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venusalexian · 1 month ago

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solet III

official little sister

alexia putellas x teen!reader & barça femení x teen!reader

in which you are a very sleepy teen and Alexia needs to be better at communicating

“Hey, Ale! Anything you need us to bring over to yours for tonight?” asks Irene as they move to the locker room after their gym session.

“Huh, for what?” Alexia is only half-listening. She had opened her phone to find your usual daily update in the new family group chat.

At first, you had insisted on having a group chat with Ale and your grandparents so you wouldn’t have to worry about making sure you shared everything necessary with them one by one. Over time, you started using it just to send daily compilations to your grandparents on weekdays and to Ale on weekends when you switched houses.

When Olga found out, she had pouted at Ale and sheepishly asked if she could be in it too, especially for the weeks in which she had to be out travelling. You added her happily, not having thought that she’d want to be in it, still a bit unsure of your dynamic. You had felt warmth at her insistence on being involved in your life. Ale was the happiest about it. Then, during your second or third dinner with Ale’s family, Eli and Alba find out about it and demand to be included. You couldn’t believe how much your circle had expanded in just a few weeks.

[pictures of you with friends and teammates] good day over here! classes were fine and the math exam went well (i think, i hope). lunch was… okay. they could do better :( and training was great! and now i’m getting a snack with the girls before getting the train to ale’s and napping because i’m sooooo tired. hope everyone had a good day too!

Alexia loves these updates and instinctively smiles while looking at the pictures and reading the paragraph with your high-pitched teen voice.

“Ale!” Irene snaps her fingers in front of her face. “For team bonding, it’s at yours tonight.”

Alexia blanches. Right. Tema bonding. At her house. She had agreed to it weeks ago, a weekend in which both Olga and Alba were out of town feeling like the best time to host the craziness of her teammates on a Thursday night.

But that was before. Before a teenager moved into her house. Before her days began to be filled with school notes, teenage drama, and syncing schedules to as much as possible be present for your games and events. Team bonding was not in that schedule.

Most importantly, the team didn’t exactly know yet. She hadn’t meant to keep it a secret. But she wanted things to be calm at the beginning, and not face any input from outside your families about the situation. She wanted you to get comfortable without external judgment. So while the team knew who you were by now, after relentless teasing from the younger players who you were closer to, they didn’t know all of the new developments.

”Um, so… I completely forgot about it. Could we, um, reschedule?”

”No, Ale. C’mon. We have a full schedule for the next four weeks starting this weekend. We need this now for team morale before the upcoming crucial games.”

Irene is right, but Alexia is still reluctant to let go of the protective bubble your life had become.

”Besides, I know you don’t have anything better to do because both your girlfriend and your sister are out of town.”

“Hey! I could have other plans, I have friends, you know.”

”You could, but you don’t. You can’t just back out because you’re tired and the kids are a handful. It’s your turn to suffer through their destructive tendencies while playing videogames.”

“Hey, we aren’t that bad!” Vicky responds to the teasing.

”You scared Bagheera with your yelling so much he did not come out from under the couch until the next day.”

“Slander! Exaggeration!” Jana, Vicky, and Pina continue to defend themselves.

“Okay, okay. Let's get back on track.” Irene exclaims to quiet the locker room. “So in a couple of hours, at your house. Yes, Ale?”

Alexia is distracted again by a new message in the group chat.

[picture of you in comfy sweats, eyes half closed, resting on your bed] home safe. nap time She is only half-aware of her answer.

“Mmmh, Yes, of course.”

”Great! See you soon Capi!”

Alexia only realizes too late that she has ended up agreeing to hosting the team bonding night. Now she has to prepare for an interrogation, great.

By the time Alexia gets home, you are still napping in your new room. You look so peaceful, and Alexia knows you have been very busy and tired this week with training and exams. She can’t wake you up now, just to potentially make you more anxious, so she decides to let you sleep and rest. There are still a couple of hours before they come around, either way. There’s time.

She’s wrong. Before she realizes how much time has gone by, her teammates are already knocking at her door. You are still asleep, and now it’s too late to warn you about it. She sends you a text, hoping that it is enough and that you will see it when you wake up from your nap.

She’s wrong again. You don’t look at your phone when you wake up. Instead, you come out sluggishly, rubbing your eyes, and walk towards Ale, who is leaning in the doorframe of the hallway that hosts your bedrooms. Your half-asleep brain is ignorant of everything and everyone around the house. On autopilot, you lean completely against Ale and hide your face from the light by smushing it against her shoulder. She rights herself and slides her arms around you into a hug, pulling you more firmly against her chest. This motion is still so new, but is slowly becoming second-nature for you both.

“Hey, solet, good nap?”

“Mmmh.” You press your face harder against her shoulder, not really ready to talk yet, with sleep still clouding your mind.

Ale lowers her arms to let you go, but you whine discontentedly.

“Okay, okay.” She hugs you again, presses her smile and a kiss to your head.

As you slowly come to lucidity, you realise the context that you have walked into. You turn your head and see over twenty faces staring at you, in shock. And then the team’s questions start, all at the same time. You shriek, wide-eyed and definitely awake now, and run back to your room.

You can hear Ale quieting her teammates and then walking to your room, even though you’ve flopped face-down into your bed with a pillow over your head.

“Hey, solet. All good?” You just grunt in response.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you beforehand. I texted you, hoping you’d see it when you woke up.” You don’t have to glance at her to know she’s wincing. You still don’t uncover your face.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to let you sleep, you’ve been so busy and tired this week.” You peek a bit from your hiding place. Ale still has a sheepish smile.

“It’s okay. It’s your house.” You mumble against the comforter, still not willing to fully come out, but looking at Ale from the side. “Hey, no, that is not what I meant.” Ale frowns. “This is also your space, and it wasn’t right for me to not give you proper notice before they came in. I’m so sorry, solet.”

You remove the pillow from your head entirely now. You really don’t wanna make her feel guilty. Yes, she should have told you, but it wasn’t that bad. There’s still something nagging at the back of your mind, though.

“Are you mad?” You whisper it, scared of the answer. “That they know about this?”

This, you living there, Ale’s increasingly important role in your life, your newfound dependency on her, well, maternal comfort and involvement.

“No. No, solet.” She looks so sad at your question, at your hesitation and evident insecurity. “I did want you not to have to deal with too many people during such a change, but I am happy that they know now. This is special to me, and I’m so excited for them to get to know you more like I have.” Her smile is back to that open, soft expression she tends to have with you. It reassures you just as much as her words.

“Okay. Thank you for apologizing.” You mirror her smile. “Hug?” You turn around and throw your hands out towards her. She doesn’t hesitate to comply.

“So, what’s going on and why’s everyone here?” You ask without pulling away, Ale is playing with your hair, and nothing calms you more than this action.

“It’s team bonding night. I forgot I had volunteered for it a while ago, before you moved in, so it had completely skipped my mind until Irene reminded me at training. I couldn’t say no then. It’s very relaxed, though. We’re just chatting, and the younger ones are setting up their video games on our TV as we speak. You can join us if and when you want. Or I can wrap it up entirely now, I don’t think they’d push against it much now, considering the situation. And if you do join us, I’ll make sure they don’t accost you with an interrogation. It’s all on your terms, yeah?”

You pull back a bit from the hug.

“Don’t call it off, it’s okay. I will join you. I mean, they’re your teammates and our friends, right? They should get used to this.” Ale beams at your smirk and new confidence.

“Perfect! Take your time, solet.”

“Yeah, thanks Ale.”

“Oh, and pizza will be here soon.”

You jump out of bed excitedly.

“Pizza! You should have led with that. Come on, let’s go Ale! Let’s go!”

“I should have known the promise of pizza would immediately change your mood.” Ale laughs at your eagerness.

“Pizza is life, Ale.”

“Pizza is pizza, solet.”

Ale also gets up from your bed.

“I’m gonna go and answer some of their questions, and then I’ll make sure they don’t bother you. Don’t feel pressured to come out immediately. You can also just grab pizza and watch a movie in your room or something. Whatever you need, yeah?”

“Yes, Ale. But I promise I’m good now; it was a bit of a shock, but I’m okay. I’ll be right behind you; just let me put something on that is a bit more presentable.”

“Okay, good. I want them to get to know you better.” There it is again, the soft smile that warms you.

She takes her leave, but you stop her one last time as she’s crossing the threshold of your room.

“Oh, and Ale?”

“Yeah?”

“I might have texted Eli and Olga when I was upset right after running into my room.”

Ale groans; she knows her phone must be exploding with another interrogation.

When you come out about fifteen minutes later, there is no dramatic shock. The girls don’t question Ale’s squeeze of your arm as you pass by her and grab a couple of slices from the kitchen. Or her smile and head-shaking as you wolf the slices down before making your way to the couch, where the younger players have finished setting up the console. You’re sheepish as you approach, unsure if they’ll be upset at being left in the dark, especially the ones that still share a locker room with you in the B team.

You have nothing to worry about, though.

Sydney and Vicky just pat the spot between them on the floor that has been covered by pillows, and Jana pushes your shoulders back, making you rest your back on her legs as she sits behind you on the couch. Vicky, Pina, Esmee and Cata are all playing right now, and you join easily in their trash-talking and play-fighting. The controllers are passed around round after round, and you even manage to win a couple of games, which makes you grin and gloat as they tease you. Eventually, the older players join you in the chairs and seats around the couch, and you switch the video games to the men’s game.

You rest more firmly against Jana, who has also started to play with your hair and massage your scalp. The calming motion, the light commentary, and the warm, familiar atmosphere lull you to sleep again, as the taxing week has made you need to catch up on your sleep.

Alexia notices as the game enters overtime. The older players around her grin at how she melts and smiles softly as she sees you so relaxed. Despite her constant public pushback at being deemed maternal to younger players, their friend has truly assumed the role in your life, even if both of you are still hesitant to speak it out loud.

She gently shakes you awake as the rest of the players slightly clean up the living room from the mess it has become.

“Come on, solet, bedtime for you.”

You should feel self-conscious about the older girls seeing you like this, but sleepiness is once again preventing your awkwardness from jumping out.

“Mmmh, yes, Ale. Night.” You close your eyes again while resting against the couch.

“No, silly, to your room.”

“Too far.”

“Solet you can’t sleep on the floor.”

“Yes, I can, I was just doing so.” You can faintly hear snickering in the back, but you’re not awake enough to care.

Ale doesn’t refute you this time. Instead, you just feel her grab your back and legs to lift you. Your head drops to her shoulder, and your body relaxes further in her hold. She carries you to your bed and tucks you in. Tomorrow, you’ll blush bright red at being told about this scene from Sydney, but today you are too tired and content to do anything but burrow further into your bed and sleepily thank Ale.

You’re also too asleep to hear the scene on the other side of your bedroom door.

Ale softly closes your door and turns around to finish tidying and making sure everyone has a safe way home. But when she reenters the living room, all her teammates are just staring at her with the broadest smirks. She should have seen this coming. She’s ushering them out of the door as they hound her with cheeky questions.

“So… we have an official little sister?

“No.”

“Will you be carrying me like that, too, if I fall asleep on the plane?”

“You’re all adults.”

“Can we call you mom now?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Can we call her our baby?”

“She’ll decide that.”

Irene lingers by the door and waits for everyone else to leave ahead. Before closing the door behind her, she turns around to Alexia one last time.

“You know, it suits you. And you’ll do well, you’ll be good for her, don’t doubt it.”

Alexia really appreciates her words, as a friend and as a mother. She’s probably the person she’s had a more challenging time not discussing her new life with. She just nods, and knows that’s enough for them to understand each other. But Irene doesn’t leave without one last dig.

“Can’t believe you have a kid that’s older than mine, though.”

Alexia doesn’t correct her; there are no false pretenses with Irene, she knows.

N/A

and last re-upload! new story before the end of the week, so excited to make solet's world bigger :)

as always, I love asks and requests in my inbox, feel free to leave your thoughts there!

xoxo, a.c. 💫

#barcelona femeni #barca femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni x teen!reader #barca femeni x reader #alexia putellas x teen reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso x teen!reader #woso fic #woso x reader #solet

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berrybeca · 10 months ago

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Smart? - Theodore N.

don’t get me wrong, i love the headcannon that he never studies and is just suuuper duper smart, but i wanted to add a twist.

anyone who saw the group around the library, always questioned about why he’d always be napping, and never studied - not even with the company of his friends or his girl.

but damn, nothing compared to how their faces would fall from thinking theo was just a stupid prick, to knowing he’s top of the class 90% of the time (never had a good track record in Charms, according to him, he’d ‘already been blessed with enough charm in the sheets’).

was he totally smug about it on open? no! of course not, but when the person he was talking to turned around, a grin was plastered on his face. no one understood why, but one day, you had the privilege of finding out.

after a few puffs and kisses, theo begins to talk about his dad and late mom, the topic of summer break coming up. a few weeks were to be spent at the Malfoy Manor, but then he had to go back home, where he said all about the abuse from his dad, and the isolation there.

what was new this time around though, was the mention of a tutor. “well yeah, my… my dad wants me to be on the top of my classes”, he grumbles, bangs being swooped to the side by your fingers, “so every summer, from the morning to the late afternoon, i have tutoring sessions.”

the motions on his hair pause, your mouth falling slightly agape as he continues explaining, “i take notes, and i bring those notes back to hogwarts, so then i already have the contents memorised and i can always check out what i wrote.”

some exclamations and curses towards his father leave your parted lips, bewildered at the explanation of why he was deprived of his vacation times.

—

i got a FOUR (out of ten) in a test… not a passing grade, if you’re wondering, so i’m very stressed and sad!! time to write sloppy smut and watch my comfort shows, amiright?

#slytherin boys #slytherin #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader

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sweetromanova · 15 days ago

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Crisis Management: Part Three🖤

Natasha Romanoff x PR Handler!Reader

Summary: Your assigned to make Natasha Romanoff more ‘relatable’. Somewhere along the way you forget your job was to fix her image, not fall in love with it.

A/N: i was supposed to upload this days ago but every time i re-read it, i was unhappy, i still am but here is the third instalment! there will be one more...

