#hes stays the way he is right now will come into play

[ladsloveletters]

BACK FOR YOU

summary: Caleb returns to find out you’re having sex with your best friend Zayne.

warnings: MDNI, 18+ content

tags: Nurse!MC, ZaynexMC, CalebxMC, FWB!Zayne, Jealous!Caleb, Love triangle trope perhaps, Caleb doesn’t die in this fic, rough sex, fingering, spitting, spanking, gagging, other filthy stuff, there’s plot in here because i enjoy context lol

word count: 6.2k

notes: not edited and read over quickly once lol just want more caleb smut in my life. also like the idea of love triangle between childhood friends.

The morning shift was almost at its peak. People flooded the hallway. Nurses at the nursing station ruffling through patient files. Doctors pagers beeping as they scurry to the next consultation. Radiologists yelling at physiotherapists to move out of the way as they haul their giant mobile X-Ray machines. In the background you can hear all the patients using their call-bells, lighting up the ceiling TV screens like Christmas Eve.

You sigh, the usual midday headache creeping up your shoulders.

And yet amidst the normal chaos of Akso General Hospital, Dr. Zayne, your childhood best friend, manages to stop in the middle of it all and smirk. ‘Have you had a break yet?’

Flicking your gloves into the bin outside the patient’s door, you turn towards Zayne who happens to be walking down the hallway. ‘I have not peed since I woke up,’ you grunt, making your way across to the busy nurses station to where an amused Zayne rests his arms upon. You let yourself rest on your side, mirroring him.

If it weren't for the many years you had known the man, you would have been fooled by his cool calm demeanor he wears so well. You scanned him. Neatly gelled hair. Freshly shaved face (he missed a spot right by his left jaw). Baby pink button down peaking through his white coat. Polished black shoes matching his pressed pants. And yet you can also note the tick of his jaw. The soft crease between his brows. The faint shadows under his eyes. Zayne was equally as tired. You chuckled, only 3 more hours until the shift ends.

‘I heard the cafeteria is now serving apple pie,’ you offer.

His dark brow quirks up, ‘Since when did you show interest in apple pie?’ he shakes his head, dark hair covering his gaze, ‘Definitely not an appropriate lunch.’

You lean further into your arm, your hand keeping your head upright. ‘I’m sure a certain Colonel would disagree.’

Zayn turned rigid. Right. Caleb.

The DAA Colonel was scheduled to return tomorrow morning. Much to your excitement, the older childhood friend couldn’t help but sense something was off. It was simple. You and Caleb would play while Zayne would watch from afar. And when the sun had set at the playground, Zayne would be the responsible one to walk you home whilst Caleb stayed and played with the other neighbourhood kids. Always measured and always cautious, the childhood dynamic between the three of you remained unchanged even with the other’s disappearance. After high school graduation, the three of you promised to stay in touch no matter what. Even if that meant for Caleb to leave Linkon to join the DAA, leaving you and Zayne behind.

You had hoped for your friend’s return. But hope can be a fickle thing.

-

Caleb’s eyes were fixated on the small red box. Your hands were clasped around it so tightly, your breath caught in your chest. This was a mistake. A nervous laugh bubbled through your throat as you quickly drew the box behind your back, ‘It’s a stupid present!’ you stuttered shaking your head, ‘I just saw it one day shopping with grandma and-’

His lilac gaze darkened as he quickly snatched the box out of your hands.

“Hey!’

Using his height to his advantage Caleb turns his back towards you as he quickly rips open the box again and plucks out the necklace. ‘When you come back…’ he reads, holding up the dog tag out of your reach and smiling. ‘You’re really going to miss me, Pipsqueak?’

You huff as he continues to turn away from your reach, laughing at your poor attempts of swatting the silver chain out of his large grasp. ‘It’s not my fault you chose to become a stupid pilot instead of going to med school like Zayne!’

The older boy scoffs, turning away from you once more to quickly clasp the chain around his neck. He grins as he tucks the dog tag into his school shirt. Caleb couldn’t help but feel his chest tighten at the mention of the older boy's name. It’s always the same with you. Safe. Responsible. No wonder grandma always wanted Zayne to walk you home after school instead of Caleb. Zayne, your neighbour and best friend. The older upper classmen who always had people gushing about him despite his closed off personality. Personally, it always seemed to annoy Caleb.

But he was good to you, Zayne. Caleb knew that. He saw it every time he walked you home. He saw it when Zayne would drop off boxed lunch for you early in the morning on his way to University. And he knew that he would be able to take care of you whilst he went to the DAA.

But Caleb couldn’t ignore the sting in his eyes at the thought of leaving you for several months. And that's only if things at DAA go smoothly. At worst, Caleb may be gone for a few years before he’s even allowed for a stationed break. But he must go, in order to keep you safe.

‘Why don’t you go to medical school if you admire Zayne so much?’ he teases.

You stop attempting to take off Caleb’s necklace and blink up at him. The cotton blouse of your school uniform is dampened with sweat from the summer air. A soft cool breeze threaded through the leaves of the large tree you stood under, cooling your exposed neck under your ponytail. A mix of frustration and embarrassment reddens your cheeks, ‘Maybe I will.’

Caleb stares down at you. He had gotten taller over the Summer. A whole head taller and then some. Graduation was always bittersweet, and to be honest Caleb couldn’t care less for all the other classmates waiting to give him a parting present as well. After the graduation ceremony he found himself at the back court, trying to get some air before all the other students rushed out to celebrate. He wasn’t oblivious to his popularity. He knew from the stares he would get from other girls and glares from his basketball team. But it never mattered.

All he could focus on was you, standing under the big crabapple tree, small red box in hand waiting to give you a farewell gift. His best friend, who for some reason was always a little something more to him.

Caleb bit his pride aside and took in a deep breath. He stepped forward which made you instinctively step back. The treebark was rough against your skin. Your feet planted between the thick roots of the tree. ‘Stay out of trouble Pipsqueak,’ he murmured, reaching forward. He leant forward, bracing himself with one hand against the tree. The other hand reached under his shirt, thumb pulling out the silver chain. The small apple pendant dangled above your eyeline. The engraved words on the dog tag stared down at you.

‘I’ll come back home before you know it.’

-

Zayne was always gentle with you.

Despite him being your senior, Zayne had never let you feel small. In fact, he was the opposite. Any chance he got, Zayne had made sure you felt confident and empowered and supported. Even through nursing school with late night studying and long days working at the convenience store to pay for school- Zayne was there to help. Handwritten flash cards. Homemade lunch boxes. He was there.

And when Caleb stopped responding to your letters and emails, Zayne was there as well.

He can admit, the younger boy was trouble. But he also saw how much he cared for you. After all, you were so excited to give him his graduation present that you decided to ask Zayne for his opinion. ‘Do you think he’ll like it?’ you bit into your nails. Zayne would try not to roll his eyes and shrug his shoulders, ‘He would be an ungrateful idiot if not.’

After all, you were always looking out for them both. Even when Zayne had questioned your motives to become a nurse, you simply responded, ‘It’s so I can help others no matter what,’ you shrugged, ‘And so I can see you often and help Caleb if he ever gets injured.’

It came so easily to you, helping others. It was the biggest thing Zayne admired about you. However it was also your biggest weakness, wearing your heart on your sleeve. His biggest worry was how easy it would be to break your heart.

And so it was Zayne’s personal mission to ensure that no one would break your heart. Because at the end of the day, you were his best friend and he was looking out for you. He would take care of you no matter what.

Which is how you ended up in the abandoned storage room at the bottom of Asko Hospital. With Zayne, taking care of you.

‘A-Ah, Zayne hurry up,’ you whine.

His kisses were more rough today. Something you noted as soon as he had pushed you through the storage room doors. He had carelessly slammed his swipecard against the door lock, pressing his mouth against your neck as he closed the door shut behind you. Peeling off his coat and swipecard, he dropped everything onto the floor one by one.

You turn around to meet his soft lips, pressing yours against them. His tongue made no mistake in entering your mouth swiftly, softly entangling with yours. He smelled of coffee and laundry detergent as he pushed you against one of the metal shelves. His large hands made work to the back of your head, one hand firm at the back of your neck as the other took off the claw clip of your ponytail. Your hair fell around your shoulders as your hands tugged at his waist.

‘Does this count as a lunch break?’

Zayne grunted, taking his glasses off and placing them on the shelf behind you as he brushed your hair over your shoulder. He hummed as he pressed open mouth kisses along your collar bone and you sighed in bliss as your head fell back. This is how it was. It was a mutual decision. Working at a busy hospital meant a lot of stress and frustration would pent up so quickly and easily. It was only logical to find an equally quick and easy release.

Whose idea it was, you cannot remember.

‘You’re so hard already,’ you sigh as your hand feels up the front of Zayne’s pants. He chuckled as he brought a hand forward to cup your breast. Through your thin scrubs he could feel your nipple pebble and harden under your bralette. ‘Could say the same for you.’

You huff and make quick work of his belt buckle and Zayne lets you as you pull down the zipper and drop his slacks around his thick thighs. You groan at the sight of the tent in his black briefs. Lifting your arms up, Zayne swiftly pulls your scrub top over your head and throws it into the corner. He smirks at the sight of your heaving chest. ‘Eager?’ he teases.

‘Whatever,’ you grumble as you tug him forward with his necktie. His mouth was on yours once again. His kisses tasted divine. Not that you had much to compare to. Your mouth only knew Zayne’s. And Caleb.

But that was neither here nor there. And where you are now, wrapped in the strong arms of your favourite doctor, was where you wanted, needed to be.

You bury the thought of anyone else and let yourself fall drunk off his kisses. Pushing your front flush against him, he moans at the contact. Indeed, he was very hard.

‘Do you think you can take an extra fifteen for your lunch break?’ you murmur, mouth getting swollen from Zayne’s tender bites.

Not bothering to respond, Zayne tugs the bottom of your scrubs down enough to expose your pink striped panties. His hand cups the front of your pussy and lets out a short breath. ‘You’re so fucking wet.’ His fingers don’t take time to slip under the soaked cotton and glide themselves over your slick. ‘Is this how you walk around all day?’ he grunts, ‘Wet and waiting for me to take you?’

Your head falls onto Zayne’s shoulder, mouth agape. Your hips buck and grind against his palm, begging for more than just his teasing fingertips.

‘If it weren’t for you walking around like that,’ he buries his nose into the crook of your neck. His hot breath fanning your ear and you shudder. ‘I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything all day,’ he confesses, ‘Do you know how dangerous that would be for me, love? I am the most respected cardiac surgeon in all of Linkon and the sight of you reduces me to nothing.’

His fingers gently caress your swollen clit, massaging them ever so slowly. You can feel yourself getting more wet, practically soaking yourself into his palm. Zayne presses his lips against the sensitive spot of your neck, ‘So fucking wet just for me.’

You whine as your hand blindly reaches for his cock. You can’t take this anymore. You needed more. And today, for no particular reason, seems to have you both riled and wanting more. ‘P-please Zayne, I-I can’t take it.’

He chuckled, his fingers gliding down and slipping inside of you. ‘You can take it,’ he reassured, ‘You can take all of me just like you have been all these months.’

-

Caleb was coming home tomorrow.

That was what you had told yourself over and over again since you had woken up. You thought about him in the shower. While you were attending a patient’s wound dressing. While you ate lunch after your quickie with Zayne. And even now, laying in bed your eyes bore into the ceiling. Caleb was coming home tomorrow. Your head turned to your bedside alarm and sighed. Sleep won’t come easy tonight. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath.

You thought of Zayne. He was different today and you couldn’t pinpoint why. It was nothing out of the ordinary for you two to have sex. In fact, you almost had it scheduled every week. It was a mutual companionship you both had expressed was purely physical and even productive. As you shed away all the stresses of work and the world, you were able to relax in the comfort of convenience in one of your oldest friends’ arms.

And yet there was something about him today that was foreign. In the way he kept you close to him. Visiting you on the ward in the middle of the shift. Asking if you had lunch even though you normally skipped it in return for finishing work early. And how he had kissed you after you had come around his cock, mouth hard and earnest against you.

Your eyes remain closed, pictures of Zayne’s hot body pressed against yours. His hands roaming every inch of your skin. You bit down on your lip. Mindlessly, you let your hands start to feel up your body. The soft silky nightgown (a humorous birthday gift from Zayne last year) falling off your shoulder and exposing one of your breasts. You let out a soft sigh as you palm and pinch at your nipples.

‘Am I interrupting something?’

Fuck.

You could have swore you were dreaming at the sound of his voice. Eyes wide open you sit up, linen pooling around your waist as your eyes directly meet Caleb’s.

Mouth agape, like a fish out of water, you stare at him. Caleb. He stood by the doorframe of your bedroom, body leaning against it as one leg crossed over the other. His arms were folded and a smirk spread across his pink lips. It took you a moment to register who was standing before you. ‘Caleb?’

If Caleb grew a head taller than you after graduation that summer, then he must have grown another foot. His shadow loomed over you. His broad shoulders stretched the thick fabric of his military jacket as he uncrossed his arms and brought his hand up in a mock salute. ‘Nice to see you too Pipsqueak,’ he sings. His violet gaze flickers to your chest and you scramble to pull the sheet up to your chest. But you were too transfixed at the sight of him.

‘So this is how you kept yourself busy while I was gone?’

Pushing off the doorframe he walks into the room slowly. The leather boots and the sound of your breathing filling the bedroom. ‘I thought you were coming back tomorrow.’

Caleb shrugged, ‘I lied.’

He walked around the bed with slow steps. As if with every stomp of his boot, another thought came to his mind. The air around you drew cold and tense. And an air of uncertainty filtered into your bedroom window.

It was late at night. And in this hour, the moonlight painted silver stripes into your room. It shone across your bedsheets and highlighted the violet gaze which never left yours. It was as if the centre of gravity had shifted. And nothing but Caleb’s gaze was holding you down in the bed. You couldn’t even cover yourself, your breast bare to him. You were frozen.

‘I wanted to surprise you. But it looks like you had other things going on.’

You didn’t understand. This was not Caleb. Your Caleb wouldn’t speak the way he is speaking right now. With this air of fear and uncertainty you swallowed down your dry throat. ‘Caleb what happened-’

He stopped at the foot of the bed abruptly and turned to you. ‘One year Pipsqueak.’ he snarled, reaching forward and gripping the edge of the bedframe. ‘I was gone for one year and you had the nerve to go and fuck Zayne? Out of all fucking people?’

You were stunned.

Caleb let out a laugh you could only decipher as mockery. ‘You even went ahead and became a nurse for him! Just like I thought you would,’ he laughed. He took off his hat and your chest heaved as you fully took in his face. Pieces of short dark locks fell above his eyes as he ran a hand through his hair. He placed his hat on your bed. The leather gloves tighten its grip against the wooden bedframe.

‘H-How did you know?’

There was no point denying it at this point. But if the man in front of you was truly Caleb, then you had to know how he came to know the secret arrangement you had with Zayne this whole time he was at the DAA.

Caleb snickered, ‘I always knew Pipsqueak.’

He pushed himself off the bedframe and made his way around to the side of the bed. There he stood over you, his shadow eclipsing the moonlight seeping from the window. In the dark, his violet eyes were shining with a sinister glint. He grinned, ‘It was just a matter of what I would do when I came home.’

You felt powerless. Your eyes couldn’t believe that Caleb was here. After a year of mourning his presence, missing him, the Caleb that returned was unrecognisable. Caleb smirked at your face. He could tell you were afraid. It excited him. It excited him even more to see how unfazed you were having your chest so exposed to him. His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. ‘How long have you been fucking him?’

Your eyes narrowed, ‘I thought you knew everything, Colonel.’

Caleb quickly brought his hand under your chin, the leather of his glove pressing into your skin. He jerks your head closer to him as he leans in, ‘I want you to admit how much of a slut you are.’

‘You couldn’t even wait for me, Pipsqueak,’ he feigned sorrow, ‘You just had to jump onto the next guy that offered you cock.’

You scoffed and tried to pull away from his grasp. But Caleb held onto you tightly, his thumb pinching your chin tightly, ‘Caleb you’re hurting me-’

‘How long?’ he presses.

Your skin was on fire with the intensity of Caleb’s gaze searing into you.

‘Since I started working at Akso.’

He pulled you closer, you could smell him. Smoke and citrus. His lips were almost brushing against yours, his long lashes brushing your cheek as he turned to whisper into your ear. ‘You know you belong to me.’

You shuddered at his words and swallowed.

At this point your breasts were aching, begging to be touched. And the absolute terror Caleb reigned over you had all the more brought out the tingling sensation of your arousal.

He drew only a breath back, his grasp on your chin loosening only a fraction as his eyes stared into yours. Caleb smirked as he feels you practically lean further into his touch. ‘Well?’ he asked, cocking his head to the side in feigned interest, ‘Say it.’

A flash of confusion crosses your eyes before you blink away at his request. ‘What?’

Caleb brings a knee onto the bed, sinking into the soft mattress. He tilts your head up, ‘Say you belong to me.’

A silver shine catches your eyes and your lips part. There, tucked away under the collar of his fleetspace uniform, lay the familiar silver chain. Caleb watches your gaze flicker back to his, and notices the wet shine in your eyes.

When U Come Back.

‘I’m yours, Caleb,’ you choke out, tears threatening to slip against the burning of your cheeks,’I belong to you.’

His mouth crashes into yours almost violently as he pushes you back down into the bed. You land with a soft thud, his gloved hand catching the back of your head as he grasps a fist full of your hair.

A grunt escapes your lips and you gasp as Caleb slips his tongue into your mouth. He tastes as good as he smells as he wedges a muscled thigh between your legs. You try to shake the thought that this man on top of you was the same sweet boy who had always played with you at school. The same boy that held your backpack when it was too heavy. The same one that would tie your shoelaces.

The loud crash of boots disappear in the background as Caleb kicks them off and turns your head to the side. He wastes no time in running his other hand up your side as he presses sloppy wet kisses down your throat. ‘You grew into such a pretty slut,’ he teased as he massaged into your side, ‘Do you wear these things every night hoping someone would find you?’

At this point your panting and Caleb chuckles at the sight. He’s proud to see such a reaction out of you. Flushed cheeks. Hair tousled and sticking to your forehead. Your lips parted and almost dry from all the airy breaths.

His nose brushes against your skin as he kisses his way down to your chest, ‘Or were you wearing this knowing I would be knocking on your door in the morning, Pipsqueak?’

Balling your fists, you held onto the sheets tightly. Cocky bastard. Your knees closed in one another, locking Caleb into place. Your eyes darted to him and you sneered, ‘Maybe I was expecting a certain doctor instead.’

The growl erupted from Caleb was carnal. You watched in a trance as he licked a stripe down the fold of your cleavage. ‘Shut the fuck up.’

Your laughter was cut short when Caleb took your breast into his mouth. He sucks roughly at your nipple, grazing at it with his teeth. He hums in approval when you let out a gutteral groan, ‘Fuck.’

His other hand lets go of your head and reaches towards your throat. In a firm grasp, he holds you down as he continues to lap at your tits. ‘That’s right baby,’ he released your nipple with a soft ‘pop’ before kissing his way to the other. He draws a circle with his tongue around the hardened bud before taking it between his teeth. ‘Your tits are so fucking perfect.’

If Zayne was gentle, then Caleb was brutal.

