty years old hadn't renovated itself in certain places. Despite WE enterprise generously donating millions of dollars, not much changed. You hadn't bothered mentioning it to Thomas or Bruce – because knowing them….. Sigh, you didn't feel like pondering over what they would do. 

Suddenly while walking through this dark and creepy hallway, you felt a hand pull you. It was slim and petite and was over your mouth. You struggled to breath and you felt your heart beat increase. Has some Goon gotten in? Were you about to get killed? Were you going to be held in ransom? You really hoped it was the latter. 

The hand remained on your face as you tried to listen to the grip of your holder. ‘When someone tries to attack and hold you, try to calm your mind first and keep on struggling. Then when you find the opportunity hit on their foot by applying the whole power of your body on the sole of your foot. Your predator might scream or be put off guard. Hit him or her in the solar plexus and run.’ Alfred's words during your self defense class rang in your head. 

Your eyes which were blinking with tears began to dry. You did exactly as you're taught and finally got out of the hold of the figure you presumed to be women. You turned your head back and halted. 

“...what are you doing here?”

The women with the brilliant golden hair and blue eyes looked at you amused. She smiled brimmingly and grinned. “ Honey Pie! I came to see my favorite junior.” The women with a jolly tone voiced. 

You did not believe it. She may have been your senior, perhaps a very good friend but now. You tightened your jaw and spoke with spite hidden underneath. “ Senior Quinn state your business.”

She suddenly paused and looked at you with her deep blue eyes. Her voice that was previously lased with joy changed, “ (Name)...” she held your hand and this time no matter how hard you pulled you couldn't get out. 

She intensely gazed into your eyes and said, “ I want you to do me a favour.” your wrist which was under her hold tightened up in pain. She pushed your hands up and pulled you against the wall. 

Her mouth got closer to your face which distorted uncomfortably while you struggled. “ So… will you do it for me my dear junior?” She asked like she had given you any choice. You skimmed under her gaze. Before finally giving up, “ I'll decide after you tell me.” And you turned your head away as a last sign of resilience. 

She let you go and you fell to your knees. She gave you a hand to get up and when you decided not to take it. She forcefully took you up. You glared at her as she sighed. “ Follow me outside.”

“ Why should I ?” you hissed. 

She laughed, “ Aren't you a little feisty thing~” she turned back at you and flickered her finger to your forehead like she did in your house job days. ( she had no right to be so familiar yet so different) 

 "Stop worrying I'm not going to eat you..” You held your head in pain even if it didn't hurt. Your heart still felt pain. 

You reluctantly followed her steps. She took you to a dark and hidden alleyway. With every step you took, you wondered if it would have been better to run. But you kept your breathing stable – at least on the surface – and took each step with caution. 

Harley Quinn – the woman who was considered to be like a sister to you before she changed and went to the side of the joker – finally stopped. Your eyes squirmed as you tried to see what her body hid and as she moved. You felt your heartbeat quickening. 

You rushed to the side of the ground where her feat stood. A boy you assumed to be a teenager was heavily bleeding. His stand of several white hairs stood out on his bleeding head. You quickly assessed the situation and tried to stop the bleeding. “ Harley, help me!” You screamed and she inwardly smiled. 

So no more pretending to ignore her huh? How cute. She bent down and helped you. 

When you felt the bleeding had stabilized a bit,you decided he could be taken to the hospital through the stretcher. You were about to tell her to call the hospital staff but she must've thought it was too much work. So she disappeared. 

“ The kid's name is Jason Todd. Take care of him for me Honey pie~” Her voice rang through the air. And she vanished like the clear sky in Gotham. 

TBC… 

Firstly I would like to say 124 FOLLOWERS ?!!! You guys are the freaking best ! Thank you so much for the love and support.Secondly, Love you guys 🤌🏻❤️❤️❤️

P. S : if anyone wants to be added to the tag list for this series kindly message me or inbox me.

Also this series is going to have them all going romantic on y/n aka the reader. So if you're uncomfortable with it. You've been warned forward. ( though no romance start before they turn twenty or at least eighteen)

Another I'd Like to add is I don't support these behaviors in real life. This is a work of fiction and has no relationship to my real life values. So please be respectful and kind.

Love to you all amazing people 🩷🩷🩷🩷

( Please comment 🥹 it took my whole brain power to write this. I really want some feedback and getting it from you guys that like to read yandere Bat family fics as much as I do. Would bring me great joy ❤️❤️❤️❤️ ) But NO hate

[sunschay]

The Anger of the Soul | Natasha Romanoff! x Gender Neutral Rogers Reader.

After an unsuccessful mission, the reader ends up having trouble controlling their own anger and injures their hands. Natasha takes care of their injuries and feelings, and everything ends up going beyond what she planned.

Note: This is my first oneshot so forgive me for any spelling mistakes below, I hope you enjoy this.

Warnings: None.

Fluff, soft angst.

Word count: 1,4 K

The shrill sound of ambulance sirens was too much for their ears. All that blood, that dirty earth, building debris and rubble on the ground, it was too much. The mission had failed. An excruciating pain spreading through their wrist brought them back to reality, staring at the empty gym ahead. They had failed and the guilt would consume them until it corroded their nervous system, until it drove them to the limit. But Y/n already felt at the deepest limit. 

“Ugh!” They growled, landing blow after blow on the poor punching bag in front of them. 

There was something deep down in Y/n's mind that told them that the failure of the mission was their own fault, that everything there had resulted from their incompetence and misery. A strong kick knocked the bag to the floor, previously hanging by a thin sports rope under the gray ceiling of the gym, and they began to remove the bandages from their hands quickly. 

Their knuckles were raw, not only from the combat on their mission, but also from their little conflict with their own punching bag. Y/n sat down exhaustedly on the nearest bench, broad shoulders rising and falling along with their tired chest, their forehead sweaty and their once hopeful eyes now staring at a fixed point in the darkness of their own twisted mind. Footsteps sounded down the center hallway and they looked up furiously to see a red-haired female figure enter the gym. 

“You shouldn't take this out on yourself, Rogers.” Natasha scolded seriously, approaching to help them remove the bandages and holding their wrists. 

Natasha stood there, small bruises on her face, almost nonexistent. She was wearing a simple black tank top, tight uniform pants, boots, and still had her holster on, a revolver tucked into her waistband. Her red hair was impeccable as always, her green eyes worried and confused. 

The cuts on their hands and knuckles were deep, dried blood marking their pale skin like some of the many battle scars they carried with them. Y/n shook her head, lowering her gaze from them and trying to avoid Romanoff's gaze on their faces, she intimidated them and she knew it. 

“We could have done better. I failed at everything ” They groaned, getting up from the bench to go to the nearby bathroom and stick their hands under the cold water, trying their best to ignore the excruciating pain of every tiny cut and bruise. 

“We all fail, that doesn't mean the weight of the world has to be on your shoulders alone. You are my friend. Let me help.” The redhead asked as she approached again, carefully grabbing her friend's wrists. 

No words came out of Rogers' mouth. They went back to the gym and sat under the bench while they allowed Natasha to clean the rest of the dried blood with a damp cloth, using a small tweezer to catch small shards of glass lost in the mission. Her eyes were beautiful and Y/N hated to think about it, they were friends. But they felt for her, things that friends shouldn't feel, and they would suppress it as soon as possible.

“I know you hurt the rest of your body, take off your shirt so I can take a look.” Natasha asked calmly and politely, placing the blood-soaked cloth in a pot of water, watching the clear water turn bright red. 

They took off their shirts, their eyes going anywhere and in any direction other than Natasha's. It seemed unusual in a way. Natasha was very respectful and skeptical, of course, but they still weren't used to simply taking off their shirts in front of her. It was somehow exposed. Romanoff noticed some bruises on Y/n's body, moving away to get some ice packs and some painkiller. 

“You don't have to do this, I don't want to be a burden, Nat.” She heard them speak again, her red eyebrows arching before looking at them deeply.  

“If you say you're a burden again, I'll give you a black eye myself.” The redhead whispered, her serious green eyes staring into theirs and then she sat down on the bench too. 