Natasha wasn’t looking for trouble.

She was just walking through the training wing, finishing a sparring session with one of the senior agents, wiping sweat from her neck with a towel, already mentally halfway through a black coffee and a five-minute nap.

Then she heard it.

It wasn’t loud but it was clear. Just voices echoing off the hall’s concrete, a few of the younger agents in the corner, tossing back jokes and smirks like they were in some locker room comedy special.

“—PR girl? Damn. I’d sit through a whole press seminar if she was the one giving it.”

“Right? She’s hot and smart. Those are the ones that ruin your life in the best way.”

“I bet she’s got that whole hidden freak vibe. Quiet ones always do.”

And then: “Wonder if she and Romanoff are actually hooking up.”

“I was on nights and they were sparring the other day. Like Natasha was just tossing her around like a rag doll.”

“…Could be a kink thing.”

“I mean, I’d be into it. Wonder if they need a referee…”

That was as far as they got.

Natasha’s boot hit the floor harder than necessary as she stepped into view. The smile she gave them wasn’t a smile. It was a barbed wire snarl wrapped in silk.

“Care to repeat that?” She asked, voice low and lethal.

The agents froze, one of them paling instantly. Another opened his mouth, probably to make a joke but nothing came out.

Natasha stalked forward, hands at her sides but ready. Her whole body spoke threat in that cold, perfect way only she could.

“I didn’t quite hear you.” She said again. “Say it louder.”

One of them actually stepped back.

“You think because she’s kind, she’s an object? Because she does her job with grace and patience, especially with all of you walking PR disasters, you get to talk about her like that?”

“No- I- We-“

“I- I- I-“ Natasha mocked, her voice razor-sharp. “What? You thought nobody would call you out? You thought you could sit there, make your little jokes and it wouldn’t get back to her?”

The group stood frozen, the tension crackling in the air like a storm just about to break.

“She’s twice the person any of you could hope to be.” Natasha continued, stepping forward now, voice steady, low and deadly calm. “And believe me when I say, if you ever speak about her like that again, you won’t just be explaining yourselves to me.”

She let the silence stretch, let them squirm under the weight of her gaze.

Then, almost softly, but with unmistakable steel. “Apologise, now. Then get out of my sight.”

They didn’t hesitate. A chorus of stumbling apologies, averted eyes, and hasty steps followed, leaving Natasha alone with the stillness.

She exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing.

“Idiots.”

“Romanoff.” Came a sharp voice behind her. Maria Hill. “You wanna turn that PR into HR?”

“Please.” Natasha scoffed. “The new agents need a bit of humbling.”

“You’re not wrong.” Maria said carefully. “But not here. If you’re going to bully the recruits, do it out of the training room”

Natasha stood still, still vibrating with fury. Her knuckles were white where she clenched the towel.

Steve, who had appeared not long after Maria, clearly also having overheard the conflict, stepped forward. “Come on. Let’s walk it off.”

“I’m fine.” She snapped.

“You’re not.” Maria said, voice gentle but firm. “You’re cracking that water bottle… So let’s fix that.”

Before she could argue, the elevator chimed.

Pepper and Wanda, walking with a coffee in hand, brows already raised like they’d sensed the tension from three floors up.

Natasha crossed her arms. “Let me guess, you’re here to tell me to calm down too.”

“No.” Wanda said. “But I did sense your mood from upstairs. What happened?”

“Some idiot agents talking shit.”

“Oh.” Pepper blinked. “When has that ever bothered you?”

“It didn’t.” Maria cut in. “Until they started talking about her.”

“Oh. OH.”

Natasha didn’t answer.

“Let’s take a walk.” Not giving the redhead a choice, the two women whisked her away. “Do you want to know why you’re… hulking out?” Pepper didn’t wait for answer. “She gets under your skin because she’s not built like us. Not hardened by missions and violence and trauma. But she’s strong in a different way.”

“She’s just good and you’re not used to that.” Wanda added softly.

Pepper nodded. “She sees people. The real parts. Not the headlines. Not the failures. Just the things worth holding onto. And she makes you want to live up to that.”

That cracked something in Natasha’s chest.

Pepper stepped closer. “I’ve known her quite a while but she doesn’t talk much about herself, not really. But people talk and well… she’s been through things that would’ve broken most people.”

Natasha said nothing.

“And instead of closing off, she got better. Softer. She doesn’t let the past make her cruel.”

“She’s not naive.” Wanda added. “But she still chooses kindness. Not because she has to, because she believes it changes people.”

Natasha was quiet for a long time. Then: “She deserves someone better than me.”

Pepper gave her a long look. “She deserves someone who sees her. And protects her when she’s not looking. I think that might be you.”

Something twisted hard in Natasha’s chest.

Because she’d fought wars. Escaped empires. Dismantled entire networks of evil. But this?

This was terrifying.

Caring for someone who mattered. Caring for someone who could be hurt.

And maybe worst of all, being cared for back.

Natasha Romanoff, legendary spy, killer, child assassin was scared. But not of pain or even of love.

She was scared that someone like you might reach for her one day, with all that light and stubborn hope and she’d be too broken to hold it.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You knew something was wrong when the third person asked ‘Is she running late or just blowing this off?’.

The event had started almost an hour ago.

The press was already circling like bloodthirsty drones, influencers taking selfies in front of the charity’s golden banner while you stood off to the side in the dress you’d picked carefully, hoping and stupidly that tonight might finally feel like something real.

You kept checking your phone.

Nothing. Not a text. Not a call. Not even a ‘Sorry, can’t make it.’

You tried to hold your smile when reporters asked if Natasha was on her way. “She’s probably just… delayed.”

When someone whispered ‘Guess the soft launch wasn’t real’ loud enough for you to hear, your cheeks flamed hot.

You left before the main speech. Before dessert. Before you had to feel the weight of every turned head and half-sympathetic glance.

By the time the Tower elevator dinged open, you weren’t sad anymore.

You were furious.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The team was scattered around the couches, Tony and Sam mid-bicker, Clint tossing popcorn at Steve’s head, Wanda trying to read a book but failing miserably through the chaos.

And there she was.

Natasha.

Perfectly calm, sitting on the armrest, sipping a drink, scrolling through her phone like the night hadn’t just imploded around you.

You stormed in and the room went still.

“Where the hell were you?” You snapped, voice sharp enough to cut steel. In the elevator ride, you planned your exact argument, down to the last word. But when you saw her there, nonchalantly on that damn phone that you’d spent the last hour calling and texting, it went out of the window.

Natasha didn’t look up. “I didn’t feel like going.”

You blinked. “You didn’t feel like it?”

She shrugged, indifferent. “Seemed like more of a PR thing than a me thing.”

“Oh my God.” You laughed, a sharp, disbelieving sound. “Are you kidding? You agreed to be there. You confirmed. We planned it, we rehearsed it. I stood there like an idiot while people asked if you were even real.”

She finally looked at you, still unreadable. “They’ll get over it.”

You took a step forward. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” She said. Too fast. Too flat. “It wasn’t personal.”

The team had all practically dissolved into the couch at this point, wincing at every word Natasha said and looking everywhere but at you.

“Not personal?!” Your voice cracked, your composure fracturing along with it. “You made me believe I could trust you. That we were building something. You let me in, let me- care about you and then the second it matters, you bail. You don’t even bother to lie about it.”

She said nothing. No apology. No reaction.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat. “You know what? You’re exactly what people say you are. Cold. Closed off. A performance.”

That made her blink but still, she didn’t answer.

So you pressed harder. “Was any of it real? Or were you just bored and thought I’d be fun to play with?”

Her jaw tightened but she kept still and infuriatingly calm.

“I guess that’s my answer.” You whispered, stepping back like you’d been slapped. “I really thought you were different. You’re a coward, Agent Romanoff.”

It wasn’t until Wanda gently touched your arm that you remembered the rest of the team. She was standing beside you now, eyes soft, hand light on your wrist.

“Come on.” She said gently. “Let’s take a walk.”

You didn’t even nod. Just let her guide you toward the elevator, your chest still burning.

You didn’t look back.

If you had, you might’ve seen Natasha’s shoulders fold in on themselves the second the door closed.

But you didn’t.

And she didn’t stop you.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The night air was cool, heavy with city sounds and the quiet hum of traffic below. Wanda walked beside you, hands in her coat pockets, giving you silence without pressure.

When you finally spoke, it came out hoarse and bitter.

“I know she’s complicated. I know. I didn’t walk into this thinking she was going to knit me a sweater and write me poems.”

Wanda didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to.

You shook your head, blinking hard. “But I thought… I thought if I showed up, if I stayed patient, gave her space, gave her me- that maybe, eventually…”

“That she’d meet you there.” Wanda finished quietly.

You nodded, arms crossing tight over your chest. “And tonight wasn’t even about us. It was work. It was something she promised to do. But she just… didn’t.”

You paused. “I stood there like an idiot while people whispered that I was being used. That it was all fake. And she didn’t even bother to text.”

Wanda finally looked over at you, gentle but firm. “That’s not about you.”

You laughed bitterly. “Feels like it is.”

“She’s scared.”

“Of what? Me? I’m not the one who disappears. I’m not the one who shuts down the second someone gets too close.”

“No.” Wanda agreed. “You’re the one who shows up. Every time.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “It hurts. It’s not even about the event anymore. I trusted her. I defended her. I let her in. And she made me feel like I was nothing. Like it was all… one-sided.”

“It’s not.” Wanda assures you, almost desperate to tell you what happened but she knows it’s not her place to say.

You looked at her. “Then why does it feel like it is?”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The second the elevator doors closed behind you and Wanda, silence settled over the common room.

And then… “What the hell was that?” Tony said, no sarcasm for once.

Steve stepped forward, arms crossed. “You left her there, Romanoff.”

Natasha stood by the window, arms folded, expression unreadable but her silence said everything.

“You humiliated her, at her work. The reputation she’d spent so long building you, you nearly ruined it.” Clint added, quiet but firm. “That’s not like you.

“She’ll bounce back,” Natasha muttered, too low to be convincing.

“Bounce back?” Clint scoffed, wanting to throw the remote in his hand at the redhead’s stupidly frustrating head.

That’s not the point.” Sam said. “You’re not a rookie. You know what that kind of public embarrassment does to someone. especially someone whose whole job is to keep you from looking bad.”

Natasha didn’t move.

“She looked gutted.” Bucky said, tone unusually gentle. “I’ve seen you walk away from a hundred things. But her?”

He shook his head. “This wasn’t tactical. This was self-sabotage.”

“I don’t need a team of emotionally unavailable idiots to start playing Cupid with me and her. When did I ask?!”

“We were helping.”

“I didn’t ask!” Natasha almost growled, defensive and angry. “And you guys inserted yourself anyway and now what? You’re mad because you thought you were right. You believed in some fairytale-“

Pepper’s voice cut in, cool and cutting. “She believed in you. Fought for you.”

That one made Natasha flinch. just barely. But it was there.

“I never asked her to.”

“No.” Pepper agreed. “But you let her.”

Another long silence.

Natasha finally spoke. “I thought if I kept her at arm’s length, I wouldn’t… ruin it.”

Tony snorted. “Well, congrats. You managed to ruin it anyway.”

Steve’s voice softened. “You don’t get to do this halfway, Nat. Not with someone like her. If you want out, be honest. But if you’re scared? That’s fine. Just don’t use fear as an excuse to hurt her.”

No one said anything else.

They didn’t need to.

The weight of what she’d done filled the room and this time, Natasha felt it.

She turned back to the window, jaw tight, trying to pretend the sting behind her eyes was nothing.

But for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sure how to fix what she’d broken. She couldn’t throw a grenade at it and watch it collapse. She couldn’t shoot someone in the name of justice or throw a pair of handcuffs on you and feel a little lighter that she just saved the world of another monster. This was something different, something new entirely and she had no idea.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You didn’t plan to go back to the Tower the next day.

You were tired. Still bruised from the embarrassment, still sore from the fight, worse than a physical one because the person who’d hurt you knew where to land the blows.

But your laptop had updates syncing through the Tower server and if you didn’t at least check in, the PR team would start sending passive-aggressive gifs.

So you walked through the front doors, bracing for awkward silences, maybe a few pity looks.

What you weren’t expecting was chaos.

The common room lights were dimmed, someone had shoved a ring light into a plant and the Smart TV was looping a series of shaky, self-recorded videos. Natasha’s face filled the screen. She was wearing a hoodie, actually your hoodie you realised and squinting into the camera like she was trying to disable it with her eyes alone.

“Hi.“ She said. “I’m Natasha Romanoff. You may know me from such headlines as ‘Scary in Black’ and ‘Does She Ever Smile?“

You froze.

She took a beat, clearly reading from a barely hidden script.

“I’m here to tell you about-“ She glanced off-screen, “What was it? Oh. Lip gloss. From this… tube.” She held up a pale blue tube like it might detonate. “Apparently, this one’s vegan and has emotional undertones.”

Cut.

The next video appeared, a microphone placed strategically on a table with nothing else around. You almost burst out laughing as suddenly two hands appeared, armed with a knife and some kind of gadget, slowly sharpening it.

You never thought you’d see the day Natasha did ASMR and with weapons no less, it was weirdly hot. Her voice echoed in the bathroom.

“Ok, now I kinda get the appeal. Let’s try guns…”

Cut.

Then she appeared again, this time with the rest of the team. You actually did start laughing now as the redhead lip synced along with the audio ‘…You can pack your things and leave. There’s the door.’

The rest of the team jumped out from various places behind her and pointed as they chorused ‘There’s the door bitch!’

Cut.

You stood there, stunned.

Then her voice came, not from the speakers but from behind you. “I don’t know how to say I’m sorry without it sounding… like strategy. So I figured I’d show you instead. I didn’t forget what you said, about what you like, what makes you laugh, what matters to you. I’m sorry I didn’t show up. But I was listening.”

You blinked fast and turned, there she was. Standing in the soft light, hands in her pockets, looking unsure in a way that was very un-Natasha.

You laughed through your nose, still watery. “You made content.”