If Zayne was considerate, then Caleb was selfish.

If Zayne was your comfort, then Caleb was your undoing.

You were squirming and your pussy was throbbing beneath your nightgown. And, unknowing to the man hovering above you, you were completely exposed. After all you lived alone, why wear underwear around the house? Saves on laundry.

As if he can scent you, Caleb pulls himself up and cages you under him. He rips off his gloves and jacket, leaving him in his white slacks and button down. His black tie dangles in your face as he leans down. ‘I can smell how fucking wet you are Pipsqueak,’ he muses. He palms his hard cock under his pants, begging for release. But he remains measured, composed. ‘Let me fuck you and I’ll make sure you never need to touch anyone else but me again.’

His words were seeping into your bones as his deep breaths masked his self restraint. You can feel the sheets curl beneath you as he fists the linen in earnest. With heavy lids you avert your gaze, the boldness of his attitude pinning you down. ‘But Zayne is so good to me…’

It was a mistake to even think of another man whilst Caleb practically hunted you down. At the sound of another man’s name, your childhood best friend snarled as he pulled down his pants swiftly.

Holy shit.

He was huge, even in his large grasp. You watch with mouth agape as Caleb lazily fisted his cock above you. His brows furrowed and his violet glare sent shockwaves all over you. He smirked, ‘Zayne might be good to you baby…’

‘But I’m not going to hold back.’

He leant forward once more and you gasp at the hard thickness of Caleb’s cock pressing against your stomach. You groan as he teases the tip of his cock down your navel to the top of your swollen clit. The hardened bud was throbbing and aching and practically begging for any friction. Your hands hold onto the sides of his biceps, the strong corded muscles shifting under his thin shirt.

He chuckled, ‘I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to take everything I’ll give you.’

There was no question in his tone and no room for even doubt before Caleb pushed his hard cock inside you. You let out a yelp at the sheer force of him stretching inside of your pussy. Your fingernails dig into his arms deeper as you moan, ‘Holy shit.’

‘Fucking hell,’ Caleb muttered, drawing his hips back and watching the length of his cock disappear inside of you with a quick snap. The force of his weight moved your body against the bed, the sound of his pelvis meeting yours.

It wasn’t long for you to adjust to him. Your body was practically moulding beneath him, accommodating to every curve and every inch of his hard cock as Caleb begins a brutal pace. ‘Take it for me,’ he muttered, throwing his leather gloves off and finding his hands gripping onto your hips firmly.

The sound was filthy, your wet pussy slobbering all over Caleb’s length as he continuously pulls you into him. You pant and writhe beneath him, ‘Caleb it’s too much-‘

He huffed as he continued to fuck you harder, ‘No it’s not enough,’ he decided. Your eyes were watery at the overwhelming sensation of his touch. There was no time for you to even register him flipping you over to your stomach.

You whine at the sudden loss of him pulling out of you.‘See?’ he sneered, pushing you down and lifting your hips up. His large hands, calloused and rough compared to Zayne’s, kneaded into the soft flesh of your ass. Caleb hums as he palms your soft skin before delivering a loud slap onto you.

‘Ah! Caleb!’

You shudder with each delivering blow, your back arched as your moans muffle through your pillow. Your fingers gripped onto the sheets as the stinging heat of your skin continued.

You can hear the sound of buttons popping and a soft thud onto the ground as Caleb strips himself off from his clothes. Your cheeks reddened at the thought of him naked before you, dressed in nothing but a skimpy silk nightgown.

Caleb reaches for you, grabs a fistful of your hair and jerks your head up. Before you could protest, he stuffs his fingers into your mouth and shoves the black cloth of his tie into it. The sound of your surprise is muffled and gagged.

‘Now I wouldn’t have to hear you say any other name again.’

He wastes no time in pushing himself back into you. The thick head of his cock parting the soaking folds of your pussy before practically sucking him in. Caleb moans, his grip on your ass tightening as he stills inside of you. ‘Fuck,’ he laughs, ‘You’re pussy is so fucking tight.’

He snaps into you, ass in the air as his hips meet yours. You fall back into the mattress, hands bracing before you as your muffled moans fill the room.

‘Isn’t this what you wanted?’ Caleb asks as he pounds into you, pace relentless, ‘Your pussy was practically calling my name the minute I stepped into your apartment.’

His cock throbbed inside of you, penetrating your walls in an unforgiving manner. He was so thick and long and fuck you wanted to come so badly.

Caleb leans forward, wrapping an arm around your waist before pulling you up. Your back is flush against him and the hard muscles of his stomach heave behind you. He fucks up into you, the new angle giving him an even deeper access. His other hand reaches around to your bundle of nerves. ‘This clit is mine,’ he whispers in your ear. The sight of his tie balled up into your mouth turned him on so much. In fact, the sight of you completely reduced to nothing but a cock drunk slut gave him such euphoria.

‘Do you even know how much I missed you?’ he seethed, his fingertips circling your clit as he continued to pound into you. His hips jerking forward with so much intensity you were practically bouncing in the air.

You cry as Caleb’s cock presses itself into your G-spot. The massage of his thick bulbous tip grinding against you was enough to have you standing just by the edge.

Caleb slowed his pace just a fraction as if he could sense how close you were. His hands disappeared from your clit much to your protest. Pushing you off from him, Caleb flipped you back onto your back.

Pulling the gag out of your mouth, Caleb’s eyes were clouded full of lust and desire as you wet your lips. ‘I missed you,’ you return, panting and gasping for air.

Delight flickered in his eyes as Caleb pushing your thighs back towards your chest. He held your thighs there as he lined himself up to your entrance. ‘Fucking liar,’ he chuckled before spitting onto your clit. You moan and swear as the dollop of spit glides down your folds.

‘If you really missed me you would have saved yourself for me.’

He grabs his cock in a tight fist, his other hand holding you open before him. He teases the tip of his cock, covering it in the mixture of your slick and his saliva.

‘Please Caleb,’ you beg.

The sound was glorious. This was all he ever wanted. He didn’t care about anything else. All he wanted was you. And seeing you beneath him, practically a body full of lust and heat and want. It was driving him crazy. He would almost forgive you for what you have done. The betrayal you have committed.

‘Please, please-‘

Caleb fucks you like never before. He enters so smoothly before holding onto your thighs and pounding into you mercilessly. You moan his name over and over again. Caleb grunts in approval, the sight of your tits bouncing sending him over the edge.

‘Your pussy is mine,’ he declares.

You nod in a dazed state, ‘It’s yours.’

His thrusts drove deeper, bottoming out so his balls were flush against you. You let out a long whine, hands clutching onto your tits. You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t think of anything else but Caleb fucking you so good. Your fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, palming and kneading your soft breasts.

‘That’s right baby,’ Caleb sighs at the sight, drinking you in. ‘Play with your tits as I fuck into you.’

His words turned you on so much. The filthy sounds of you fucking and his degrading tone left you feeling an incredible high. You knew you were close.

‘I’m going to come inside of you and you’re going to take it for me. You’re going to be a good girl for once and fucking take it.’

You nod. At this point you were agreeable to anything as long as Caleb continued to fuck you. You chew onto your bottom lip, eyes rolling back at the feeling of his cock continuously hitting that delicious spot.

‘That’s it baby,’ he moans, ‘Fuck you look so good taking my cock like that.’

Your mouth was dry as you stare into him. His foggy gaze was determined and shadowed with an almost animalistic lust. Your hands cup your breasts as you continue to bounce off him.

Fuck, he was going to come. The sight of you was too much. And at the edge of his unraveling, you leaned forward and pressed your mouth onto his. Your tongue lapped at his bottom lip before sinking your teeth into his flesh. Sucking at his lip, you moaned as his silver necklace pressed against your breast.

His kiss was hot and reckless. Losing all sense of control, you feel your own unraveling come before you. Letting out a long whine your pussy clenches around Caleb’s cock as you feel yourself coming over him. It was too much. All too much. The intense pull of your pussy and the taste of your tongue and the smell of you hair was driving Caleb closer and closer to the point of no return.

‘That’s right, come around my cock,’ he shuddered, ‘Show me how good my cock makes your pussy feel.’

His handprints were branding marks on your skin as Caleb delivers his final crushing thrusts into your pussy, claiming all that you could give to him. A wave of pleasure crashed into him as Caleb’s pace faltered. ‘Fuck!’

Hot white ropes of Caleb’s come seeps into you as he continues to fuck into your pussy. You moan his name several times, wrapping your arms around his neck. Caleb brings his arms around you, holding you above him as you grind onto his cock milking his come out of him.

‘Don’t stop fucking moving,’ he commanded, panting into your ear as you grind against him.

You moan loudly as you lazily roll your hips against him, chasing your high as your legs wrapped around his waist with Caleb sat on his knees under you. Your clit, swollen and tortured, rubs against his groin as you feel his come fill you up entirely.

Your hands run through his hair, sweaty and ruffled as you stare into his half-lidded gaze. His eyes flickered to your tongue as it sweeps over your swollen bottom lip. Caleb leans in to kiss you. This time it was more gentle, more soft. Almost tender.

You both take a moment to catch your breaths. Limbs still tangled and entwined, you remain still together in the bed. His cock was still warm inside of you. You didn’t care to move.

You sniffle at the sight of him. ‘How long are you here for?’ you whisper.

In the darkest of hour in the night, despite your loud rendezvous moments ago, your question was quiet and filled with fear and anxiety. Caleb is back. And you don’t think you could ever see him leave again.

Caleb offers you a small smile, arms wrapping around your waist again as you push back his hair from his sweaty forehead. ‘I’ll be here for as long as you need me to be, Pipsqueak,’ he teased. You grunt and slap his chest to which he burst into laughter. The tension in your shoulders lifting at the sound.

Caleb grins and a mischievous glint flashes in his eyes as he brings his hand to cup the back of your neck. Pulling you down, his forehead presses against yours.

‘I came back for you, Pipsqueak.’

Your breath hitches as you can feel Caleb’s cock growing hard again inside of you. His other hand resting on the side of your thigh, his thumb massaging soft circles into your hot skin. The fire in your chest reignites at the carnal desire growing back in his violet eyes.

‘I won’t be leaving anytime soon.’

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ludos Imperiales 6

Summary: More battles and more bargains come into play as things go from bad to worse.

Content Warnings: Blood and Gore, Violence, Character Death (Unnamed); Mentions of Slavery/Assault/Incest (the twins are back)

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

-------

I’ve aged a decade in the time it takes to get inside the Imperial Palace. The blistering heat makes sweat bead down the back of my dress, every inch of heavy fabric feeling like it’s plastered to my skin. Everything feels too heavy on my body. I need to get home and into the tub, maybe with enough soap and water I will be able to purge the oppressive weight that clings to my skin.

Though I have my doubts. It’s not just the heat or the dirt, it’s this whole place. Everything I have known and loved about the city feels like it has been stripped down to nothing but the oozing, wretched thing that has been hidden beneath golden arches and layers of stark white marble. It reeks of a decay that has nothing to the crucified bodies hanging outside our doors.

Senators and Commanders mingle, wives dripping in expensive jewels hanging from their arms, laughing and talking about how magnificent this celebration for Amarantha is. I’d be shaking with the rage I feel clawing up my insides were it not for the way Rhysand still held me in his mental grip.

“Steady,” he warns for what feels like the fiftieth time today. I don’t know how he’s managed to stay so calm, especially when his men have been taken through the back streets of the city. There is a prison on the outskirts of the capitol, on the eastern wall, hopefully there will be less cruelty on the streets now that they’re away from the parade, but it is still a fate I wouldn’t wish on anyone. It cannot be easy to be forced to stay here, with the enemy at every turn, while your men labor in a dungeon, yet he and Cassian, stand with their heads high behind me.

One of the guards untethered them from the back of my horse, but holding their chain in my hands is just as bad as leading them on horseback. Cassian gives me a wide berth, far enough away that if I take two steps ahead I’ll drag him by the throat. Azriel, however, hovers near my left shoulder, head down like he’s trying to hide, even as I watch his shadows slither down the back of his legs and scatter across the floor in search of something. One still remains coiled around my ear, hidden by my hair.

“Be careful around the twins,” I warn as my cousin catches my eye and makes her way towards us. She’d been too far behind us in the procession for me to see her reaction to the horrors, but, judging by the grin on her usually stoic face, I’d say she enjoyed it. 

Rhysand shifts so he’s standing behind my right shoulder, so I’m framed on either side by a towering Illyrian. Their presence is soothing, especially when Brannagh’s grin could peel paint. She obviously wants trouble. I’d be a fool to think the bloodshed outside was enough. She’ll need something to sink her fangs into before the night is over to be satisfied with the day. 

“There you are, cousin!” We have the same slate colored eyes and that is where the family resemblance stops. Everything about her is rigid and uniform and for so long being near her had made me feel like a lamb being watched by a lion. Yet, with the males at my back, I don’t feel so small anymore.

“I’m surprised you made it,” she says, eyes raking over Rhysand, then Azriel, then Cassian, sizing each of them up to see which would be an easier meal.

I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to punch in her teeth. 

“First the Games, now this,” Dagdan says as he abandons an attempt to woo one of the Senators with his bullshit war stories, and joins us. “Maybe we are related after all.”

Rhysand withdraws his mental presence from my head and I draw my mental shields back up to make sure I keep the twins out. 

Brannagh walks a slow circle around us, tongue running over her lower lip. “I really didn’t think you were capable of this.” Her bony fingers reach out to flick the chain looped around their throats. “It’s a little… what’s the word you always throw at us? Barbaric for you?”

“All it took was Mommy Dearest to lose her head for you to grow a spine, huh?” Dagdan sneers.

Azriel’s shadow hisses angrily in my ear as his head jerks up off his chest. The glare he throws over my shoulder could melt a glacier, the heat in it seering across my skin. 

“This one’s pretty,” Brannagh coos at him, her fingers reaching out to brush across his cheek.

“Don’t touch him,” I bite out through my teeth. 

“Careful, we bite,” Cassian snarls.

This only makes Brannagh grin further and my first instinct is to draw all three of them behind my back, as if they were small children in need of protection and not three fully grown warriors. As if I had not seen them kill a Giant and a handful of Wargs in the Arena just yesterday. 

“Were they fun?” Brannagh teases, making another circle so she can draw her nails over Rhysand’s nearly bare chest.

Red tints my vision. 

“They look like they’d be a good fuck.”

I clench my hands into fists to keep my power from erupting and taking out everything in the room. Rhysand can’t save me from this one, not without them sensing his mental presence. And if we are to play this game, I need to be able to stand on my own two feet. I might not be the most skilled fighter in this room, but I have plenty of other weapons in my arsenal. 

“How would you know? The only thing you’ve ever fucked is Dagdan.”

She flinches like I’d punched her right in the stomach. It was all rumors of course, but the whispers were there. The twins still insisted on sharing a room; still went everywhere together. They were toxically co-dependant and on more than one occasion they’d mentioned old practices of keeping bloodlines pure. I knew it was a sore spot, I didn’t care very much if it was true. As long as the blow landed; as long as I had something strong enough to cut her, so the bond screaming in my ears didn’t prompt me to cut off the hand still lingering too close to my mate’s skin. They were not hers to touch. 

Cassian chokes out a cough, trying to keep back a laugh as Brannagh’s face twists. 

Dagdan’s teeth flash in a snarl.

I merely grin as I give the chain in my hands a very subtle tug. “I think we’re done catching up, cousin. Do enjoy the rest of the celebration.” I do my best to leave them in the dirt as we head deeper into the palace. I’m sure she’ll find a way to make me pay for the remark later, but for now, I’ll count it as a victory. 

The exchange took place in the open foyer, the roof held up by pillars and the outside world only separated by billowing sheer curtains. I mount the steps that lead us into a secondary foyer, where bubbling fountains and a pool of multicolored fish take up much of the space. Standing guard atop the fountains are twin statues of our gods of war and victory; the golden bowls at their feet overflowing with coins left by worshipers as they come and go from the Palace. We need more than a little luck and victory on our side and I leave a handful of coins on Victory’s altar. I will go to the Temple later and beg the Mother for forgiveness for how blind I have been, and seek a Priestess to make an offering for her blessing in what is quickly becoming an act of outright treason.

I feel Rhysand’s violet gaze on me as I make the offering. 

“The twins really are… like that?” Cassian asks as we round the fountain. It has to be morbid curiosity that prompts the conversation, but the fact that he’s speaking to me at all makes my heart race in my chest. I’ll take whatever scraps he’ll throw my way, if it only means he doesn’t hate me as much as he did yesterday.

“I’d be more surprised if they weren’t than if they were,” I say, unable to suppress a shutter when thinking about it. “They’ve always been… together… and weird about it.”

“Sure, and we’re the animals.”

I can see the back of Amarantha’s blood red head as the inner circle makes its way towards the atrium for food and whatever entertainment could be dragged into this den of vipers for the afternoon. Servants carrying goblets of wine drift through the clusters of visiting dignitaries and soldiers. There’s more than a couple armored gladiators, acting as guards for their sponsors, in attendance. I try to keep track of who belongs to who as we go, in order to give us an edge for the next match. Senators Beron and Tamlin, former lords from Prythians courts, now given new titles within the Empire for merging their kingdoms, both have sponsors shadowing them. The males have to be half Giant, with arms and thighs thick as tree trunks. Their armor has to be custom made to be able to fit them. I don’t know the names of either males, only that they’ve been employed long enough for their conditions in the Arena are they don’t fight Amarantha’s Attor. Too much money has been put into them to let them get torn to ribbons by that beast. 

I slide my way through the throngs of people to get closer. To play this game, there is no doubt that they will have to go back into the Arena a couple times. I need to start finding ways to give them an edge. I can start by seeing up close just how much taller they are then Cassian. If they have to go hand-to-hand in the future, I want to see how they compare next to each other so I can plan to get around it. 

The gladiators have at least two feet on Cassian, which makes me basically an ant in comparison. I already have to tilt my head up to look my mates’ in the eye, these males make me have to keep distance between us to be able to see anything other than they’re stomachs. 

Cassian is fairly nimble, from what I’ve seen so far, as long as the wound on his leg is healed by the next match, he can use that to his advantage. But the thought of having to watch him fight males this size makes my stomach twist. I’m going to need to do more than size up the competition. 

Beron is accompanied, as always, by several of his sons, but it is always Eris by his side. The well dressed male turns a grin in my direction when he catches sight of me. “Highness,” the bow is graceful, fox-like in a way that reminds me of Lucien, wherever he is in the crowd to avoid his Father. It’s not like him to leave Tamlin alone in these situations, they’re usually joined at the hip.

“It does me good to see you outside,” Eris continues, as he reaches out to take my hand and press a chaste kiss on the back of my knuckles.

Azriel’s shadow hisses in agitation in my ear as something hot flickers down the bond.

“It’s been too long since you’ve graced us with your presence.” I’ve known the Vanserra’s for a long time, Eris is not quite the flirt Lucien is, but he has no shortage of sway over females, males too for that matter. It had always surprised me that Father hadn’t tried to arrange a union between us. Eris was known, from time to time, to share the same savage brutality the Emperor valued in his court; it should have pleased him to have Eris for a son in law. 

“Are you finally feeling better?”

“It took longer than I expected to recover,” I say honestly. Better to not oversell anything; all lies have a little truth woven in. “But getting some air has been good.”