Natasha applied some of the cold ointment to her hands, carefully working it into Rogers' skin, massaging their tense shoulders and squeezing, hearing a few exhausted sighs in response. She subtly pressed the muscle in their bicep, biting her lip to keep the unprofessional thoughts from entering her mind. 

“Your hands are divine.” Natasha heard Rogers' soft whisper and smiled mentally, continuing the little massage. 

“Focus, Rogers.” She teased, her fingers trailing down the middle of their back. 

She felt them tense and then she quickly removed her fingers, seeing a cluster of deep scars in the middle of their spines. She already knew that S/n had those scars. War scars. Some were old, some they had earned during all their missions as the Avengers.  Natasha swallowed hard, pressing the ice pack to one of the deep, violent bruises on their arm, trying to breathe calmly as she helped her friend. 

“I feel so angry that even breathing feels wrong.” They whisper, their voices deep and hoarse with so much fury kept inside and stored inside themselves.

“..I don't want to feel like this anymore, but all I want most of the time is to break things. Without fear of the consequences, just break and smash anything that dares to move, Sam got hurt today because of me. ” They shook their heads, jaw clenching tightly. 

“No, he didn't! He got hurt because we were too far away to catch him and you carried him to the safest spot yourself. Y/n, you saved him.” Natasha corrected them, her warm hand cupping their faces with a simple, subtle touch. 

Y/n felt a small shiver at Romanoff's touch, their faces softening little by little and they slowly moistened their lips. Natasha's touch was like being on the edge of paradise. It was like a pure feeling, the purest and sweetest feeling in the world, an inevitable cliché that not even the redhead knew the power she had. 

“This anger consumes you. This anger makes you sick. We need to take care of it.” Natasha slid her hand over the middle of their chests, the sound of rapid heartbeats making her eyes close quickly. 

“I know exactly what destroys my anger, what calms and numbs my fury. I don't need anything else.” Rogers stated, their dark eyes flicking between Natasha's eyes and her lips. 

Natasha blinked in confusion, not taking a single step away from them. She watched Rogers lean closer, their now soft breath landing on Romanoff's porcelain face. And then, with a firm, slow movement, their fingers gripped her slender waist, pulling her close before pressing their lips to hers. 

Natasha's lips were full, soft as lying on a lawn full of fresh roses. The feel of her skin on theirs sent a shock through both their bodies, which were in a state of deep frenzy. Romanoff closed her eyes, her hand instinctively grabbing their shoulder, squeezing gently before returning the kiss with passion, her body starting to burn in flames. 

Y/n kept one hand on her waist, the other long hand snaking down the agent's body until it sank into her red hair, her fingers getting lost in the fiery, red softness. Natasha let out a small gasp when their tongues met for the first time, the innocence of the first kiss slowly escaping between silent lines. 

“You are the solution. You are the cure for my rage, Nat.” Rogers whispered, their lower lip being slowly bitten by Natasha. 

“Before I thought we shouldn't rush so much... now all I need is you, no matter how long it takes.” Romanoff sighed, feeling a small trickle of saliva leave their lips.

They turned as soon as they heard footsteps, still glued to each other when a Steve entered the room, half in uniform, stained with blood and with cuts on his face. He looked suspiciously between the two, his mouth slightly open in an 'O' and then took a deep breath.

“I think I'd better come back later.” Their brother announced, his face slightly red and his blond hair completely disheveled.

“Great idea, Steve.” Y/n shook her head, hearing an embarrassed laugh from Natasha.

They felt Natasha's arms snake around their shoulders, her sweet yet mysterious scent filling their senses, their body that was once tense and completely filled with anger now softened. Calm. Tranquil. A well of tranquility, literally. All Y/n really needed was Natasha with them. They needed her, not just to control their anger. They needed her because their souls were destined for each other, and that would never change.

“Okay. You can relax now.” Natasha murmured, tightening her embrace around them.

[aspenmissing]

ʟᴇꜰᴛ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ʜᴀɴᴅꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴇᴋᴋᴏ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 4376 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ, ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ??

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ 1 || ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ 2

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴇᴋᴋᴏ

JAYCE

The soft glow of Piltover's city lights filtered through the window, casting golden reflections across the nursery walls. Jayce stood near the crib, rocking back and forth in slow, steady motions, his arms cradling the small, fragile body of his newborn son.

Theon.

The name felt right the moment you had suggested it. A name that carried weight but also warmth. It had been only a few days since Theon came into the world, and yet Jayce already felt the magnitude of fatherhood pressing down on him. It wasn't the kind of weight that burdened—but rather one that reminded him that everything had changed.

And now, for the first time, you weren’t here. You had barely left Theon’s side since his birth, but exhaustion had finally overtaken you. With a reluctant kiss to Jayce’s cheek and a soft whisper of reassurance, you had retreated to rest, leaving him alone with their child for the first time.

Jayce had fought Hextech-fueled battles, debated before the Council, and faced the pressures of being Piltover’s Golden Boy—but nothing compared to this. The tiny bundle in his arms let out a soft noise, a little whimper, and Jayce felt panic surge in his chest.

"Hey, hey... it's okay, buddy," he murmured, shifting Theon slightly, his large hands adjusting awkwardly but carefully. His son’s face scrunched up, his tiny fists waving in the air, as if protesting whatever discomfort he was feeling. "I’ve got you. I promise."

Theon's tiny, warm body fit against him so perfectly. He was so small. So impossibly small. Jayce exhaled, pressing his lips to the crown of his son’s head, his heart thudding in his chest as he tried to shake the uncertainty clinging to him.

He had never felt more unprepared for something in his life.

"I don’t really know what I’m doing yet, but..." He let out a soft chuckle, the weight of the moment settling deeper in his bones. "I swear I’ll figure it out."

Theon gurgled, his little hands twitching before settling against Jayce’s chest, his breathing evening out once more. Jayce swayed gently, looking down at him in awe. This was his son. His and yours. A piece of both of you, wrapped in warmth, in innocence, in all the hope that a future could bring.

The responsibility was terrifying—but it was also everything.

Jayce let out a slow breath and shifted his grip slightly, adjusting Theon in his arms. He gently ran a hand over the fine wisps of hair covering his son's head, marveling at the softness of it. His son’s skin was so smooth, his breaths light and even against Jayce’s chest. Every small movement felt like an entire world shifting in his arms.

"You’re lucky, you know?" Jayce whispered, his voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the city beyond the window. "You have the best mom in the world. She’s gonna teach you so much. And me? Well... I’m still figuring this out. But I swear, I’m gonna be the best dad I can be."

He sighed, rocking slightly in place, letting the silence settle between them. A faint smile touched his lips as he imagined the future—Theon’s first steps, his first words, the way he’d grow into someone brilliant and strong, just like his mother. He wondered if Theon would inherit your kindness, your stubborn streak, the way you could always see the best in people.

"I hope you get her patience, kid. Because let’s be real, you’re gonna need it with me."

Theon shifted slightly, his tiny fingers twitching against Jayce’s chest. Jayce felt his heart tighten, overwhelmed with an emotion too vast to name. This was love in its purest form—unshakable, boundless, the kind of devotion that settled deep in the bones and never left.

With one last lingering look at the sleeping child in his arms, Jayce shifted toward the rocking chair, easing down carefully so as not to disturb Theon’s peaceful slumber. He traced a fingertip along the curve of his son’s cheek, his heart swelling in a way that made his throat tighten.

"You’re gonna be okay," he whispered, voice soft but sure. "Because I’ll always be here. No matter what."

And as the city hummed outside, as the world beyond their walls continued on, Jayce held his son close, letting the quiet promise settle between them.

VIKTOR

The soft glow of the lamp flickered, casting long shadows across the quiet room. Viktor shifted slightly, leaning on his cane as he gazed down at the tiny bundle cradled in his arms. Nikola. His child. His and Y/N’s.

The thought still sent a shiver through him, one of disbelief and awe. He had spent so long immersed in progress, in science, in the pursuit of understanding the world’s mysteries. Yet, here was a mystery more profound than anything he had ever encountered—a small, warm, fragile being, barely days old, now curled against his chest, trusting him entirely.

“Ah, little one,” Viktor murmured, his accent thick with emotion, “it seems it is just you and I tonight.”

