#hey if you ever wanted to maybe talk about doing a scenario like that between our characters... then please feel free to hmu 👀

[myfictionaldreams]

Hey, I was wondering if you are still going to write for Natasha Romanoff x reader. If you are, imagine something where the avengers don’t know that they are together, until one of them (maybe Tony because he talks too much) sees reader with hickies and messy hair early in the morning after an intense night 🤭. And then maybe Natasha would be wondering why she’s taking so long away and comes in after. 🤭🤭🤭🤭

⁀➷ Classified // Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Summary: A quiet night at Avengers Tower turns into something much more intimate when secrets begin to unravel—and nothing stays hidden forever.

Requested by: I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to write! I've actually had this drafted for months and months, but I'm so glad to finally get around to finalising it.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, soft dom!Nat, sub!reader, doctor reader, secret relationship, marking (hickeys), hair pulling, minor injuries, fingering, oral, praise kink, protective nat, power play

Words: 2.4k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Restocking the medical supplies was usually a monotonous task that dragged endlessly. Today, however, you completed the task with the precision of someone trying not to think about worst-case scenarios.

Gauze, antiseptics, sutures—each item slid into place like it could stop your hands from shaking. The mission was supposed to be routine—in and out. But they were late. No one had heard a word from the jet in hours. 

While wiping down the already sterile and clean surface for the tenth time in the last two hours, you tried to avoid your colleagues’ quizzical looks, but your phone buzzed.

Heart thudding painfully in your chest, you snatched it up.

Natasha. Thank fuck.

You answers, relief flooding your chest. “Romanoff.”

“Mm”, came her voice, low and sultry. “I love it when you call me that. Makes me feel like a bad girl.”

Turning your back on the other doctors and nurses in the room, you tried to act casual, ignoring her remarks that had already caused heat to creep up your neck at her teasing. “How can I help you, Miss Romanoff? Are you in need of some medical assistance?”

Natasha laughs lightly down the phone at your professional response. “I need you to come to my room and check on me. My face has been missing its home between your legs.”

Her words caused an immediate reaction between your legs, your core tightening with arousal. Coughing to release some pent-up frustration, you tried to casually answer, “Your left knee? It hurts? Can you come to the hospital level, or do you need me to come to you?”

“You can come alright. I’m in my room. Alone.”

“I’ll be there shortly with my medical supplies.”

“That’s my girl.” The line went dead.

Pocketing your phone while turning to your colleagues, you tried to explain that you needed to attend to Black Widow’s knee. Slinging a medical bag over your shoulder, you tried to walk and not run like you wanted to out of the medical bay and into the elevator.

When stepping onto Avengers’ personal floor, you could see no other individual. Tentatively, you knocked once on her door before entering.

The room was dimly lit, and soft orange light from the setting sun cast through the ceiling-to-floor windows. Natasha, beautiful as ever, stood near her bed in just a sports bra and leggings. Her red hair was still damp from a quick shower, and the room was sweet from the scent of her body wash.

Those fierce green eyes clash with yours as you close the door.

“Shirt off”, she commands, her tone light but firm.

Blinking in response, you remark whilst dropping the bag onto the floor. “I thought I was here to check on you, baby.”

Natasha gives you her signature smirk. “You are. But I’ve missed you. And you’re wearing too many clothes for that, even though I love seeing you in those scrubs.”

Still, you stepped toward her first, fingertips brushing against her bare stomach that tensed at the action as you stared at the discoloured bruise along her left side. All excitement had quickly manifested into worry.

“How’d you do this?”

“Threw a guy over a railing. He didn’t go quietly. You know how it is.”

You sigh, pressing your palm gently over the bruised skin, checking how significant the bruising is. The lack of reaction from Nat was reassuring; you knew that her pain tolerance was higher than most of the US population.

“You need to rest. Ice. Maybe you shouldn’t be on your feet.”

She leans in, her voice a purr against your ear. “Then you’ll just have to keep me in bed, won’t you, Doc?”

There was barely any time to react before she was kissing you- hard and hot, like she’d been waiting days, weeks, too long. Her hands tangled in your hair, guiding your mouth open so she could taste you deeper. She tasted sweet, like cherries and gum.

Nat walked you backwards until your knees hit the bed. Collapsing onto the mattress, she’s quick to follow, straddling your hips with a predator’s grace.

It took entirely too long – seconds – for your shirt to be removed, but her lips are all over the moment it’s removed. From your neck, biting and licking, to your stomach, kissing and caressing with her tongue like she wanted to taste your entire body.

“You taste like antiseptic”, she murmurs against your skin, her admission not stopping her actions at all as she gently nipples on your collarbone, her fingers massaging your breasts through your bra. “And anxiety, did you miss me, hm?”