His russet gaze jumps to the males behind me, and the grin I’ve known for decades turns serpentine. “And profitable, I’d imagine?”

“For the Empire, of course, all earnings will go to aid the far reaches.”

“So I heard,” he nods, still studying them. “You always did have a bleeding heart, Highness. It is good to see it benefit you.”

The compliment feels underhanded, but so do most things around here. 

“When will we get to see them in action again?”

Talking about them like they’re not standing here makes me want to start smashing things, but I reign in my temper. “I was just about to ask you the same about your Father’s gladiators.”

He glances back at the male and shrugs. “Felix is always ready, but we’ve gotten no summons.”

Interesting. The Gamesmaker should already have a match-up in place, even if the Arena will be closed for repairs for a few days still. 

“How unfortunate, it’d be quite the fight for Cassian.”

I feel Cassian shift a little closer, the scent of sandalwood and snow-capped mountains invading my senses. It is an effort not to step back and lean into him, he’s never dared be this close before. 

“It would be quick,” he states.

Eris huffs a laugh. “For your neck to be broken, brute? Yes, we’d be in agreement.”

There’s a snap as Cassian’s wings ruffle and whip closed again, his agitation so clear I can taste it. The frayed edges of our bond simmer, but I can’t tell if the rage is his or my own. We are alike in that aspect.

“Who was summoned, then?” We can’t linger too long here, especially not for information I do not yet need. Rhysand still needs to get a better look around and we’re starting to linger on the stairs, people clustering behind us.

“Not Tamlin’s man either,” Eris says with a shrug. “I’m as in the dark as you.”

“You?” I force a teasing smirk to my features. “I thought you knew everything around here, Eris?”

His russet gaze darkens as his perfect teeth dart out to bite his lower lip. It’s a move I’ve seen thousands of people swoon over. “I’ll happily find out for you, Highness.”

Azriel’s shadow snarls in a language I can’t make out, but it is Rhysand’s side of the bond that ripples with promised violence. Is that jealousy I feel? I try to shove the thought aside; hoping that they feel this thing between us is too much to ask for. I will only hurt myself if I start to hope that I am more than a means to an end.

“Please do. I’d be indebted to you.” That’s all it takes for the Autumn male to bow and disappear into the crowd.

Senator Thessian and his large entourage of guards pushes past us on the stairs, the armored guard slamming into Rhysand from behind hard enough that he stumbles forward, hands reaching out to catch himself on my hips before he can take both of us to the floor. My whole body freezes under the contact, the warm press of his body against mine enough to make all rational thought fly out of my skull.

He leans in, like he might offer an apology, breath ghosting over my neck as his lips brush the shell of my ear. My whole body shivers in anticipation. “Clever, little vixen.”

The low baritone of his voice makes heat rush between my legs, something hot coiling in the pit of my stomach. Now the citrus and jasmine scent of him invades all my senses and I really, truly have no thoughts left in my head. 

My knees wobble as he gives my hip a squeeze, even as the bond roars at the loss of contact as he steps back. Maybe it’s just been awhile since I’ve been intimate with anyone, but that small amount of contact feels like an electric current beneath my skin. It is an effort to keep moving up the stairs and not turn and do something foolish, like press my lips to his and slide my fingers into his hair. 

The atrium is a wide, open room with tables piled with food lining the far walls. On the left are floor to ceiling windows, thrown open to let in the warm summer breeze, a few Praetorians standing at attention amidst the billowing curtains.. There are low couches along the walls, some of which are already taken. If not by anyone with a gladiator, I don’t linger on who sits where. 

A servant with a tray of wine passes and I snag one to try and calm the sizzling beneath my skin. I didn’t realize one of today’s many battles would be trying not to throw myself at my mates. 

There is a raised dais against the far wall, the couches and lounge chairs far more plush and ornate than the rest. Father has found his seat, a slightly less gaudy throne than usual, and reclines as a servant fans him with a palm frond. Amarantha has taken her usual seat on his right, reclining against one of her pleasure slaves. The male wears little but a strip of crimson fabric between his legs, every inch of bare skin lean and smooth. There’s another perched on the armrest of her chair, holding a goblet of wine for whenever she needs it; a third sitting at her feet, running idle fingers up the side of her calf. All that attention, and yet her dark gaze still tracks the males behind me with enough hunger I debate how much trouble I’d be in if I threw my own wine glass at her head.

She is not the only one who pays such close attention to the Illyrians. A couple dignitaries’ wives and high ranking soldiers gawk blatantly at how much skin they have on display. More than one head turns to get a better look at Rhysand’s ass in this get-up.  He neither cowers or preens under the attention; it’s like he doesn’t even register it. I can’t help but wonder if that was the point: Everybody is so busy ogling him, they’re not really paying attention to what he’s doing. It’s a good mask, it shields his intentions and lets him observe without it being obvious, but the way they look at him, like he’s a piece of meat makes me wish I had claws to scratch out their eyes. 

I take another sip of wine, trying not to look too desperate for the emptiness it’ll bring as I head in the direction of the dais. 

“You’ve surprised me,” Father says as we approach. It’s the first real acknowledgement he’s shown me all day.

The shadow curled around my ear burrows a little deeper under my hair to avoid detection, the soft ether brushing against a sensitive spot on my temple that has me gripping the wine glass a little tighter to keep from reacting.

“As I said, I am trying to do better, Father.”

His gaze flicks to the chain in my hand, down the length of it like he’s inspecting the strength of each wrung before finally arriving on the occupants tethered to it. He grins in triumph as he takes in their attire. Maybe they were right to ignore what I’d brought out. It certainly looks like I’ve intended to humiliate them by dressing them in the same attire many of the Senator’s slaves are sporting. 

“Tell me how you managed to bring the three of them to heel when Amarantha couldn’t?” 

Amarantha bristles in her seat, her perfect teeth flashing in her pale face.

Another small victory. 

“Tell him you instructed the healer to give us a sleeping drought in our wine.” The twins haven’t reappeared and his sudden return in my head nearly makes me jump out of my skin. “And faebane in the water this morning.”

I repeat his instructions as I move to take the seat that is mine on his left and force myself not to think about how it’s a couch instead of a chair like his because it used to be shared with my Mother. 

“You’re hoping to acquire mirthroot in the city to keep us docile until the next match.”

I repeat that too, making a mental note to ensure that I follow through with it. He will monitor my every move in the city, if I don’t follow through, he’ll know it and then we’re dead. An issue that seems far less pressing when Rhysand’s hand brushes over my wrist. Watching him in the Arena did nothing to show just how agile he is, not when he expertly maneuvers my hand towards his chest, the chain blocking his part in this. The next thing I know, I’m moving to sit and he’s falling into the couch behind me so it looks like I pushed him down into the seat so I could recline against his chest. The motion takes him seconds, it looks like he rehearsed it down to the exact placement of the chain to hide the fact that he’d been the one moving me and not the other way around. 

Azriel seats himself on the armrest wordlessly; Cassian grunting as he sits on the floor with his back against the couch. I get the distinct impression he is only keeping his shoulder against my knee because being any farther away would mean his wings were in reach of Father’s hands. 

It takes me a minute to find my bearings again as my brain short circuits over how close they all are. Rhysand’s heartbeat is steady against my back, his skin warm even through the fabric of my dress. He lets his head lean back against the back of the couch, feigning exhaustion or maybe repulsion from being “forced” to be this close to me. I’m close enough that I could run my hand up Azriel’s thigh if I wanted, and damn me do I want to. Or close enough to Cassian that my fingers itch to brush through the thick strands of his hair. It is a cruel trick of fate that my mates are close enough for me to touch and I can’t.

At the mention of the mirthroot, one of Amarantha’s males leans around the Emperor to offer a rolled cigarette, even dried the hint of mirthroot is obvious. The male’s eyes are glassy, shining under the effects of it himself, the grin on his features lazy and unbothered. Far too soft a male to be shackled to Amarantha. 

I tap Cassian on the shoulder to prompt him to take it. A mistake because he flinches like I hit him and I think I might have undone any effort I’d made to get him to at least tolerate my presence. He snatches the offered cigarette, and the liter that follows and passes it back to me with a huff.

The Emperor watches the exchange with more interest than he’s ever shown me in my life. “What would you have done, Amarantha?” He asks.

“The same,” she says through her teeth. 

I take a deep breath through my nose to keep from making a disgusted face at her. “Ember said that’s what she used to do for Amarantha’s slaves before she came to my keep, so I simply took a page out of her book.” 

I pass the cigarette and liter to Azriel, and pray the sight of the flames doesn’t cause the same reaction it had when he’d been branded. He grits his teeth, but there is no angered flash down the bond or hiss from the shadow to indicate it’s anything other than a show as he lights it and takes a long drag. 

“I’m glad to see that in your seclusion you’ve finally grown half a brain,” Father says. “I was beginning to worry that your Mother’s poisoned tongue had gotten to you.”

I flinch despite myself and all three of the males tense around me. Cassian’s jaw ticks, the flutter of movement brushing across my knee. For the first time all day, his hazel gaze flicks to me, and  maybe it’s a trick of the light, but I swear I see a flash of pity there.

“No, it didn’t,” I whisper, unable to put any feeling into the words. I haven’t been back here since the execution. I’d found every reason to avoid it. Being back feels like peeling a scab off the wound and letting it bleed all over the floor.

Azriel takes another drag and I wish more than anything to take a hit of it myself and numb this feeling in my chest. What I would give for the empty numbness that had filled me in the early months of my grief. There are so many tangled emotions here, between the loss and my mates and the horrors of what we just witnessed outside. I cannot pick just one to focus on; can’t find some outlet to expel the building pressure. It all tangles and lodges itself in my throat like it's trying to drown me.

Rhysand’s fingers brush over my arm as he draws his hand up to take the cigarette from Azriel. To an onlooker it looks accidental, maybe it is, maybe I’m just reading into it, but even that faint brush drags me back to the surface for a bit of air again. At least I am not alone in the water anymore. Mother had always been emotionless, nothing got to her. I was always the one that felt too much. At least now the emotions can be shared.

“Your actions yesterday inspired me,” the Emperor says after a beat. 

Apprehension licks its way up my spine.

“I haven’t taken a champion of my own in a long time. It’s become dull, betting on someone else’s man.”

Shit!

Azriel’s shadow dares to peek out around my bangs, observing the crowd as they begin to settle in their seats with plates of food, as if on some silent command. Brannagh and Dagdan join us on my left, on the seat closest to the dais, the stare they level at me hot enough to melt glass. So much for Rhysand being in my head the rest of the evening. 

With a wave, the Emperor motions over a creature I have no name for. It walks on two legs like a man, but is covered head to toe in thick, brown, fur. Horns curl from the top of its head; a beak with a hooked tip jutting from its face. Its hands end in talons like that of a bird, but there are five on each hand instead of three. Its tunic has been folded down around its waist, leaving its chest bare, revealing a spider web of scars gouged through the heavy layer of fur. A thin, whip-like tail ending in a spiked tip flicks back and forth behind it as it walks, each step sending a shutter through the Palace. 

My skin pricks with goosebumps. Some strange sort of alchemy made this thing.

“I was hoping to test it in the Arena, but with the repairs in order, I thought a smaller show would do just as well.”

My stomach hurdles into my throat.

“Why don’t we pick one of your champions to break it in, daughter?” The Emperor suggests as if this is a thought that just came to him and not something he’s been planning from the beginning. 

I take another sip of wine as I turn to look at him, trying to steady the rapid pounding of my heart. I can’t let one of them fight this thing! Its maw opens and snaps shut with a clack as it stands before us, growing impatient.

“I’d personally like to see Cassian’s thick skull get crushed like a watermelon,” Amarantha chimes in from her seat.

I’m really going to throw up right here in front of all these people.

“A splendid idea from our woman of the hour, don’t you think?” He grins like he’s caught me, like he knows I’ve been playing games and have walked right into his trap.

“Nothing can be as bad as listening to you speak, Amarantha,” Cassian snarls as he gets on his feet, effectively making the decision for me.

He cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders, wings ruffling behind him, but before he can step into the center of the room, he turns to face me, much to my surprise. Hands scarred from swordplay reach out to give the chain around his neck a little tug. “Mind letting me off the leash, Princess?”

One of the Praetorian steps forward to unchain him but I stand and snag the key from his hand instead. I’ve seen enough males get stabbed or injected with something right before a fight to give the opponent an upper hand to know I can’t trust anyone near him. And, maybe, just maybe, the act of giving him a little relief from the chain might make him not hate me so much.

My hands shake as I reach up to his neck to unclasp the chain. I know better than to take the whole collar off while there are so many people watching even if I wish I could. His breath is warm on my face as he watches me, waiting for his moment of freedom. The urge to stretch up on my toes and kiss him for luck is overwhelming; maybe in another life we could have. 

I step back with the chain in my hand and return to my seat before I can follow my impulses. 

Cassian turns to face his opponent and even though I saw him perform yesterday, I can’t shake the sinking feeling that I have just sent him to his death. The creature sizes him up like it's calculating the best spot to take a bite out of him and its beady eyes settle on the bandage tied around his bare thigh.

Rhysand leans forward, resting his chin on my shoulder to watch, arm loosely looped over my waist. It looks casual. No one bats an eye at the gesture, but I am pretty sure he’s done it so he can keep me from jumping off the couch.

Azriel leans forward, bracing himself with his knees on his elbows, hazel gaze tracking the steps of Cassian’s opponent as he also calculates its weak spots. 

“Let’s make it interesting, shall we?” The Emperor asks, leaning over to be heard over the rush of excitement the audience gives to the challengers.

I tear my gaze away from where I’m trying to memorize every line in Cassian’s wings, every curve of tattoo over his back and shoulders, just in case. “How so?”

“Cassian wins and I’ll let you pick their next opponent in the arena,” he suggests. 

I like the offer; it gives them a better chance at surviving. 

“Cassian loses, and you give Rhysand to Amarantha.”

The world flips and spins and the roaring in my ears has me clutching my hands in my skirts to keep a surge of power from destroying the room. My power singes the fabric, only the smoke from the mirthroot hides the smell. 

There is no way in Hel I am making that kind of bet!

Rhysand stiffens behind me, heartbeat skipping for half a moment before he pretends to be unbothered by the comment and takes another drag of the mirthroot. 

I’d rather throw myself on a blade than chance that. Cassian is an exceptional fighter, but I cannot take that risk. I am already risking his life by letting him fight like this, how can I risk both of them?

My chest aches. There are too many opportunities to lose them. Too many things that can go wrong. 

“And let our people think I am weak and incapable of following through on the deal we made yesterday?” I challenge. My voice trembles as I fight to hold his gaze steady. 

Azriel’s shadow hisses what sounds like a warning in my ear.

“You know if we split them up now it makes me look as if I can’t handle them.”

“Attached, are we?”

“No, but I am tired of looking weak,” I hiss. “If Amarantha wants them, she can challenge me for them herself.”

Rhysand stiffens behind me. The twins are too close for him to slip into my mind again, but I can practically feel him shouting at me down the bond.

She huffs a laugh around the other side of him, “As if you’d stand a chance in that!”

I ignore her as I hold my ground with my Father, “You have always thought so little of me.”

He doesn’t deny it.

“So if you really want to make this interesting, then fine. If Cassian wins, I pick when and who all their matches are with. And if he loses, well, you’ve already chosen a husband for me I’m sure, so you can speed up the process and I’ll provide them the heir you so desperately want by the end of the year.”

The bond shakes so hard in my chest it feels like Azriel’s screaming in my ear. Rhysand has gone still as death behind me and I didn’t think I said it that loud, but Cassian’s head whips in our direction, eyes wide.

Father throws his head back and laughs at that. “This new found confidence is amusing. I will allow you to pick the next two fights, but not all.”

Better than nothing.

“Deal.”

I think I can hear Azriel’s teeth grinding together beside me, so I force myself not to look at him. The bond thrums like he’s in physical pain and I hate that I have caused it, but I will not barter with their lives.

“To first blood!” The Emperor calls to the room.

“To the death!” Brannagh chants instead. 

When this whole Empire goes up in flames, I’m pushing her in first.

The crowd begins to murmur to themselves, debating. “I’ll put some money on it if they fight to the death,” Tamlin tosses out. 

“As will I!” Shouts a commander whose name I’d never learned.

The motion goes around the room in a full circle, by the time the Emperor concedes, I’ve drank my full glass and abandoned it on the couch. Didn’t we just do this?

The Praetorians provide blades for the two males, but the Emperor’s creature can’t hold the blade with its claw tipped hands and tosses it to the ground with a screech. Its barbed tip tail draws back behind it as it drops into a defensive stance. 

I forget how to breathe as Cassian drops into his own.

Time slows in a familiar sensation of undiluted horror as the creature moves first, striking forward with its tail like a spear. Cassian pivots back a step, rearranging his feet as he blocks with the sword.

The crowd cheers excitedly and I distantly recognize coins changing hands as they take bets, but cannot tear my eyes away enough to watch who is participating in it. Cassian remains on the defensive as the creature rears its tail back and attacks from the other side of its body this time, testing the Illyrian’s reaction time. When the strike is blocked a second time, it switches tactics and goes for a punch, talons extended towards Cassian’s face.

While the creature is taller, it is not as agile, and Cassian side steps out of the way of the blow, using the momentum to lunge into the next step and strike the tip of his sword across his opponent’s stomach. Its ear shattering screech shakes the room as the blade makes contact, drawing black blood. If it wasn’t for Brannagh, the challenge would be over, Cassian would have won. It would have been easy for once.

Enraged, the creature strikes with its talons again, missing a second time, but catching Cassian in the jaw on the backswing. The whole room can hear Cassian’s teeth clack together as he stumbles backwards.

It takes everything in me not to squeeze my eyes shut, not to wince and react to every blow. I have to keep telling myself that this is part of the game and I cannot give them away, but by the Mother it is harder and harder with every passing second!

Rhysand remains with his chin propped up on my shoulder, the bulk of his weight keeping me in my seat. I so desperately want to reach out and take his hand, give myself something to ground in, but I can’t. I have to accept that this might be all we’re ever allowed to touch, especially after today.

The creature strikes again with its tail, once, twice, a third, each like a punch. The third blow shatters Cassian’s sword into pieces and my heart plummets into my stomach as he dodges a fourth assault. He’s not so fast on the fifth and that barbed tip punches right through his bandaged thigh! Blood splatters as the tips hurdles through muscle and sinew until it pushes through the back of his leg.

One of the dignitaries' wives reaches for a bucket and wretches as Cassian’s roar of pain rattles my teeth. 

Azriel flinches, looking like he might just jump into the fight and stop it, but then catches himself. 

The bond screams and bashes against my insides as my powers flare again, singing more of my skirts as I hold them in a death grip that only worsens as the creature yanks the barb back out of Cassian’s leg, bringing him to the floor. Blood pours from the wound from both ends, cascading down his calf to make a puddle on the stark white tile.

There’s enough of my skirts to hide the motion, Rhysand buries his hand beneath them to hold onto my hip tight enough to bruise. I don’t know if that’s to keep me in place or himself. 

The creature snarls out a noise that sounds like triumph as it pulls its hand back, aiming to use its claws to sever Cassian’s head.

Not again! Not again! Not again!

I have to stop this! I have to do something!