Y/N had finally succumbed to exhaustion and was fast asleep in their shared bed. She had insisted she would stay up, but Viktor had gently persuaded her otherwise. She had done so much, carried so much, brought Nikola into this world with a strength that left him speechless. The least he could do was hold their child for a little while longer, allowing her some rest.

Nikola stirred, letting out a tiny, barely-there whimper. Viktor’s breath hitched. He had faced great challenges in his life, but this—this small sound of distress from his child—sent his heart racing. He adjusted his hold carefully, mindful of his weaker leg as he settled into the armchair by the window. The city lights of Piltover shimmered in the distance, and for once, he paid them no mind. The only light that mattered was the one nestled against him.

He rocked the baby gently, uncertain but careful, his hand supporting the delicate weight of Nikola’s tiny back. His touch was hesitant at first, afraid that he was too rough, too clumsy. But then, as the minutes passed, he felt Nikola relax, their little body molding against him as if this was where they belonged.

His heart clenched.

A father. He was a father now.

Would he be enough? Could he be? He was not the strongest, nor the most stable, not in body, and often, not in mind. He had always been consumed by his work, by the ceaseless hunger to be more. And yet… here in this moment, none of that mattered. Here, all that mattered was the steady rise and fall of his child’s breath, the faint warmth of their tiny fingers curling against the fabric of his shirt.

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You have me utterly defeated, Nikola,” he whispered, brushing the lightest of kisses against the baby’s forehead. “And I surrender gladly.”

Nikola sighed in their sleep, their tiny fist pressing against his chest. Viktor swallowed hard, adjusting his grip slightly as he traced the curve of their small face with his thumb. They were so impossibly small. He had spent years perfecting intricate inventions, but nothing had ever felt as delicate, as precious, as this.

The quiet stretched on, filled only with the occasional creak of the chair and the soft sounds of Nikola’s breathing. Viktor let his eyes drift closed for a moment, letting the peace wash over him.

When he opened them again, he found himself whispering words he had never spoken aloud before.

“I do not know what kind of father I will be,” he admitted, his voice barely above a breath, “but I will be here. I will love you. Always.”

Nikola stirred but did not wake. Viktor smiled softly, allowing his body to relax against the chair. He would stay like this for a while longer, just him and his child, in the quiet safety of their home.

For the first time in a long time, Viktor felt no rush to move forward. No need to chase the future.

Because, at last, the most important part of his life was right here in his arms.

JAYVIK

Viktor adjusted his brace as he shifted to sit more comfortably on the floor beside Jayce, their new-born daughter, Lina, wiggling happily between them on a thick, plush blanket. Y/N had left them to run a few errands, and now, the two men found themselves alone with their child for the first time.

Lina cooed, her tiny hands reaching toward the air as if grasping at the faint sunlight filtering through the workshop window. Her bright eyes darted between her two fathers, and then she let out an excited squeal, kicking her little legs in delight.

Jayce chuckled. "She's got some strong lungs, huh?"

Viktor smirked, watching Lina with a look of awe. "That is an understatement. She is already making her presence known—just like her parents."

Jayce leaned down, his large hands gently adjusting the blanket around Lina. "You think she'll take after you? Smart, inventive, a little stubborn?"

Viktor tilted his head. "And what if she takes after you? Charismatic, ambitious, and, of course, reckless?"

"Reckless?" Jayce scoffed playfully. "I prefer bold."

Lina giggled as if entertained by their banter, her tiny fingers curling and uncurling. Viktor's gaze softened, and despite his usual careful movements, he hesitantly reached out, his fingers ghosting over Lina’s small hand before finally letting the infant wrap around his index finger.

A warmth spread through Viktor’s chest. He had built many things in his life—machines, inventions, theories that shaped Piltover—but none of them compared to this tiny, breathing miracle before him.

"Here, let me help," Jayce said as he scooted closer, reaching out.

Viktor gave him a mock-exasperated look. "Are you implying I am not capable?"

Jayce smirked. "Just saying—it wouldn’t hurt to have a little support."

Despite his teasing, he carefully adjusted Viktor’s brace to give him better leverage, making it easier for him to lean forward without straining too much. Together, they carefully scooped up Lina, Viktor cradling her first while Jayce hovered, ready to assist.

The baby gurgled, perfectly content in her father’s arms. Viktor swallowed hard, something unspoken in his amber eyes as he met Jayce’s gaze.

"You okay?" Jayce asked softly.

Viktor nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "I never thought… I would hold something so fragile, so important."

Jayce reached over, his large hand covering Viktor’s where it supported Lina. "Well, now you have us. You're not doing this alone."

Viktor exhaled, a small, rare smile curling his lips. He looked down at Lina, who blinked up at them before yawning, her tiny body relaxing.

"Look at us," Viktor murmured. "The great inventors of Piltover, reduced to mere fools over a child."

Jayce chuckled. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

For a moment, there was nothing but the soft breaths of their daughter and the quiet understanding between them. Then, just as Lina began to doze, the door creaked open, and Y/N stepped in.

"You two survived?" Y/N teased, setting down their bags.

Jayce grinned. "Barely. But I think we managed."

Viktor gave Y/N a tired but content look. "She is quite the experiment—unpredictable, full of potential… and impossible to control."

Y/N chuckled as they leaned down, kissing Viktor’s temple and ruffling Jayce’s hair before pressing a soft kiss to their daughter’s forehead. "Sounds just like her fathers."

Jayce laughed, and Viktor hummed in amusement, all three of them watching as Lina let out a soft sigh in her sleep.

A new kind of invention. One they’d build together, one day at a time.

VANDER

Vander had never been afraid of holding a child before. He had cradled Vi and Powder as newborns, had soothed them through fevers, had taught them to walk, to fight, to survive. He was a father in all but blood to them, but this—this was different.

Ren was so small in his arms, barely bigger than one of his broad hands. Their tiny fingers curled and uncurled against his chest, their breath soft, warm, and utterly trusting. Vander had been certain he would be ready for this moment—he had prepared, after all. But now, alone in the dim light of the bar, the weight of his own child nestled against his heart, he found himself speechless.

A deep, rumbling chuckle escaped him as he traced a rough, calloused finger over the delicate line of their nose. “You’re a miracle, little one,” he murmured. “Didn’t think I had it in me, y’know?”

Ren yawned in response, their tiny mouth stretching wide before settling back into sleep. Vander smiled, the sight warming something deep in his chest. He had spent years protecting the children of Zaun, fighting for them, sacrificing for them, but this—this was a piece of him, of you. His own flesh and blood.

=

A loud creak signaled the opening of the Last Drop’s door, and Vander turned, grinning as one of his regulars stepped inside. He wasted no time.

“Oi, Mica—c’mere, c’mere.” He gestured eagerly with his free hand, his broad shoulders practically vibrating with excitement. “Look at this. Look at my kid.”

Mica blinked, stepping closer to peer at the tiny bundle in Vander’s arms. “Sweet Shimmer, Vander, you finally made one of your own, huh?”

“Damn right, I did,” Vander said, his chest swelling with pride. He shifted Ren just enough to give the old patron a better view. “Ain’t they perfect?”

Another patron wandered in, then another, and soon the small crowd had gathered around, all drawn in by the rare sight of Zaun’s protector reduced to a soft-spoken, doting father.

You had warned him not to overwhelm the baby, but Vander couldn’t help himself. He wanted everyone to see. He wanted the whole damn Undercity to know that Ren was here, that they were his. That they were loved.

And when the night deepened and the bar emptied, Vander stayed where he was, cradling Ren close, whispering quiet promises against their soft little forehead. Promises of protection, of warmth, of love. Of a future where they would never have to fight alone.

Because this time, Vander wasn’t just the protector of Zaun.

He was a father. And nothing in the world could take that away from him.

SILCO

The apartment above The Last Drop was quiet, save for the occasional distant murmur of Zaun’s nightlife below. The neon glow from the city seeped in through the window, casting shifting patterns across the walls. It was a stark contrast to the usual clamor of the bar beneath them, to the world Silco commanded with an iron will.

But up here? Up here, there was peace. A kind of peace he had never known before. Because now, nestled securely in his arms, was something far more precious than power.