Tugging her closer, your nails dig into the flesh of her hips, “And you smell like trouble, baby.”

“Mmhm,” she hums in agreement, “but you love trouble, don’t you, Sugar?”

Her lips are on yours again with renewed hunger, but slower, like she savoured everything you had to offer. Your hands move to cup her arse, pulling her hips closer until you’re both grinding together.

“Let me take care of you for once.”

Natasha arched a brow. “You think I need taking care of?”

Flipping the two of you with surprising ease - meaning Natasha allowed you to do so - you hover over the assassin, taking a moment to admire the redness of her hair, mixing with the orange streaks of sun beaming through the window.

“You’re so fucking beautiful”, you breathe the words out as your fingers bring down the waistband of her leggings and underwear as she removes her own bra, leaving her completely naked beneath you.

While mindful of her bruised side, you eased her to the edge of the bed. Sinking to your knees, Natasha’s eyes darkened as she bit her lips, thighs spreading as you ease each leg over your shoulder.

“You’re going to ruin me, aren’t you?” she asks as she idly plays with her own nipples until they’re taunt, rosy and peaked.

You didn’t answer. Just pressed your lips to her inner thigh, slowly kissing your way upward. Her fingers laced through your hair, but her grip faltered when your mouth finally reached her. Tongue lickign up the length of her hairless pussy, adding pressure to slip betweens her softness to feel the firm, throbbing clit that drew out a choked sound from the back of her throat.

“Fuck,” she goans, her eyes closing and head tipping back.

You work her slowly. Needing to memorise her taste, the sounds she makes, the way her body moves from her hips, trying to dictate your movements by a subtle role, to the way her strong thighs nearly suffocate you between them. 

“Don’t stop,” she rasps, the hand in her hair tightening to the point of pain. “God, baby, just like that.” 

You were never going to stop, even if you couldn’t breath as your lips sealed around her clit. Two fingers slipped inside, curling in time with your pulsing mouth, the other hand pressing lightly above her pubic bone, attempting to keep her hips on the bed so you can have some form of control.

You watch, memsorised as her cunt begins to pulse around your fingers. Back arching, thighs unbelievably tight around your face, a moan so breathtaking that you’re sure your own arousal is now staining your scrubs with how turned on you were. She was utterly fucking beautiful.

Ever the dom, Natasha’s orgasm hadn’t even subsided fully before she’s pulling your body back onto the bed, swapping your positions so you’re lying against the sheets.

“That was dangerous,” she teases against your mouth, nipping your lower lip between her teeth until it snaps back to place. Now, I’m going to have to remind you who’s really in charge.”

Her slender fingers skim beneath your waistband, teasing and lingering.

“Say it”, she says against your throat. “Say you missed me.”

“I missed you.” Your voice quivers as her fingers finally dip lower, brushing beneath your underwear, touching exactly where you want her most.

She was always like this, dominant and teasing, but you’re always rewarded.

“That’s my girl, always so wet for me”, she compliments before sucking on the skin to the point of pain beneath your ear. You grunt at the mix of discomfort and pleasure as her fingers idly stroke over your soaked pussy.

There was no rushing Natasha, not when she’d been kept from you for so long. A small part of you worried that the other doctors and nurses would wonder where you’d disappeared, too, but all rational thoughts escaped you as she spread your labia, pressing her finger directly there.

One finger, became two, slipping inside as you gasped and arched into her, rolling your hips until her palm is pressing against your clit. With slow, deep curls, Natasha's fingers have your thighs trembling and breathy moans becoming desperate in no time at all.

All the while, she keeps her forehead pressed against yours, eyes locked on your face, studying every moan, every flutter of your lashes.

“God, look at you,” she whispers, voice rough. “Fall apart for me. Are you going to cum on my fingers, Sugar?”

You nod your head, whimpering as she applies more pressure to your clit. Bucking up and grabbing her shoulders. “Please - Natasha-!”

“I’ve got you”, she promises, lowering her face now until she’s biting your nipples through your bra in a sharp sting of pain.

You came with with a startled cry, your cunt pulsing around her fingers, sucking her in deeper, like your body never wanted to give up. She keeps the pressure, continues to curl her fingers as your orgasm draws on and on until you’re a pile of numbness, still half dressed from work.

Nat withdraws her fingers with slow movements, leaving you twitching in the sensitive area. Watching her movements, you groan deeply as she sucks her wet fingers into her mouth, tasting your juices with a pornographic moan, her eyes clossing as she savoures the taste.

She curls around you protectively, damp fingers brushing against your cheeks whilst kissing your temple, then your shoulder. Lazily dragging her lips down your neck, sucking another deepy hickey against your skin. 