She nodded. “I made so much content.”

“I’m being honest when I say I’m not good at this.” She muttered quietly. “But I really wanted you to know that I was paying attention. I just… panicked. I hurt you because I got scared and that’s not fair. It’s not what you deserve.”

You looked at her. “I don’t want perfect.” You shrugged. “I just want honest.”

She stepped closer. “Then I’m terrified. And trying. That’s honest.”

You swallowed hard. “Okay.”

She gestured toward the elevator. “Walk with me?”

You nodded.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You walked through the city, not speaking for a while. Just existing beside each other. Shoulder to shoulder. Not touching but closer than space really allowed.

Finally, Natasha broke the silence.

“I didn’t think someone like you could be real.”

You glanced at her. “Someone like me?”

“Soft. Not scared of me. Actually the opposite.”

“I’m terrified of you.” You said, dryly. “I’m pretty sure that day I walked in with a binder, you could have killed me with it at least 30 different ways.”

“You don’t act like it.” She huffed a laugh. “But that’s true.”

“That’s because somewhere under the assassin stare and the world’s worst text etiquette, you’ve got a good heart.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Not to me.”

She looked down at her hands for a second. “You really think I can be good?”

You slowed your pace. “I think you already are. You just don’t know what it looks like to share it with another person yet.”

Another long pause.

Then, quietly. “Will you show me?”

Your chest squeezed so tight you could barely breathe.

You nodded. “Yeah. I will.”

She didn’t reach for your hand but her fingers brushed yours.

Just enough that it said I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The walk back to the tower was easy, light and refreshing, which someone would never describe Natasha Romanoff as.

Unless they was you.

You soaked in the quiet, city buzz, breathed in the soft, spring air, tried not to lose your train of thought when her sleeve brushing yours.

You weren’t holding hands but it was close. You smiled, still feeling the ghost of her voice in your chest. Will you show me?

You were just about to say something, something dumb and soft and probably embarrassing, when you heard it.

A click. Then another.

A chorus of camera shutters.

Then voices. “Wait—wait, is that her?”

“Is that Natasha Romanoff?!”

“Oh my God, it’s them! The one from that video and- GET A VIDEO!”

“Are they dating?!”

And just like that, it hit. A wall of people, phone up, shouting and pushing. Some were laughing, some trying to get selfies, others just yelling her name.

“Natasha! Look this way!”

“Smile for us!”

“ARE YOU TOGETHER?!” You stiffened instantly, shrinking back without thinking, trying to block the flashes from your face but it was too late.

A hand shoved too close. A phone nearly hit your cheek. Someone grabbed your arm, not hard but hard enough to make your pulse spike. You barely had time to register it before Natasha moved.

Fast. Fluid. Pure instinct.

She stepped in front of you like a shield, one hand gripping your wrist, the other out in a sharp, commanding gesture. “Back up NOW.”

Her voice cut through the crowd like a blade.

Her eyes were fire and her jaw was tightly locked. The same look she wore before a takedown.

“Move.” She snapped, already steering you through the crush.

You let her. You didn’t have a choice.

Every time someone got too close, she was there, guiding you behind her, using her body to wedge open space. A shoulder turned to block an arm. A hand on your back to keep you close. Her head down, scanning, protecting.

You heard someone yell. “You can’t touch me, I know my rights!”

And then a camera was shoved too close. Too close.

Natasha caught it mid-air and shoved it back, not hard enough to break it but hard enough to make the guy stumble. “Touch her again.” She said, flatly. “And we’ll find out exactly how much training I’m not using right now.”

The crowd didn’t fully disperse but they hesitated, just long enough for her to get you into the Tower’s entryway, where security finally swarmed.

The doors shut.

The noise dropped.

Your breath was ragged.

Natasha was still standing in front of you, chest rising and falling fast, like she was waiting for another threat.

Only when she turned around did you realise her hand was shaking.

You blinked. “Nat…”

Her jaw twitched. She didn’t look at you.

“I shouldn’t have let you walk with me. That was stupid. I wasn’t thinking. They aren’t usually like that, not that bad but I-“

“Hey.” You stepped forward, catching her wrist gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her eyes flicked to yours, wild and guilt-ridden. Scared, in a way she never let herself be.

“I should’ve known,” she said, voice tight. “They watch everything. I should’ve-“

“You protected me.” Her breath hitched.

You took her hand, slowly. “You protected me. From them. From that. I’ve dealt with paparazzi before and that could have been intense but you-“

“Hey, look! My favourite couple! Did you get caught in that mess?” Tony appeared, all bright-eyed and almost hyped up on the chaos that waited outside. “Sorry about that! Some groupie just told everyone her two year old son is mine so it’s a little crazy. All in a day’s work, right?”

“What?” You breathed, you couldn’t take dealing with a scandal like this.

“Na, don’t worry about it. Happens at least once a month, right Nat?”

“Strangely, yes.”

“See you lovebirds later…” He winked, sliding on his glasses and flocking to the many that waited outside for a picture, a comment or even just a selfie.

“I- Is he always like that?”

“Pretty much.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The gala was meant to be a celebration. An Avengers public appearance. A press-heavy fundraiser. Civil, polished, contained. Easy.

The whole team was there, dressed like they’d been told not to bring weapons, even though you knew better. Steve giving careful interviews, Tony charming bored billionaires, Wanda nodding along to some roundtable about ‘moral frameworks’.

You were centre stage, scheduled to moderate the live Q&A. Natasha was seated beside you, perfectly composed, looking ten percent bored and ninety percent hyperaware.

You smiled as you tapped your mic. “Let’s open the floor for some-“

Then the floor shook.

An explosion, not close but loud enough to send panic through the crowd.

People screamed. A glass wall shattered.

Chaos.

You turned just as Tony’s voice came over the comms. “We’ve got incoming. Unknown hostiles. All hands now.” It wasn't unusual for this to happen to the Avengers, some idiot trying their luck with a bunch of groupies but never did you think you'd find yourself in the presence of it.

Natasha was on her feet instantly, pulling you behind the stage. “Stay here. Don’t move.” Her voice was steel.

“But-“

“Stay.”

Then she was gone, vanishing into motion like she was never in heels to begin with.

You peeked through the curtain. The rest of the Avengers were already dispersing, charging into the chaos breaking through the building’s west side.

That’s when it happened.

They came from the other side. Half a dozen of them, knock-off tactical gear but heavy firepower and zero hesitation. While the heroes went west, the real plan entered from the east.

The stage was suddenly theirs.

You didn’t get to run. They spotted you immediately, centre spotlight, mic still warm.

“Her!” One barked. “Take her!”

Several hands grabbed you, yanking you back. You fought. Kicked. Bit someone’s wrist hard enough to make them curse.

A gun cracked across your cheek and everything spun.

You hit the ground hard, blood in your mouth, ears ringing. You heard one of them laughing. “Guess she’s tougher than she looks. They must have taught her well.”

Another shoved you forward, dragging you to the middle of the stage.

And through it all, people were still filming.

Phones up, flashes going. The whole world watching in terror and entertainment.

A voice barked orders. “They’re coming back. When they do, she’s our message.”

They forced you to your knees. One knelt beside you, gun pressed to your head.

You could barely think. Blood was dripping from your temple, running into your left eye, your vision was still a little blurry.

But then somewhere in your haze came a flicker of clarity.

They’re waiting. They want an audience. Buy time.

So you started talking. “You don’t want to do this.”

The man beside you laughed. “Don’t make me sick with some moral high ground bullshit.”

“You want headlines? I’m the headline.” You murmured. “But if you kill me now, they’ll turn you into dust before the article’s even out.”

He raised the gun. “You think I won’t?”

“I think you’re trying really hard to prove something.”

He grabbed your collar. “You’ve got a mouth.”

“Yeah.” You muttered, tasting blood. “So I’ve been told.”

“You won’t have for much longer if you don’t shut the-“

Before he could finish, there was a swooping side then a thud echoed throughout the arena.

He looked confused for exactly half a second.

And then Natasha dropped from above.

No warning.

No sound.

Just a black shape exploding from the ceiling and breaking the first guy’s neck before he even saw her.

Gunfire erupted.

Two more went down before anyone could scream. Blood sprayed, hot, sharp, and too close. You flinched as one of the shooters collapsed behind you, brain matter splattering your shoulder and neck.

Someone screamed, might’ve been you.

Natasha was all motion, all death.

Precision shots. Blades thrown. Hands breaking bones.

Within forty seconds, they were down. All of them.

And you were still on your knees, covered in blood that wasn’t yours, arms shaking as you stared blankly ahead like your brain hadn’t caught up to your body.

“Hey, hey.” Natasha’s voice was suddenly right there, breathless and full of panic she’d never admit.

You blinked.

She was crouched in front of you, hands hovering near your face like she wasn’t sure where she could touch you without hurting you more.

“Don’t. Don’t look at them.” She whispered, reaching out to gently tilt your face away from the bodies. “Look at me.”

Your bottom lip trembled.

She saw it and her heart suddenly shattered.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” She murmured, finally pulling you into her arms.

You didn’t even flinch. You just folded into her, arms limp, mind on delay, blood soaking both your clothes as the room lit up with more cameras.

Flashes everywhere.

Security charging in.

Media shouting questions.

But all Natasha could do was hold you tighter, her hand gently cradling the back of your head.

“Don’t look. Don’t move. I’ve got you.”

And for the first time in her life, truly, completely, she didn’t care who was watching.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

They’d tried to get you to go to medical.

You had stubbornly refused. You let Natasha lead you into the Tower instead, silent, pale, still wearing the dress she’d watched you pick that morning, now stained in dried blood and soot.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t ask.

She just walked you to her room.

Straight to her private bathroom, wordless, efficient, careful. On auto pilot, she turned on the shower, tested the temperature and then turned back and started undoing the zipper on your dress like she was defusing a bomb.

You didn’t stop her.

And when she peeled it away when the fabric dropped to the floor and she saw the bruises already forming across your ribs, the cut on your cheek, the blood on your thighs that wasn’t yours, her hands trembled.

She didn’t speak, she didn’t cry.

She just pulled you gently under the stream and followed you in, fully clothed.

You stood in the water, both of you silent, her arms wrapped around you.

She held you as the blood washed away, as your shaking slowed, as the horror finally left your bones.

She didn’t say she was scared.

She didn’t say “I love you.”

But she didn’t have to.

You were alive because she’d come for you.

And now she wasn’t letting go.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

By the time Natasha guided you into the kitchen, it smelled like garlic, rosemary and the kind of comfort you didn’t realize you needed until it wrapped itself around your ribs.

Everyone was there.

Tony in pajama pants and a hoodie he definitely stole from Peter. Steve manning the stove like he wasn’t a genetically enhanced war relic. Clint perched on the counter like a raccoon with snack rights. Wanda and Sam were at the island, quietly chopping vegetables and tossing bread into a pan like it was just another night.

But the second you stepped in, blood gone, skin scrubbed pink, hair damp and clean, something in the air shifted.

No one stared. No one asked.

They just made space.

Natasha’s hand stayed in yours. Not gripping or demanding. Just there, a steady anchor wrapped around your fingers like she was terrified to let go.

She guided you toward a stool at the kitchen island. The seat was still warm.

“Sit.” She said softly.

You did.

A moment later, she placed a plate in front of you. You hadn’t even seen her build it, just that it was perfect. A little pasta. Some grilled chicken. Soft, roasted vegetables. A chunk of warm bread. Light enough that it wasn’t going to make the nauseous in your stomach come out. She set a glass of water down next, watched you until you took a sip.

Your throat felt raw. You didn’t know if it was from crying or not speaking for too long. Maybe both.

But the water helped, so did the food. But what helped more? The way she pulled up a chair beside you, close enough for her knee to brush yours helped more than you could say.

She didn’t push. Didn’t speak unless it was to quietly encourage.

“Eat a little more.”

“You’re doing good.”

“That’s enough for now, if you’re tired.”

She didn’t flinch when your hand trembled against your fork. She just gently covered it with hers and waited until you steadied.

And through it all, the team talked. Not to you. Not at you. Just around you.

Clint was retelling the story of the time he got locked out of a safe house in just a towel and combat boots. Steve was trying not to laugh. Tony kept throwing popcorn at Sam, who was definitely encouraging it.

The volume, the normalcy, it was intentional.

They weren’t pretending nothing had happened.

They were reminding you that you were still here. Still part of this messy, ridiculous family.

You ate enough to quiet the twist in your stomach and Natasha gently tapped your thigh once like permission to move.

You nodded so she led you to the couch, where the rest of the team were settling.

The lights were low now, TV casting a soft glow across the room. Clint had crashed into an armchair. Wanda curled up with a book. The others slowly trickled out, giving you privacy without making a show of it.

Natasha sat first.

Then waited. Like she knew the choice had to be yours.

You didn’t hesitate. You curled into her like you were made to fit there, your knees tucked to the side, body half in her lap, arms circling her waist like she was the only thing holding your bones together.

And she was.

Her arms wrapped around you instantly, not too tight or too tentative. Her hand slid up and down your back, slow and steady, not even really a rhythm, just a presence. Her fingertips brushed over the cut on your side, the bruising forming beneath your ribs. She didn’t flinch. Just pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head then rested her cheek there.

You felt her breathing. The rise and fall of her chest. The soft thrum of her pulse where your face pressed against her.

You could still smell the shampoo from your shared shower, Still feel the echo of gunshots vibrating through your skull.

But here? There was only her. Her heartbeat. Her hands. Her warmth.

The world had turned to static but this was real.

Your fingers curled into the hem of her shirt. Her breath caught. You didn’t speak. You just let yourself go limp. Let yourself trust her to hold you. And she did.

For minutes. Maybe hours. You didn’t know. Time melted into warmth and pressure and breath.

You felt your body sink. Your limbs get heavy. The weight of everything you’d been holding finally released.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep. But you did.

Your face pressed into her neck. Your fingers curled in her shirt like an anchor. Your whole body slumped into her, safe for the first time since you’d stood on that stage and watched the gun swing your way.