Veyna.

His daughter.

She was barely a few weeks old, her tiny hands curling and uncurling against the fabric of his vest. He sat in his office chair, his usual place of scheming and strategy, but now? It was something else entirely. A sanctuary. A place where the weight of ambition gave way to something far softer, something warmer—the quiet breaths of his newborn.

Behind the closed bedroom door, Y/N was asleep, exhaustion having claimed her after yet another long night. He had told her to rest, promised he would look after Veyna while she slept. And he kept his promises.

She had been fussy at first, stirring in her bassinet as if sensing Y/N’s absence. But the moment he had scooped her up into his arms, she had settled, her tiny form curling into his chest like she belonged there.

Which, of course, she did. She was so small. So delicate. So innocent. And she was his.

He traced a finger down her cheek, marvelling at how soft her skin was. The scarred and calloused hands that had built an empire, that had struck down enemies and shaped the future of Zaun, were now cradling something so… pure.

Veyna stirred, her little face scrunching up before relaxing again. Silco let out a quiet chuckle.

“Demanding, just like your mother,” he murmured, rocking her slightly.

There was something about holding her that steadied him, something that made the weight of the world feel distant, if only for a moment. He loved coming home to this—to her. To the soft, rhythmic thrum of her heartbeat against his chest, to the way her tiny fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, as if she already knew this was where she belonged.

And Silco—ruthless, cunning, feared by many—tightened his hold, as if she were the only thing in this world that truly mattered. The one thing he would protect above all else.

Because she was. Because she was his. And that was something no one could ever take from him.

A faint rustling came from her, followed by the tiniest sound—a whimper, barely above a whisper. Silco glanced down, watching as her little face twisted in discomfort, her tiny body shifting in his arms. He sighed through his nose, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

“Hush, now, little one” he murmured, voice low and smooth, a tone he rarely used with anyone. "We don't want to wake your mother."

Carefully, he rose from his chair, adjusting her in his arms. The movement made her stir, but she settled quickly when he pressed her to his chest. One hand supporting her head, he strode across the dimly lit room, boots silent against the wooden floor, until he reached the large window overlooking Zaun.

His city.

It stretched beneath them, a sprawling, breathing thing—alive with neon lights and restless movement. Even in the dead of night, Zaun never truly slept. Pipes hissed, distant voices carried through the streets, and the ever-present hum of industry filled the air.

"This," he whispered, looking down at her, “is your home.”

His free hand reached for the latch, pushing the window open just slightly. The air that wafted in was thick with the scent of oil, smoke, and metal—a scent Silco had long since grown used to.

“I built this,” he continued, voice softer now. “For you. For your mother. For all of Zaun. A future free from the grasp of Piltover.”

Veyna made another small noise, shifting just enough to peek open unfocused, sleepy eyes. Silco huffed a quiet laugh, watching her face.

She wouldn’t understand, not yet.

But one day… one day, she would.

He turned his gaze back to the city, his grip on her tightening ever so slightly.

“You’ll come to know it as I do,” he promised. “Its beauty. Its cruelty. But you, little one… you will never have to fight for your place in it. Because it’s already yours.”

She let out a soft sigh, her tiny fingers curling against the fabric of his vest once more.

Silco pressed another lingering kiss to her forehead before shutting the window, sealing them both in the quiet warmth of his office. For now, she didn’t need to know the weight of the world. For now, she only needed this.

Him.

And he would give her that, for as long as he could.

EKKO

The world outside their small home in the Firelights’ hidden sanctuary pulsed with life. The soft glow of lanterns swayed with the shifting air currents in the underground tunnels, their light casting flickering patterns against the walls. From a distance, the familiar hum of hoverboards echoed—young Firelights weaving through the metal and stone of their hideout, their laughter mixing with the occasional crackle of an old, half-broken radio sputtering music from a forgotten age.

But inside their home, the world was still. Ekko stood frozen, barely breathing, his arms wrapped around the impossibly tiny bundle cradled against his chest.

Nia.

His daughter. His and Y/N’s daughter.

Her presence was both familiar and alien all at once. She was small, delicate, warm—an entire future wrapped in soft blankets, her tiny hands curled into delicate fists. She had Y/N’s nose, his deep brown complexion, and when her eyes flickered open—just for a second—he could see a glimpse of something bigger than either of them staring back at him.

Y/N had only left for a little while—just to step outside, just for a breath of fresh air after the exhausting whirlwind of childbirth and sleepless nights. “You got this,” she had whispered, pressing a lingering kiss against his temple before slipping through the door, her touch grounding him for just a moment.

But now, standing here alone with their newborn daughter, Ekko wasn’t sure he did have this.

He had faced enemies twice his size, led the Firelights against the worst of Zaun’s threats, and survived things that would haunt him forever. He had taken beatings, stolen from those who would kill him if they caught him, and carried the weight of an entire rebellion on his back.

But this?

This was different. This was fragile. Precious. This was something he couldn’t afford to mess up.

Nia stirred against him, shifting in his arms, a soft, breathy gurgle escaping her lips. One of her tiny hands twitched, fingers uncurling before gripping onto the loose fabric of his shirt.

Ekko held his breath.

“Uh… hey, baby girl,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, afraid too much noise might break the delicate moment between them. “It’s just me and you now.”

Nia didn’t respond—obviously. But she blinked up at him, eyes big and unfocused, her soft face scrunching up as she worked through whatever newborn thoughts babies had.

A breathless chuckle escaped him, the corner of his lips tugging into a small smile. He shifted his hold slightly, carefully supporting her head the way Y/N had shown him so many times. He had watched her do it effortlessly, adjusting without even thinking, but now that it was his turn, everything felt impossibly complicated.

“I think we’re gonna be cool, right?” he tried, rocking her slightly. “Just don’t—uh—start crying. Please?”

Silence stretched between them for a heartbeat.

Then, as if sensing his hesitation, Nia’s lips trembled, her tiny face turning an alarming shade of red. Ekko’s stomach dropped.

“Wait—no, no, no, no—” A sharp, piercing wail tore through the quiet. Ekko panicked. His brain short-circuited, running in every possible direction at once. What was he supposed to do again?!

He bounced her a little, a movement he had seen Y/N do countless times, hoping it would work like magic. “Shhh, hey, hey—it’s alright, I got you, I got you,” he soothed, voice soft but uncertain.

No luck.

Her cries only grew louder, her tiny body wriggling against his hold, her distress clear in every shuddering sob. His mind scrambled for answers. Was she hungry? No—she had just eaten. Diaper? Maybe. Tired? Definitely.

“Okay, okay, uh—” He moved toward the small pile of supplies nearby, balancing Nia with one arm, fumbling clumsily with the blankets and spare cloths with the other. He felt like a fool, one wrong move away from dropping everything—including her.

“You’re good, Nia, Daddy’s got you,” he murmured, more to convince himself than anything else.

He paused.

Daddy.

The word felt strange in his mouth. Foreign. Unfamiliar. And yet, saying it aloud sent a slow, deep warmth curling through his chest.

He was a father.

Not just a leader, not just the boy who had once tried to outrun time itself, not just the kid who had watched everything around him fall apart.

A father.

A real one. A present one. Someone who would never leave, never abandon, never let his daughter grow up in a world that had already taken too much.

The weight of that realization settled on him like a heavy cloak, pressing down, grounding him.

Nia sniffled, her wails quieting for a brief moment as Ekko finally managed to tuck her into the soft swaddle again, wrapping her securely the way Y/N had taught him. He adjusted his grip, cradling her close to his chest, her tiny body warm and fragile in his hands.

Slowly, gently, he began to rock side to side, his movements instinctual now, his voice dropping to a quiet hum.

A song.

A melody from his childhood. Something old, something distant—a lullaby his mother used to sing before the world had stolen his innocence. The words were faint on his tongue, the memory blurred by time, but the rhythm, the feeling—it was still there.

Nia’s breathing slowed. Her fingers uncurled from his shirt. Her eyelids fluttered shut.

Ekko let out a deep breath, relief washing over him like a tide. He rested his forehead lightly against hers, his heart hammering against his ribs, overwhelmed and yet—oddly at peace.