Groaning whilst half-laughing, “You’re marking me on purpose”.

She smiles against your skin. “Obviously. You’re mine.”

~~~~~~~~

Later, you were lounging on one of the couches at the tower’s low-key celebration, which was never really low-key when it came to Tony Stark. Thankfully, you owned a turtlenecked dress that was soft and comfortable on your sensitive, heavily marked skin.

Something Natasha noticed as she caught you in a dark crevice, easing away your neckline to admire her artwork with a bite of her full lips. That wasn’t all, though. Usually, at public events, the two of you would stay on opposite sides of the room, but tonight, Nat couldn’t help herself.

Frequently, she would walk back, her warm hand brushing the small of your back, her eyes watching your every sip, every shift in your chair; your secret girlfriend missed nothing.

Since then, the party has dwindled to only a handful of individuals, who are, for the most part, members of the Avengers or close friends.

“You know,” the billionaire loudly declared while holding up his glass of scotch. I know I’m a genius, and you guys never really appreciate it, but I’ve just cracked a code, and I need to share.”

Not thinking anything of it, you continued to idly sip from your drink, eyes flicking to the red-haired woman sitting across from you in the circle of couches.

“I know who’s been sneaking around like hormone-crazed teenagers.” Tony grins widely. You stiffen, eyes once more flicking to Natasha, who remains nonchalant. Her reaction has you calming. Of course, he wouldn’t know about you and Natasha. She’s an assassin; she could keep secrets, hide in plain sight, and, of course, your relationship was still hidden.

However, as your eyes moved back to the billionaire staring only at you, you knew nothing good would come from his next words. “Our very own medbay angel and Miss Romanoff. Caught the Doc here leaving her bedroom with messy hair and a constellation of hickets. Pretty classic evidence, honestly.”

A beat of silence followed. Every head turned to look at you. At Natasha. At the space between you.

All you can do is freeze. Not blinking. Not breathing. They knew. They all knew. The attention made your skin feel too tight, like your heartbeat had jumped outside your body.

It wasn’t just embarrassment—it was vulnerability. The intimacy you’d guarded for so long was exposed. It was no longer a private, secret thing. It was no longer yours and Natasha's alone.

Finally, dragging a deep breath in, the urge to flee the room came over you, but an enraged redhead stepped into your path. Her arms rested comfortingly on your upper arms, thumbs stroking in slow circles. The energy rolling off of her was unmistakable. She was protective, sharp, and unapologetic.

“That’s enough”, she said evenly, tone calm but laced with authority. “We kept it private for a reason, Tony.”

The man blinked, taken aback by the reaction from the room. “Hey, it’s not a bad thing-”

“She’s not a punchline,” Natasha continues to defend you. “And this isn’t gossip. I don’t want the whole world, including our enemies, Stark, knowing what she means to me. Understand?”

You felt her hand slip behind you, curling gently around your wrist, anchoring. But the tremble of anger was evidently there.

“Nat,” you whisper, stepping closer to her side as your heart hammered.

Turning away from her friends and colleagues, her features soften, eyes tracking every emotion written across your face. “You okay?”

You nod, even if you weren’t entirely sure.

She leans in, her breath tickling your eye. “You’re mine. And I’m not letting anyone make you feel small about it. Not even Stark,”

There was another beat of silence until Clint, of all people, groaned and toasted an empty beer bottle at Tony’s head. “It took you this long to figure that out? I’ve had fifty bucks on them for months.”

“Same,” said Sam, raising his hand.

Steve snorted, “I told you she wasn’t just icing her injury in the medbay.”

Tony looked around, betrayed. “You all knew?”

Bucky shrugged. “It wasn’t that subtle.”

Laughter filled your ears from those surrounding you. Natasha’s grip on your wrist eased, but her hand kept you close. Exhaling shakily, you watched the group ease back into their jokes and drinks, the weight slowly lifting from your chest.

When you glanced back at Natasha, she was already looking at you. She pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek. “Not a secret anymore. Now there’s no hiding that you’re mine.”

And somehow, that made it all ok.

[wonderjanga]

even though the bad parent captain marvel thing is resolved, i'd still love some more scenarios from the JL's pov of marvel's 'bad' parenting. ONLY if you WANT to do it, if you dont then just ignore this request lol

like him telling freddy or mary to 'fuck off' or swear at them in general and threaten to steal their stuff or blackmail them (like normal siblings do -coming from a middle child with two siblings)

or maybe they hear freddy and mary ranting about marvel and they JL misinterprets their sibling rivalry as abuse

Marvel is a terrible parent. The JL knows it. It just flabbergasts them every time they see or hear about it because Marvel is literally the nicest person ever so why does he hate his kids?

Junior and Mary: *walking down a hallway in the Watchtower while complaining about Marvel*