At the last second, Cassian throws himself out of the way, knees tucked to his chest as he rolls out of reach, right to where the creature’s discarded sword lies. He snags the blade with a grunt, one hand pressed to the gaping wound in his thigh as he pushes himself back onto his feet. His face twists in pain at the slightest movement, but he manages to stay upright. 

Rhysand breathes a little easier behind me, but his grip on my hip hasn’t let up.

The Emperor frowns beside us, displeased with the outcome thus far no doubt. He really expected this to be easy. 

The creature strikes again, sticking to what it has found successful, and it becomes a mistake. Cassian twists at the last second, blade raised so when the strike comes, he doesn’t need to block it. At this angle, not only does it miss him, he has a height advantage and he brings the sword down as hard as he can, cleaving the tail in half. The barbed tip hits the floor twitching as the creature reels backward and wails.

Holy shit! I’ve seen a lot of warriors in my life, but I don’t think I’d ever describe them as beautiful until now. Each move is calculated, backed with training and muscle. His tattoos seem to come to life with his body as his muscles shift and strike. 

He doesn’t let up as his opponent stumbles back either, he uses the distraction to his advantage and plunges the sword into the creature’s shoulder. He might have been aiming for the heart, but the wound in his leg gives him too great a limp to lunge far on. The blade catches in bone, the resounding crunch deafening in the domed ceiling, and when he reels back to pull it out, he twists it just enough to make his opponent’s arm absolutely useless.

With two of its preferred methods of fighting gone, the creature bends at the waist and charges with a roar, hoping to use its horns like a battering ram into Cassian’s chest.

An otherwise horrifying sight, if Cassian didn’t laugh and step dramatically out of the way so the creature rams right into the wall. “Is that really all you’ve got?” He taunts as a rain of dust falls on his head. 

The creature screeches as it yanks itself free from the wall and shakes its head, clearing the debris from its beady eyes. 

Cassian spins the blade in his hand, adjusting his grip, and I think it might be one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen in my life.

He can’t crouch with his leg, but he doesn’t need to. The creature tries to ram him again and he dodges and brings his hilt down on its neck, knocking it to the floor. He wastes no time in rearing back with the blade and bringing it down, easily cleaving the creature’s head from its shoulders. 

Amarantha throws up her hands in a huff at the sight.

I finally take what feels like my first breath in an hour as Cassian tosses the blade on the floor. He did it! He won!

Azriel removes his elbows from his knees and reclines back against the armrest, clearly satisfied with the outcome. 

“Excellent! Excellent!” Praises the steward as he goes about helping anyone who placed bets collect their proper earnings. 

I tear my gaze away from the carnage to the nearest guard, “Find him a healer, now.” Before he bleeds out on the floor or Father decides he has another champion he wants to test. 

The Emperor takes a long drink from his goblet, eyes narrowed on the severed head the staff has to now clean off the floor. Around him, his dignitaries drink and argue over why they bet the way they did. It is business as usual, completely unbothered by the blood around them. 

When he finally turns to me, I have to brace myself against the anger simmering in his eyes. This is usually the part where I put my chin to my chest and try to make myself as small as possible. Usually. But not today. 

“It seems I’ve underestimated their talent for bloodshed.”

Cassian hobbles back over to us and I make a show of telling Azriel to help him before he gets blood everywhere, so no one thinks I just let them wander off on their own. 

“The Games will continue at the start of next week,” the Emperor continues.

That gives us days. I try not to look at the gaping hole in Cassian’s thigh. Thank the Mother it looks like it missed bone, but how is he supposed to participate with that? There’s no way it heals in time, even if I have Ember work twelve hours a day on him.

“I expect you to have their opponent picked out by the Senate meeting in the morning. You still have that end of your bargain to uphold.”

This victory will not be without repercussions, but it is still a victory nonetheless, and we have to take what we can get.

--

Managing to procure the mirthroot I need to trick my Father into thinking I’m following through with the regime I’d given him, as well as finding horses for the Illyrians to ride back on takes longer than usual, given the massive partying happening in the streets. We have to take the backroads home to avoid being pelted with more rocks, or outright mobbed. Compared to the rest of the day, the journey is uneventful, spent mostly with the others ensuring Cassian doesn’t pass out on the horse. 

The sun is already changing colors by the time we return to the River House, but I know if I try to prepare for bed now I’ll never sleep. Instead, I leave Anise with instructions to look into potentially safe opponents in the Arena, so when I see Eris again tomorrow I can compare their notes, and then set out for the Temple built on the edge of the property. 

I doubt there are enough blood offerings and animal sacrifices to cleanse the sins of this Empire, but I offer as many as I can in apology for my part in it. I don’t know how I’ve been so blind to all of it. I can’t stop seeing it now, it should have always been so obvious to me.

The Priestesses do not ask why I linger for over an hour, praying long past the time it takes for my offerings to burn atop the altar. I’d hoped that, if I said them hard enough, the weight of the day would slip off my shoulders. I’d thought, with enough sacrifices, the guilt would ease, but I can still feel my mates’ agitation and pain clearly through the bond. 

I return to the House as weary as before. Tomorrow will be a whole new set of problems. I cannot put it off by lingering in the Temple. 

The walk doesn’t clear my head, or loosen the tension, and I climb into the tub with that same heaviness still clinging to my skin. I heat the water as hot as I can, hoping it might cleanse me in a way my sacrifices couldn’t.

Exhaustion creeps its way in as I scrub and scrub and scrub until my skin is pink. Every time I close my eyes I can see the crucified bodies, gasping for air as they slowly suffocate under the weight of their own body pinned to the wood. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that sight; I can only imagine how it would feel to know each of those males before this. The bond still swirls beneath my skin, heavy with agitation the hot water can’t touch. 

I wish there was a way to take that from them, but how can I do that without calling attention to the mating bond? 

I give myself a few extra minutes in the blissful heat before dragging myself out and tossing a silk robe over my waterlogged skin. My brush is on the vanity where Anise left it this morning and I have just started to brush the knots out of my hair when I hear the bedroom door open. My hand stills halfway through my hair; it is unlike Anise to not announce herself when it’s this late. 

The door clicks shut again, the eerie silence that follows enough to make my heart drop into my stomach. The darkness of the room makes it hard to see beyond the candlelight that fills the bathing chamber and my hand goes instinctively into the vanity drawer, where my Mother had always kept an extra knife. The blade is cool in my fingers, the handle smooth and undamaged from never being used. The benefit of having constant guards is you usually never see the threats against you, though there are always exceptions.

There’s no footsteps on the carpet, but I can practically feel movement next to my bed. 

I’m a sitting duck here among all the candlelight, but if I step into the darkness beyond I’ll be totally blind. Better to wait for something to make itself known. 

I suppose there’s enough guards around, I can always start screaming for help if it comes down to it.

A heartbeat passes before something dark and snakelike comes slithering across the floor. The ether loops itself around my ankle and crawls up my thigh like a purring cat before the shadow takes its perch behind my ear.

I set the knife on the vanity with a sigh of relief as Azriel steps into the light. “You scared the shit out of me!”

His shadow caresses the back of my ear in apology, far more expressive now than it was earlier. “Sorry.”

He side steps out of the doorway, but not in my direction, which is odd until Rhysand steps out of the shadows behind him.

“How did you two get in here?”

“Found the lever on the door to your secret tunnel,” Azriel says as his eyes trace up my bare legs, brazenly taking in all the damp skin I have on display.

Heat flushes up my cheeks and I have to look away from him. The candlelight and the hour of the evening makes this feel more intimate than it should, given the way Rhysand looks like he might burst out of his skin. I certainly shouldn’t be entertaining the idea that Azriel would look at me as anything other than a means to an end. Hope is too dangerous a thing to have right now. Just because we agreed to do this, doesn’t mean they’re anxious to accept me as anything other than help. Besides, I need to remind myself that it will be even more dangerous for us than it already is if we were to acknowledge the bond.

 “We were careful, no one saw us,” Azriel assures.

I should be relieved that they’re being safe about it, but the frown on Rhysand’s face makes me rethink it.

“What the hell were you thinking back there?!” He snarls.

Normally, that kind of outburst from a male would make me jump back in surprise, but at this point I’m too exhausted to move, let alone figure out what the hell he’s referring to. “I’ve had a lot of thoughts today, Rhysand, you will have to be more specific.”

The chain rattles around his neck as he steps further into the room, like it's fighting to hold back his powers. “Your bet with Hybern!”

Ah, right. That. “What of it?” Is he really still upset about that? Cassian won, nothing was lost.

Azriel winces and the shadow at my ear hisses in warning. 

“What of it?” He repeats, his voice rising to an octave just shy of shrill, like he can’t believe he heard me right. “You can’t just offer yourself up like that!”

“And what was my alternative?”

“He gave you an alternative!” He seethes. “All you had to do was say yes!”

I fold my arms over my chest in irritation, but I don’t miss the way both their eyes dip to my chest at the motion. “Oh so it’s ok for you to put your body on the line, but I can’t do the same with my own? Seems a little hypocritical, if you ask me.”

“That’s different!”

“How so?”

He’s inched his way into my space step by step, until I’m very aware of the jasmine and citrus scent of him. Sometime after he returned home he’d changed into the clothes I’d had laid out for him, the swirl of ink along his chest just barely poking out around the dark collar. Even hidden, the urge to reach out with my hands and trace the swirls with my fingers remains. 

“Because,” he says through his teeth. “It’s not a deal I can live with.”

“You don’t have to live with it because Cassian won anyway,” I retort, tearing my gaze away to look at Azriel. Rhysand is too close to me like this. I can barely think past the urge to touch him, let alone hold the argument like I need to. “Tell him he’s being ridiculous.”

Azriel folds his arms over his chest and frowns. “He’s not. You shouldn’t have made that deal.”

I throw my hands up and push past Rhysand, trying to give myself room to breathe. “You two are impossible!”

They follow like I’m still holding onto their leashes, footsteps somehow impossibly silent despite their size.  

“You’re honestly going to stand there and tell me you’d rather I offered you up to Amarantha?”

“If it meant you were safe,” Rhysand snarls. “Yes.”

I find myself gritting my teeth, a snarl working its way up my throat. “Well that’s not a deal I could live with, Rhysand.” 

Their legs are a hell of a lot longer than mine, Rhysand manages to snag my arm and turn me back around to face him before I make it more than three steps into the darkness of my chambers. 

His face looks strained, eyes rimmed red. He has to be exhausted. The bond feels fragile, strained from all the emotions that have been blared down it today. “I need you to find a way to deal with it,” he says, voice verging on pleading. 

I hate myself, but I can’t help but wonder what the hand holding onto my bicep would feel like travelling down the rest of my body. 

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, whatever you have to do, I… We need you to find a way to live with it.”

Azriel comes to stand on the other side of him, so they’re nearly shoulder to shoulder. “If Cass had lost and you had to…” even in the dim light coming from the bathroom I can see the heaviness in his eyes. 

I glance back and forth between them. “You’ve all suffered enough, I can handle myself. I knew what I was doing.”

Rhysand shakes his head, “I can bear a lot of things, but not that.”

Hope is a cruel bastard, and I’ve never learned to master it. “Why? What does it matter to you?”

He lifts the hand not holding onto my arm, fingers just barely brushing over my damp cheek and my heartbeat is suddenly very loud in my own ears. His mouth opens like he might say something, and then he clamps it shut again, debating with himself over the words.

While he can’t seem to find the words, Azriel’s scarred hand reaches out to gently grab my chin and tilt my face in his direction. “It matters,” he huffs, voice low and rich and the reverberations of it send shivers down my spine. “Because you’re our mate.”

------

Author's Note: Hehe was gonna wait for the reveal at the end but couldn't bring myself to do it. Let me know what you thought about it! And as always, if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know :)

@sirenpearldust, @saltedcoffeescotch, @littlemissfix-itfic, @waka-babe, @raisam

//

@anainkandpaper, @rafeecameronsbitch, @whothehelliskayleigh, @lifetobeareader, @blimpintime,

//

@hjgdhghoe, @krowiathemythologynerd, @urfunnyvalentin3, @mack234-blog1, @kissfromnovalie

//

@marrass , @lia-h-r, @celestialzdiviner, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @tenshis-cake,

//

@of-outerspace, @erencvlt, @corvusmorte, @lindsayjoy444,

[inadaydream99]

When You Sit in Their Lap

A/N - I just had to…

Disclaimer: This does not represent any of the members in real life and is for entertainment purposes only.

Bang Chan

Chan is used to being the one offering comfort, whether it’s to you, his members, or anyone who comes to him with a problem. So when you settle into his lap without hesitation, his first reaction is a chuckle that’s full of warmth and affection.

His hands immediately rest on your waist, fingers pressing into your sides as he adjusts you to make sure you’re comfortable.

“You could’ve warned me first, y’know,” he murmurs, but there’s no real complaint in his tone.

Before you can respond, he tightens his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. His breath is warm against your skin as he leans ever so slightly to place a gentle kiss.

“Not that I mind.” His touch is gentle but firm, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing beneath you.

If he was working on something, he’ll absentmindedly return to it, one hand still holding you close. But if it’s late at night and the two of you are unwinding, expect him to shift slightly, pulling you even closer into a proper cuddle.

Lee Minho

Minho’s first reaction is a raised brow, his lips twitching ever so slightly in amusement.

“You’re brave,” he remarks, tilting his head slightly as he looks up at you. But despite his teasing, his hands instinctively settle on your hips, holding you in place like he was expecting you to do this all along.

His eyes scan your face, gauging your expression before he smirks.

“Is my lap really that comfortable?” he muses, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your thighs.

He pretends not to care, but the way his hands tighten slightly whenever you shift gives him away. If you try to move away, he won’t stop you outright, but he will let out a soft scoff and pull you right back.

“You sat down first. Stay.”

If he’s feeling particularly playful, he might lean in close and whisper, “If you wanted my attention, there were easier ways to ask, you know.”

Seeing your flustered reaction only makes his smirk turn more devilish, before he moves one of his hands to cup your cheek and gently forces you to maintain his eye contact.

Seo Changbin

The moment you sit on Changbin’s lap, his eyebrows shoot up in surprise before a slow grin spreads across his face.

“Oh? What’s this?” he teases, his arms naturally wrapping around you, locking you in place.

His hands settle on your waist, thumbs rubbing small circles against your sides as he leans back slightly, completely content with your weight against him.

“You’re not getting up now,” he adds with a chuckle, giving your waist a playful squeeze.

Changbin isn’t one to shy away from affection, and if you make yourself comfortable, he’ll take it as an invitation to wrap his arms around you more securely, pressing a soft kiss against your temple.

“You just made a big mistake,” he jokes, “because now I’m never letting you go.”

He might even start rocking the both of you gently, fully enjoying the excuse to hold you close.

Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin freezes for a brief moment before his lips curl into a slow, mischievous smile. “Oh?” he hums, tilting his head slightly as he stares up at you. His hands find your waist, warm and firm, as he adjusts his posture to accommodate you better.

“You should be careful,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into that soft, teasing tone that makes your heart race. “Sitting here means you’re mine for the next hour at least.”

He buries his face into the crook of your neck, pressing a lingering kiss against your skin and when you squirm you feel his grin against your shoulder, his arms tightening around you to stop you from twisting yourself enough to see his expression.

Hyunjin thrives on physical affection, so he takes full advantage of the moment—playing with your fingers, swaying slightly with you in his arms, or tracing patterns on your thighs.

“Comfy?” he asks, though his tone makes it clear he already knows the answer.

And if you even think about moving? He’ll pout dramatically and whine, “Stay just a little longer,” a satisfied smirk on his face knowing you can’t refuse him.

Han Jisung

Jisung stares at you for a second before gasping dramatically, placing a hand over his chest like he’s just been personally attacked.

“You really just—sat down? No warning? No heads-up?” he exclaims, though his laughter betrays him.

Before you can respond, he sighs dramatically and leans into you, arms looping lazily around your waist.

“Guess I have no choice but to accept my fate,” he mutters, nuzzling against your shoulder with a playful pout.

Despite his teasing, you can feel how relaxed he becomes with you in his arms. He’ll absentmindedly play with the hem of your shirt or run his fingers along your back, fully enjoying the warmth of your presence.

If you shift too much, he’ll tighten his hold and whine, “Hey, stop moving, you’re gonna ruin the moment!”

If he’s in a particularly clingy mood, he’ll lay his head against your chest and mumble, “You can’t just sit here and expect me not to fall asleep.” And honestly? He might just do exactly that.

Lee Felix

Felix’s immediate reaction is pure joy—his eyes light up, and a soft giggle escapes his lips as he instinctively wraps his arms around your waist.

“Aww, you wanna cuddle?” he coos, his deep voice laced with warmth.

Holding you close, his hands rub soothing circles on your back. “You’re so warm,” he murmurs, resting his head against your shoulder.

When you let out a little hum in response, he smiles and nuzzles into you even more.

“You’re not allowed to leave now,” he adds, his grip tightening slightly.

Felix lives for moments like these, so he’ll fully embrace the situation—rocking you gently, playing with your fingers, or even humming a soft tune against your skin.

If you try to move, he’ll pout dramatically. “But I’m so comfy,” he whines, giving you those wide, pleading eyes. And let’s be honest—you’re not getting up anytime soon.

Kim Seungmin

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Really?” he deadpans, watching as you settle into his lap. But even as he acts indifferent, his hands immediately move to secure you in place, his grip firm on your waist.

“You’re bold,” he remarks, but there’s a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

His fingers lazily trace patterns against your sides, his warmth seeping into you despite his teasing exterior.

If you try to move away, he won’t stop you, but he will tighten his grip just enough to make you hesitate.

“You started this,” he reminds you. “Deal with it.”

Despite his playful sarcasm, you can feel how comfortable he is with you there. Then you feel him lean you both further back and hear him sigh dramatically. “Guess I have to tolerate this now,” he muses, his tone dry but his actions betraying him as he rubs slow circles on your back.

Yang Jeongin

Jeongin stiffens slightly, caught off guard by your sudden closeness. His ears turn pink almost instantly, and he blinks up at you. “Oh. Um. Hi?”

But within seconds, he relaxes, a small, shy smile forming on his lips.

“You’re comfy,” he admits softly, his arms tentatively wrapping around your waist. His grip is gentle at first, but as the warmth between you settles in, he holds you a little tighter, more securely.

He lets out a contented sigh, leaning his forehead against your shoulder. “You’re not allowed to move now,” he murmurs, his voice slightly muffled.

And if you try? He pouts, tightening his grip with a quiet, “Nope. Stay here.”

[revelboo]

This is all your fault. 🤣 They have been so much fun to put together!

I am loving all your stories, especially Everything is Alright. The boys are such asshats! I'm looking forward to Reader putting them in their place.

The Blokees are adorable, especially the minis. I kind of want to just accrue them and let them ride on my dash. And reader is definitely not happy with any of them right now, but is beginning to realize they have leverage

Everything Is Alright Pt 124

IDW Starscream x Reader, Megatron x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• Starscream expects you to yell some more. To get angrier. Instead you just offer them a flat, empty smile and make a show of looking over the edge of the berth. And a whisper of fear twists through his spark. Wings drawing tight to his frame, Starscream isn’t sure what that expression of yours is, but he doesn’t like it. Hadn’t meant to just say all that in front of you, but it’s out there now. Had meant to hurt Megatron, not you. And Soundwave is slowly approaching you, frame tense. What is he picking up from you?