“You got me wrapped around your tiny little fingers already, huh?” he murmured. The door creaked open.

Ekko looked up, caught in the soft glow of the moment as Y/N stepped inside. She looked exhausted—so exhausted—but the smile on her lips was nothing short of radiant.

She paused in the doorway, eyes flicking between him and their now-sleeping daughter, taking in the sight before her.

Ekko, rocking their child in his arms. The dim, golden light casting a halo around them, the soft lull of his voice still lingering in the air.

It was a picture she would never forget.

“How’d it go?” she asked, voice quiet.

Ekko glanced at her, his grip on Nia tightening just slightly, his lips curling into a lopsided grin. “Terrifying,” he admitted, his voice light but honest.

Y/N chuckled softly, stepping closer, pressing a gentle kiss against his cheek before brushing her fingers over Nia’s soft curls. “You did good,” she murmured.

Ekko leaned into her touch, his free arm slipping around her waist, pulling her close.

Maybe he didn’t have all the answers. Maybe raising a child in a world like theirs would be the hardest thing he’d ever do. But he had them.

His family.

And that was all he needed.

[v4mpire45]

The Things He Doesn't Know — K. Bakugo

This is part nine of the series, so chapters will be on the m.list.

☞ Link: click here.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Jealous female reader

Synopsis: When you realize you're in love with your childhood best friend, but force you're feeling's down for the sake of your friendship.

Author's note: 🫢 Is all I have to say. It's a long one.

You can’t get Kimiko’s words out of your head.

"I think you and I both know you’re full of shit."

What did she mean by that? And why couldn’t you just let it go?

It wasn’t just the way she said it. It was the look in her eyes, the smug, knowing smirk tugging at her lips like she had figured something out before you did.

It irritated you to no end. Everything Kimiko did made you mad.

But this? This was something else entirely.

Her constant flirting with Bakugo got on your nerves, but more than that, it made you sad. Every time she leaned into his space, every time she laughed a little too sweetly at something, he said, every time she called him Katsuki so casually, like she had the right to? it made your stomach twist. It wasn’t jealousy, was it?

No. It was something worse. Something heavier. Because she could do all those things, and you couldn't. Or rather, you wouldn’t.

You sigh, rubbing your temples as you slump against your desk. Kimiko had a way of making sure her words stuck in your head like a splinter, and you hated it.

This was probably her plan all along, to make you overthink, to make you question yourself. And the worst part? It was working.

A sudden knock on your dorm door startles you out of your thoughts.

"Who is it?" You call out, still lying face-down on your desk.

"It’s me. Open up, dumbass."

Bakugo.

For some reason, your brain immediately goes into panic mode. You sit up straight, smoothing your hair down and glancing around your mess of a room. Why did it suddenly feel like a disaster zone? Why did you care?

You hurriedly shove a pile of clothes under your bed and straighten out your sheets before clearing your throat. Get it together.

"Um… come in!"

Bakugo opens the door, stepping inside, and you abruptly stop what you’re doing, frozen mid-motion like a deer caught in headlights.

"Hey."

"Hi."

Silence.

Bakugo lets out a small grunt before plopping down onto your bed like he owns the place.

Meanwhile, you just stand there awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. Why were you acting like an idiot? He’d been in your room plenty of times before. Hell, he’d seen it in way worse conditions, so why were you acting like some flustered fool now?

"What brings you here, partner?" You lean against your desk, trying to act casual, trying, and failing.

Partner? Partner?! Could you sound any more stupid?

As if to further cement your humiliation, your elbow knocks over a pile of books, sending them tumbling to the floor.

"Shoot," you mutter, scrambling to pick them up.

From behind you, Bakugo lets out what sounds close to a laugh.

You freeze.

That was a laugh.

Your face burns as you quickly gather your books, your fingers fumbling. It was just a laugh. Just a laugh. Don’t be stupid, Y/N.

"So… you wearing that out?" Bakugo suddenly asks.

You glance down at yourself, oversized, wrinkled T-shirt (with a mysterious green stain you’d rather not think about), old sweats with a hole in the knee.

"Well, uh—wait. Out where?"

Bakugo stares at you like you’ve grown two heads.

"Seriously? You don’t remember?"

You blink. What the hell is he talking about?

"No? Did I forget a birthday? Whose did I forget? Kaminari? Kirishima? Mina—"

"No, you dumbass. Chill out." Bakugo rolls his eyes. "We’re going to the arcade. Me. You. The other extras."

Oh. Right.

Your stomach sinks a little. You had completely forgotten. It's probably because Kimiko would be there.

"Heh… right. I totally remembered that." You mumble, scratching the back of your head.

Bakugo narrows his eyes at you. "It’s not like you to forget."

His words catch you off guard. "Something on your mind?" That’s not something he usually asks.

"Er, uh, no. Just slipped, y’know?" You force a grin.

Bakugo doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go.

"Right. Well, get ready unless you wanna go out looking like a damn hobo."

"Hey, not too much now." You chuckle, grateful for the shift in topic.

Bakugo huffs and stands up, heading for the door.

And you should let him go.

But you don’t.

Before you can stop yourself, your hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist.

Bakugo stiffens slightly, glancing down at your hand, then back up at you. His expression is unreadable.

"Um… you can stay, y’know." Your voice comes out quieter than you intended. "And we could head down together. Like we used to?"

For a second, he just stares at you, eyes scanning your face. Then...

"Okay."

You got an okay!?

You let go of his wrist and step back, heartbeat hammering in your chest as you quickly escape to the bathroom to change. You try really hard not to freak out.

By the time you and Bakugo head downstairs, everyone is already gathered in the common room. Kaminari jumps up from the couch the second he sees you.

"Finally! Took you two long enough. Let’s go!"

"God, Kaminari, could you be any more impatient?" Jirou sighs, standing up.

Kaminari and Jirou are the first ones out.

"Wow, man, I didn’t even have to drag you out this time," Kirishima teases.

"Shut up," Bakugo grumbles, walking past him.

Kimiko, because of course she does, immediately rushes to Bakugo’s side, smiling sweetly.

Major eye roll.

The arcade was alive with flashing neon lights, the sharp chimes of tokens clinking into machines, and the occasional victory yell from a lucky player.

The air smelled of buttered popcorn and cheap pizza, the kind that tasted way better than it should.

You had barely stepped inside when Kimiko started her Bakugo antics.

“Hey, Bakugo,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Wanna team up? I bet we’d destroy everyone else.”

Before Bakugo could respond, you felt his hand on your wrist.

“Nah,” he said, pulling you along. “Already got plans.”

Your heart jumped at the sudden contact, and Kimiko’s expression flickered, just for a second, before she forced on a smirk.

“Oh, I see,” she said, crossing her arms but making no effort to hide her displeasure. “Have fun, I guess.”

Bakugo didn’t even acknowledge her before leading you toward a row of games.

“Pick something,” he said, hands shoved in his pockets.

You grinned, trying to ignore the warmth still lingering from where he grabbed you. “What, giving me full control? That’s dangerous, Bakugo.”

“Tch. You act like I won’t kick your ass at whatever we play.”

That, of course, became the challenge of the night.

First game: Air hockey. You managed to score a few points, but Bakugo, with his stupidly good reflexes, sent the puck flying into your goal more times than you’d like to admit.

“Damn it,” you muttered, watching the scoreboard light up with his victory.

He smirked. “Hope you’re not gettin’ discouraged already.”

Second game: A co-op zombie shooter. The two of you stood side by side, plastic guns in hand, mowing down wave after wave of the undead. You weren’t sure if it was just the adrenaline or the fact that Bakugo actually made a pretty solid teammate, but you found yourself laughing at how serious he got, cursing every time he missed a shot.

By the time you reached the final boss, you were both on your last lives.

“Shit, move, dumbass, you’re in my line of fire!”

“You move, I’m covering your left!”

Somehow, you both landed the final shot at the same time, causing the screen to flash VICTORY! in bold letters.

You turned to Bakugo, grinning. “We actually make a decent team.”

He snorted. “Obviously. You’d be dead without me.”

Final game: The claw machine.

Bakugo wasn’t one for the “kiddy” games, but after catching you eyeing a plush sitting in the pile of prizes, he shoved a few tokens in without a word.