Mary: “Says you. He was chasing me around with a darn stick trying to beat me yesterday.”

Junior: “You don’t have the right to complain. At least you could run.”

Mary: “I guess but Pedro was carrying you so you could get away too. So I think I have to right to complain.”

Flash: *had the unfortunate displeasure of hearing that*

Now why was a grown man running around after his kids and trying to beat them with a stick? Also what did Cap do to make it so that Junior couldn’t run away?? Flash knew he was magic, so he was hoping he just used some magic to bind his legs or something. Speaking of Junior…

Junior: *annoying Marvel*

Marvel: *looking more increasingly annoyed* “Junior. Please take five steps back from me before I decide to slap the shit out of you.”

Supes: *immediately looks over to them*

Junior: “No you won’t. You’re chicken-”

Marvel: *literally raises his hand to do it*

Supes: *looks extremely concerned*

Junior: *immediately shuts up*

Marvel: “Yeah that’s what I thought.”

Junior: “Bastard.”

Marvel: “You’re a bastard too. Anyways, want lunch?”

Junior: “Yeah, tacos.”

Clark got a little whiplash from the quick change of topic. Though, that entire interaction really does enforce that he does not care for these kids. It’s so unfortunately obvious. Another example of him not caring was when Marvel and the silver one were sent to go examine a cave on a deserted planet.

Marvel and Eugene: *staring at the ominous cave*

Marvel: *walks behind Eugene* “Well… go on.” *pushes him forward to the cave*

Eugene: “What do you mean go on?! I’m not gonna sacrifice myself for you!”

Marvel: “But we’re family.”

Eugene: “So? I’m not fighting a dang Xenomorph if one pops out.”

Marvel: “Don’t worry. We’ll fight it together.” *continued to push him, but is thankfully walking with him*

Batman saw this entire interaction when he was reviewing to body cams he forced the two to wear. Who just pushes their son into danger like that? He needed to have a talk with Marvel about his parenting.

Pedro: “Hey, which of us is your favorite?”

Marvel: *almost immediately* “Mary and Darla.”

Pedro: “Mary and Darla- why them?? Darla was eating crayons just the other day, and Mary is Mary.”

Marvel: “Okay and…? They’re still my favorites?”

GL: “Wait, who’s Darla?”

Marvel: “The purple one.”

At least he likes the purple one, Darla? They haven’t seen a negative interaction between her and Cap yet. Emphasis on yet.

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

naming rights

madney/bucktommy, post 8x15, 1k cleaned up on ao3 here

inspired by all the naming-kids-after-the-dead posting (and this post by @beanarie in particular, for one specific line). as someone named after a dead grandparent myself i think some of y’all are overestimating how heavily it weighs on the soul, but i acknowledge that this shit hits different in fiction.

.

The odd mood doesn’t really register for Buck at first. And even then, once he notices the tension in Maddie’s shoulders, how Chimney’s a beat late to cracking a joke Buck doesn’t get, he credits the mood to Tommy’s presence. This is, after all, the first time he’s brought Tommy to the Buckley-Han household since they agreed to start again, to take this seriously. It annoys him a little, but it’s not like he doesn’t get it. Maddie and Chimney saw him at his lowest, missing Tommy. If they want to hold a bit of a grudge, that’s their business.

And then Chimney blurts out, “Buck, if you want dibs, just say the word.”

Buck blinks, looking down at the plate of cheddar herb biscuits he’s been hovering over. There are five left. It’s not exactly a dibs-worthy scenario. “What?”

Maddie sets a hand on Chimney’s shoulder, letting out a strained little laugh at the defeated look on his face. “We were… talking about names, last week,” she says, “and it occurred to us that there might be a name you would like to… reserve. For future use.”

It hits like a punch to the solar plexus, heart-stopping, the way reminders of Bobby always do. Buck makes himself breathe slow and even, and then the implications of the offer are a follow-up punch to the gut. He gasps, helpless. “Wha—Chim, he died for y—” Chimney winces, and Buck wants to smack himself. Stupid, thoughtless—like he needs that reminder! “W-what I mean is, I can’t ask you to do that for me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m asking if you want me to anyway.” Chim shrugs, a sad little smile on his face. “Not to brag, but I’ve lost a lot of loved ones in my time, Buck. Plenty of people I could memorialize in a name.” He leans into Maddie’s side, looking fondly at her. “Then again, Jee-Yun’s already named for my mom. Maybe it’s time we honor someone Maddie lost.”

It takes Buck a second. Daniel. Oh, jeez.

For a moment, he thinks about it.

But just for a moment.

Buck shakes his head. “Mom and Dad—”

“—can deal with it,” Maddie insists.

Buck smiles—he’d love to see her say that to their faces—but doubles down. “Do you really want to risk it, though? Another kid they can’t help but treat differently?” He sure doesn’t want to have to see that. Even though they’d be able to tell his nephew why Grandma wants to run away and cry when she says his name, he knows from experience how little difference having an explanation makes.