And Natasha? She didn’t move. Not when Steve peeked round and saw the two of you. Not when Tony whispered ‘She’s out cold’ and backed out like a cartoon villain sneaking offstage. Not even when your breath hitched in your sleep and your fingers gripped tighter.

She just held you, rocked you a little when you shifted in your unconscious state, whispered something in Russian you didn’t understand but your bones did.

And when she finally rested her chin on your head and let her eyes close, it was the first time she’d slept without her gun within reach in years.

Because you were worth the risk.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You woke slowly, with warmth and with weight. With the soft, steady rhythm of someone else breathing beneath you.

It took a moment to realize where you were. Curled up in the Tower’s living room, a blanket you didn’t remember being tucked around you, your entire body molded into the side of one Natasha Romanoff.

Her arms were still wrapped around you.

One hand resting lightly on your hip. The other threaded through your hair. She was leaned back into the couch cushions, head tilted, cheek resting on yours.

And she was awake. Barely.

But awake. Her thumb brushed absently over the fabric of your shirt like she’d never stopped touching you all night.

You stirred gently, shifting just enough to look up at her. Her eyes found yours instantly.

“Hey.” You whispered, voice raspy.

Her fingers tightened slightly. “Morning.”

You could hear the relief in her tone, even though she’d been awake for who knows how long, holding you like you’d slip through her arms if she so much as blinked.

You smiled, a little shy, a little raw. “Thank you.”

Her brow furrowed. “For what?”

“For…” You hesitated then leaned your forehead against hers. “All of it. Coming for me. Holding me. Letting me lose it and not making me feel stupid for it.”

“You weren’t stupid.” She said, instantly.

Her voice was steel for a split second, instinctive and protective.

Then she softened again. “You were brave. And you scared the hell out of me.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “I scared myself.”

“You nearly died.”

You opened your eyes. Her face was so close now, too close to hide anything.

“Yeah.” You whispered. “But you made sure I didn’t.”

Her hand came up to cradle the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “You don’t get to do that again.”

You blinked.

“Run in alone. Put yourself in the line of fire. Be brave like that. Not if I’m not right behind you.”

You nodded slowly. “Deal.”

“Good.” Her voice dropped, husky from too little sleep. “Because next time, I’m bodychecking you to the floor before you can even try it.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You made it to the kitchen eventually.

You walked on your own, talked in full sentences, even made a very weak joke. But none of that mattered to Natasha, apparently, who sat right beside you, close enough to supervise your water intake like it was a security clearance.

The team was all around. Chatting, joking, pretending to ignore how Natasha gently nudged your glass toward you every ten minutes.

“Drink.” She ordered.

“I just did.”

“Again.”

You sighed. “You know I’m okay now, right?”

“Mm.” She passed you a forkful of eggs from her plate, held out expectantly. “One more bite.”

You gave her a look.

“I’ll tase you.” She said sweetly.

Clint snorted into his coffee. “You guys gonna go full domestic before lunch or…”

You blushed. Natasha did not.

Instead, she calmly fed you another bite.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Should we be leaving the room?”

“No.” Wanda said, sipping tea. “This is adorable. This is my show now.”

Natasha didn’t seem to care who was watching anymore. She just rubbed slow, absent circles against your back with one hand while eating toast with the other.

You sighed, leaning your weight against her. “I should probably… do something about the PR fallout. That whole gun to the head on stage thing probably has the internet in flames.”

Tony, from across the kitchen, muttered. “You think?”

But before you could reach for your phone, Clint raised a hand. “Handled.”

You blinked. “Handled what?”

He smirked and slid his phone across the table.

The screen showed a picture.

You.

Asleep.

Curled up impossibly tight against Natasha, half in her lap, cheek pressed to her chest, her arms wrapped around you like she was guarding the last piece of something sacred.

The blanket had slipped halfway down. Her hand was tangled in your hair. The photo wasn’t posed, it was intimate and safe.

He tapped the caption.

They’re both okay. Healing. Alive. Let them rest. ❤️ #PRSPYAGENDA #IDONTHAVEPERMISSIONTOPOSTTHIS #NATWILLKILLMEFORHER #FINDMYBODY

Below it? Hundreds of thousands of likes and comments flooding in.

‘Not me crying at 8am…’

‘Can someone hug me like that???’

‘I will never be over this!’

‘When’s the wedding?’

‘We ride at dawn!’

You blinked hard.

Natasha leaned over your shoulder, reading. “Subtle.” She murmured but she couldn’t hide her smirk.

Clint raised his coffee. “I have range.”

You turned, giving Natasha a look. “So… we’re soft-launched again?”

She brushed her thumb along your cheekbone, looking right at you. “No.” She laughed. “I think the kids call that a hard launch.”

You melted a little.

And when she pulled you back in to rest against her chest again, arms around your waist, lips against your hair, you didn’t fight it.

Wanda squealed from somewhere behind you. “They’re SO ENDGAME!”

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanov #fan fiction #light angst #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #wanda maximoff #bucky barnes #steve rogers #clint barton #bruce banner #tony stark #sam wilson #natasha x reader #marvel #fanfiction #fanfic

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trashytracktales · 7 months ago

Note

I absolutely love your writing!!!!!! I have a bit of a longer request, you don’t have to write it if you don’t want to.

Lando and y/n meet through a mutual friend, and they both feel an immediate attraction. A few months later, they’re on a group trip—maybe at a beach villa or a mountain house for skiing. One day during the trip, they both decide to stay in, each thinking they’re alone.

Lando, believing he has the place to himself, starts masturbating on the sofa in the living room. Around the same time, y/n comes into the living room, planning to watch TV. She spots Lando on the sofa but doesn’t immediately realize what he’s doing as she was behind the sofa and a few steps away —until he moans her name. She kind of hides herself and spies on him until she gets enough courage and goes to him and asks him if she can help him and basically she goes on her knees right in front of him and starts sucking him off and he’s so surprised and turned on that he doesn’t know what to say or do other than moan her name and praise her

Deep in the Alps | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Sorry for keeping you waiting, I had a few works in progress + another request that came in before this one. Enjoy 🤍🎀

❄ summary ──── What begins as a private moment turns into something unexpected and, with a few days of vacation left, Lando is determined to make every moment count, setting the stage for an unforgettable getaway that blurs the lines between friendship and something far more... exciting.

❄ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

❄ rating ──── explicit

❄ category ──── F/M

❄ warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, slight fluff & smut, teasing, explicit language, horny thoughts, masturbation, oral sex ─ (m)receiving, low-key whiney Lando.

❄ word count ──── 4.1k

❄ date ──── Dec. 2, 2024

OF ALL THE people in his friend group, Lando looked forward to winter break the most. He loves summer, but nothing compares to a holiday deep in the Alps, away from cameras and prying eyes.

Their cabin is covered in a generous layer of snow that glimmers like a sea of diamonds under the pale winter sun. The air is crisp and cold, and everyone is excited for today, considering how much it snowed last night.

The group dynamic is diverse, having friendships that have been inseparable for years, while others are still navigating the early stages of familiarity.

She met them through Pietra a few months ago, but this is the first time she joined the entire group for a holiday. As expected, Lando is the central piece who draws attention through his bad jokes and easygoing charm, being a constant source of amusement for everybody. She, on the other hand, is content to sit back and observe, though she’s found herself smiling at his antics more often than she’d care to admit.

Their days so far have been a blur of early mornings spent carving down snowy trails, afternoons in crowded lodges sipping hot chocolate or mulled wine, and evenings around the fireplace, sharing stories and making more plans to hangout in the future. It was easy for her to fit in because everyone seemed — at least at first — to go out of their way to make her feel welcome and included.

Today, however, a dull headache throbs at her temples, forcing her to opt out of skiing, retreating to her room for a nap and leaving them to bundle up and head out to the slopes.

Lando also stays behind, claiming he’s exhausted from the previous night’s gaming sessions with Max and Morgan. But in reality, he’s just craving a moment of quiet, which is a rarity for him.

Outside, the snow glistens with an almost blinding brightness, reflecting the sunlight in too sharply. Lando had made a point to pull the curtains earlier, and now, the dimly lit living room is perfect for lounging on the couch with a blanket draped over his lap. The movie playing on the TV is a vague blur of sound and color in the background, abandoned halfway through in favor of his phone, which is much more interesting at the moment.

He scrolls through his Instagram feed, pausing on a group photo they took when they first arrived at the location. The image lingers on the screen, and his focus sharpens, studying everybody's face until he gets to her. She’s in the center, barely noticeable because of how small she looks like next to the others, bundled up in her pink jacket, her knit beanie perched perfectly atop her head, with loose strands of hair curling around her face. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold, and her smile is soft but radiant.

Lando exhales sharply, the pressure building low in his stomach catching him off guard. He tries to shake it off, tries to remind himself that she’s just a girl that hangs out with them from time to time.

Just a girl. That's all.

However, he can't explain how she managed to get under his skin so quickly. They are polar opposites of each other, and Lando noticed that. She's so quiet and reserved, yet somehow captivating in a way he can’t quite understand — it’s frustrating, really. Maybe that's exactly what gets him, making him wonder what it would take to make her lose that composure.

No. He can't go there.

Although…

He lets his thumb brush against the screen, zooming in on her face. A low groan escapes his throat as he recalls the way she looked last night, perched on the arm of a chair while everyone chatted around her, her lips quirking up at his dumb joke; she was the only one that understood it, and he caught that. Such a stupid joke, it wasn't even funny. But she laughed.

Why does she have to laugh at his jokes? More importantly, why does he want to make jokes all the time, just so he can hear her laugh?

“Get a grip, mate,” he whispers to himself under his breath, his free hand shifting lower, sliding under the waistband of his sweats. It’s instinctive, his body reacting to thoughts he’s been suppressing for a while now. “Not that kind of grip, fuck’s sake.”

He can't stop but think of how she would've laughed at that, too.

Lando closes his eyes, his strokes slow at first as he lets the thoughts flood in — it’s a good thing no one can read his mind at the moment. He thinks of her lips and how they part slightly when she’s surprised, and the way her teeth graze her bottom lip when she’s lost in thought. He can't help but imagine those lips closing around his cock, and what her voice would sound like if he fucked her pretty mouth.

“Come on,” he gasps, frustration tugging at the edge of his patience.

His pace quickens as his mind wanders further, seeing her with his mind's eye lying delicately beneath him, small and innocent, breathing in short spasms, and asking him for more. Her softness and the way she carries herself makes him want to see her like that — in a different light, flushed and undone. The image of her laughing at one of his ridiculous attempts to impress her spurs him on, and his hand tightens, his strokes becoming rougher as his breathing grows heavier.

That's when she realizes what she's walked in on.

All this time, she thought she was all alone and, judging by the scene in front of her, he thinks that, too. Her heart thuds wildly as she tries to process it, too stunned to move another muscle. His breaths are ragged, and she feels the tension radiating off him even from where she stands, frozen in place — at the base of the stairs, behind the couch. She knows she should leave and spare them both from an embarrassing encounter, but something keeps her there.

Closing her eyes, she squeezes the railing nervously. She barely got rid of her headache, but now her head's all dizzy from Lando's rough grunts that are echoing throughout the room.

He sounds as if he ran a marathon, barefoot, in the rain.

He sounds tired, but he's aggressive, like it's making him mad — the rhythmic slap of his fist against skin making her mouth water and stomach tighten.

He sounds... delicious.

And then, her eyes snap open.

She blinks rapidly as if that will help her hear better. His voice, low and needy, whispers her name like a prayer, again and again, a desperate sound that escapes his mouth deliberately. It echoes in the room and within the walls of her skull, pulling Lando deeper into the fantasy that he’s helpless to resist — and her, towards him.

Heat floods her cheeks, a mix of surprise, shock, and something deeper spreading through her as she tries to control her breathing.

How can she simply leave, when her name hangs on the corner of his mouth, so drenched in want? It's too late now. She doesn’t think anymore, doesn’t stop to analyze what she’s about to do; she simply trusts her instincts, as she always did.

Lando doesn’t hear her approach, lost in the haze of his own thoughts, his hand moving rhythmically under the blanket. His moans get increasingly louder, so obscene in her ears. It's like they call for her, alluring and profound, and she can’t say no.

Quietly stepping closer, she leans over the back of the couch, her hand reaching out as if it has a mind of its own. When her fingers slide over his, Lando's body stiffens, his breath catching in his throat.

“Relax,” she whispers, her voice soft and filled with anticipation, causing him to drop the phone somewhere on the couch.

He tilts his head back, wide eyes meeting hers, his face flushed and disbelieving. Her sweet perfume takes over his senses, getting him high on it.

He's surely dreaming, because there is no way in hell that she is real.

“What—”

“It's okay,” she assures him, her hand gently guiding his to resume its movement. “Let me help.”

Lando yelps, his head dropping back against the couch, their faces so close to each other as her grip steadies him, matching the pace he had before. The light weight of her hand over his sends a jolt through his body, his brain so close to shutting down for good, while his chest is rising and falling rapidly as she coaxes him closer to the edge.

What in the fuck is happening?

“Does that feel good, pretty boy?” she asks, her lips dangerously close to his.

Lando nods as his hips jerk involuntarily. He refuses to believe it's because of the pet name she just gave him; he is way too strong to fall for that.

Still, he closes his eyes again, biting at his lower lip to stop his whimpers from cascading out of his mouth. There is a small trace of cold sweat pooling on his forehead as her hand moves with his until his entire body tenses, and he finally lets out a deep, guttural moan, her name falling from his lips again, more like a warning this time. He knows he's close, so he tries to push her hand away to avoid the mess that he's about to make. But she stays ferm, using her free palm to push his head in the crook of her neck and caress his cheek softly. His breath falls hot on her skin, and when she starts encouraging him, it's enough for Lando to let go, thick splashes covering his lower abdomen before he can even think. The rest spills over their their joined hands, managing to get another grunt of pleasure out of him.

“There you go,” she says, tracing her thumb over his cum-soaked head, feeling him throbbing beneath her touch. “Such a hot view.”

For a litte while, the room falls silent except for Lando's labored breathing. She moves to sit beside him on the couch, giving him a moment to recover; his eyes are still closed, because how the fuck is he supposed to look at her now?