“You don’t have to win me anything,” you said, watching as he maneuvered the claw with expert precision.

“Didn’t ask,” he muttered.

It took him three tries, but eventually, the claw managed to grab hold of a stuffed bear with lopsided button eyes and a slightly crooked smile. He pulled it out and tossed it to you, acting as if it was no big deal.

You hugged the bear close. “He looks a little messed up.”

“Yeah, well, figured he suits you.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling. “What should we name him?”

Bakugo tilted his head, pretending to think. “Dynamutt.”

You burst out laughing. “That’s awful.”

“Like you could come up with somethin’ better.” He mutters.

You glanced down at the bear and grinned. “Fine. Dynamutt it is.”

By the time you all returned to the dormitories, everyone had collected their fair share of arcade prizes.

Kirishima had an armful of plushies from a rigged punching game. Mina somehow ended up with a collection of flashy LED glasses. Kaminari and Sero had spent most of their time hoarding candy from a ticket machine.

You held Dynamutt close as you flopped onto one of the common room couches, exhausted but content.

Bakugo sat down on the opposite couch, and before you could blink, Kimiko plopped down beside him, far too close for comfort.

“So,” she started, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you have fun tonight?”

Bakugo just shrugged. “I guess.”

Kimiko giggled, tilting her head. “You’re always so hard to please, huh?”

You watched as she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping just a little lower.

“You know, I bet I could make things more fun for you,” she added, her fingers barely brushing against his arm.

You clenched your jaw. There it was again, that same feeling that had burned in your chest at the party and many times after.

The frustration, the annoyance, the overwhelming urge to say something.

But not here. Not in front of everyone.

“I’m gonna get some fresh air,” you mumbled, standing up abruptly. “Be back soon.”

Sero, who had been watching the entire thing, shot you a knowing look before getting up as well. “Yeah, me too.”

The cool night air was a relief against your heated skin as you leaned against the railing outside the dorms.

Sero stood beside you, silent for a moment before finally speaking.

“She really gets to you, huh?” He said, casually shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

You let out a bitter laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to me. I know the feeling.”

You turned to him. “Kimiko?”

Sero sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I mean, I know I don’t have a chance or whatever, but watching her go after Bakugo like that… it sucks.”

You hesitated before admitting,

“I don’t even know why it bothers me so much. I mean, I do, but…”

“But?”

You swallowed hard. “It’s like some part of me still doesn’t want to admit it.”

“That you love him?” Sero blurts out.

The words made your stomach flip. "Yeah.." You kick a small pebble.

Sero smiled knowingly. “Denial’s a bitch, huh?”

You groaned. “God, you’re the worst.”

“Nah, I’m the best. And I think you should tell him.”

You gave him a look. “Oh yeah? And what about you? Gonna confess to Kimiko?”

Sero huffed. “Hell no.” Then, after a pause: “Maybe.”

You both laughed, the weight on your chest feeling just a little lighter.

“C’mon,” you finally said, nudging his arm.

“Let’s head back.”

As the two of you step back into the common room, you hear Kimiko’s voice cut through the air.

"Y'know, Katsuki, if you want to hold someone's hand, you could just ask me." She tilts her head, eyes glinting with mischief. "I wouldn’t make you work for it."

There's something in Bakugo’s eyes that tells you he's barely back his frustration. He takes a deep breath before responding.

"Could you stop that? It's annoying."

Kimiko’s expression falters just for a moment before deciding to continue. "Oh come, Katsuki, you know you like it." She reaches out to touch his arm once more, but he shifts away from her.

No, I don’t," he says, voice firm, final. "I never have."

Silence falls over the room. Kirishima shifts awkwardly, looking like he’s about to step in, but Bakugo isn’t done yet.

"I’ve just been putting up with it because I didn’t wanna deal with the drama." His voice is sharper now, frustration rolling off him. "But you’re annoying as hell, and I don’t like it, so stop."

The weight of his words hangs in the air.

You and Sero, still standing near the doorway, exchange a glance. This is... a lot.

Even Kaminari and Jirou, who had been hanging around earlier, had the good sense to disappear before things got worse.

Kimiko mutters something under her breath, too quiet for you to hear before pushing off the couch. She leaves without another word.

Mina sighs, rubbing her temples before grabbing Kirishima’s wrist. "Come on, Red, we should check on her."

Kirishima hesitates but follows. "That was kinda harsh, man," he mutters to Bakugo before leaving.

"Well, that was—" You turn to Sero, only to find him gone.

You huff a quiet laugh. Traitor.

Bakugo looks up at the sound, his usual scowl still in place. You hesitate for a second before walking over, dropping into the seat Kimiko had left empty.

Silence stretches between you both.

It’s not uncomfortable, though. Silence has always been your thing.

"You heard all that?" he finally mutters.

"Yeah..." You pick at your sleeve, not sure how else to respond.

There’s another pause before Bakugo exhales sharply, his voice lower when he speaks again.

"I don’t get why people think I’m into that flirty crap. It’s annoying." His gaze flickers toward you, then away just as quickly. "Not my thing."

"Then why did you tolerate it?" you ask.

You’ve spent months watching Kimiko flirt with him. At times, he barely reacted. Others he seemed to like it, so you assumed he was fine with it. But now? Now he’s snapping, like he’s had enough.

"’Cause damn Shitty Hair wanted me to," Bakugo mutters. "He said she was just trying to be friends with me, so I let it go. And she’s an okay sparring partner, I guess."

"Oh... I see..."

There’s something heavier in his voice now, something that goes beyond just Kimiko. You wait, and sure enough, he keeps going.

"After the war," he mutters, almost like he’s talking to himself, "everything felt… different."

He exhales sharply, frustrated. "I know I probably worried the hell outta everyone, almost dyin’ and all. I feel like, like I gotta make up for that somehow. Be better. Do shit right."

You swallow. "You did worry everyone," you admit softly. "Me, especially."

Bakugo clenches his jaw, his hands curling into fists in his lap. "I know, and I hate that," he mutters. "I hate knowing I made everyone go through that."

His gaze flickers up to meet yours, and there’s something raw within his expression.

"That’s why I let that shit slide. Why I put up with dumb crap like Kimiko’s flirting. ‘Cause it felt like… I dunno, something I should do."

You feel your heart tighten in your chest. "You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Bakugo."

"I know, and that's why you’re the only one I don’t gotta pretend around."

Your breath catches in your throat.

"You’ve always been my best friend, but—" he hesitates, just for a second, before pushing forward. "You’re different. You always have been."

Sero’s advice flashes through your head.

And suddenly, you feel like you’re on the edge of something terrifying.

Your hands clench into fists. "Bakugo..."

His eyes meet yours.

"Katsuki, idiot," he corrects automatically.

Your pulse races.

"Katsuki," you say, and his name feels heavier in your mouth than it ever has before.

His brows furrow slightly, like he can sense something shifting. "What?"

You take a breath.

And then, before fear can stop you, you say it.

"I’m in love with you."

© 2025 v4mpire45 — All rights reserved. Please don't post my work as your own on any other sites.

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[marauders-brain-rot]

19. De-aged

With regulus but you decide who he interacts with

Regulus

For months now a cursed object had been terrorizing the Ministry, none of their top curse breakers were able to figure out how to fix it and had subsequently turned to Regulus to figure it out. The item in question was a child’s teapot, supposedly cursed in a manner that had affected different results in everyone that it had come into contact with. 

One of the men had shrunk to the size of a matchstick, another sprouted extra hands from his arms and a third had all of their limbs switched to opposite sides. Needless to say, everyone was terrified of whatever curse had been placed on this unassuming looking teapot. Everyone that is, except for Regulus. 

He’d called for Evan and Barty to come just in case something went horribly wrong and he needed someone to fix him, knowing that James would either be too busy panicking or laughing to do it. 

He was already through one layer of protections and halfway through the second when a flash hit him in the chest, sending him flying backwards and crashing into the shelves. 

Barty

Barty, Evan and James took the steps two at a time down to Regulus’s lab, worry etched into all of their faces. Of course Regulus would be so cocky and stupid to think he could take care of a cursed object entirely on his own. 