• “It occurs to me that you two need me a lot more than I need you. And I’m just one little, helpless human, right? You can bully me into whatever you want and there’s nothing I can do.” Heart racing, you keep an eye on Soundwave. Because he’s clued in to your mindset and he’s edging closer in slow movements like you’re a stray he’s trying not to spook into running. Star’s wings flare out slightly with your words, but Megatron is just frowning at you. “But lots of things can happen to me. I could fall off of here. It’s a long way down, isn’t it?” Ignoring Star and Soundwave, you focus on Megatron. Watch those optics narrow. “I don’t think I’d cope very well if something happened to my world and my people, you know? But nothing’s going to happen, because you’re going to leave my world alone. As a wedding gift.”

• Wedding? A human thing? “You think you can make demands of me?” Megatron ask, fighting to keep from smiling as you stare him down. Why is your anger so appealing? Makes him want to provoke you just to see how far you’ll go, because he doesn’t believe for a moment that you’ll actually try anything. There’s your equally helpless sparkling you saddled him with to worry about. It’s an empty threat and maybe it bothers him that you’re scared enough to make it. Because you are right about one thing. Anything could happen to you and his life depends on you staying safe. And despite himself, he’d prefer you to be happy, so tired of fighting all the time and don’t want to fight you.

• “Not a demand. A present for your bonded mate,” you say, glancing at Soundwave as he stops short of you and holds out a hand. Asking you to come away from the edge, because he’s afraid you might accidentally fall. That Megatron might push you into something rash. “For our sparkling,” you add, look up at him, not Megatron. And it’s a relief when you place that little hand in his and let him pull you to him. Wishes you wouldn’t try to push Megatron, but understands why you’re doing it. “Because this is their home, too.” Understands the game you’re playing and doesn’t like it. And he’s the outsider here now, not bonded to you anymore because of Starscream. The first bond had been all need and desire. He hasn’t considered the consequences of his actions if you’d accepted him, but he still wants it. Still wants you. Even if it’s just this, trapped on the outside acting as mediator to keep you safe.

• Crossing the berth to you and Soundwave, his wings drop, flicking guiltily when you look at him. Knows you’re mad at him, too, but can’t stop reaching for you. And his spark aches when you take a slow breath and catch his hand, tugging him to you. “It’s a reasonable request,” he says, knowing it’s not his call to make, but he’d give you this if it would make you happy. Hadn’t really cared about this mudball beyond that you’re on it. Wants to ask what a wedding is, if it’s some kind of bonding ceremony, but he just looks at Megatron in challenge instead. Watches the warlord vent in exasperation at the three of you, optics fixed on you.

• Heart still racing as you lace your fingers with Starscream’s servos and glare defiantly up at Megatron. Still angry at all three of them, but Star and Soundwave are at least taking your side. Or they just don’t want you angry with them and are trying to get back in your good graces. It’s hard to tell with them sometimes. “You really are more trouble than you’re worth,” Megatron growls, shoving off the berth and striding to the door. “Mining and refining energon will continue as planned.” And your breath catches, fingers gripping Star’s servos as Megatron hesitates, back to all of you. “But I suppose this world could be declared a protected nature reserve. Since our species are compatible and I’d hate to wipe out any potential resources.” That’s sort of a victory, right? Why doesn’t it make you feel better, though? Because you might have saved your world but accidentally turned the Decepticons loose on your people to save their own declining race. Well, shit.

Previous

Next

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

When You're Ready

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: being a single mom, the hard side of being a parent, overstimulation?

Summary: Being a single mother hasn’t always been easy, and life catches up to you whether you want it to or not. You have so much on your plate that you’re not even thinking about being in a relationship. Spencer likes you and he makes it clear that he’ll wait for you no matter how long it takes.

Square Filled: huddle for warmth for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Today could not be any worse than it is right now. You didn’t have time to brush your hair, you barely got your teeth brushed, your clothes are wrinkly because you forgot to iron them last night, the heater is broken in your house so all your daughter does is complain that it’s too cold, and you’re trying to get both her and yourself ready for the day.

“Mama, I’m hungry!” she whines.

“Food is coming, baby,” you say.

As you try not to cry, you plate more breakfast for her and set it on her tray. She immediately digs into the pancakes like she’s never been fed before. The TV is blaring in the living room as it plays yet another episode of Spongebob, her favorite TV show. Right now, that little sponge is giving you a massive headache. The coffee machine beeps for the tenth time, and you have an overwhelming urge to chuck it out the window. The machine has been broken for quite some time now but will make a cup of coffee every once in a while.

Today is not one of those days.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings and you just about stop and cry right there. What now? Who could this possibly be while you’re already running late for work? You leave Casey in the kitchen and walk to the front door. On the way, you almost slip on one of her toys, and you kick it harder than you should have. You open the front door and see your housekeeper standing there. You barely have enough to pay her since you had to downgrade a bunch of stuff since the divorce, but she stayed and accepted the new salary.

You’re honestly not sure what you would do without her.

“Oh, Shelly, it’s you.”

“Rough morning?” Tears well in your eyes at her question because you’re forced to think how this morning has been in a sea of bad ones. “Oh, Y/N, don’t worry about a thing. I’m here now.”

“Thanks,” you whisper and close the door behind her. You turn down the TV so that you don’t have to shout at Shelly. “Um, Casey has a field trip today. I looked at the weather and it’s going to be cold so make sure she packs a jacket. She’ll fight it but make sure she has one, okay?”

“Y/N, how long have I been looking after this little girl? I’ll be okay. Don’t you have work?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Here, let me.”

She fixes your hair until it looks presentable, and you give her a warm smile.

“Thank you. The coffee machine is broken. I’ll pick one up on the way home.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get a new one. I have a few other things to pick up at the store.”

“Okay. Bye, Casey! Mommy is off to work. I love you!”

“I love you!” she sings back.

Despite how hard it’s being a single mom, she always brings a smile to your face. Not only is it hard being a single mom, but you work in the FBI where your job is demanding and requires a lot out of you. It’s why you needed to hire Shelly. Before, she was here because your ex-husband paid to have her clean the house. You both had jobs and weren't home enough to keep up with it. Now with Casey, she’s a blessing in disguise.

Hotch makes it look so easy. Since Haley was killed, he’s been doing a good job at raising his son and being the Unit Chief. He has Beth and Haley’s sister, but it’s just him most of the time. You have no one but Shelly, and she only comes three times a week. Casey’s father fled the second you told him you were pregnant so you had to do this entire thing by yourself. All Casey knows is the team because you have them over ever so often.

She’s more familiar with Hotch since he brings Jack over for playdates because they are around the same age. Though, she loves Spencer more than anyone on the team. You’re only friends with him but he’s expressed interest in you. He’s made it clear that you’re on his mind, but you can’t be dating right now. There’s no time for boyfriends or flings or whatever Spencer would be. Your life is too complicated. Add in a toddler and a lawsuit for child support, and it’s too much for someone else to handle.

You told him this much, and he seems okay with being your friend. You still catch him watching you and blushing when you give him a compliment, but he’s been respectful of your boundaries.

You walk into work and notice everyone inside the briefing room. You practically throw your shit down on your desk and run to the briefing room.

“So sorry I’m late. Traffic,” you white-lie.

“It’s okay. We’re just going over updates on our cases and finishing files,” Hotch says.

The B Team must be out right now, and you sag your shoulders in relief. You need a chill day right now more than anything. After a rundown of the open cases, you take yours back to your desk to get started on them. Spencer does the same but he approaches your desk from the front.

You barely look up at him. “Oh, hey, Spencer.”

“Rough morning?” You scoff but don’t say anything. You don’t want to hurt his feelings. “How is Casey doing?”

“She’s good. She has a field trip today at the aquarium.”

Spencer is about to say a fact when he sees the look on your face. Maybe he shouldn’t be himself right now.

“That should be fun.” Again, you don’t respond. All you want to do is focus on your work and not on the headache you have. Instead of going back to his desk, he sits next to yours. “You know, if you ever need someone to watch Casey, I’m more than happy to do it. Even for an entire weekend. It’ll give you time to yourself.” You stop typing and look at him. “Only if it’s okay with you, of course. Or maybe I can come over and hang with her while you get some sleep or something.”

“What are you doing?”

“What? I’m just trying to help.”

It’s the way he said it that makes your back crack under the pressure. You know he doesn’t deserve this but you’re saying it anyway because he’s here.

“You’re not her father, Spencer!”

“I know, but--”

“Look, that’s nice of you to offer but I have been raising her by myself since she was born. Even before she was born. I didn’t need help then and I don’t need it now. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

You gather your finished files and walk away from your desk. Tears threaten to spill but you won’t let it. Not now.

“Okay,” Spencer says, his voice small.

Yep, you hate yourself now. Truth be told, he kind of scares you. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a man, and that scares you. He’s safe and predictable and dependable, everything you never had, not even with Casey’s father. He messed you up so badly that you learned you can’t depend on anyone for anything.

Not even Spencer.

After putting your files away, you slip into the bathroom and just cry. All this stress shouldn’t be good for you. The bathroom door opens and you immediately wipe the tears away. JJ frowns when she sees the tears, and you splash some water on your face to get the redness to go away.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you could come over to my place at two instead of four. Will is having his boys come at two, and I figured my girls could be there at the same time to get coordinated with them.”

“What?”

“Please don’t tell me you forgot about my wedding. It’s next weekend. You’re my maid of honor.”

Shit. You completely forgot about that. You’ve been so focused on not breaking down that her wedding has completely slipped your mind.

“No, I didn't forget.” You wince at the lie. “Okay, it slipped my mind, but I will be there. Two, not four.” You’re about to leave when you remember Shelly telling you she is going out of town next weekend. You don’t have money for a babysitter. “Would it be okay if I brought Casey? Shelly is going to be out of town.”

“Yes, the more the merrier. I love Casey, and I know Henry does, too.”

“Thank you, JJ,” you sigh.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m just stressed is all. I don’t think I slept more than a few hours each night, my hair needs a cut, I need an everything shower, and I don’t have time to do any of it.”

“Yeah, motherhood can be tough.”

“Tell me about it. Not to mention, I think I might have hurt Spencer’s feelings. I yelled at him. He’s just trying to help.”

“He’s a big boy. He’ll get over it. What did he say?”

“He offered to look after Casey for a weekend.”

“It might be good to take him up on the offer.”

You shrug. “I gotta get back to work.” You leave the bathroom and notice Spencer at his own desk. “Spencer?” He looks up and smiles when he sees you, making you feel even worse than you do. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you or said those things.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. You were just trying to help.”

“The offer still stands if and when you want to use it. Think about it.”

The rest of the week is pretty chill since the B Team is still out, giving you and Spencer more time to strengthen your relationship. He shows up to work with an extra coffee, a breakfast sandwich, and a smile just for you. He wants to make sure you eat because that’s the only thing he can do right now to help you.

On the day of the wedding, you know he is going to be right there in the audience. He agreed to look after Casey while you stand next to JJ, so you’re getting her dressed in her pretty pink sparkle dress.

“So, while Mommy is up with Aunt JJ, you’re going to be seated next to Spencer in the audience. Right there in the front.”

“I like Spencer,” she grins.

You smooth down your hair and smile. “Me, too.”

“Are you gonna marry him?”

“No,” you laugh.

“I bet he’d make a great dad.”

You choose not to say anything to that and lead her down the aisle where Spencer is seated. The wedding is located in JJ’s own backyard, but it’s perfect. It’s everything she’s ever wanted and more. Casey has a strict bedtime but the wedding goes past that, so naturally, she gets cranky by the time the reception happens. She’s hungry and restless, two things a toddler should never be at the same time.

“Just another hour and I promise, we can go home. I promised JJ we’d be here.”

“I’m hungry, Mama, and I’m bored.”

“Hey, what’s going on here?”

You look up and see Spencer approaching you two.

“Sorry, she skipped her nap today, and it’s past her bedtime. She’s just bored.”

“May I?” You nod. “Hey, Casey? Would you like to dance? Just one, and then maybe we can get some cake.”

“Okay,” she grins.

Spencer takes her to the dancefloor while you stay seated at one of the tables. He whispers something to her and she eagerly steps onto his shoes. He dances around in circles with her on his shoes, and she giggles happily. It doesn’t matter how much of a shitty week you’ve been having. She’s smiling and laughing and that means you’re doing a pretty damn good job. Spencer picks her up and holds her close so he can dance properly, and she leans her head on his chest.

Would it be so bad to let him in? Maybe not, but you’re clearly not in the headspace for it. Is he willing to wait? You don’t want to keep him from other relationships even though it doesn’t look like he’s rushing to be in one.

After two songs are over, Spencer lets her down. He whispers something to her and she runs off in search of either Henry, Jack, or both. He walks over to you and holds out his hand.

“Care to dance?”

“Yes,” you smile.

You grab his hand and he brings you to the dancefloor. The next song is a slow one, so he pulls you in close to him. One hand in yours and the other low on your back. Has he always smelled this good?

“Thank you for what you did. She likes you a lot.”

“I like her a lot.” He dips his head lower so that his forehead barely touches the top of your head. “I like her mother, too.” Your heart thumps but in a good way. It’s like everyone else around you disappears until it’s only you and Spencer. “I’ll wait however long you need me to.”

You look up at him with tears. “What?”

“If time and space is what you need, I’ll give it to you. Just know that I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

“You might be waiting a while,” you whisper.

“I’m a patient man.”

You rest your head on Spencer’s chest and let the music guide you. He runs his hand up and down your back, creating a safe and warm aura about him.

“You make me feel safe,” you whisper.

Whether he hears it or not, he doesn’t respond. He just continues to dance with you long after the song has ended.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[sayyestoheav3nn]

Nights Like This Short: Three Little Words

Roman x black!oc 

Warnings: fluff, suggestive content 

Word count: 1.2k

a/n: going to start working on part six of ‘nights like this’ tonight. but in the meantime, i lowkey had the urge to write a little fluff lol. why do i feel like y’all are lowkey going to hate this man even more now lmaoo 🙃 click here to be added to my tag list 🤍

Roman’s backyard was filled with his family’s laughter and chatter. There was no denying that he enjoyed when they came to visit, however, there was just so fucking many of them it didn’t take much to become a slightly overstimulating event. 

He took a deep breath, letting the warm sun along with the calm ocean breeze relax him. 

As his family mingled, he couldn’t help but to grin at the sight of his two five year old nieces latched on to Zoe as if they’d known her a lifetime. Since the moment she introduced herself to them, the tiny gremlins hadn't left her side. 

Roman’s mom seemingly came out of nowhere and stood beside him, she smiled as her gaze shifted to the scene her son’s eyes were very much glued to.  

Her heart beamed as she watched Zoe play tag with her granddaughters, “She’s a lovely girl, Roman. I’m looking forward to seeing your own little ones running around here one day…” she teased. 

Roman smiled to himself, staying quiet as he took a sip of his beer. Truth be told, it had been a subject in the back of his mind for a while now. There were so many nights he’d lay awake thinking about their future, while Zoe peacefully slept on his chest.

For years one of his biggest fears was getting one of his fuck buddies pregnant. 

This was the reason his rotation consisted mainly of women on the WWE roster, they made it clear the last thing they wanted was to get knocked up at the height of their careers. Which worked out for him perfectly, because the thought of having a kid with someone he felt absolutely nothing for, scared him shitless.

That was until Zoe came into his life.

From the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew she was different. And in getting to know her, seeing her for who she really was, Roman knew there was absolutely nothing in this world he wanted to experience without her.

Roman’s mom studied him, because as good as he thinks he is when it comes to hiding his emotions, she easily sees right through him. “You love her, don’t you son?”

He’d never been more sure of anything in his fucking life, “With all my heart.”

“Then what’s stopping you from telling her?”

Roman looked down, his gaze focused on the grass. “I just…just don’t want her to think it’s too soon.” 

“Sweetie, look at her.” His focus was now redirected back to Zoe, her beautiful smile radiating as she was immersed in a conversation with Naomi, and his sister Mariana. 

“Zoe has been surrounded by so many unfamiliar faces in the span of a day, I’m sure that must be an overwhelming experience for her. Yet, she’s selfless, giving each and every one of us a glimpse of who she is, while still wanting to learn more about our culture and who you are.”

“If that’s not love…I don’t know what is,” she continued.

Roman stayed silent, while giving his mom a hug. He started making his way towards Zoe, but unfortunately didn’t make it very far, due to Jey and Jimmy stopping him to help make a damn bonfire.

They spent over twenty minutes setting it up, the task was slightly more difficult considering it was brand new and Roman had never used it before.

Once he was finally left to himself he made his way back in the house after noticing Zoe was no longer outdoors. Mariana couldn’t help but to laugh seeing her brothers eyes dart around the room trying to find her.

“Look at ‘Mr no strings attached’, finally introducing us to a girl. I honestly never thought I’d see the day.”

Roman rolled his eyes, “Shut up. Where is she?”

“She’s in the office,” Mariana walked in front of him, blocking his path. “I know you aren’t used to actually being emotionally connected with someone, but please don’t fuck this up Ro. Women like her, can’t be replaced,” she muttered.

“I know,” he sighed. Although his sister tends to annoy the hell out of him, he knows she means well. Her words lingered on his mind for a moment, Zoe's past experience with her ex was something he was always mindful of. Hearing what he put her through, was something he never wanted her to go through again.

She stepped aside as he headed for the office. Roman reached for the door, and carefully twisted the doorknob, “Hey, was wondering where you were.”

Zoe looked back at him, a smile tugged the corner of her lips. “Sorry, I wanted to make the girls a cute little bow for their hair.”

“Damn, they already got you wrapped around their little fingers huh,” he smiled.

“Something like that,” she chuckled.

There was a small sense of nervousness gnawing at him, deep down he wondered if telling her would scare her off. He knew this was a big step, and wholeheartedly understood the weight that comes with those three words. 

But there was absolutely no denying what he feels for her, she means absolutely everything to him. And whether she feels the same or not, he needs her to know.

Roman walked behind her as she stood cutting small pieces of fabric. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist pulling her closely to his chest, his head made his way into the crook of her neck, “I love you, Zoe.”

She paused slowly turning around to face him, tears brimmed in her eyes as she used both her hands to grab his face. There was a brief period of silence, as she looked into his eyes.

“I love you too baby.”

Roman smiled before pressing his lips into hers, Zoe stood on her tiptoes, attempting to slide her arms around his neck. He chuckled and picked her up, hoisting her on his waist. 

Their kiss deepened as Roman slowly began to inch up her dress.

“Roman not now.. your family is here,” she giggled.

“So what?” He sat her down on the table and slid his hands to the warm spot between her legs. Zoe’s mouth instantly parted as Roman’s fingers worked past the fabric of her underwear, teasing her already slick folds. “Let them entertain themselves for a bit, while daddy takes care of you.”

“Fuck...” Roman’s dick was rock hard as he watched her slide down her underwear and slowly spread her legs apart. Roman licked his lips, his mouth practically salivating at just the thought of tasting her sweet pussy. Just as he was about to get in position to feast on the woman he loved, a loud ass knock on the door interrupted them.

“One second,” Zoe scrambled to get off the desk and fix her dress, she was relieved Roman made the choice of locking the door.

“It’s Mariana, sorry the girls wanted me to ask if you wanted to join us for a swim?”