Maddie winces, and he knows she gets it.

“No,” Buck says, firmer now, “if you guys want to name your kid after Bobby, you should do it. You have my blessing, or whatever.”

The tension drops out of the room so abruptly Buck feels stupid for failing to notice it sooner. Maddie smiles, relieved, and Chimney says a solemn, quiet word of thanks, and he feels like such a heel for considering any other answer for even a second.

“Besides,” Buck jokes, fiddling with a biscuit, “it’s not like I even—I-I mean, who knows if I’ll… if I’ll ever.” He stops, the unfairness of it all strangling his voice, making his heart stall out in his chest.

Because even if he does, someday. Whoever, however, it doesn’t matter—a name is the most substantial thing he can give them of Bobby. And that’s nothing, it’s just a word, a pair of sounds. Two syllables. Compared to everything he should be able to give—!

Tommy gently extracting the crushed biscuit from Buck’s hand snaps him back to reality. “Hey,” he says, just as gently, wrapping his hands around Buck’s.

“Hey. Sorry about—” Buck cuts himself off at the familiar look this gets him. He sighs. “I have nothing to apologize for, I know.”

“Good,” Tommy says. He glances between Maddie and Chimney, stricken, and Buck, surprised by his grief yet again. “Not that anyone asked, but my two cents? I don’t see why anyone needs to declare dibs here.” He squeezes Buck’s hand, a move Buck has come to recognize as a sign of an incoming anecdote that means more to Tommy than he’ll let on.

Buck gives Tommy his full attention.

Tommy averts his eyes.

“Like, my cousin’s wife? Her family is huge, but you can tell which is the firstborn kid in each household because they all have basically the same name. Marianne, Marion, Marvin (middle name Andrew), Marybeth (middle name Ann)�� all after their shared grandma, who died twenty years before any of them were born.” Tommy shrugs. “Sure, it gets a little confusing when they’re all in the same place and you’re trying to get one’s attention, but… I don’t know, I think it’s kind of beautiful? That woman was so loved, you can see her impact on a whole generation.”

He meets Buck’s eyes at last, and it’s almost unbearable how earnest Tommy looks as he asks, “Why shouldn’t Bobby get as many namesakes as he has people who love him?”

Buck blinks. Looks at Maddie and Chimney, who barely share half a glance before they’re nodding at him.

Buck smiles, kisses Tommy, wipes tears from the corners of both their eyes with his free hand, and turns back to Maddie and Chimney. “So what were you thinking, Robert Daniel?”

Maddie shakes her head. “I thought about it, but I don’t want Jee-Yun feeling like the odd one out. So I went looking, and there are a couple Korean names that start with Bo…”

As she goes on, listing names and their pros and cons, her husband watching with hearts in his eyes, Buck leans closer to Tommy. “So what name are you considering, then?” he murmurs. “You have something already picked out that goes nicely with Robert?”

Buck doesn’t take his eyes off Maddie, doesn’t let go of either of Tommy’s hands. They’re taking this seriously, now, or at least that’s what they said. If Tommy meant it, if he means it, he can answer this question without flinching.

All the same, Buck’s readied himself for a neutral-at-best reaction.

He’s entirely unprepared for Tommy to immediately respond, “Nah. It’s kinda old-fashioned, but I’ve always liked the name Roberta.” And he hums, a little off-key, the first line of a song that Buck’s heard a dozen times or more, in the background of quiet, comfortable dinners at Tommy’s place.

Buck grins, his heart starting to race.

[sweetieviktor]

viktor x librarian! reader (headcanons + tiny scenarios) part 1

summary: how you've meet each other, when you feel in love and your first exchange of "i love you"s.

content warning: just tooth rotting fluff and cuteness between those two. :D

author notes: i know that sooo many people writed this same idea but i can't help it, it's just so cute and so good to write!! when i was writing, the words came almost instantly and gods, i love to write fluff so much!! oh, and today, when i was re-reading this with my friend i was thinking the whole time "damn i love him" ((and i was awoken until 3am yesterday trying to finish this one but i feel sleep and couldn't end it, but i finished it this morning and now, at night time, im posting in here! anyways, hope you guys like it. :) (there is more of this concept if you want to see it too! heres the link for part 2!)

» the moment the doors hang open, you turn to see who it is, and as you do so, the whole world stops.

» the prettiest man you've ever seen in your life just came into the library you work in. literally, the prettiest man.

» the way his fluffy hair falls around his face and his curious eyes keep looking at everything, scanning all corners of the room, every little thing he can, shining whenever he sees something he likes.

» and his boyish little smile, barely showing his teeth, that he was giving while talking to a furry someone just by his side.

“oh hi, dear friend!” waving, heimerdinger spoke, walking with tiny, fast steps in your direction, pausing when he was close to you. meanwhile the boy beside him was walking a little slower, his cane thudding softly against the floor.