After that, she throws the tissue box at him, letting out a soft chuckle at his pathetic attempt to catch it.

Exhaling sharply, Lando drags his hands down his face, still avoiding the eye contact. “Well, that was embarrassing.”

She chuckles again, studying him closely, while he squeezes his eyes shut as if he can erase the last few minutes from existence. Except he doesn't really want to.

They sit in silence for another moment before she shifts, crossing her legs and facing him fully. “Did it happen before?” she asks curiously.

His eyes widen slightly, finally looking at her, “What? Of course not.”

Her brow lifts, amused. “Liar.”

“I’m not lying,” he insists, his voice pitching higher.

Her lips curl into a knowing smile. “You always glance around when you’re lying, like you’re checking to see if anyone buys it. You just did it,” she points out.

Lando sighs, dragging a hand through his curls. “Right. That obvious?”

She leans in, nodding, all the amusement gone. “When?”

He hesitates, clearly debating how much to say, but her expectant gaze leaves him no choice. “It started after the Singapore weekend,” he admits, his voice low.

Her mouth goes dry. That was the weekend Pietra first introduced them. Lando had won that Sunday, and the after party was the craziest she'd been to yet.

“You wore that top, and—”

She frowns. “That top?”

“You know the one,” he says, gesturing vaguely at his chest. “It was black, low-cut, and — look, you just looked really good, okay? I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“My top?” she grins, leaning her elbow on the back of the couch as she watches him squirm.

Your tits, he wants to say, but stops before he embarrasses himself even more.

“You've never said anything,” the girl continues, “Why?”

Lando breaths in slowly, running a hand through his tousled curls again, the tips of his ears burning. “Because of P,” he admits. “She told me how much she liked having you around, and I didn’t want to mess that up. She’d kill me if she thought I scared you off or made things weird.”

Her brow lifts, amusement flickering in her expression once again. “You’re scared of Pietra?”

“A little,” he jokes, though his crooked smile falters under her probing stare. “But mostly, I didn’t want to ruin anything for you. I figured it was better to keep my mouth shut. You seem to enjoy your time with us, and I want you around, too.”

She tilts her head, studying his face in the dim light. His piercing eyes are framed by soft, dark brows, and she can’t help but imagine tracing her fingers through his soft curls. The faint facial hair adds a maturity to his otherwise boyish features, making her swallowing hard.

Bottom line, she is attracted to him, even more so now that she knows the feeling is mutual.

“Well, that’s… considerate,” she replies, her lips curving slightly.

Lando chuckles nervously, though the sound dies quickly when her hand moves, her fingertips brushing over his bicep. The contact is featherlight, but it sets his skin ablaze, his breath hitching as she lets her hand glide down his arm, tracing the curve of his muscle with an idle curiosity that feels anything but innocent.

“And now?” she comes back to her initial curiosity, her voice dipping, almost teasing. “What’s stopping you now?”

His throat tightens, words tangling in his mind as she looks at him, her eyes glittering with something that makes his cock throb against his thigh. Lando was sure that he had her figured out. But now, as she leans closer, her lips parting slightly as if to taste the tension hanging between them, he realizes how wrong he was.

“It’s always the quiet ones,” states Lando, ignoring her question, “The ones who seem all shy and innocent, hm?”

“I am shy and innocent,” she agrees with a nod, which makes him scoff. “Alright, maybe not that shy. Or innocent.”

Recognizing that doesn't make Lando's job any easier. Quite the opposite. He's more intrigued as to what secrets she may be hiding beneath her deceptive surface.

“So… since we agreed on that. Is there something else I can help you with?” she murmurs, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she gazes at him expectantly.

Lando brings his hand to rest on hers, his restraint hanging by a thread. “You don’t—have to.”

“But I want to,” she rushes to say, her tone decisive.

With that, she shifts slowly, lowering herself to her knees in front of him with an ease that makes his chest burn. Her hands rest lightly on his thighs, her gaze lifting to meet his, and in her eyes, he finds no hesitation, no doubt. Only intent, want, and excitement.

Stil, he needs to ask, “Are you sure?” he breathes, his voice barely audible.

Instead of answering using her words, her fingers grasp the edge of the blanket, freeing him from under it. She has to muffle a groan of surprise when she sees all of him in its entirety, still half-hard, resting heavily on his thigh.

“See, I knew you had a pretty cock,” she says matter-of-factly, mostly to herself. “I mean, it makes sense. So is your face.”

Lando’s hands flex at his sides, “You’re gonna ruin me,” he mutters, voice hoarse, but he doesn’t stop her as her fingers curl around his length, her movements deliberate and sure.

“Oh no,” she teases sarcastically, her grin widening as she leans forward, her touch igniting a fire that spreads through him like wildfire. “I kind of hoped it would be the other way around.”

“That can be arranged,” he assures her, hissing at her movements.

She needs both of her hands to take him properly: one wrapped around the base to hold him steady, while the other pumps him a few times to get him hard, before dragging her mouth down the sides. And, because she's the literal devil, she makes sure she holds his gaze while she takes the head in her mouth — warm, inviting, and so wet.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his hand fisting the blanket at his side.

She starts slowly, testing her movements first. It's a good thing she's already imagined this before, and now her mouth water on its own when she takes him in, inch by inch. Until she gets to her hand that stokes his base lightly. It makes her feel so full, which is ridiculous considering that he's about to fuck her mouth, and not her pussy. Still, her walls clench hard on nothing as she pulls him all the way out.

“Fuck,” he repeats, “Your mouth is so—fucking hell. You feel so good.”

The cold air after she pulls him out is enveloping his needy cock from every direction, forcing a string of whimpers out of Lando’s throat. It only make her smile as she keeps his eye on him, turning back to licking from the base all the way to his tip, where he started leaking in the meantime, as if she didn't help him jerk off only a few minutes ago.

It's hard to stay focused on her when her tongue seems like it wants to send him into a coma, but it's even harder to take his eyes off her. She looks so good on her knees that his hand almost searches the couch looking for his phone to snap a quick picture. Instead, he is content to imprint her on his memory, confident that he won't forget what she looks like, with her lips around his cock, sucking the life out of him as if hers depends on it.

Even so, Lando needs superhuman powers not to grab the back of her head to guide his cock deeper. He can't do that, though. She did offer to suck him off, but Lando doesn't know her limits yet, and he doesn't want to cross them without knowing. Alternatively, his fists squeeze tighter, sliding his body down on the couch to be closer to her.

Luckily, she gets the memo, taking him deeper into her mouth, bobbing her head a few times before she drags her tongue against the underside of his cock. The feeling makes every cell in his body burn, one at a time. He's had people going down on him before, but no one managed to get all of him in one go, and certainly not the way she does — opening up so wide for him until the tip of her nose taps gently on his base, making her drool messily all over him.

It’s almost too much, and so overwhelming that he forgets how to breathe for a few seconds, the tension in his lower abdomen building at an alarming pace.

“Shit, Lando,” the girl sobs, her eyes teary, “You're big,” she adds, her voice raw as she continues working her hand up and down his length, while catching her breath.

He doesn't need an ego boost, but he's happy to take it as long as it comes from her.

Lando's head falls back against the couch in surrender, just as she squeezes at his thigh with her free hand, only to bring him back to her. But the slick, pornographic sound her hand makes as she rubs him sends Lando straight to his own personal heaven, where his senses are activated exponentially. He's far too lost in the way she makes him feel, that only her mouth sucking hungrily on his tip can bring him back. Her tongue starts circling around it, and Lando’s eyes snap open while he rolls his hips back into her mouth.

She moans in protest, pulling him out again, “Eager boy,” she whispers out of breath. “Are you close?”

“Mhm” whines Lando, finally rising his head to look at her.

And what a rookie mistake that was.

Somehow, she managed to keep that innocence he saw in her ever since they met for the first time. Her big, deer eyes looking back at him while her cheeks are flushed pink, her lips swollen and her chin drenched would usually be his undoing. But she’s still mouthing around his cock, holding him in her delicate hand, so oblivious to the fact that Lando will see exactly that image whenever he closes his eyes, for a long time to come.

Starting now.

She chuckles at his choked hum and the way he seems like he can’t keep his eyes open anymore, “Where do you want it?”

Inside your mouth.

All over your tits.

On your face.

Her colorful giggle brings him back once again, realizing much too late that he said it all out loud.

“You look so hot when you're desperate,” she says, her lips shiny with spit and pre-cum, squeezing him slightly as she traces her thumb over his leaking head.

Normally, he’d have words to counter that, but all he needs right now is to cum, cum, cum. Except she unexpectedly frees him from her grip, forcing Lando to snap at the loss of contact, her lips leaving him cold, wet, hard, sensitive, and so fucking close to the edge.

His legs tense, and a low, guttural groan escapes him without permission. “Why did you—” he begins, his voice breaking. His head snaps forward, another whimper slipping from him as he watches her, wide-eyed and wrecked, struggling to catch his breath. “Fucking hell, what are you doing?”

She silences him by peeling her pajama top off in one smooth move, tossing it aside without hesitation. The gesture is rapid and deliberate, and Lando’s jaw slackens as he takes in the sight of her bare skin, the curve of her chest illuminated by the faint light that’s coming from the TV. His hands twitch on the couch as if he doesn’t know whether to reach for her or keep himself anchored to the seat.

Without a word, she leans forward, her eyes locking with his as she takes him back into her mouth. Her gaze never wavers, and Lando feels like he might combust on the spot.

So beautiful.

She smiles, intertwining her fingers with his, while her other hand wraps around his length, stroking him in rhythm with her mouth. The intimacy of it all, the eye contact, and the sheer devotion in her movements make his mind travel far away.

His muscles tighten, his free hand gripping the back of the couch for support as he feels himself throbbing against her tongue. He can barely form a coherent thought, his body shaking with the effort to hold on just a little longer, even though he knows it's a losing battle.

“Oh, shit,” he murmurs, his voice raw and heavy with need. “Such a perfect mouth, I’m—”

That’s when she pulls back again, and he curses loudly at the loss of her warmth. But before he can beg her to come back, she leans over slightly, guiding his cock as his release spills over her bare chest, the warmth of it contrasting with the cool air.

“Fuck, baby, fuck,” Lando cries out, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm. “That's so hot.”

She lets out a soft sigh, her lips curving into a satisfied smile as she tilts her head, still maintaining that piercing eye contact.

Lando can’t breathe. He doesn’t know whether to apologize for the mess or worship her for the sight in front of him. Either way, he doesn't even have time to decide. The next second, her mouth falls open, sticking her tongue out to rub his sensitive tip against it, cum and spit dripping down all over her chin.

“Holy shit,” he finally continues, his voice shaky as his eyes are raking over her with a mix of awe and disbelief.

His fingers, still intertwined with hers, tighten their grip, and before she can move away, he uses the leverage to pull her on top of him. She gasps softly at the sudden movement, bracing herself on his shoulders, her flushed face just inches from his.

“Oh, hi,” she says, the sudden closeness catching her off guard.

“Hi,” replies Lando with a little smile in the corner of his mouth, “Swollen lips suit you,” he teases, his voice thick with lingering desire and a touch of his usual smugness. His eyes gleam with a mischievous light as he brushes his thumb over her lower lip, smirking when she playfully hits his chest in response. “Although I’d say you’re missing something.”

“You don’t say?” she asks, arching an eyebrow. “And what’s tha—?”

Lando doesn't let her finish before closing the space between them, capturing her lips with his. The kiss is messy, unrestrained, potentially gross, but he doesn’t care about the lingering remnants of spit and his cum still on her. If anything, it seems to spur him on, his tongue exploring hers with a slow intensity that makes her feel like she’s the only person in the world that has ever caught his attention.

When Lando pulls back, his lips glistening just like hers, he chuckles, wiping his jaw with the back of his hand and giving her an exaggerated grin. “My turn?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

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pooksgetspooked · 4 hours ago

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Thesis such a chore that it reignited my passion for writing fanfic. Procrastinating writing to focus on writing 💔

Anyways! Thinking about:

Deaf!Doctor getting involved with Huntrix and Saja Boys

Note: part 1 because I got lazy! I have lots of ideas roughly fleshed out with 2 chapters done, but we’ll see <3

Deaf!Doctor who’s actually too soft, but has walls tougher than the Trojans. She’s about as pleasant as an aggressive cat with only the dying wish of vengeance and spreading hate.

Her anger management is channeled into slaughtering demons, armed with a bow and arrows so she can play sniper from vintage points. It’s not as effective as therapy, but it certainly makes her feel just a little better, even if temporary.

Speaking of anger management, she hate hate hates Huntrix due to undisclosed reasons pertaining to the construction of her impenetrable barb-wired walls. Absolutely despises them, almost as much as she despises demons. But she knows the necessity of them. Knows of their double life as demon hunters, and despite scowling anytime she so much as hears their name, she still keeps them alive and breathing because 3 hunters and an honorary support keeping the population afloat beats one.

First came under the radar of both entertainment groups after saving Zoey and Mira’s necks via arrow delivery to the heads of the demons who had them cornered. Both groups kept the doctor at the back of their minds, but nothing grand enough to go out of their way to act yet.

It was only when she proved to be a hindrance to the collection of souls, doing a little too much against the demon forces and their soul KPIs did the Saja boys decide to deal with her personally. One sad disguised grandma demon and a couple Saja boys in the shadows was all it took to take her down.

In a last minute impulsive decision, they decided against snatching her soul in favour of prying information out regarding Huntrix, keeping her in their overworld hideout that they insisted on having for ‘a place to practice and strategise,’ when really they just think the underworld is too hot and kind of drab at the best of times.

They initially tried to intimidate Deaf!Doctor to no avail. They tried threats, small injuries, even tried to mind control her with their unreleased song ‘Your Idol’. It didn’t work, oddly enough. It made Jinu just a little insecure that his singing wasn’t as great as he thought for awhile. But they got feedback that it was upsettingly catchy when they caught her humming the song to herself. During one sizing up session, the group learns of her hearing defect, and Abby breaks her hearing aids and that was that. She called them stupid, before settling for silence because they don’t get the pleasure of easy communication if she has to lip read all the time.