“Reg?!” They all seemed to call out for him in unison, rushing into the smoke filled room as one unit. 

“‘M fine,” it hardly processed for any of them that the voice that called out to them was much smaller than the one they knew. Not until they saw a small body coming to them through the smoke. “Who are you?”

It was undoubtedly a miniature Regulus, the scowl on his face was undeniably the same despite his current state. He looked to be the size of a six year old, and based on the way he was reacting to them all he likely was a six year old. 

“Hi Reggie, I’m Barty,” he put on his best ‘I’m dealing with a child’ voice and knelt down in front of his tiny best friend. “I’m friends with your father.” 

“You don’t look like anyone my father would be friends with,” his scowl deepened and he crossed his arms, eying Barty with extreme distrust. “He has standards.” 

He heard laughter from behind him and had to fight the urge to roll his eyes as he turned to face them. “Well, you go ahead and try then!” 

“Hiya Reggie, I’m Jamie,” James squatted down in front of Regulus, extending his hand like he was greeting a colleague. Regulus glared at his extended hand skeptically before slowly extending his own hand to shake it. 

“How do you do?” He asked in a posh manner. 

“I’m doing just fine, are you hungry Regulus? I can have some pancakes made for you.” At the mention of pancakes Regulus perked up, all concern for who these strangers were seemed to have left his mind at the thought of fluffy stacks of sweetness. They made their way upstairs, Regulus somehow trusting James enough to allow himself to be carried by him. Within minutes of getting upstairs Regulus’s plate was stacked high with chocolate chip pancakes dripping in butter and syrup that he was trying not to make a mess with. The three of them watched him carefully while they stepped away to talk over their situation. 

“How are we supposed to fix this?” James looked properly stressed out for the first time, anxiously pacing as he looked back and forth between them and Regulus. Barty couldn’t exactly say he blamed him for freaking out, his husband was six years old again, their relationship was now a crime. 

“For everyone else it wore off after twenty-four hours,” Evan shrugged. “Honestly, it could be worse don’t you think?” 

“Could be worse? My husband is six years old! He doesn’t even know who I am!” Barty really shouldn’t have been surprised that James was loosing his cool, he’d always been over the top but then he went and married Regulus, the reigning king of dramatics (hence why Regulus was currently half covered in syrup and half in chocolate).

“Well, at least it’ll wear off! And it’s not like he’s a danger to anybody,” Barty really didn’t think this was that big of an issue. Regulus was truthfully a rather adorable six year old he thought, even as he dripped syrup onto the floor. 

“I am finished!” Regulus turned and called to them over his shoulder. The three adults exchanged worried looks that expressed that none of them were quite sure what to do with him. That was, until Harry walked in. 

“Harry, oh thank Merlin!” James all but cried as his son looked around confused. His son who now happened to be older than his own father.

“Dad? What’s wrong?” At just thirteen years old Harry managed to have some of the best and worst of everyone that had helped raise him. Barty was looking forward to watching how this would go. 

“Your genius father has turned himself into a child and doesn’t remember any of us and his lovely and attentive husband is losing his absolute mind over it.” Barty summarized for him, excited to see where this would go. Harry processed his words then looked past him to where Regulus was waiting for someone to help him clean up. 

“Oh, I’ve got it from here,” he grinned mischievously and walked around them all. 

James

Two hours. In just two hours Harry and Regulus had managed to nearly destroy the entire house. Somehow James had been under the impression that Regulus had been a reserved child, that he would’ve been quiet and sweet and put back everything as he’d found it. And perhaps that might’ve been true when he was under threat of his parents, but without a threat of punishment and under the instruction of a thirteen year old, well he really came out of his shell. 

They’d drawn on the walls, had a tea party with conjured toys charmed to talk, they’d moved from room to room meticulously destroying each one. James would’ve gotten after them, he really would’ve, but then he’d walked down the hall and heard Regulus’s little giggle and he stopped dead in his tracks. If there was one thing he knew about Regulus and Sirius’s childhoods it was that there wasn’t much light or laughter in their home, and how could he tear that from him now? 

So instead he’d sat in the room where they were putting train tracks all over, spelling some to float in the air with magically enchanted miniature people to board and ride it. After they’d set it up and Regulus was standing in the middle of it all, a look of awe on his face, James caught Harry’s eye. The look they shared told James that Harry understood how important this was for his father, to have a little bit of the childhood he should’ve had. 

That night the three of them cuddled up by the fireplace together after drinking mugs of hot chocolate and reading through books Regulus and James had read to Harry when he was the age Regulus was now. Of all nights they could’ve had, James had never anticipated this to be one of them. At the end of the day though, he realized Evan and Barty had been right, it could’ve been worse. 

[thatguywrites]

Vienna

Max Verstappen x Male!Reader

When Max is overworking himself to the bone in the preseason, and you need to talk some sense into him before he burns out

A/N I'm back after my one week break! I'm gonna try and write more fics to create a WIP list so that that doesn't happen, but I also encourage people to send in asks cause I'm gonna run out of ideas at some point :)

In the bustle of the preseason chaos, you hadn't had much time to spend with your lovely boyfriend. Between the incredibly boring F175, and testing instantly starting in the week following, Max was too busy running around, working out, taking calls, and providing feedback. It seemed the only times you saw him anymore were in the mornings and late at night, when he would slip into bed with you, muttering thanks for the certainly cold dinner you had left him, before he collapsing into sleep.

Finally, one day you managed to have him to yourself for a whole evening, as soon as his morning workouts were done, you would be able to push him into bed for some snacks, and movies, and boyfriend time. But, when Max arrived home, he was clearly still in work mode. Flurrying around the house, taking notes of things about the car that he hadn't told the engineers the day before, before hopping into the sim to do lap after lap in the model car Redbull had sent him.

Your kinder bars, fruits, and Netflix left untouched, you waited on the couch for him to finish. Maybe he just wanted to figure something out. Everyone gets like that; when something nags at them and they just need to get it right. He would be done by dinner.

By the time dinner came, you'd lost hope that he would come to bed naturally. It began to seem that you would have to do something yourself to get Max to eat with you and to finally relax. Walking over to his rig, you placed a kiss on his cheek, pulling his headphones back, "I'll be on the balcony, ok?"

Without looking away from the screen, he nodded, before shooing you away.

Once on the balcony, sitting down, you finally felt at rest. For a break moment you didn't have to worry about Max, or how he was working himself to the bone and you by extension. It was you, and the cool air of Monaco.

You got lost in your thoughts, but it could have been two or twenty minutes before you heard the door behind you open, and Max sit next to you, placing a blanket around your shoulders.

"You looked cold, in just a T-shirt" He said, softly. You noticed you could see his breath. Maybe it was cold.

"Didn't notice"

"Why out so long?"

Your own puff of breath appeared infront if you as you leaned back against your apartment, looking up at the now visable stars. "Thinking. Why were you on your sim so long? Isn't today supposed to be your day off?"

Max looked down, maybe ashamed. A small part of you felt good about that. That he felt bad about hurting you. But the rest of you just wanted to scoop him into a hug and never let go.

"I mean, last year's car worried me. And Lando's improved, and I'm sure Oscar'll be up there too this year, so I'm doing my best now to make sure we end up with the best car." You could feel his eyes on you, a nervous energy in your previous safe space, his warm hands wrapping around your cold ones, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry for worrying you, and ignoring you. I'm sorry that I haven't been prioritizing us at all. I'm sorry that I spent my entire afternoon off working." He pulled you into his arms, resting his head on yours, and pressing kisses atop your hair.

"I didn't want to push you, I know your work is important to you. I don't want to act as if I'm above racing to you, I know it's your life, but I want to be a part of your life too." At your words Max jolted away, eyes wide, with a small pout on his lips.

"No! No, no, no, racing is a huge part of my life, sure, but so are you. I'm sorry I haven't made that clear, I love you. I just worry that I'm not trying hard enough for the world sometimes, that I'll fall behind on track because of it", He trailed off, looking down into the busy streets

"Well, I'm sure the fastest man on Earth, who works harder than anyone else I've ever seen will manage to pose a threat, even if he takes a break for one night, no?"