he stopped near the yordle and looked at your face, giving a polite smile, offering to you his non-occupied hand, and you shaked it, giving him a smile of yours. “i’m viktor, heimerdinger's assistant. he said you could help me with some resources i might need, and i would very much appreciate any help your books could provide.”

“i hope you don't mind him coming here to do some researches, friend. he may come here often!” the yordle laughed, looking between the two of you and then walking away.

“ehhh.. so, do you have any books about-”

» basically, this is how you and viktor knew each other, through a friend in common. and, from this day on, he came to the library more and more often.

» at first, he just showed up, asked for a book you could provide and got out of the establishment. then, he tried to strike up a small talk with you whenever he was waiting for you to look up said books. now, he just straight up rants about any experiment he may be doing at the time.

» and if you're genuinely interested in his rant, he could go for hours just explaining every little detail to you, and he would love every second of it.

» because now he is a regular, you just analyze what he is up to in the most recent days and choose some books that might be useful to him, putting them in the drawer, below the reception desk. and when this happened for the first time he was almost flustered, because you cared enough to look up, sort and search for things that he didn't even asked for.

when you heard the door swing open, you looked at it's direction, smiling as you realized who it was. “hey, viktor! welcome again!” it was the third time this week he got to the library, looking for the same type of books, so you just worked a bit ahead this time. “i don't know if it is exactly what you need but i think that you could use these ones, they have some information you might like.”

“but i still didn't ask for anything..?” he stared at you with a puzzled face, trying to understand why you were giving him those.

“i just think it goes along with your research. also, i wanted to help.” you shrugged, smiling brightly at him.

and maybe this was when he thought for the first time “damn.. i might be in love.”

» after this, he always tried to stay closer to you, to say things you might like, to show you that he cared for you just as much as you cared for him.

» he even brought coffee (he got sweet milk for himself) and pastries for you both to share one day. and this was for sure one of the best excuses to transform a boring afternoon with no clients, into a lazy reading session, this, of course, until a client came and ruined the cutesy atmosphere between the two of you.

» of course he thought about asking you out before, but it was hard. he wasn't used to the feeling of love, of liking someone so deeply like this. so what could he do besides admire you everyday he was in your library? look at you with pure adoration, chuckle lightly whenever you said something that wasn't even that funny, and after it all just show you the most beautiful, bright and in love smile.

» he didn't like to belittle himself, but he really think you would be better with someone that wasn't him. you were so different, yet so alike him, it almost felt like it was meant to be.

» then, in one of his “oh, i will stay here for 15 more minutes and then i'll go home” times (that never lasted 15 minutes, to be honest), it was almost closing time, all of your coworkers were in their homes, no more clients in, simply, not a soul in there. only you both.

» you kept looking in his direction from afar, thinking to yourself how could you get someone so intelligent, so brilliant, so beautiful, so... him. you knew what you wanted, but again, it was hard. and, if saying your feelings out loud was way too scary, writing it all down seemed easier. so, you picked up a pen and a paper, writing in it everything that was inside your chest, your heart. you poured all your feelings into every word that you scribbled down.

» until you heard him packing up his stuff. you started to panic, and now there was only two options, leave the paper as it was and try to act neutral, or try to hide it and look even more nervous? well, there's no time to think! he was already in front of you while your head was spiraling nonstop.

“hey... you are fine? you look stressed.” he examined your face, tilting his head to the side, admiring every little feature of yours. your pretty eyes, your nose, your kissable lips...

“yes! i'm completely fine, no need to worry!” you put your hands on top of the little confession, smiling anxiously, hoping that he don't notice the sweet words you wrote down just for him.

“oh, what did you got there?” he looked at the paper, then at you, and back to paper. on a common day you would like to have his focus only on you, but it was making you even more nervous now, your stomach was turning itself, your hands were cold and trembling. and when he noticed it, he took your hand in his, and you could feel that he was shaking too. “hey... look,” he took a deep breath, almost like he didn't want to continue, like he was still choosing the right words to say. “i understand that some things we just want to keep them personal, only for ourselves. so, ehh, you don't have to show me what you wrote.”, he said with a nervous smile displayed on his lips, while caressing your knuckles with an almost feather-like touch, too afraid to ruin the moment and lose you right now.