Soon after, she’s kept around for a little too long to justify as anything other than personal, and after one incident where they all discovered she could temporarily mute Gwi-Ma’s lull of whispers (purely accidental, she was actually testing out a theory and trying to poison them), they begin to see her in a different light.

Jinu calls her sweetheart. He finds her cute and silly in a trying and failing to be nonchalant sort of way. He believes she’s trying too hard to be something she’s not, and in a way, she reminds him of tiger. Way scarier from a distance and mostly all growls, but charmingly silly (opinion exclusive to him) when up close and too personal. It’s a little hard to take her seriously too when she couldn’t hear him enter the room, and he finds her napping with Tiger.

Abby whistles for his kitty. He finds it amusing when she’s feisty and agitated, especially when he talks down at her as though she didn’t know any better, lips deliberately slow so she could see what he was saying. In his eyes, he could see a pair of cat ears always tucked back like airplanes with a flicking tail to match. It doesn’t help that stature-wise, he’s the biggest, making it easy for him to loom over the doctor and size her up for the fun of it.

She avoids him like the plague and makes blatant attempts to make his life as inconvenient as hers. He likes to scare her at least twice a day minimum.

Romance purrs doll. He finds her cute like one. Fragile like a one too. He tries to disarm her with flirty winks and romantic gestures, but she always turns them down with a snarl, later worn down to a haughty huff. That’s fine though, he knows his way around people. All he needs is time, and time he has.

Mystery doesn’t fucking talk. He just trails after her like a shitty rendition of a shadow. Ever silent, somewhat forgettable until she turns around and slams into him, but otherwise tolerable. He taps her on the head to get her attention though. Sometimes, she can’t differentiate when he’s the one tapping, or if the bird was the one pecking. To reciprocate, she occasionally yanks his sleeve to get his attention before acting out what she wants him to fetch for her. She takes advantage of him the most.

Despite that, Mystery enjoys her company, and with time whittling her down, they actually end up sharing time together by reading occasionally.

Baby rotates between baby or sweets, depending on the time, place, and his mood. They actually kind of get along because Baby doesn’t talk too much. Just a comfortably small amount, which gradually grew after they both noticed their shared sweet tooth. It helps that Baby likes the sour sweets that the doctor doesn’t and vice versa, meaning they’re frequently exchanging candy.

Out of the five, she secretly goes to Baby for comfort in the dead of the night when the rest are out and about. Baby gets the highest of highs from it and has to actively resist being smug shit. The rest almost beat him up once in an attempt to get him to spill.

Out of everyone, she gets along with Tiger the best, though Crow and Mystery are the one that sticks with her the closest. The guys speculated her and Tiger has some way of communicating through unblinking, prolonged eye contact, but they could never decipher anything. Jinu tried talking to Tiger about it at one point, asking him what they usually discussed, but his furry companion simply blinked at him and sank into the floor.

#kpop demon hunters #kdh #kdh fanfic #yandere #yandere kdh #yandere kpop demon hunters #male yandere #saja boys #saja boys x reader #kdph #kdph x reader #jinu x reader #abby x reader #romance x reader #mystery x reader #baby x reader #yandere saja boys #yandere huntrix

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trashcakery · 5 months ago

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fadelstyle headcanons bc why tf not

Style has already apologized (wholeheartedly and with tears) for ambushing Fadel’s support group sessions.

Every Saturday, they make breakfast together, trying new recipes, flavors, etc. They also almost always fuck it all up because Style is too distracting in an apron.

Style listens to heavy metal now.

Fadel often naps with his head on Style’s lap, and Style plays with his hair while he sleeps.

Fadel and Style’s dad watch 70s/80s shows together, leaving Style completely left out. They actually have nearly identical 80s rock CD collections too.

Style asks Fadel about his ex often. His personality, their time together, what Fadel loved about him. He’s even suggested they take flowers and visit his grave together. When you’re ready.

Fadel has yet to win an argument.

Saying no to Style is literally impossible for him. He’ll frown, sulk, look pissed, but never actually say no.

Fadel has bad days, lows that become debilitating. His past crashes down on him, but Style is always there. Gentle. Quiet. Giving him space, but also taking care of him. Helps him in the shower. Brings him food. Takes it away when Fadel refuses to eat. Brings it back. Holds him while he sleeps.

They love shopping together. Fadel loves the way Style glows when he tries on new clothes.

Yes, they’re both freaks. Yes, it excites them to do it in public, grabbing at each other’s necks, indulging in chest play, roleplay, you name it. But their biggest turn-on, especially for Fadel, is actually being domestic. Being soft and vanilla, even. No, because think about it— Style has probably had his fair share of sleeping around, experimenting, partying, going wild. Fadel, on the other hand, has always felt burdened by his body and its needs. His teenage years, his early adulthood, none of it was normal. He never got to experience sweetness. Never got to take his time, to feel wanted, to feel loved. To him, sex was always transactional, until his ex, who 'left' the moment Fadel showed vulnerability. So yeah, they love being wild. But what they love more is being at home—lazy morning sex, showering together, taking it slow, looking into each other’s eyes. It’s actually so sweet and heartbreaking.

After months of nagging, Fadel finally folds and teaches Style how to use a gun.

Style knows how to use a knife very well. (Don’t ask how they found out.)

Fadel practically lives at Style’s house, spends 80% of his time there.

Style’s dad is teaching Fadel how to fix his car. “What do you mean you’re marrying into our family without knowing these basics???”

Fadel whimpers. :)

Style has proudly stolen and cut up at least ten of Fadel’s t-shirts, including a vintage 1970s Led Zeppelin Rules America tee that he spent half his savings on when he was 16.

Style loves taking Fadel’s fingers into his mouth when they have sex, because it drives Fadel insane. :)

One time, while they were just hanging out in Fadel’s room, Style asked, “So when did you start finding me attractive?” Fadel’s face went beet red. Style, being the menace that he is, kept pushing, until Fadel finally blurted: “Yes, I found you attractive the moment I saw you. Yes, I thought about you while I was alone. Yes, of course I fucking did. And yes, it happened here—where else would it happen?” A smirk. “So you liked it when I lay on my stomach for you in the sauna… like this?” Style rolls onto his stomach, looks up at Fadel exactly like he did that day. “Tell me, what did you think about? Did you imagine my face?” “Shut up." “Did you imagine they were my hands or mouth?” “Style.” “Did you call my name?”

They both smell amazing. Fadel wears deep, earthy colognes. Style wears fruity, flowery ones. He also goes crazy for lip balms so Fadel buys him a new one every time he goes to the grocery store.

“Hey, you really need to stop being so trusting.” “He said his cat was dying.” “Style, he was literally trying to steal your wallet.” “But he showed me a photo. :( He had one leg missing.” “…Jesus fucking christ.”

#fadelstyle #joongdunk #thk #the heart killers #fadew #obsessed with their dynamic

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bahngarang · 2 months ago

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chapter 9.0 ☆ imposter syndrome

ss: 18

wc: 829

cw: food mentions, mentions of physical fighting

a/n: I lost two years of my life trying to edit that photo if it looks bad don't tell me (also the initials l . y are l/n y/n if you're confused)

"okay, okay, hear me out," minji paused, chewing a heroically sized mouthful of pizza, holding her finger up as if to hold her place in the conversation.

it went on for just long enough to be awkward, and yn took a sip of their soda – as if they weren't already stewing in a pool of their own embarrassment at this whole situation. and it was embarrassing, to say the least. how long would it have taken them to get to this point if not for some... some bitch trying to steal their soulmates? honestly, yn thought they would have the opposite reaction to this sort of thing. the other yn – she was pretty, able-bodied from what they could tell, and she seemed remarkably put together. a far cry from their own life. she seemed to be everything yn wanted for their soulmates.

well, except for the fact that she was almost undoubtedly a sasaeng. stray kids' management had gone to great lengths not to show their soul marks, but there had been a few slip-ups over the years, and despite their best efforts, it had come out that the group were soulmates – and that there was one more person included. that came with a lot of failed attempts of stalkers trying their best to convince they boys that they were their soulmate. up until now, it had always been fairly mediocre attempts, and/or easy to see through. it was different this time, almost indistinguishable from yn's own (before the accident).

but apart from that, theoretically, she was perfect for them. and yn... wasn't. but that didn't stop the pit of frustration burning deep in their stomach – frustration at themselves, mostly, at the world, and everything else. although, that last one was the more general ire for living made worse by this whole debacle.

sometimes, privately, yn wondered if it really was just a big coincidence, if they really were their last soulmate. it just felt like they... didn't fit. and, just occasionally, they wished it was that way – although, not really. they didn't know the others, and didn't really know how to feel about them just yet, but the idea of chan being with someone else made yn's chest clench painfully.

"what if," minji started again, "what if you showed up at the company building with like, one of those massive rose bouquets and blasting a sad song on your boombox?"

"well, first of all," yn said, "where are the funds for this rose bouquet? with the price of everything these days, i'm not sure i even have enough for twelve. secondly, a boombox? how old do you think i am? contrary to apparently popular belief, i do not have a boombox. and, you know, i think security wouldn't let me within 50 metres of the building."

"darn."

the quiet clicking of lego pieces broke the silence between the poignant lack of ideas in the brainstorming session. it was difficult, coming up with a way to explain to your best friend that you'd been hiding the fact that you were his last soulmate that made you look least like a buffoon. it was unavoidable, looking like an idiot, but surely there had to be a way too minimize the damage, right?

it wasn't going very well so far.

yn sighed heavily to themselves. any angle you looked at it, it was bad. the problem being self aware was exactly that – being self aware. the second-hand embarrassment at their own actions had suddenly hit them like a freight train early that morning during classes. it had not been a pleasant day, with every free moment spent shrivelling into their own skin in a very visceral reaction. god, it was just... ugh.

the doorbell rung out through their apartment, breaking the spell that had fallen over the three of them. bingus trotted in, complaining loudly at the intrusion. his fur was all scruffed up, indicative of his 47th nap of the day that he'd just been rudely awoken from.

chika furrowed her brows, glancing in the direction of the door. "you got a package coming or something?"

"uhh... not to my knowledge..." bingus jumped up onto yn's lap, circling a few times before climbing up onto their shoulders like a parrot. chika reached over to brush his fur back into place, eliciting a deep, crackly purr as he pushed his face against her hand. "i'll go see who it is..."

yn stood up tentatively, gently supporting bingus's ass so he didn't fall off during the process, before walking over to the door, grabbing the keys off the hook next to it and unlocking it.

"hey," minho said conversationally, like he hadn't just shown up at yn's door unceremoniously.

"hi," yn mumbled, forcing the word out. they couldn't decide where to look, the doorframe taken up by not only minho, but seungmin and hyunjin as well, the other two appearing at least a little more awkward about the situation.

"we know."

< prev ☆ series masterlist ☆ next >

a/n: if you're wondering I do find joy in torturing people with cliff hangers

taglist (30/50): @sunfk88 @estella-novella @boo-ven9eance @0sunshinecryptid0 @idiotmaterial @tearsofgenshin @tirena1 @cowboylikemalika @d3kstar @heyheyitsmk @bangchansgirlsblog @geni-627 @4ng3l-ch1ld @vitaniangel-blog @beppybeesnuggets @yxna-bliss @imeverycliche @brbwritingfanfic @mavischerry @hanniemylovelyquokka @143hyunes @xindremz @wynn-43 @rtyuy1346 @aalexyuuuhm @deuces-sunglasses @maxinehufflepuffprincess @staybabblingbaby @chimmyn0chu @maddy24207

#skz #skz fanfic #skz scenarios #skz smau #skz social media au #skz texts #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smau #stray kids x reader #stray kids social media au #stray kids texts #poly skz x reader #poly skz

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h3nderyss · 7 months ago

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you as nct 127's 9th member - part 2 (headcanons)

pairing: ot8 x fem!reader . . . masterlist . . . 127 (part 1) dream ver wayv ver genre: fluff a/n: requested part 2! romantic headcanons for each member if you were the 9th member and only girl in 127! u can imagine if ur in a secret relationship or not! (can u tell i got carried away with taeyong.. then ended up running out of ideas.)