Breaking out into a smile, Max responded, "Yeah"

Taglist (Comment or DM to be added)

@koalapastries @justaf1girl @spoonfulofmilo @lokisen

[bringmeanangel]

Here When You Feel Nothing

Pairing: Spencer Reid and female reader

Tags/warning: Brief mention of masturbation (f), unable to let go. frustration. embarrassed mentions of depression. self-doubt, slight voyeurism but not really. negative self talk. Caring Spencer. Comfort. Praising. Pet names. Depression. Depressed reader. Mentions of self harm (hitting not cutting.) mentions past sexual assaults. I think that's all.

Synopsis: You've been feeling down lately and thought you would have a little "you" time. When nothing happens, you are frustrated with yourself and embarrassed when you realize Spencer saw.

A/n: Read the tags! Lots of things mentioned.

MINORS DNI

You knew Spencer wouldn't be home for another hour or two, so you thought you'd take the the opportunity to have a little "You" time. You hadn't been feeling well mentally recently and you had gotten your period on top of that.

You also didn't want to be a bother to Spencer, even thought he is the sweetest person in the world and does not mind when you need a little extra care.

You made your way to your shared room and closed the door. For some reason you felt like you were doing something bad. Even though this was perfectly normal.

You stripped to your underwear, leaving your shirt and grabbed your vibrator you kept by your bed. You folded up a towel and placed it down, always careful of the sheets and got under the covers.

You took a deep breath. You wanted to do this, you wanted to feel normal again. You hated feeling this way. You closed your eyes and started to think about your boyfriend.

Turning on the vibrator, thought about the way his hands are. Big. Long fingers. You let your minder wander and you started to tease yourself with the vibrator over your underwear.

It was working fora bit, but then your thoughts got all muddled. Trying your best to bring yourself back, you slightly gasped when the toy hit the right spot. Your legs started to shake, your head feeling fuzzy and then....

Nothing.

Nothing happened. It went away. You sighed, trying again. Sometimes that happened.

Again, you tried. You tried to focus on anything other than what just happened. Anything other than your mind feeling like it's about to short circuit and feel heavy. You wanted the release. You needed it.

Nothing.

Frustrated with yourself you turned the vibrator off and placed it down. Before you knew it your were crying. You rolled over onto your side away from the door when you heard a gentle.

"Angel"

The footsteps where light and suddenly Spencer was crouching down in front of you. A hand reached out and stroked your hair. You sniffled, burying your face agaisnt the bed pillow.

Had he been watching you try to masturbate? Suddenly the bed dipped beside you and Spencer had moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

He rubbed your back with one hand and wrapped his other hand around your hand. The two of you sat in silence for a bit.

"I still have to pee and change out of these clothes, even though I didn't-" you started and trailed off.

"Good girl" he whispered. It wasn't patronizing or anything. "Would you like my help?" he went back to stroking your hair.

"No" you whispered, shaking your head.

Spencer moved to let you up. You made your way to the bathroom.

While you got got yourself cleaned up, Spencer started to clean the room. Wiping the toy and putting it away. He put the towel in the hamper and grabbed you a fresh pair of underwear, your sweatpants and his t-shirt you liked so much.

When you came back in, you looked down, too embarrassed with yourself. You put your dirty underwear in the hamper, now standing in front of your boyfriend in only a t-shirt.

Fresh tears made their way down your cheek. You didn't move to wipe them. You just stood there, almost frozen on the spot.

Spencer made his way to you. He noted the way you tensed and figured you didn't want to be touched.

"How does your head feel?" he asked.

"I-uh- not really foggy, sort of like it's short circuiting... if that makes sense." he nodded.

"It does and it's perfectly normal."

You nodded, still unable to move. You were still looking down, but watched as his feet moved away from you.

"Angel?" His voice cut through the daze and you looked up "Did you hear me?" And you shook your head. "That's okay. I told you that I'm going to wipe you again with the baby wipe."

"Okay." You whispered. "Thank you" it was almost inaudible, but Spencer heard it.

"Come here, love."

You made your way to the bed, seeing that he cleaned up for you. You were feeling even more guilty even though there was nothing to feel bad for.

You laid down on the bed bending your legs and spreading them. Spencer grabbed a darker blue glove and pulled one on his right hand. He took the wipes and placed a tender hand on your inner knee, pushing your legs a little wider.

Spencer noticed that you started to relax when he touched you.

His touch with his left hand was warm and grounding. You Turned your head away, still feeling ashamed.

"It's going to be a bit cold." He looked so softly at you.

When you nodded, Spencer inched a little closer and reached out and wiping you. You sucked in a breath when the cold wipe touched you.

Spencer was thorough, but quick. When he was done, he took the glove off and threw it and the wipe in the trash

"You're doing so well for me. I'm going to put your underwear on."

"M'sorry" you mumbled.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Spencer grabbed your underwear. He helped you in them "bum up" he soothed.

You lifted your bum up and he slipped the underwear over your bum. He wrapped his arms around your waist and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He rubbed a hand up and down your back. You started crying again and he held you tight, gently shushing you and whispering "I've got you" "good girl" "You're safe"

Spencer kissed your temple when you started to calm down. He carefully pulled you up and kissed your forehead.

"I'm going to put you in leggings and a sweatshirt." He said. "Then after we're going to talk."

You clung a little tighter to him and he rubbed your back a few more times and then you let go.

Spencer cupped your cheeks, stroking your temples with his thumbs. He kissed your forehead and grabbed the clothes he had laid out for you when you were in the bathroom.

Once he got you dressed, Spencer carried you out to the living room for a change of scene. He placed you on the couch and sat beside you.

You sat with your knees to your chest. Arms wrapped around your legs, head resting against the cushion, but not looking at him.

"I just wanted to have some "me" time. I've been feeling depressed for a while and- I just... But then I couldn't. Then you walked in. I'm so stupid. I should be able to let go."

"You're not stupid."

"Why am I like this?! I hate it." you shouted, raising your arms.

Spencer was quick to grab your wrists holding them tight, so you couldn't harm yourself. His grip was firm, you struggled for a moment and relaxed.

"I have you." He said, his voice steady.

You rested your head on your knees. Feeling calmer with his touch. Spencer noted that you were doing the breathing exercises that he taught you.

"Anorgasmia. You can still have a desire for sex and feel pleasure. However you may feel anguish or emotional distress because you can't have an orgasm. There are many factors that can make reaching an orgasm difficult. It can be physical, mental emotional or medical."

"Are you saying I have a sexual dysfunction?" You mumbled.

Still not looking at him, but Spencer was relieved to hear the light, joking tone in your voice. He held both your wrists with one hand and lightly scratched your scalp with the other.

"I'm saying, one of the causes is psychological. Depression, stress, anxiety." Spencer paused before speaking again "or previous sexual assault."

You closed your eyes, tensing, tears silently falling again.

It had been six years since it happened. Three years since you and Spencer started dating. He was so gentle and extremely patient with you. Still is after all these years.

You don't know why this year hit you hard. The anniversary was a month ago, but you still haven't been able to really pull yourself out of this state.

Things were going well for you otherwise. You were busy which was good.

"This isn't permanent. I know you. There's been a lot going on, things you don't talk to me about, but I see them."

You finally look up at him. His heart breaks looking at you. He cups your cheek with one hand and you lean into his touch.

"Are you mad?" You whisper, looking exhausted and dejected.

"I'm not mad, love. I know you have a hard time talking about certain things. I just want you to know that I love you and I'm here to listen."

"Sometimes I feel nothing and it scares me. I'm too embarrassed to say anything."

"I would never judge."

"I know. Then I feel guilty for not telling you"

"Do you feel nothing now? Empty inside?" You nod as you wipe your tears.

"My head still feels like it's short circuiting"

"Let's head to the kitchen. I'll make you hot water with lemon and honey. I'll get you some orange slices, walnuts and a few pieces of dark chocolate."

"Can we eat them in bed?" You asked and he shook his head.

"We're going to have them in the kitchen. The lights are a bit brighter and you can sit at the island and eat while I make your drink."

"Then the bedroom?"

"Yes, Angel. Then the bedroom. I'll hold you all night."