and you didn't want to lose him too. even with your brain telling you that you shouldn't tell him, your heart knew you needed to say it, breaking itself or not. so it was now or never. “well... recently i've been thinking about our friendship, about what it could possibly be, about you.” you averted your gaze to the ground, wishing that you came up with fancier words and a better way to confess to him before it all, but you couldn't turn back now. “honestly i can't stop thinking about you, it's like you consumed every logical thought in my brain, everything that wasn't... you.” finally you looked at his eyes, just to see he already looking at you, eyes finally shining for you, because of you. “i love you, viktor. with everything in me, i really love you.” it seemed so right to say these three little words to him, to let him know how you felt since the first time you've seen him.

“and i love you too.” he came closer to you, still with his hand on yours, but now holding it gently, intertwining your fingers together, pressing quickly his lips in yours, smiling in pure awe, completely lovestruck after it. “i love you more than anything, my little star.”

[multifariousqueer]

The talk-Logan Howlett x Reader

A/n: oml the brainrot I have for this man is insane. Feel free to request imagines for this man. 😍😍

Warnings: talks of pregnancy, fluff, fiancé!Logan, idk I think that’s it.

Rain pattered against the windowsill of your shared cozy cabin up East. It was another night of waiting for Logan to return home from X men business and you couldn’t wait to see him; you had news that one of your friends was pregnant and that you were going to be an aunt. Your heart thumped in your chest as you heard your security system go off(ever since Logan joined the X men, he wants to make sure the only good thing[you] in his life is safe) and the sound of heavy boots entering through the door:

“Hey baby I’m home” he said. Logan always felt reassured when he walked through the front door because he knew that everything he needed and wanted was there. The house was always warm with candlelight and something amazing being made.

You had cooked dinner and set the table. All he needed to do was wash his hands and sit down.

“Hey honey! Oh my gosh I missed you”. You chirped as you rushed into his embrace. A hug seemingly lasting for centuries despite it being no longer than thirty seconds quickly melting all stress and worry from Logan’s frame.

Logan smiled down at you and kissed your forehead, resting his on top of yours.

“I missed you too, bub. How was your day?” Logan said. Even after almost dying, he was so thoughtful.

This wasn’t new for Logan and you however, he was always quick to ask about you before you asked about him(although don’t get me wrong, you still asked). This could’ve been due to PTSD or maybe just a natural occurrence in your relationship but either way, you both weren’t complaining.

“OMG YOULL NEVER GUESS WHAT HAPPENED!!” You shouted

“hm?” Logan asked, still holding his position on your forehead as you stood there for a minute taking each other in.

“IM GONNA BE AN AUNT AND YOURE GONNA BE AN UNCLE!!” You shouted again.

The news genuinely shocked Logan as he never pegged your friend for being the “parent” type. She was always sweet to him and seemed responsible enough but something made him feel offput. Maybe it was the fact that you guys were talking about children the other day or about how you two always talked about having kids but he felt a twinge of jealousy at this news.

“That’s great, baby” he said through gritted teeth

“What’s wrong?” You picked up on the shift immediately. He was your fiancee after all.

“Nothing” he said, trying his best to hide his displeasure

“Something. Tell me, baby” you cooed.

“It’s just…everyone’s getting pregnant except for us. I’m happy to be an uncle but I want to be a dad, you know?” He said honestly. This was one of the few times that Logan actually expressed himself and his emotions without shutting down. Needless to say, this might not happen again.

“I know, bubs. It’ll be our time soon but between you, the X-Men, our jobs… we just need to focus on each other right now. It’ll happen when it happens but have each other for the time being” you expressed.

A long pause permeated the room. Fear rang through your heart as the worst scenarios played through your mind. What if he shut down again? What if this turned him off? What if’s shot through your head as it was immediately turned down by a gruff voice:

“you’re right. I need to focus on you and me. I shouldn’t have brought it up” he said, remorsefully.

“No no no! Please bring it up but we just need to look at both sides of the coin right now. Okay?” You said reassurangly

“okay” he said with a small smirk on his face.

You both went to the table and made his plate before eating and going to bed. Nights and talks like this are what made you fall for him, the simplicity of complicated conversations and the calm demeanor’s of you both made you want to give him the child you both wanted.

*1 year later*

Tears flooded the corners of your eyes as the test in your hand showed two pink lines.