“Of course! I’ll meet you guys in a minute.”

Zoe turned to Roman as she slid her underwear back on. “You coming?”

His jaw clenched as he sighed, “I need a minute.” Zoe glanced down immediately understanding why. Roman’s huge bulge was damn near bursting at the seams.

“Shit, I’m sorry baby,” she kissed his cheek and discreetly stepped out of the room.

There was no doubt they were going to make up for it. 

All fucking night, that was for damn sure.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Friends or more?

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this Lando one-shot (Lando x friends with benefits), let me know what you think, inspired by Tate Mcrae Sports' car:) If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

It all started on a drunken night—the moment you and Lando crossed the line between friendship and something far more complicated. Now, tangled in the leather seats of one of his many sports cars, breathless and flushed, you pull away from his lips, your heart pounding against your ribs. The windows are fogged, the air thick with the remnants of what just happened.

You glance around, trying to steady yourself, before meeting his gaze. “Are we ever going to talk about this?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “Or is this all we do now?”

Lando smirks, lazy and self-assured, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your thigh. “I thought you liked this,” he teases. “Judging by the sounds you were making a few minutes ago…”

You exhale sharply, trying to gather your thoughts as the heat inside the car lingers between you both. The scent of leather, faded cologne, and something undeniably Lando fills your senses. His fingers trail absentmindedly over your thigh, lazy and possessive, as he leans back against the seat with that smug grin still plastered on his face.

“You know I do,” you admit, tilting your head against the headrest, still catching your breath. “But…”

His smirk falters for the briefest second, just a flicker of something—uncertainty, maybe—before he quickly masks it.

“But what?” he prompts, fingers still tracing light patterns on your skin.

You shift slightly, feeling the cool air against your overheated skin. “Is this all we are?” The words taste heavier than you expect.

Lando exhales through his nose, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel now, avoiding your gaze for a moment. “Does it need to be more?” His voice is light, teasing even, but there’s something underneath—a hesitation, a reluctance.

You study him, the way his jaw tightens slightly, the way his hands grip the wheel like it’s grounding him. “I don’t know.” You glance out the windshield, the world outside still hazy with condensation, your reflections barely visible in the fogged-up glass. “Maybe.”

He finally looks at you then, something unreadable flickering in his blue eyes. “I just thought…” He trails off, shaking his head as if dismissing his own thoughts. Then, with a small, lopsided smile, he reaches over, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You think too much.”

“And you don’t think enough,” you counter, your voice softer now.

Lando chuckles, tilting his head, considering you. “So what do you want, then? A real conversation? Or should I kiss you until you forget why you asked?”

Your heart stumbles over itself, because despite the teasing, there’s a weight to his words. A challenge, almost.

“Why not both?” you murmur, and before he can respond, you’re leaning in, capturing his lips in a kiss that’s slower this time—less reckless, more deliberate.

After the kiss, Lando leans back against the seat, stretching his arms behind his head, a smug grin playing on his lips. "Come on," he drawls, his voice low and smooth. "You can't tell me it hasn’t been good. The alley behind the club that night? The way you had to bite your lip to stay quiet?” His eyes darken slightly as he watches your reaction.

You cross your arms, trying not to let the memories cloud your judgment, but Lando isn’t done.

"And then there was my driver’s room," he continues, tilting his head. "You looked so good there, wearing nothing but my shirt. Thought about that for days." His tongue flicks over his bottom lip, like he’s reliving it. "And the beach…" He lets out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "Salt on our skin, the sound of the waves… That was something else."

Your stomach twists at his words, because he’s right. It has been good—too good. The chemistry between you is undeniable, and for a while, it worked. But now? Now it feels like something else is creeping in, something you’re not sure you can ignore anymore.

You take a breath, steadying yourself. “Lando,” you say, meeting his gaze. “I don’t want to waste my time.”

His smirk fades, just a little. “Waste your time?” He shifts in his seat, the teasing edge in his voice giving way to something more serious.

“I mean…” You hesitate, searching for the right words. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this—acting like it doesn’t mean anything.”

Lando’s brows furrow slightly, as if the thought has never really crossed his mind before. He studies you, the confidence in his expression faltering just a fraction. “But it works, doesn’t it?” he says after a moment. “No pressure, no drama. Just us, having a good time.”

You shake your head. “Maybe for you. But I can’t pretend forever.”

Silence stretches between you, the air heavy with everything unsaid. Lando exhales through his nose, looking away for a second before turning back to you. “So what? You want to stop?” His voice is neutral, but you catch the slight tension in it, the way his fingers drum against his knee.

You don’t answer right away. Because the truth is, you don’t want to stop. But you also don’t want to be just another one of Lando’s good times.

Lando watches you closely, waiting for an answer you’re not sure how to give. The weight of the moment settles between you, thick and unrelenting.

“I don’t know,” you finally admit, your voice quieter now. “I just… I don’t want to keep pretending this is enough for me.”

Lando’s jaw tightens, his usual playful confidence slipping just slightly. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose before looking back at you. “I never asked you to pretend.”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “No, but you never asked me what I wanted either.”

Silence again. The kind that lingers, stretching between you like an invisible thread threatening to snap.

Lando swallows, his fingers gripping the steering wheel before he finally turns to you. “I don’t want to lose you,” he says, and for the first time, there’s no teasing in his voice. No smug grin. Just raw honesty. “But I don’t know how to be what you need.”

Your heart clenches at his words.

Maybe this is it. The moment where you walk away, choosing yourself over something that will never be enough. Or maybe this is where you take the risk—where you tell him that he doesn’t have to have all the answers right now. That maybe, just maybe, you can figure it out together.

Lando’s hand brushes against yours, hesitant, uncertain. His words still linger in the air, heavy with meaning, but instead of answering, you reach for him, closing the space between you.

Your lips crash onto his, and for a moment, he stiffens—surprised, caught off guard—but then he melts into you, his hands gripping your waist like he’s afraid to let go.

The kiss deepens, growing desperate, needy. Whatever doubts you had, whatever lines you were trying to redraw, they blur the second Lando pulls you onto his lap. His fingers dig into your skin, his breath hot against your neck as he mutters something you barely register because all you can focus on is him.

Maybe you should stop. Maybe this is exactly the cycle you were trying to break. But when Lando whispers your name like a plea, when his lips trail lower, sending shivers down your spine, you realize something—

For tonight, for now, you don’t want to stop.

And so, you don’t.

[andy-15-07]

Love in the Chaos

pairing: Aaron Taylor Johnson x female!reader

word count: 1155 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Aaron Taylor Johnson Masterlist

"Y/n, have you seen my blue shirt?" Aaron called from the bedroom, his voice slightly muffled.

"I think it's in the laundry basket, love," you replied from the kitchen, where you were meticulously arranging a charcuterie board. Tonight was date night, a rare and precious occasion for you and Aaron. After months of juggling work, school runs, and the whirlwind of raising two young children, you were finally escaping for a few hours. Your parents had graciously offered to babysit, and you were determined to make the most of it.

"Ah, you're right," Aaron reappeared, the blue shirt now in hand. He grinned at you, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "You know, sometimes I think you have a secret organization system for all our belongings."

You chuckled, "If only! It’s more like controlled chaos." You glanced at the clock. "Kids are finally down, right?"

"Sleeping like little angels," Aaron confirmed, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into a gentle hug. "They were surprisingly easy tonight. Maybe they sensed our desperation for freedom."

"Let's hope it stays that way," you said, leaning into his embrace. "I’d hate for Grandma and Grandpa to have a wrestling match at bedtime."

"Speaking of which," Aaron said, releasing you and grabbing his wallet from the dresser, "I should probably run to the store and grab that bottle of wine we talked about. Red, right?"

"Perfect," you replied, gesturing to the charcuterie board. "And maybe some fancy cheese. The kids won't appreciate it, so we can indulge."

"Consider it done," Aaron said, giving you a quick kiss before heading out the door.

You surveyed the kitchen, a smile playing on your lips. The babysitter was coming in an hour, giving you just enough time to get ready without rushing. You finished arranging the charcuterie board, adding a few sprigs of rosemary for a touch of elegance. Then, you headed upstairs to get ready.

As you were changing, your phone buzzed. It was a text from Aaron: "Found the perfect wine. And I may have also picked up some dark chocolate. Just sayin'..."

You smiled, replying with a string of heart emojis. He knew you so well. A quiet evening with good food, good wine, and even better company was your idea of heaven.

A little while later, Aaron returned, a bottle of wine and a bag of groceries in hand. "I also grabbed some flowers," he announced, presenting a small bouquet of vibrant lilies.

"They're beautiful," you said, taking the flowers and inhaling their sweet fragrance. "Thank you."

"You deserve them," Aaron said softly, his eyes filled with affection. "You deserve a night off."

The doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of the babysitter. Your parents came in, beaming and ready for their mission. After a quick briefing about bedtime routines and emergency contacts, you and Aaron were finally out the door, hand in hand.

"Where are we going?" you asked as Aaron led you to his car.

"It's a surprise," he said with a wink. "But I promise you'll love it."

He drove for about twenty minutes, taking you to a charming little Italian restaurant tucked away in a quiet neighborhood. The restaurant was dimly lit, with cozy tables and the soft murmur of conversation filling the air. It was the perfect setting for a romantic date night.

"This place looks amazing," you said as you were shown to your table.

"I knew you'd like it," Aaron replied, pulling out your chair.

You settled into your seats, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. It was so nice to be out, just the two of you, without the constant demands of parenthood.

"So," Aaron said, after you'd ordered drinks, "what have you been up to lately? Besides being a supermom, of course."

You laughed, "Well, work has been crazy busy. But I finally finished that big project I was telling you about."

"That's fantastic!" Aaron exclaimed, raising his glass. "To your success!"

You clinked glasses and took a sip of your wine. The conversation flowed easily, as it always did between you and Aaron. You talked about work, your kids, your dreams for the future. You laughed, you reminisced, and you simply enjoyed each other's company.

As the evening progressed, the conversation turned more personal.

"You know," Aaron said, his voice softening, "I don't tell you this enough, but I'm so grateful for you. You're an incredible mother, an amazing partner, and my best friend."

Your heart swelled with warmth. "Thank you, Aaron," you replied, your voice thick with emotion. "I feel the same way about you. You're my rock, my support system, and the love of my life."

He reached across the table and took your hand, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "I love you, Y/n," he said, his eyes locking with yours.

"I love you too, Aaron," you whispered back.

For a moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, connected by an invisible thread of love and understanding.

After dinner, Aaron surprised you with a walk along the riverbank. The moon was full, casting a silvery glow on the water. You strolled hand in hand, enjoying the peacefulness of the night.

"This is perfect," you said, leaning your head on Aaron's shoulder.

"It is," he agreed. "Just like you."

You smiled, feeling completely content. This was exactly what you needed – a night to reconnect, to recharge, to remember why you fell in love in the first place.

As you walked back to the car, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt about leaving the kids. But then you remembered something Aaron had said earlier: "Happy parents, happy kids." You knew that taking time for yourselves was essential for the health and well-being of your family.

When you arrived home, your parents were waiting for you, both kids fast asleep.

"They were perfect angels," your mom said with a smile.

"Thank you so much for watching them," you said, feeling a wave of gratitude.

"Anytime," your dad replied. "You two deserve a night out."

After your parents left, you and Aaron went upstairs, careful not to wake the kids. You changed into your pajamas and snuggled into bed, feeling tired but happy.

"Tonight was amazing," you said, turning to face Aaron.

"It was," he agreed, kissing you softly on the lips. "We should do it more often."

"Definitely," you said, closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep, feeling loved and cherished.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of your kids giggling downstairs. You and Aaron exchanged a look, a mixture of amusement and exhaustion. The date night was over, and it was back to reality. But you both knew that the memories of the evening would stay with you, a reminder of the love and connection that bound you together. And that, you realized, was more valuable than anything.

[iwaasfairy]

pls the way I was just casually playing lads and then got fucking blindsided by caleb and the absolute cest horniness that overtook me I can’t escape the huge strong devoted big bro that can’t live or breathe if he doesn’t have his cute lil sis carnally

tw yandere caleb, possessiveness, blood, a lot of niichan calling, siscon, I hc that reader calls him Mahiru growing up n Caleb when he leaves for uni and DAA so I use Mahiru here

It’s all too easy to feel like a big shot when neighbourhood kids flock around you. The swingset still glitters with dangling raindrops after the downpour, and laughter and childish discussion echoes the playground for a whole block between the raised skyscrapers.

“He’s coming again,” Nene giggles under her breath, air blowing through the hole where a tooth sat a few weeks ago, and her ponytail bounces. She hoists herself back onto the monkey bars while looking your way. Some of the other girls chat among themselves, and though they pretend not to look, even at age nine they seem to know. You hear your name fall between giggles.

It’s quick.

“Hey.” A rounded pebble hits your spine, and you turn.

The taller boy, stout, with soft freckles and a bit of a mean look stands before you for the nth time this afternoon. His words won’t make it clear, but he can’t seem to leave you alone. You place your hands on your hips, and sneer at him. “What do you want, Asher…” Gran told you he’s going through a phase, to be gentle. Niichan told you to punch him between his eyes next time he gets on your case.

You’re not sure you can do either of those. Asher’s eyes flick around as he shuffles a bit closer, under the eyes of some of the other boys— and a dusty rose tints his cheeks. “We’re gonna play house now. Since you’re not busy, you gotta play the mom.” He mirrors your pose, and his hands land on his hips. “I’m the dad, and they’re the kids.”

—Nene giggles from her elevated position, before yelling something out. “We don’t wanna play with you, Asher! You only play rough, and girls don’t like that.” Her smile is so wide that it’s almost Cheshire. “And besides, you should ask a girl. Not just order her around. Right?”

Right. You don’t say it, but your eyes stay on the boy as his face gets brighter, and he starts fidgeting with his clothes. “I’m playing with my friends,” you end up saying, as Asher steps into your space, and his rough hand grabs onto your wrist to yank you his way. That, and Mahiru nii is running around with his own friends somewhere. He already told you not to engage. It wouldn’t end well even if you ended up playing nice.

The blond’s basically sunset pink in the face, and though he’s holding onto you, you can tell he’s trying his best to be gentle. “Just play with me- with all of us. Don’t be like that.” He stares down his nose at your defiant eyes, and raises his nose. “If you don’t I’ll pick you up and throw you in there.” The sandpit. Rude.

“My brother will punch you if you do,” you snap back, as you pull your hand back. He doesn’t let go though, hand now trapped between your arm and chest.

“Just leave her alone, Asher.” One of the other girls chants from behind you. The longer he holds your arm, the hotter your face grows. Then one of them lets out a laugh. “We know you wanna play with her because you like her.”

The change on his face happens in slow motion. His eyes flick wildly over your face like he can’t settle them anywhere without more embarrassment, so he lets go of you as if burned. “I wouldn’t ever like you! You girls are all annoying, I was just joking around!”

“Asher’s in love!” Nene squeals out over the whole yard, and he gets a look in his eye that tells you to get out of the way. 

“Shut up, Nene! I’m not! I’m not in love with her at all.” You go to run back to your friends as they all squeal and chatter, and the muted blond grabs one of your pigtails to yank you back, hard.

You land on the floor, dirt and sand on your hands— and tears spring up in your eyes. But before you can cry out as you look back up at him, a larger body’s already flung him to the ground and gets on top of him to pound a fist right onto his brow.

It’s harder than you landed. You’re pretty sure it’s much harder than is needed, too. The sharp thud is followed by another, and another, as the playground goes quiet. You can’t even see the boy who hurt you under Mahiru’s bigger form— older, stronger, he’s already started to grow up while Asher definitely has not. Adrenaline courses through your veins, and the tears clog up your throat.

Only when one of the older kids who’ve joined from the street pull Mahiru back by his collar, does the assault stop. “Hiru, I think- that’s enough.” Mahiru’s heavy breathing makes way from the soft puffs of breath coming from the younger boy, who’s bloodied face starts bruising an angry red almost instantly, and gasps and hisses sound out.

He’s flattened to the grass with no movement. 

The pained looks come from the older boys most of all, as they straighten your niichan up. When he turns to you, he’s stuck between chewing you out and putting on a smile. He kneels before you to take your hands in his. “Told ya’ to punch him between the eyes next time he tries to talk to you.” The chastising tone doesn’t fit the mood that’s overtaken the playground. But he doesn’t hesitate to brush a thumb along your cheek. “Are you not too badly hurt? C’mere, let niichan see.”

His knuckles are split and bloody as he cups your small hands in his, and starts dutifully dusting them off for you— as his friends only grimace. Your shock doesn’t fade when he hoists you up under your armpits, nor when he pulls you into his chest to place a kiss on the top of your head. “Think you’ve had enough fun for today, ‘mouto.”

He smiles brightly to the young girls frozen on the swing, then at his own friends. “I’m going to take this one home first. We can hang out again later!” That’s that, before he picks you up and puts you onto his hip without another word, and your shaking hands are forced to link around his neck. “Don’t space out. Let’s go.”

…

The streets even out into less busy districts as he walks, lets you rest your head into the crook of his neck, your breaths evening out. You’re not sure what to say, only that it’s gone quiet since all the prying eyes followed you both down the block.

“Will Asher die?” you end up asking, and Mahiru’s steady breathing only breaks for a slight exhale through his nose, before continuing.

“Bad kids don’t die so easy.” His brows furrow ever so slightly, before he turns his face to yours so that his cheek is against your nose. “Shouldn’t you be a bit more worried about yourself?”

His dark head of hair rubs against yours with how close you two remain, until your lack of answer makes him continue. The swaying of your legs as he walks is easy, and it’s this that makes your tummy feel a bit queasy. You don’t have a scratch on you. Mahiru always makes sure of that. Your lips purse, and you tense against him. “He’s my friend. The girls were teasing him, that’s why he did that.”

Big brother stops walking. His long arms move from the small of your back where he’s holding you against him to your thigh, and he looks at you. Now nose to nose, heat climbing onto your cheeks. You’ve always been close, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still make you nervous. Mahiru doesn’t seem to get nervous for anything. His eyes sink deep into yours as he talks. “I don’t like your friends then. They put their hands on you and pull you and touch you. You think I’m stupid?”

“No.”

He lowers his eyes to your throat, then leans into you. Mouth to your neck, it tickles. “I was pissed at him because I know what he wants. Soon enough they’ll start asking you to kiss.” You can’t help it, you flush. Heat travels to your nose and cheeks and ears, and of course, Mahiru notices.

“What’s that reaction?”

“Nothing! I don’t have a reaction.”

The shades of brown and purple in his irises get a darker tint as he lets out an unamused noise. The tension makes you all jittery and weird feeling, and you start struggling a little to stay in his hold. “You’re my sweet, innocent little imouto. You’re not kissing people yet, right?”

“I’m not kissing anyone, niichan! Only you.” The silence is filled with your breathing. “Even if they ask, I'm not going to do it.” His dark brows are laced together so tight it looks like it hurts, and it only takes a moment for you to lean in and give a polite peck on his cheek. He doesn’t relax until you make an exaggerated ‘mwuah’ sound and press your lips longer against his ear, nuzzling into his cheek. “Don’t be so mad, you protected me, right? I’m okay thanks to you, niichan. Love you.”