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

taeyong

he'd remember the little things about u, if u once told him a snack you liked, expect him to show up w it the next day

handwritten notes from him end up on ur mirror, simple things like just saying "fighting!!"

he'd keep a protective eye on you during rehearsals and help u fix ur form if ur too tired that day

encourages your ideas! in group activities he'd ask you, "what do you think?"

he'd hang around with you after practice ends, after all the members left

especially if it becomes too late and u end up napping in the practice room on the couch, u best bet he'd STAY there

he'd surprise u with small gifts, leaving snacks or ur fav drink at ur spot during practice without saying anything

if both of u are accidentally in the dance room or recording studio overnight, u guys would watch the sunrise together!

in his solo album he'd write songs about u 100%

and you'd also probably have a few vocal adlibs

OR MAYBE he'd have a song featuring you! literally couple of the year.

if you're having a hard day, expect taeyong to be soo comforting

leader instincts KICK IN.

saying things like "you're doing so well," or "take 5 minutes, at least"

he'd gaze at u through the mirror during dance practices

he'd be playfully jealous like "do you compliment the others as much as you do to me?"

fans would call u king & queen neo

johnny

def playfully tease u, if there was a goofy dance move for a part of choreo he'd go "you're the only one to make this look cool."

expect spontaneous adventures with johnny

he KNOWS ur preferences, if u were getting coffee or any drink tg, he'd order for u literally knowing what u want

mind reader??

u will NOT be overworking. not on his watch. "nope, it's break time, come on."

fills his phone with candid shots of u!

car rides are karaoke sessions atp. less singing too, more laughing

SUCH a playful protector, since this man is like 6'1 you bet he'd act like ur bodyguard

he'd plan dates to underground restaurants he finds online

and goes "i wanted this to be our thing..!"

he'd provide comfortable words like "you're stronger than you realize."

yuta

a man of bold affection, literally tells u straight up "you're the best thing about my day"

during casual convos he'd brush a piece of hair behind ur ear or just hold ur hand tbh

u guys have humour that's reserved for only u two. the members lowkey get confused why u guys just randomly burst laughing

during group travels he'd secretly buy u a souvenir and give it to u when ur back home

has a habit of staring at u during practices and smiles when u notice (this is so cute?????)

enjoys just sitting in silence with u

loves ur company

doyoung

such a classic romantic, surprises u with homemade meals

connnstantlyy reassuring you! "you don't have to be perfect, you're already enough."

guys, his smile is so adorable, pls make him laugh a lot

if u two sit together, expect his hand to intertwine with yours

soft kisses omg

you'd have quiet, intimate dates enjoying each other's company and just be infatuated w e/o

before live performances expect him to hype u the hell up!

he's like a personal cheerleader

he'd post u on his story a lot

jaehyun

he loves quiet affection like squeezing ur hand under the table to let u know he's there

lowkey feel like you guys would have tons of polaroid pics tg

and of each other

AND photobooth films

and it'd literally just be of u kissing like u guys just can't help urselves

and the deep talks get DEEP

same with taeyong, he'd dedicate his songs abt u

he'd loove seeing ur reactions to his songs too, ESPECIALLY from his new album

yea he'd surprise u with concert tickets for ur fav artists you've mentioned

such a protective aura like in areas with crowded fans, he'd keep his hand on ur waist to make sure ur not going ANYWHERE

movie nights turn into movie naps

jungwoo

he'd love when u play with his hair

he'd be a puppy

but like a really hot puppy too,

genuinely leave u speechless at everything he does bc hey, it's jungwoo?? he's so infatuating

loves to mimic ur reactions just to see u giggle and try to get him back

like i said in part 1 expect emojis when u text, expect him to send gifs too

WILL suddenly hug u out of the blue

literally treasures anything you give him

mark

ur the only person he would genuinely spill all the tea to, about WHATEVER

could be about his own struggles, or insane tea about his friend

softly sings to u, he likes humming and just full on singing, even if he purposely sounds goofy

let's say he accidentally brushes his hand against yours

but he ends up intertwining ur hands as if it was intentional!

i feel like he loves skinship

he'd be cuddled to u any chance he gets

or just resting his hand around your waist A LOTTT

also lots of nicknames he'd call u, sometimes catching u off guard by saying something really cringe

would also write so many songs abt u

haechan

ur the person he'd be the MOST clingy to

we all know how he's so touchy w the members

well, you'd be the #1 person he'd do that to.

out of nowhere he'd surprise u with compliments

actually floods ur phone with memes, pics, random selfies just to make u smile

he loooves giving u back hugs or just going full koala mode

also literally napping on u

u guys would just look like two losers in love, the members being always teasing

but like, he'd actually be insane sometimes and say something to get u riled up. (iykwim.)

or even like, DO something. especially when he dances?

it's like a private show for u, and he knows how that makes you feel.

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sunnyferr · 1 year ago

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A polyamorous relationship with them!

Op men!: kid/killer zoro/sanji law/luffy

WARNING: ReaderF! Polyamorous relationship NSFW, Contains homosexual relationships between characters!

Kid/Killer

It's the most fun relationship you can have!

kid is your partner in pranks and dirty jokes, always up to mischief around the ship

but if you like quiet chats with a coffee, killer will always be there to listen to you, he's really good at listening and giving objective opinions

I remind you, they are very big, so their group hugs completely crush you.

I feel like killer is more into hugs, hugging you from behind and being there almost all the time.

kid is more into kisses, messy kisses with tongue in the middle, with his hands roaming all over your body

It's very sweet to see them share little kisses between the two

Sleeping with them is also a comical experience

I remind you for the second time, they each take up a king-size bed.

so you sleep on kid's chest face down, while kid holds you by the waist with one hand, and the other arm around killer (nice mental image)

sex with them is something wild and rough

Usually, the sessions last between 3 or 4 HOURS (a fallen soldier)

Kid always takes the lead, he's a dominant, and you're not going to take his place

killer, to be honest, is kind of the same, he can be sub or dom (although he does like being dom a bit)

Kid usually lets killer play with you while he's in the corner of the room, watching everything.

killer tends to praise you while biting and licking every inch of your skin

kid is more into saying things like "you little slut! do you like what killer is doing to your pussy, huh?"

the aftercare is very tender and sweet, well, kid tries to stay awake, as he usually falls asleep after 5 minutes.

killer is more about bringing you water and snacks if it was a long session, preparing a shower for all three (obviously having to drag kid into the shower)

sanji/zoro

These two always seem to be arguing

like a couple who have been married for 50 years.

But they do love each other for real…just that it's a bit hard for them to admit it.

Usually, your time with Sanji is on some island, buying food (which was the main mission), but he ends up getting distracted by looking at dresses in the shop windows, saying you have to try them on RIGHT NOW.

On the other hand, Zoro loves it when you join him in his 30-minute naps while you're together hugging. He says it's cheesy and silly to be like that, but deep down, he loves it. Sometimes Sanji joins in (just because you told him to).

Sanji is always touching you (holding your hand, your waist, brushing your hair, etc.) because he can't stand being away from you. Even if you're right beside him, he always has to have you close!

Zoro is a bit calmer with that, but there are times he likes to tease Sanji, grabbing you by the waist and carrying you on his shoulder away from the cook.

But they also show affection to each other…giving each other little love pecks when you're not looking…and sometimes it escalates to something more.

Sleeping with them is a bit tricky (usually, Zoro is busy at night taking care of the ship, but let's pretend they almost always sleep together).

Usually, Sanji loves being in front of you and Zoro hugging you from behind, but problems arise when it's midnight…

It's a constant push and pull!

Sex is really exciting.

The rounds last for 2 hours (which is not short) but…

they leave you stargazing for hours!

Imagine leaning on the table, sharpening Zoro's sword and having a full view of your backside, while he hits your sweet spot

and meanwhile, Sanji is below, licking and sucking your clit while pleasuring himself

simply glorious

Sanji tends to be very loud, moaning and shouting Zoro's and your name

Zoro is more of a grunter and curses under his breath, but the occasional moan escapes him

The aftercare involves Sanji preparing some tea or some ointment to soothe any pains or discomfort, while Zoro pampers you with small kisses on your head until Sanji arrives and they nap together for a while

Law/luffy

A very complementary relationship!

Luffy is like a little kid, you have to keep up with his mischief ALL THE TIME!

but it's really fun to follow him and play some pranks on Law, even though he might get mad afterwards and not talk to us for hours (it was worth it)

Luffy loves hugs! he's always with his arms stretched out hugging you and giving you uncontrollable kisses all over your face

Law is a bit more shy, especially in public, he'll shake your hand and that's it, but when they get home he tends to pamper them a lot.

Law really likes it when you two are in his room while he studies or works, seeing you cuddled up on the couch while you caress a nearly asleep Luffy, is something he loves about you

Sleeping with Law is not a problem… Luffy is

he tends to fall off the bed ALL the time, so now Luffy sleeps in the middle, lying on his back while you hug and kiss him

they don't usually have sex much… but it's still very rewarding

it usually lasts between 2 to 3 hours

Law is a fan of BDSM (NO ONE WILL MAKE ME THINK OTHERWISE) and SUB/DOM games

Luffy and you are the submissives, trying to please Law in various ways possible so he gives you your well-deserved "rewards"

An important detail is that Luffy is very inexperienced at first but gradually learns more, to the point where he'll try to be dominant with you (only sometimes)

They usually end up with a lot of moans and screams of passion among the three.

post-care is very important to Law!

he makes sure they've had enough water and gives massages in a specific place if they're in pain.

he would punish Luffy if he left too many hickeys (even if he did too) because it could be "dangerous"

but in the end, it always ends up being a good nap with lots of hugs and kisses (and Luffy's snoring)

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msschemmenti · 9 months ago

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fun police - 2

eventual emily prentiss x reader / bau x reader

a/n: another fun police installment :)

everyone was in the office today, no one out on cases and this was going to be as good a time as any to introduce their new addition to the rest of the team. after some negotiating emily and y/n had scheduled their first session for tomorrow morning. she planned to say all the right things to get it over with and hopefully keep the young woman’s attention off of her for as long as possible.

“could you all join me at the roundtable?” emily called as she exited her office. y/n had found her way down to her office before everyone started filtering in and emily thought it best to ease them into this new idea.

“do we have a case?” tara asked looking from garcia to emily as they all sat around the table.

“no, we don’t. i just wanted to make you guys aware of a new thing happening.” emily vaguely said crossing her arms with a sigh.

“new thing? what does that mean?” jj asked suspiciously.

“well it seems our team has been flagged for our lack of self-care. i’m assuming they took a look at a variety of things like number of vacation days to working days, our case loads and things like that. and since we’ve been flagged, we’ve got the pleasure of a personal wellness agent who will be working with all of us to establish healthy coping mechanisms to rely on during tough times.”

the room was bathed in silence. shock washing over everyone’s faces and emily rubbed her temples in anticipation. she readied herself for the questions she could feel forming but was interrupted by a knock on the open doorway. she looked up and met y/n eyes.

“i see you’ve queued me up pretty nicely.” y/n smiled tentatively as she eyed the faces in the room.

“everyone, our personal wellness agent y/n y/ln. i’m sure she can explain a bit more about this process.” emily gestured welcoming the younger woman into the room.

“of course! hi everyone, as your lovely unit chief said my name is y/n and i’m here to help. i’ve been hired on to make sure that the most hardworking team in the FBI is taking care of themselves.”

“oh that’s nice.” garcia smiled at the praise.

“flattery will get you far with this group,” rossi mumbled from his seat.

y/n rolled her eyes humorously before continuing, “as i’ve explained to your section chief, i’ve found that for teams like this individual meetings or wellness sessions seem to work best. it’s completely up to you how we spend our time but we’ll be working toward building in self-care where you can.”

“and if we don’t want to participate? not in defiance or anything, i just think i’m pretty well adjusted.” tara asked crossing her arms.

“then i’d unfortunately have to do my least favorite part of this work, report my findings and determine who is and is not fit for the field. and i’d really hate to do that.” y/n smiled sweetly causing the room of agents to groan. “no need to sound so excited. we’ll do whatever you like, you just gotta spend a lil time with me.”

“how soon can we get this over with?” rossi asked.

“we can start as soon as you like, except for tomorrow morning. that slot’s already been claimed.” y/n gestures to emily with a smirk.

“ohhh,” the agents choruses teasingly, causing emily’s cheeks to heat.

“alright alright, now you know. i expect you all to cooperate.” emily dismissed and headed back toward her office.

“i’m just down the hall if anyone feels compelled to come chat.” y/n grinned and waved before heading back down to her office. leaving the group of profilers more than a little irritated.

“well this sucks.” luke grumbled. “mandatory wellness time. is spending time with roxie not enough?”

“afraid not newbie. you all having to do this doesn’t surprise me, i don’t get why i have to do it. i’m probably the most zen person in this whole building. i prioritize me almost 75% of the time now. i’m very well thank you very much.” garcia rambled.

“do you think she’d accept me asking to take a nap in her presence as my wellness session?” tara asked the group.

jj shook her head at the groups adamant distaste for the new setup, “oh come on guys, it can’t be that bad. i mean she got emily to agree. and of all of us— she’s the least likely to take a even a minute for herself.”

“you’re right jj, but im not sure she agreed solely for the health benefits if you know what i mean.” rossi hinted.

“oh yeah, i’ve got a feeling she was thinking with more than just her brain.” tara nodded in rossi’s direction.

“emily being seduced into participation?” garcia gasped, scolding the profilers.

“can you blame her? we all saw our wellness agent right?” jj asked with a knowing shrug. “i’m just saying, we should all suck it up and do our little wellness sessions. it could be fun, who knows.”

“well wants first? i mean second…” garcia asked looking around the table.

“why don’t you go miss ‘im the most zen in this whole building’? should be pretty easy for you.” luke teased.

“i know you’re being annoying but i don’t care. i will go second and ill make a chart to keep track of the schedule.” garcia glared.

“great, im sure y/n would love that.” tara smiled with a shake of her head.

her session came a bit sooner than she would’ve liked. but she’d prepared for this mentally. anticipated all the questions y/n might ask and gone through the appropriate answers that would eliminate the need for this to happen again. she’d told y/n to meet her in her office similarly to how she did her first day. starting her morning being interrogated wasn’t ideal but it definitely didn’t hurt that y/n was…attractive. but that wasn’t important and she was trying very very hard to remember that when the younger woman knocked on the door frame of her office.

“ready to get started?” emily quickly, motioning for y/n to step into her office.

“wow, not even a good morning? you’re failing already, section chief prentiss.” y/n tsked as she sauntered over to the couch in the office.

emily gaped at the woman getting comfortable on her couch. “i’m failing already? doesn’t sound like you have high hopes for this at all.”

y/n didn’t even flinch at emily’s accusatory tone, “i’ve read your file. my expectations for your self-care practices are pretty low. now let’s get started, come relax on this nice couch so we can chat.”

“i’m relaxed plenty over here. start your questioning.” emily refused, straightening her back defiantly.

y/n eyed emily, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “if that’s relaxed, what does it mean to you as an individual to relax? define it in your own terms for me. because i’ll be honest— you don’t look relaxed at all.”

emily scoffed indignantly, “i know how to relax,”

“i didn’t say you didn’t, but im just curious. just humor me, what does emily prentiss do to relax?”

“i relax. i nap. a warm shower is always nice. i eat. i read. i do very relaxing things.” emily listened.

“almost everything you just listed is a basic necessity. and im struggling to believe you’re picking up a romance novel instead of a case file.” y/n spoke eyeing the older woman and when emily only grumbled y/n chuckled and continued. “how do cope with stress?”

“perfectly fine-ly.” emily quipped.

“uh huh, let me guess. a bottle of wine stashed in a drawer somewhere. and when you’re really struggling— puff through a pack of cigarettes?” y/n guessed and watched as emily tried to mask her facial reactions. she may not be a profiler but she had lots of experience reading clients for filth when it came to taking care of themselves.