You hop off his hip to stare up at him, and take his hand in yours to lace your fingers together. “Let’s just go home, nii nii? You were right, I’m tired.” And something still plays in his eyes, but when you pull he follows. That’s enough for now. You don’t want to get Hiru nii in trouble. He’s just protective.

[cryingpariah]

I know that we (Usopp Nation) love to discuss the multiple different ways the eventual meeting between Usopp and Yassop could go but today I wanted to discuss how I think the Strawhats would react to Usopp having/wanting/feeling like he needs to meet his father but hesitating for [Insert reason here].

Luffy: Likes Yassop obviously and would be excited to see him again! But our emotionally intelligent king would pick up on Usopp's vibes and just outright ask him what’s wrong. Would respect his decision to go or not go. If it’s a no though, he'd go and break the news but do it much too bluntly (“Yeah, Usopp didn’t want to come!”). Honestly the whole time there he’s unintentionally making Yassop feel like the biggest piece of shit.

Zoro: Pretends to not care/not have an opinion when he in fact has plenty of both. Zoro's just not the kind of person to care about blood connections, not his own anyway, so he'd probably veer on the side of not going but acts neutral. Regardless of Usopp's decision though Zoro is there to make sure he sticks to it, no wussing out! If he says he’s going he’s going, even if he’s got to hide behind Zoro the whole walk there.

Nami: Usopp's BFFL. She’s there to hype him up! No shitty absent father is allowed to make him feel like shit! She’s helping him get ready, picking a killer outfit and hairstyle for him, everyone knows looking good is the best social armour! If he decides not to go she’s still dressing up him but this time to go and paint the town red! If he does want to go she’s heading there right alongside him! Even if it looks like she’s engaged with something else best believe she’s keeping a hawk eye on Usopp.

Sanji: Guy who is so anti biological father. Is staunchly against Usopp going but tries to hide it behind neutrality and fails miserably. Ultimately though having had some emotional catharsis with facing his own father he’ll accept Usopp's decision no matter what. Absolutely tags along and brings a dish because he was raised a proper chef. (“Oh this? It’s Usopp’s favourite. Not that you had any way of knowing.” *faux polite customer service smile*)

Chopper: Little fella is CONFLICTED. On one hand he’s literally only heard good things about Yassop from both Usopp and Luffy so obviously this guy must be great! But if that was true why did Ussop look so..scared? He decides to approach this from a doctor perspective first by sitting Ussop for a checkup and letting him ramble all his thoughts out. If Usopp decides not to go Chopper's making an official announcement that Usopp's got ‘can’t-leave-the-boat-disease and has to stay for his own good.

Robin: Notices Usopp's discomfort immediately and whisks him away. Sits him down with a cup of her secret stash of soothing tea and lays down all the facts for him. Yes, he has no obligation to go see his father just cause he’s here. No it doesn’t make him a bad person if he doesn’t want to. Despite how wildly different they are, she’s the best at understanding his feelings right now and all that come with it. If he decides to not go, she’ll go in his stead to explain (and also to make sure Yassop doesn’t try to go himself).

Franky: He’s about as emotional as you’d expect. He’d probably be encouraging Usopp to go, not for his dad but for himself. His dreams of being a ‘proper man’ and ‘brave warrior of the sea’ means he shouldn’t live or die with regrets or what ifs. Regardless of Usopp's decision, Franky just wants to make he won’t regret for one reason or another. Will tag along and hype up Ussop to anyone and everyone.

Brook: Like Robin he’s taking Usopp somewhere else to calm down and think. He’s also playing him some soft violin to relax to. They don’t talk much, just let the music guide them for a bit. In a moment of violin driven vulnerability, Brook would tell Usopp that regardless of what does or does not happen, he has a place and a family right here, and that won’t ever change. Places neutral but would prefer if Usopp stayed and didn’t risk getting hurt.

Jinbei: Probably knows Yassop on a semi-causal level and therefore knew of Usopp long before FMI. Was really stunned upon hearing this would be Usopp's first proper meeting with his father. Jinbei's got plenty of sage of advice and can wash away Usopp's parental insecurities by reminding him of who he is and how any man worth a damn would be proud to call him his son. Stays behind if Usopp goes but only because he’s worried of overstepping if he does.

BONUS! (Argue with your mama, your daddy and your congressman Vivi will be the final Strawhat!!)

Vivi ft Karoo: They’re absolutely gobsmacked. Vivi's the one that brings out some latent anger Usopp doesn’t even realize he’s been holding in. I can definitely see Vivi wanting to go even if Usopp's not, she’s very confrontational after all but she defect to what Usopp wants ultimately. If he does want to go she’s right there with him and is totally throwing some shade Yassop's way. Karoo is there as a supportive friend and a quick exit strategy if Usopp needs it.

[marvelavengerspovs1]

Chapter 1- Malign

Pairing: Bucky x F!reader

Warnings: Lots and lots of angst (sorry but not sorry), very toxic behaviours from both Bucky and Reader, 18+ MDNI

Length: 1.2k

Summary: You and Bucky are going through a rough patch. Is it something worth fixing?

A/N: Ok, so this has been an idea that I’ve been playing with for a few days so I decided to try it out. This is completely different from what I normally do. I plan to make this a mini-series, about 3-5 parts. I’d like to think this is Bucky after trying to acclimate back into a more “normal” life because let’s be honest, he’s a man with PTSD and lost a good chunk of his life. I was listening to The Black Dog and The Prophecy while writing this so it’s more angsty than I imagined.

You wake up cold, noticing an absence beside you. Part of you wants to stay in bed, not wanting to look for him. But the other part, the part that chooses to ignore the past few months, wants to. After about thirty seconds of debating, the latter wins.

You get out of bed and leave your bedroom. You find Bucky in the living room nursing a bottle of whiskey and Asgardian liquor, blankly staring at the wall. You let out a frustrated sigh and he looks up at you.

“Hey,” You say softly, trying to hide your true emotions.

He rolls his eyes and puts the bottle down on the coffee table. “What do you want?

You frown. “Never mind.”

Bucky rolls his eyes again. “Why are you giving me this ‘never mind’ bullshit?”

“You clearly don’t want to be bothered right now, so I’m going back to bed.”

You turn around and start to walk back to your shared bedroom. “Doll, wait.”

You pause and he gets up from the couch, moving in front of you. You both sit in silence before you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Yes?”

“Why do you think you’re bothering me?”

You let out a scoff and shake your head. “I don’t know, maybe because you rolled your eyes and asked me, ‘what do you want’?”

Bucky lets out a frustrated groan. “You’re taking it the wrong way.”

“How am I supposed to take it, Bucky? Because to me, it sounds like you’re already pissed at me.”

Bucky looks down at you with a grumpy expression. “I’m already pissed at other stuff, it’s not you.”

“Well I’m still going to bed, I don’t want to be around you when you’re like this.”

“Why are you like this?” He mutters and rolls his eyes once more.

“Why do I have to be like this? That’s really funny coming from you.” 

“You always take things the wrong way.”

“You wanted space, I’m giving you space.” You finally decided to walk around him.

“I never said I wanted space!” He calls after you before deciding to follow you to your bedroom.

“Well you clearly are not in the mood to be around me so I’m removing myself from the situation.” You feel your throat tighten.

The past few months have been like this. It started off with small arguments like leaving a dish in the sink for a while, to making everything a fight. You don’t know what’s changed between the two of you. You both were like a well oiled machine, you both knowing what the other needed. But recently, you both were out of sync.

“Why do you always do this? Don’t walk away while we’re talking.” Bucky grabs your arm.

His grip is firm but not hard enough to hurt you. You jump and turn around, your eyes watering so much that a tear slips out.

“Let go.” Bucky immediately drops your arm.

“Why are you crying?” He asks gently.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because my boyfriend is in one of his moods?” You wipe your tears.

“This is so you,” Bucky lets out a scoff. “I told you it’s not about you. Not everything is about you.”

You feel a searing heat in your chest. “If that’s how you feel.”

You turn around and close the door, locking it behind you. Bucky stares at the door for a minute with his eyes widened. He pounds on the door.

He calls your name. “Open the door.”

You pull out a bag. “No.”

He calls your name again. “Open the damn door!”

“I’m not staying in the same room as you.” You pack some clothes and continue to wipe your tears.

“Just open the door!” You finally listen to him.

“You have two options, you either find somewhere else to sleep or I leave.”

“You can’t kick me out of our apartment.” He furrows his eyebrows.

You bring the bag over your shoulder. “Fine, I’m leaving then.”

Bucky’s eyes widen, noticing the bag finally. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I don’t know, maybe with Wanda or Natasha.”

Bucky steps in front of you. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to stay here, in our room.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Then where are you going?”

“Why do I have to go somewhere? I didn’t do anything.”

“If you can’t see this clearly, then I can’t sleep under the same roof as you. Whether you like it or not, I’m not staying here tonight.”

“Please, don’t go Doll.” Bucky pleads as a last attempt.

“I can’t be in the same room as you right now.” You walk around him.

“Why are you being so damn difficult? You don’t need to run to Wanda or Natasha.”

“We can talk about this tomorrow. Once you’re not drunk.” You leave the room and head down the hall to the front door.

Bucky follows you out, going back to his spot on the couch. He takes a swig of the whiskey.

“Go, see if I care.” He scowls.

You falter in your steps for a moment. “Go to bed Bucky.”

You walk out of the front door, feeling Bucky’s glare. Bucky stares at the door for a moment before throwing the empty whiskey glass at the wall.

You hear the crash and turn to open the door. You stand there for a moment, your hand on the door knob debating on going back inside. You know Bucky, this isn’t who he is. But you can’t go back in. You turn around and make your way to Natasha’s.

Natasha’s apartment isn’t far from your apartment that you share with Bucky. You get there within 5 minutes and knock on her door.

Natasha opens the door, her eyebrows pulled together. “What are you doing here?”

You let yourself cry. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Natasha opens the door wider, ushering you in. “Of course, Babe.”

A few minutes later, you’re crying on the couch with a hot cup of cocoa. “I just don’t know where it all went wrong. It felt as if everything was going well, and now all we do is fight. I didn’t even want to look for him when I woke up.”

Natasha rubs your arm soothingly. “I understand. Bucky has a lot of baggage.”

“I don’t care about that.”

And it’s true. You know his past, his current nightmares, how he became who he is. It didn’t bother you because Bucky seemed to be improving.

“It feels like he’s going backwards. And…” You take a deep breath. “I don’t know if I want to stay around for that.”

Natasha nods her head. “No one would blame you if you wanted to take some time for yourself. Whether it’s a short break or a permanent one. But before you decide, maybe you need to sleep on it too.”

You nod. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

Natasha takes the almost empty mug from your hands and places it on her coffee table. “You know you can stay here as long as you want, right?”

You nod again. “Yes, thank you Nat. Really, for everything.”

Natasha hugs you. “No need to thank me. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

You follow Natasha to the guest room. You get into bed, thinking about everything. Do you want to break up with Bucky?

Temporarily?

Permanently?

[sxmmerberries]

ME OR THE PS5 - choi soobin x reader

✦ genre: fluff

✦ pairing: choi soobin as your boyfriend

✦ word count: 1,700

✦ summary: soobin apologises to you after ignoring the plans you guys had for a game

You sighed even louder, trying to get your boyfriend's attention off of his computer for the nth time. You were looking forward to having a cozy night in with your boyfriend, watching a movie together and then baking something together to have as a late night snack. But then, Beomgyu called and asked him to join a game immediately, saying that he needed backup.

Soobin kissed your forehead, promising he would be back in 30 minutes to watch the movie with you. However, as the minutes passed by, two hours had passed, and he was still glued to his computer, paying no attention to you as you sulked on the couch. You knew he loved gaming, but sometimes you wished he could at least spare some time for you.

You huffed in frustration and walked over to him, grabbing his soft cheeks in your hands, squishing them.

“Just 15 more minutes,” He said, removing your hands, his eyes glued to the screen.

"That's what you said two hours ago,” You frowned, grabbing his face again and placing small kisses on his cheeks.

Soobin looked a bit flustered by the sudden attack of kisses, but he still tried to resist. "Come on, babe, just a few more minutes. I'm in the middle of a really intense part of the game.” You continued pressing small kisses all over his face, determined to get his attention, making him look at you with a mixture of annoyance and affection.

"Babe, I really can't focus like this. Can you give me a few more minutes?,” Soobin tried to stay focused on the game, but he couldn't help but smile and blush at your affectionate display.

“That is the point,” You continued attacking his face with kisses, making him sigh, trying to look annoyed.

"You're being so clingy right now. We can watch the movie later too. Beomgyu is dying,” He rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the game as Beomgyu screamed in his ears through the headphones.

"I'm being clingy?, " You responded with a hurt look on your face and immediately stopped kissing his face, moving away a bit from him.

"Maybe I just want to spend some time with my boyfriend. You know, the one who promised he would watch a movie with me, but has been ignoring me for hours while he plays his stupid game?,” Soobin's expression softened as you stepped away from him, obviously hurt by his words.

“Babe, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that……You know what? You can start the movie. I'll be there in a bit,” He paused, looking at you with a guilty look.

"I'll finish this game and then I'll come watch the movie with you, okay?,” He reached out and gently grabbed your hand, trying to soothe you with his touch only for you to smack his hand away.

"I don't want to watch it anymore," You snapped, storming out of the room, making sure to slam the door shut on your way out before he could say anything.

Soobin's eyes widened in surprise, watching as you left the room. He suddenly felt guilty and regretful for choosing the game over you.

"Damn it,” Soobin let out a frustrated sigh and muttered under his breath, turning his focus but on to the game in front of him, but his focus was somewhere else. He knew he had messed up prioritising the game over the plans you guys had.

He finally loses the game. He didn't expect his win streak to end like this. He is upset that he didn't win the game, but what bothered him more was that you were upset with him.

He gets up from his chair and walks out of his room, walking around the house in search of you before walking towards your room.

Soobin walked over to your room and quietly opened the door, peeking inside. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of you sulking in the corner of the bed, wearing one of his shirts and cuddling the Yeongmong plushie he got you. You looked so adorable, despite the grumpy expression on your face.

He quietly walked over to the bed and sat down next to you, trying to reach for your hand to hold it only for you to pull your hand out of his grasp.

Soobin frowned and tried to reach out to hold your hand again, but you pulled it away once more. He looked at you with a pleading expression, not wanting this silent treatment.

He shuffled a bit closer to you on the bed, trying to get your attention. He reached out and gently placed his hand on your knee only for you to smack his hand away again.

"Can we talk, please?,” He asked softly, his voice gentle. He wanted to see your face and talk to you, but you were avoiding his gaze, still focused on the Yeongmong plushie in your arms.

"Hey Yeongmong-ie, do you hear something? Is it a ghost?,” You said in a fake-scared voice, completely ignoring Soobin, who was sitting right next to you.

Soobin couldn't help but chuckle at your antics. It was obvious that you were still upset with him, but he found your behaviour more cute than annoying.

"Please talk to me. I'm sorry for being a jerk and ignoring you for that stupid game. I won't do that ever again,” He scooted even closer to you, making you scoot further away from him.

"Yeongmong-ie, this house is haunted. There is an annoying ghost," You said, your voice laced with sarcasm as you side eyed Soobin. "Let's move out and leave your father behind. The ghost can play games with him, or maybe he'll ignore them too.”

Soobin couldn't help but chuckle again, finding it both adorable and annoying to watch you badmouth him to the plushie instead of acknowledging his presence.

He gently pried the plushie from your grip and tossed it onto the bed, making you glare at him before looking away from him again. He could see the mix of annoyance and hurt in your expression, but he was determined to talk to you.

Soobin let out an exasperated sigh and gently pulled you onto his lap, disregarding your weak protests. "I know I messed up, but please, don't keep ignoring me. Let me talk to you. I want to fix this, babe.”

"I can't stand it when you're mad at me. I'm sorry for being an idiot and prioritising that stupid game over you,” He refused to let you keep avoiding him, keeping a firm hold on you and making sure you couldn't look away.

He nuzzled his face into your neck and began to press soft kisses onto your neck, hoping that it'll lessen your anger a bit.

"Please... let me make it up to you," He murmured between kisses.

“I even gave you kisses,” You mumbled, trying to get his lips away from your neck. He couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, finding your statement a little cute

"Oh honey..I know..I am so sorry,” He says as he rubs your cheeks with his thumbs. He continued to caress your face gently, but you still refused to look at him.

He pulled back slightly, looking at your frowning face. "Please, won't you at least look at me? I don't like it when you're mad. I said that I was sorry.”

“You called me clingy too,” You grumbled, sulking at his hurtful words.

He winced as you mentioned his earlier words, “Hey, I know, and I am sorry I said that. But you gotta understand, I was in the middle of the game, and you suddenly came in and started kissing me. I just got annoyed and said the first thing that came to mind without thinking.”

“But that is not an excuse. I shouldn't have called you clingy. I was being really mean," He said as he stared at you with a guilty look before deciding to press small kisses on your face like you did earlier with him.

"I promise I won't do it again, I'll pay attention to you first. I'll forget about the games for a while, and give you all the attention you want, please forgive me, honey,” He can see that you're no longer sulking that much but he still wants you to forgive him.

"Just tell me what you want me to do, just anything, and I'll do it. Just don't be mad at me, please. We can do whatever you want. I'll even let you bite my cheeks like you always wanted to. I'll let you poke my dimples as many times as you want, too. Please don't be mad at me anymore,” He moves back slightly so he can look at your face again.

He noticed the change in your expression, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He could see that his offers were starting to soften your anger, and he couldn't help but feel relieved.

"You're smiling," He noted, his voice gentle. "Are you already starting to forgive me? Or do I have to let you poke my dimples twenty times?.”

“One hundred times and I'll consider it,” You crossed your arms across your chest as you tried not to smile at him, trying to keep the sulky facade.

He let out a soft chuckle and leaned in closer, presenting one of his dimples to you. "Alright, one hundred times it is, and then will you forgive me?.”

“And bites on each cheek,” You bargained, reaching out to poke his dimples, your touch gentle despite your earlier anger towards him. He chuckled as you counted each poke.

He let out a soft laugh, fully aware that you were just teasing him at this point. "Okay, okay, one hundred pokes and bites on each cheek. Deal.”

“If you ignore me again for your games, you won't have cheeks anymore,” You threatened as you pinched his cheeks.

“Don't worry, babe. I promise I won't ignore you for games again,” He rubbed the spot you pinched as you leaned in closer to bite his cheeks as promised.

©sxmmerberries

more txt fics

networks: @moadiarynet @k-films @kstrucknet @starlit-network

[laswells-ashtray]

Soooo because I can't write this properly, so I'm entrusting you with this.

Nik hurt Price comfort.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk

Nikolai knows he isn't a young man anymore.

He hears men in their twenties make internet references that go over his head, they all sound like gibberish but apparently, they're humorous to surrounding 20-something year old men.

There are specks of grey starting to appear when he lets his stubble grow out and one stubborn steel strand behind his left ear that he can't seem to hide when he tucks his hair back.

But the excruciating sharp pain that spreads throughout his knee more often than not when he gets out of bed in the morning is a slap in the face to the man he once was.

Realistically he'd always known that the work he does would catch up with him but something about taking that extra minute in the morning just so that he can move without his right knee going out from under him is humiliating.

It isn't just his age, old injuries have a way of making themselves known but it would seem that the older he gets, the longer the list of pains that ail him.

Nikolai is a grown man, he can admit that it awakens an insecurity inside of him that he thought buried. Is he still good enough for John? He had proven himself many years ago but he no longer has the same vitality and agility that he had so often taken for granted.

John is a man in his prime. When did he pass his?

There are many things that a man can ponder whilst waiting to regain the full use of his right knee and yet Nikolai always seems to fall back into that swirling pool of shame and self-doubt. He has yet to find a way out of the water without letting himself drown, choking back into awareness.

One hand rests on the edge of his nightstand, holding him steady as he keeps his weight on his left leg. It's a practised routine by now.

Curling his toes into the carpeted floor beneath him acts as a source of amusement, it is one of few actions that can offer him a distraction as he waits out the aching.

John's string of curses as he batters his pinky off of the doorway is as close to a greeting as he'll receive, he believes that the phrase Sergeant MacTavish would use to describe his partner's ordeal is Fucked It.

The captain somehow manages to overcome his anguish as he approaches Nikolai, stopping in front of him and offering his knee a look of contempt as if the joint had assaulted him personally.

When will it become an inconvenience to him? A flaw that he just can't see past.

"Still playing up?"

He offers John a reluctant nod, there's no use in denying the obvious.

"Why not sit down? It's clearly worse than usual and you're only doing yourself more harm standing, give it a bit of time as you sit down then try to walk around again later."

John's suggestion is deliberately gentle and by the look on his face, Nikolai knows that he's expecting a fight. Maybe he expects the pilot to blow up at him like he has before on one of his worst days, a memory that causes guilt to hack away at what little parts he has that remain undamaged.

Instead, he lowers himself onto the edge of their bed and pretends to miss John's obvious relief.

The other man is quick to park himself beside Nikolai only to fall back until he's sprawled on top of the duvet, fingers hooked on the edge of the mattress as he stares up at their ceiling.

"Back's fucked today. Was thinking of staying in for a bit but if neither of us are up to it then we could go for a lazy day. Bed and Bond, best way to go."

He glances down at his partner, catching the faint grimace on his face as he tries to shift his weight off of the lower left side of his back.

"Okay."

For both of their sakes, he can succumb to his desire for laziness in the name of pain relief.

"C'mere, lie down with me. Can get a catnap in if I've got a good-looking man in my bed and he'll let me use him as a pillow."

The sincerity in John's tone is almost sickening, as is the warm look as he lifts his head just to admire Nikolai. There's an undeniable honesty about the devotion that the other man dedicates to him, his very existence even in its worst state is something that John cherishes. It almost makes him feel bad for doubting them both.

So, he nudges John's shoulder and waits for the other man to settle back onto the side of the bed that he had abandoned only an hour ago before he makes the move to lie down. The pain in his knee is no longer torturous, throbbing lessened to a mere irritation.

The pilot feigns exasperation almost as well as the captain often hides it. "Flattery will gain you nothing."

In lieu of responding, John just plants his face on one of his tits and nuzzles into his chest hair.

[jackiepackiee]

Telemachus x Apollo Blessed! Reader

Chapter six

Masterlist

Yall know the vibe by now… this one’s a bit shorter, sorry :p

Two weeks later…

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Telemachus was sitting in bed, dog curled up near his feet and slowly snoring into the late night.

Body resting against the backboard of his bed as he strummed the practice lyre that you had gifted it. Having bought it with him in the town marketplace before one of your lessons, which you’ve had multiple of by now.

He was trying to pluck the strings the way you told him to, and not too harshly like he did instinctively. But he couldn’t help but pull too hard like it was a fight. Music was meant to be handled with care, not brutality.

It was hours after sunset, and the entire palace was asleep. Yet he hadn’t even considered joining the resting world.

Right before the prince could get the notes to hit at the correct time, a familiar figure showed up in his window and stood tall. Blocking the moon light and making him sit up straighter, putting the instrument into his lap.

“Athena?” He asked, squinting his face and scrunching his nose to make out a silhouette from the moonlight. Petting his dog to not disrupt him from his rest at his feet.

Her tall figure and metal helmet gave an obvious and imposing impression in the room. Even though she had visited him many times, all the same divine entrance, he couldn’t help but let out surprise at her presence.

She simply stood still for a few seconds before moving towards his bed and gesturing her chin to the lyre in his lap. “You’re still practicing on that instrument?” Shoulders staying broad, she didn’t make any expressions or particular inflections in her observation.

Hearing this, he nodded sheepishly and moved the blanket over his legs to make room for him to cross his legs and hold the instrument more comfortably. “Well… yeah.” He admitted, letting out a single strum on the strings. Smiling when the song didn’t come out completely botched.

Looking on at his playing, the goddess let her shoulders relax down and arms rest at her sides instead of on her hips. “You shouldn’t spend so much time on one thing.” She began, sounding almost tired or bored. “And every time I visit it’s the same song.” Her voice was gentle, trying not to come off harsh or scolding despite her obvious lack of enthusiasm for his continuous songs.

Ignoring, or simply not noticing her distaste for his music, he looked at the lyre as it was something to be praised. The way he looks excitedly at papers of stories told of beasts and myths that heros wrote. “It’s the song she’s teaching me.” He told her, looking back up at her from the strings in his lap and smiling like a puppy. Cheeks getting plusher from the squish as a toothy grin took up part of his face. Eyes closed from the smile.

She looked at him, unable to ignore the feeling of nostalgia in her heart. Did he know he looked so much like his father?

Clearing her head and throat, she looked back out the window from which she came into the late night sky. “I know, you’ve mentioned.” She quipped, not liking to acknowledge the similarities he held so closely with a young Odysseus. She was just happy it was dark so he couldn’t read her face as well as he usually did.

He looked back down at his lap, not fiddling with anything but just looking and thinking.

Eventually, he spoke up with the same fiery determination Athena appreciated him for. “I need to practice so I can get better. She’s my teacher, I wanna impress her.” He claimed, gripping the sides of the instrument tightly while holding it out in his outstretched arms. Enjoying the way the moonlight bounced off the strings like raindrops.

She watched her student with the same knowing expression she had when Odysseus was beginning to fall for Penelope.

However, she never knew anything about romance. Only able to recognize it due to Telemachus’ resemblance to his father’s behavior. So, she decided to use her more knowledgeable skills to try and help a little bit.

“You can also impress her with your strength and cunning. With what I know you’re talented at.” She offered, speaking in a stiff way at the awkwardness she felt speaking of love. She wasn’t Aphrodite, but it didn’t take the goddess of love to see the boy begin to grow feelings.

The prince put the lyre back onto his lap, looking at Athena as she spoke. His face lit up, as if he was talking about his favorite topic. “Yeah… but you should see the way she lights up when she talks about music!” He beamed, smiling at the memory of your passion. Continuing, he trailed off slightly as he looked past Athena and out the window to the calm night. “That light in her eyes…” He whispered, smiling to himself while biting the inside of his cheek in thought.

Silence took over the duo, both thinking with their eyes out the window.

Athena facing her back to Telemachus, unable to shake the feeling of nostalgia that seemed inescapable when it came to the prince. He had no idea how much he was like his father, or how every new thing was a carbon copy of what happened some 20 years ago with Odysseus.

You and Penelope even had the same relationship with the boys, as if history was replaying before her eyes. Watching her student become a man she knew well, and who he longed to be.

Telemachus was not thinking of the past, but instead of the future. Planning in his head the next meeting you two would have. How he planned to impress you with his quick skills, even if half the time you didn’t actually play the instrument. Instead traveling around the island or talking about a random topic.

He wanted to show you he cared about your passion, and could be involved in that section of your life.

Quietly, he spoke again. Letting his voice travel through the night in a small question. “Athena?”

“Yes?” She hummed, turning around and looking back at the boy before her. Both appreciating the quiet nature of the night, soft and gentle.

“Do you think you could help me learn faster? You have wisdom, so can you give me some?” He asked, despite the question being undeniably childish. He couldn’t help but ask, wanting to do all he could for you. A girl he barely knew besides the fact that every moment spent with you feels perfect,

She crossed her arms, but spoke gently. Nevertheless, her wise words come off as half lecture, half advice. “I have wisdom, but not in music. All I can wisely say is that this practice is ruining your sleep by keeping you awake at night.” She gestured to the late night, and the absolute silence of the surrounding dark.

He however wasn’t disheartened by this, continuing to try and convince his way into gaining some kind of help, “I need to get better. You said it yourself that practice is necessary.” He reasoned, picking up the lyre and holding it out to her.

She shook her head, putting down the instrument with a gentle push by her fingers. Letting her get a clear view of his face. “Not for something like this. Music is okay, but it’s consuming your life.”

He looked at the strings and spoke in a dejected tone. “I’m bad at it, and I need to get better for her.”

She huffed, not appreciating how she couldn’t offer her help. So she did all she could, be honest.

“You’re a good kid Telemachus. If you want to impress her, just be yourself and she’ll like you.” Sighing at his obvious obliviousness, she gave one last quip before turning towards the window and night. “She already does.”

His eyes widened, as he put the lyre down and his face whipped in the direction of the goddess.

“She does?!” He called, but before he could get an answer Athena transformed into her typical owl form and flew out into the night. Wings spanning and creating a shadow from blocking the moon.

Leaving Telemachus in a temporary darkness. “Wait, don’t go… bye Athena.”

Taglist - @dog-and-cat-person230 @m-carriaga2021 @blessedbyahuntress @cleawritesstuff @b4ts1e @permanently-nothere

@kaguraaaa @rockyeatrock @keikeiluvyou @hijinkxy @doodle-with-rhy @barrythestrawberry041 @dazedemery @sunshinewhosketches @bafb1tch @lethby

@pjopinkk @nishayuro @moonlitenvyillust @emmy6999 @theyumeeighth @plushiesssforcrying @mh4r-squared @sofiafantasies @reapersan @starstarmoon-not-anon @woo-verse

[tinylilacbun]

Hi!! Idk if you still taking request with dad!rafe but I just had an idea🤍

His young daughter caught the cold and rafe has to stay at home or smth to take care of her, and maybe somebody being confused at how soft he is with her(ФωФ)

-🪻

Unexpected Visit

Pairing: dad!rafe cameron x daughter!reader, auntie!sarah cameron + pogues x toddler!reader

Warnings: sickness, rafe being soft, fluff, set in s4, not proofread, word count: 1,3k

. ₊ ⊹ . ˖ . ༉‧₊˚.. ₊ ⊹ . ˖ . ༉‧₊˚.

Rafe is holding you on his hip as he fixes you some soup to get to eat a little and keep you hydrated since you caught a nasty cold a few days ago.

You're still in your pajamas, your cheeks still slightly flushed from being freshly bathed, resting your cheek against his shoulder with a tired pout.

He hates seeing you so weak and tired the whole time, getting the best and different kinds of medicine to get you back on your feet again, knowing you can't stand to only being able to lay in bed the whole day and not play around like you're used to.

You whine into his shoulder after another small coughing fit, your throat hurting, just as your head from sniffling the whole time.

"I know, It's almost ready, princess." He coos, turning his head to kiss your burning forehead. "We can cuddle on the couch after you eat something, yeah?"

You nod against him in response, letting him pop the pacifier in your mouth that's clipped to your shirt, grasping onto his shirt with your hand.

Whenever you're sick Rafe pushes everything aside, work, calls, anything that could take his focus from you.

He wouldn't even call your babysitter who's more than qualified to take care of you, even in this state.

The thing is, you only cling to him in those times, crying every time he leaves you alone for longer than 5 minutes.

Turning off the stove he grabs a bowl to pour some of the soup into it, carrying you towards the dining table and getting you settled in your high chair before starting to feed you small spoons of soup.

As he feeds you, the sound of the doorbell echoes through the condo, making him groan. "It better be important." He mutters under his breath, grabbing a piece of bread and ripping it into tiny edible pieces for you. "Daddy will be right back."

He watches as you take some of the bread and ruffles your hair before making his way to the front door, glancing towards the kitchen a few times to make sure you're okay.

After opening the front door he furrows his brows at seeing his sister and the pogues standing at his doorstep.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Sarah sighs, scratching the side of her neck. "I, um, can we come in?"

Rafe looks over his shoulder, watching as you dip a piece of bread into the soup before eating it. "I'm kinda busy right now. Y/N is sick and needs a lot of attention at the moment."

"It's important, Rafe. I wouldn't have come here if it wasn't, you know that."

He sighs, of course he does, but he somehow feels uneasy letting all those people into his house who hate him just as much as he does them.

Sarah is still family though. Since you were born and his father's death he really knows that he should cherish the bits of family he has left and how important it is to keep it together as best as he can.

Reluctantly he uncrosses his arms and steps aside, gesturing for them to enter his house and closing the door behind them, walking towards the kitchen again as he warns them. "Don't touch anything. I mean it Maybank."

JJ places the expensive looking picture frame down on the shelf again after almost letting it slip from his hand, catching up with the others quickly. "Wouldn't think of it."

"You finished, sweetheart?" Rafe asks as he lifts you out of your high chair, making his way to the living room.

He sets you down on the couch, making sure you're comfortable with a fluffy blanket tucked around you and hands you your iPad before sitting down beside you.

The pogues spread around the room, Sarah, John B, and Kie sitting down on the free seats while the others stand around, taking in their surroundings.

Even with how well kept and professional Rafe presents himself outside of his home, everyone can tell that he has a kid based on the colored paper sheets that hang on the walls or the different toys scattered around.

You snuggle into Rafe's side as you tap away on your iPad, still sucking slowly on your pacifier, too exhausted to greet everyone.

"Well, what's so important?" Rafe asks, wrapping an arm around your small body to keep you close.

Sarah fidgets with her hands nervously, looking at John B for a moment before back at Rafe. "Listen, despite everything that's happened between us, I thought I should tell you this. You're still my brother, Rafe, and I can't even talk with Wheezie because Rose won't let me."

"Jesus, Sarah, just spit it out already." Rafe presses her, wanting them all to leave again so he can continue to take care of you.

"Daddy..." You whimper, holding your device to him expectantly. "Wan' Bluey."

"Hm? Yeah, of course." He says softly, his exterior changing the second you're talking to him, taking your iPad to put on your favorite show before handing it back to you.

It's a shock for the pogues, to say the least, seeing the psychopathic murderer who had made their life's hell the last years being this soft to a toddler.

"I'm pregnant." Sarah finally spits out and Rafe freezes for a second there, chuckling at that but the serious expression on his sister's face tells him she's not joking.

"Oh, damn, you're being for real." He huffs out a nervous laugh, not really knowing how to react or what she expects from him now. "Congrats, I guess. You're in for a wild ride, I can tell you that, especially with y'know...your financial status. Heard business isn't really cutting it for you."

"We manage just fine." Pope retorts from the side.

"Hey, just saying what I heard." Rafe responds, lifting his hand in surrender as his other rubs up and down your arm. "Seriously, I'm...happy for you, Sarah. It's a big step though."

"Thank you. I thought that you deserve to know since...I was the first one you told about Y/N." Sarah smiles a little, watching as Rafe pulls out a tissue and holds it to your nose.

"Um, if you need something you can come over or call me." He says, not looking away from you as you blow your nose and cleaning it right after. "That doesn't mean I want all of you here every time."

The others roll their eyes but it was expected, of course Rafe wasn't going to have them mingle around here just because Sarah is allowed to and he wasn't going to risk them being in your presence for too long when he can prevent it.

Sarah nods, getting up from her seat and grabbing John B's hand. "We should get going now."

Rafe nods back at her, pressing a kiss to your head before getting up as well to let them all out, leading them back to the front door.

As he is about to close the door again he stops in his track when Sarah suddenly turns to hug him, a silent show of gratitude for being there for her even though they aren't exactly on good terms yet.

He simply stands there, looking anywhere but the pogues when she releases him again and joins the others, quickly shutting the door and processes what just happened.

They all make their way to the Twinkie, the unmistakable tension there and only interrupted by JJ walking backwards in front of them. "Just to make sure I wasn't imagining things. Did we just witness Rafe fucking Cameron being a softie?"

"That's just because of his kid, don't let yourself get fooled by this." Pope reminds him, stifling a laugh when the blonde almost trips.

Back in the condo, Rafe got comfortable on the sofa with you, gently manoeuvring you to cradle you against him as he turns on the tv after you discard your iPad to nuzzle more into his body.

"Guess you'll get a cousin sooner than I expected, huh?" He chuckles at the slight confusion on your face but quickly ignore what he said when he puts on Tangled.

[boofeine]

Just saw the Mingyu jealous drabble can you please do one for scoups too?

WARNINGS: mdni, cute but not really (type of thing is just cute on fiction ig), suggestive,,, unrevised work !!!

Seungcheol has his back to you, but you can still see the way he shakes his head. You stare at his broad shoulders as he cuts some onions on the other side of the kitchen island.

"Seungcheol! Just stop for a moment and talk to me" you say, trying again. He's been sulking and giving dry replies for the whole day.

"I'm occupied" he says, and you groan, cursing under your breath for the thousandth time.

You are pretty sure his behavior is from one of your friends he's so sure is in love with you. All you did was greet him and do a small talk, and the man turned your back to you right now thinks your friend is about to drop on his knees and ask your hand in marriage. It's always a hard time when Seungcheol is jealous and you hope someday he overthinks less. He truly turns a fool

"Okay, if you don't look at me and talk, I'm taking my stuff and eating at home. I won't stay in a place I'm ignored" you say. You're not proud for playing like this, but sometimes Cheol just doesn't give you any other chance.

"WHY!?" he turns around with a loud tug of the knife on the dashboard, and when he looks at you he has a big pout, and you have to stop yourself from smiling, scrunching your nose in the process, he looks cute "I'm cooking for you" he adds, brows screaming frustration.

"Tell me what's bothering you" you demand.

"You know what it is, I don't get why are you pressing me to say it" He replies.

"I don't know if you don't tell me" You reason.

He buffs out air, half annoyed, half irritated, this man has a big ego when it comes to admit anything. "I don't like him and you know that" He finally shoots.

"I do know" you simply respond. "But you can't just get like this every time he's the same place we are" you conclude.

"I won't if he stays a few meters away" he says, all serious and you can't help but laugh. He looks at you even more annoyed "You think it's funny?"

"I'm sorry" you say, recovering, your face red from a loud laugh. "We know each other, Seungcheol... We won't just act like we don't. That's quite impolite, actually" you say.

The silence takes the room as he throws himself on the chair beside yours, leaning his head to the side as he breathes out quietly "I know..." he stays staring at somewhere far as he adds "but we can still run away before he sees us"

"Seungcheol!" you scold, but finding it funny again.

He has a sad look, like a kid who just got rejected a candy. You reach for his hand that is resting on his lap and entrelace your fingers together as he looks at you. "I'm sorry" He says, pouting, taking his face closer, resting his cheeks on your chest while looking up at you.

You smile, taking a piece of strain hair from his face before caressing his hair. "You are?" you tease, and he closes his eyes, brushing his head until he's safe on the nap of your neck, humming as an answer as you giggle again.

"I forgive you if the dinner tastes great" you joke. He kisses the line where your neck and shoulders connects and looks up again.

"You know I'm competitive" He grins, making his way back to the kitchen and to work.

"Do I? Prove me once again, and maybe you get a reward for being good" you shoot a look.

"I'll be good" he says, taking his back to you again after sending you a wink.