“uh-“ emily started but the red of her cheeks was all y/n needed to know.

“okay, i have another questions. what activities bring you enjoyment?”

emily’s eyes raked over y/n involuntarily, and she found a way she’d be able to take back some control of the situation. “i don’t think that’s appropriate for work.” emily smirked.

“oh ho ho, i see agent prentiss. and how often do you do this task?”

“probably more than you can think of.” emily bluffed and ran her hands through her hair.

y/n’s eyebrow seemed permanently posed under her eyebrow at this point. this woman was going to do anything she could to get out of this. and as stubborn as emily was, she was just as frustratingly beautiful. “ah now agent prentiss, i thought you of all people would know not to judge someone by their looks. trust me, im well acquainted with the task you’re alluding to.”

and just like that— the ball was back in y/n’s court and emily was a blushing mess. also didn’t help that as soon as that image was in her head, that’s all she could really think about.

as y/n watched emily rub her reddened neck nervously, y/n chuckled sweetly and rose from the couch. “you know what, this was a very informative chat. same time next week?”

“next week?” emily squeaked.

“yeah, hun. next week. i’m gonna give you some homework too. next time we meet, i want you to have done at least four things to relax that aren’t basic needs.”

“homework?” emily spluttered in disbelief.

“yeah. if you’re good, there might’ve been a prize waiting for you.” y/n teased before heading out of emily’s office. “four things agent! just four.” y/n called over her shoulders as she headed out of the bullpen.

well that certainly didn’t go as well as emily had planned.

#criminal minds #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss #fun police #msschemmenti #bau x reader #bau team

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underwhelmingalchemist · 1 year ago

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The thing about Ice Adolescence being cancelled isn't that it was unexpected. It's the finality of it. There's no hope of a new season, no faint hope that maybe a movie will come out one day, maybe, just maybe. The cancellation of the movie means that this is the end of Yuri on Ice.

At least for me, YOI was one of those shows that you watched an episode or two of and it felt both comfortable and compelling, and then it grabs you by the chin and turns your head towards the screen and doesn't let you go away, and a little voice in your head just goes, "Oh." You hear the theme song and your heart swells. The sounds of skates on the ice ground you in the sport. You look at these two men falling in love and you feel it.

I had a background in figure skating. I was never particularly good, but I spent most of my childhood on the rink every Friday. Watching the series, seeing the movement of their routines and hearing the sounds of the skates and seeing the rinks that looked just like the one I grew up on felt like coming home.

I watched the show at age sixteen on my tiny smart phone in the back of the school library, on an anime pirating website that was somehow not blocked by their wifi. I'd refresh the website over and over, because the episodes were always uploaded during the lunch break, and then me and my little group of queer friends would all huddle together to watch the newest episode. We would cheer and cry and get excited over every development. They kissed and we lost our minds. A few times, the one friend who could drive would take us to the only skating rink half an hour away and I would teach them, helping them size rented skates and go from holding onto to wall to gliding across the rink. I met my current girlfriend for the first time during one of those skating sessions. Viktor and Yuri fell in love thanks to the sport, and I met the woman who's currently napping in the bed next to me thanks to them.

Yuri on Ice was such a formative piece of media for me. It felt like something specifically designed for me, the queer, anime-loving teenager with a background in figure skating, with representation that meant the world to me and such a meaningful depiction of the sport I loved. And with this cancellation, that piece of media comes to an end.

Thank you for everything, Yuri on Ice. Ice Adolescence or not, you'll live on through me, and I'll never forget the impact you had on my life. Goodbye, and know that you really did make history.

#i mostly wrote this to process the finality of it all #i feel like i'm grieving #i can't understate how much this show felt like home to me #yuri on ice #ice adolescence

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wingedjellyfishflight · 1 year ago

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The Couch

Your official job is as a psychiatrist, but not a single one of the men who visit you care about that. They don't care about you at all. They just want... your cozy damn couch. Every time you walk in the room, there is a big burly man sleeping or lounging on it. Rarely, it is a woman. This time, there are three of them fighting over it. You sigh and submit a request for three more couches. When the supply officer asks why, you claim it is for group sessions. He sends one couch over. It is almost as comfortable as the original, and they take to it quickly.

You stop in your tracks the day you spot a KorTac man sitting nervously on the couch. So far, only Price's team and his associated strays have taken advantage of the open couch. You smile briefly before moving to sit at your desk.

"I'm here if you want to talk, but the couch is open to whomever wants a nap or to relax. No talking required." He nods, slightly more relaxed, and you focus on your computer. When you look up later, you see he has laid down and fallen asleep, his soft snores filling the room. After that, you send in another request and another for more couches and a couple of reclining chairs. You are denied. They tell you to just bring in folding chairs. You decide to use your paycheck and bring in something more comfortable than folding chairs.

The next week, you are struggling to get a reclining chair down the hall as silently as possible when you freeze, a chill running down your back. Turning, you see Ghost standing only a foot away, silently watching with his arms crossed.

"I got a new chair." Your bright smile seems to just bounce off his broad chest, but you pay no mind to him, turning back to the task at hand. You get a few feet further and glance back to say something witty, but Ghost is gone. Another few feet, and you are bodily lifted by a set of strong arms before Ghost and König pick up the chair and carry it to your office with no effort. You thank them and ask if they would be willing to help you with one more thing since they are here. Rolling their eyes, they follow you.

Proudly, you show them the three large boxes that you bought. The men are not amused. Their body language switches from annoyed to almost angry when you pick up one of the boxes. König nearly tears it from your hands, and Ghost swiftly grabs the second box. Holding up your hands, you wait until they storm inside to pick up the third box and follow them.

It takes most of the day for the stuffing in the giant floor pillows to fluff up from being vacuum packed in the boxes, so you take the time to rearrange the room. The next day, opening the door after lunch, you spot no less than ten men and one woman lounging in various spots around the room.

A few weeks later and Soap asks if you can requisition another chair because he is annoyed that Captain Price is constantly snoring away in the only one. You shake your head sadly.

"Sorry, bud. I can't get another one for a while. Too expensive." He nods but puzzles over your wording for the next few days before filing it in the back of his mind.

It takes another couple months for you to save up, but you do bring in a second chair. Soap nearly dances when he sees it.

"I tried to ask supply for one of these for my office, but they had no idea what I was talking about."

"Oh, they wouldn't. They deem my request too frivolous every time." You tap away at the computer, only half paying attention to Soap.

"Then, how did you convince them?"

"Didn't. Had to go get it myself." The silence that falls over the room is far more tense than usual.

"You, you bought these for us? Like with your own money?" You sigh. Here is the conversation you were hoping to avoid. Turning to Soap, you see every person in the room staring at you, trying to work out what is happening.

"Yes, of course. Nothing but the best for my patients. I am the psychiatrist for KorTac and 141, after all."

"What?! We just, we thought you were just an officer with a comfortable couch. But you're a god damn psychiatrist?!" You can see several edging toward the door, nervously.

"Yep. Ghost, please wait just a moment." He hesitates with his hand on the doorknob. "Think about how long you've been napping in here. Have I ever overstepped? Four years I have been assigned to the 141, and not once have I updated your files. Luckily, I can claim patient-doctor confidentiality, or I would be out of a job."

"So, you haven't been doing your job at all?" This comes from Captain Price, who looks confused.

"Oh, I have been. If you don't mind sharing, what is the thing your last psychiatrist kept trying to force you to do, Captain?"

"Fuckin golf. Claimed it would be a good stress relief like I want to be a lazy damn officer."

You nod and glance around. "Ghost, what was your recommendation?"

"God damn yoga." You hear Soap snort and give him a small smile.

"Mmhmm, not something I imagine you would ever be interested in. And you König, if you don't mind?"

His voice is quiet but strong, "Guided meditation."

"Every one of those is rooted in the idea that you need to rest. My job was to find a way to make it happen, and I wasn't keen on being stonewalled and hated by the people I work with. So, I left the door open and passed a rumor around that there was a mythical comfortable couch. Sort of a build it and they will come." You pause and gather your courage. "As I have said from the beginning, talking is optional. Naps and resting are welcome. That's the way it will stay as long as I am here."

Turning back to your computer, you submit another supply request, worded slightly different from the last. A bigger office for more group sessions so both teams can be present. The silence in the room is less tense, but you don't look up from your screen, not wanting to see how many left, knowing who you are now. To your surprise, when you stand up to stretch, every spot is still occupied.

The next week, you get your denial and an inspection scheduled as you haven't been logging apppointments since posted there, and your constant requests have been noticed. The stress shows in the tenseness of your jaw and the furrow between your eyes, but you don't say a word to anyone.

The day of your inspection comes, and you brace yourself for invasive questions and the likely anger from whomever shows up when you refuse to answer those questions. You hint three time and then outright tell the lounging men to leave just minutes before the scheduled appointment, frantically trying to tidy up and make it look like you have adults as patients instead of sleep away camp.

"What is goin' on, lass?" Soap asks lazily from the floor pillow he refuses to vacate.

"I- I have an inspection, like right now." That gets their attention.

"Och aye! We will clear ou-" A knock at the door interrupts him. You take a deep breath, forcing your emotions under a smile.

"Enter." A man confidently walks in, faltering when he sees so many eyes on him.

"I am here to inspect your work, Captain. You were informed as to the time?" Standing, you salute him, then motion him to one of the seats.

"Yes, my apologies, Lieutenant Colonel. This group session ran a little late. If you could excuse us, everyone. We can pick this back up tomorrow. Hopefully." They all stand and salute the Lieutenant Colonel before walking out. He stalks to the chair in front of your desk.

"You will be lucky to make it to the end of the day if I have anything to say about it. You have clearly squandered resources buying all of this furniture, and there isn't a single update to any personnel files. Your explanation better be damn good, Captain."

You meet his gaze squarely before answering. "I am assigned to a unit whose work is often above top secret. I do not take notes on what is said in this room. I have found that doing so makes patients uncomfortable and, therefore, less likely to relax."

"That doesn't explain why you are not charting recommendations." You lean back and pull out a paper from a drawer.

"These are the recommendations previously listed in the files of various patients who are now under my command. Almost all of them fall into the same category: relax. So when I reviewed the files, I notated in the general team file for The 141 that relaxing activities would be undertaken as needed. The KorTac file gained the same note when they were switched to my purvue. There is no need to update individual files when I do my utmost to only hold group sessions, again for comfort to the patients."

He sits back, clearly not convinced, but at least pondering it a moment. "Why did you have KorTac transferred to your care? They were previously under another, frankly more competent, psychiatrist."

"Was that psychiatrist able to get them to open up? Honestly, I am curious if the team even showed up to their sessions by how sparse their files are. Colonel König has been here for six years, and his entire file is less than a dozen pages. The same could be said for nearly all of the KorTac team. There are notations in most of these files that KorTac and The 141 can not be in the same room for more than five minutes at a time without fighting. Yet nearly every day members of both teams are here for upwards of an hour a day, and they haven't had any fights outside of here in months." You snap your jaw shut, noticing the slightest of movement behind the Lieutenant Colonel. You stand and salute.

"Corporal, you've already saluted me. Sit down."

"She is saluting me, not you, Lieutenant Colonel." Colonel König salutes you back as the Lieutenant Colonel grouses about being interrupted before he turns and pales. He hurriedly stands and renders his own salute, which is returned with deliberate slowness.

"Colonel, if I may?" At his nod, you continue. "I did not mean to speak so flippantly of your records. I should have guarded their contents more closely. You have my deepest apologies." His eyes lock with yours, and you could swear he is either smirking or smiling.

"It is of no consequence. I am glad to know that you feel such concern, despite the public nature that such personnel files often suffer during inquests such as these." He pulls up another chair from who knows where and sits just behind the Lieutenant Corporal. "I will monitor to ensure sensitive information about need to know operations is not disclosed."

You nod, "Yes, Colonel. Understood."

The Lieutenant Colonel shifts uncomfortably with the gaze at his back. "Circling back to my first concern. The wasting of British coffers on unnecessary seating is clear gross misconduct. You will need to return all except for the standard single couch immediately."

"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel. When can you send supply over to fetch the other couch?" He looks surprised, as though he expected more of a fight.

"I will have to confer with them to see when they will be able to take so many large items."

"Hmm? Oh no, only the two couches, desk, computer, and the chair you sit in were issued. The rest I brought in at my own expense to better facilitate having over a dozen soldiers and officers in here at the same time. I do ask to keep the original couch. It is the only one long enough to fit many of the men I treat." He looks shocked.

"You furnished the rest?" You can see him fighting not to look around at the room, hand fidgeting on the desk.

"Of course. Patients come first in my care. Every request I have put in has been denied since the second couch. The number of patients I see has more than doubled with the strays that Captain Price and Colonel König have dragged with them into my office. We are running out of time today. Would you like to meet again next week, or do you have the information needed to close out this inquiry?" The Lieutenant Colonel seems shocked.

"But I have more questions. And you need to answer them."

"I understand that, which is why I am offering another meeting. But you scheduled just one time block for this, and I have others coming in right after. The noise he made was pure frustration, and he let loose without thinking.

"Listen here you cunt! You will not get out of this by claiming an appointment. You will answer my questions until I am satisfied and have enough to properly fuck you over the way you deserve! I-!" A hand claps onto his shoulder, making him wince in pain.

"Lieutenant Colonel Riggs. That is not conduct becoming an officer. You will cease your screaming and see yourself out. Your lack of preparation and knowledge does not permit you to abuse officers of a lower rank. You will join me in my office while we discuss this further." The icy tone has you wincing in sympathy. When the door shuts behind them, you nearly collapse on your desk in relief. After a long moment of fighting the urge to cry, you jolt when a hand rubs your back.

"Ghost, why are you still in my office?"

"Support?" You grunt before looking up at him.

"Thank you. Now, I'm going to have a good cry, so if you need to leave to avoid it, now is a good time." Instead of leaving, he makes you stand and walk to the couch where he tugs you to his chest.

"Cry all you want, Luv. I'm here for you, just like you were for me all those times these past few years."

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #konig cod #fluff

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