“Logan!!!” you said, your voice breaking with happiness.

“Yeah baby?” He asked standing by the door.

“Are we ready?” You laughed.

Logan smiled and shook his head before speaking:

“I think so bubs, I think so”



[pritong-baboy]

Imagine it’s been MONTHS and Bee, while caving in a couple of times when desperate, has mostly refused to any of shockwaves affections. He doesn’t call him sire, doesn’t want to talk to him, doesn’t want his comfort, etc.

So shockwave starts getting a bit desperate, and when shockwaves desperate… it’s no good for anyone.

Shockwave develops a device that will turn bumblebee into an ACTUAL sparkling. He’s created a device that will turn bee into a baby/toddler, so he can ‘start over’ with him. He’ll get it right this time.

This could lead to a few different scenarios:

He raises bee, who sees him as his sire and genuinely cares and loves him. Which would lead to an eventual devastating fallout when he finds out what shockwave did to him.

Or (if we REALLY want to get into the horror of it)

Bee is still aware of everything. He has his memories, he knows what shockwave did, but he can’t do anything about it. He’s stuck in this tiny body unable to fight off anything or anyone.

He’s vulnerable.

He also can’t regulate his emotions like he used to, because while he has his memories, his processor is still one of a sparklings. So he can’t control some of his actions, leading to him going to shockwave for everything.

I’d imagine that sparklings are drawn to the energy of their parents spark. So bee instinctively clings to shockwave or seeks him out at times, because to his horror— he’s started actually seeing shockwave as his sire.

Perhaps it gets worse over time, and he starts to forget his memories of before. How horrifying would that be? Absolutely terrifying I’d imagine.

ALSO what if a sparkling can create a parent child sparkbond? I’ve seen this before in some other fanfics, that a sparkling and their parent (adopted or biological) have a special bond between their sparks.

Like shockwave tries to establish this bond, and bee refuses to as he still remembers everything. But one day he accepts the bond, I doubt it was accepted intentionally, and was more instinctional. Bee is mortified.

(I wonder if shockwave is aware that bee remembers in this scenario, and if so how does that change how he acts?)

IF bumblebee ever managed to return to his normal age, I wonder how this experience would affect him.

I can imagine him accidentally calling shockwave sire, but also meaning it despite how sick it makes him feel to admit that to himself. Like now he actually does view shockwave as a parent, even though he wishes he didn’t.

And their parent child spark bond, how does that affect them now?

Maybe this bond has special properties, like perhaps the parent is able to feel/see what their sparklings is feeling to a certain degree, then how would that change the dynamic?

Bee lashes out as usual, maybe he tells shockwave that he doesn’t care about him at all and that he never actually viewed him as a sire and never would.

But shockwave knows better.

He can feel it through their bond, the truth. He can feel the conflicted emotions in bee ( something that I’d imagine would be quite overwhelming considering shockwaves whole thing with emotions) and how hate and love seem to be indistinguishable from eachother, that despite how much bee hates him— he loves him to.

And that means he’s won.

Eventually, he assures himself, bee won’t feel any sort of hate for him. Only love and affection, he just has to keep doing as he has been.

(ALSO, imagine bee as a sparkling trying to curse shockwave out or something, but he can’t speak. So bee is determined to learning to talk, and actually manages to quite quickly.

So it leads to him attempting to say some kind of earth/cybertronian insult to shockwave, but it ends up sounding like sire/carrier (and oh my god imagine if he called shockwave that 😭) which makes shockwave just SO happy and proud).

So sorry for word dumping on you, just couldn’t get this idea out of my head (maybe I’ll write a fic if ur cool with it).

hey what if i told you this is driving me CRAZY. honestly, this au is already edging around being borderline horror at times so this ask is like, right up my alley aksdjksd.

also, i love the horrifying implications of bumblebee still having his memories when he's turned into a sparkling, but not having the same emotional maturity to deal with what's happening. like, everything would instantly be so much scarier than before.

it would be crazy if the team ends up finding bumblebee as a sparkling and immediately knowing that shockwave did that to him, and they'd have to "kidnap" him back into their care HOUHGH. just imagining the mess the team has to fix up when bee gets back to normal and he has to deal with these mixed feelings towards shockwave now.

(and pls don't apologize. i really do enjoy reading asks and i won't complain if you send me a 10 page essay worth of words)

[sammylkcho]

I have a jealous human seb request 👉👈, The highschool au is pretty cool maybe something with that? Or whatever u think works :)))

  ༷  ㅤ !    ﹢High School AU - Jealous, jealous   ִ     ੭

Did I end up creating an AU without realizing it? Yes. Am I now obsessed with human Seb and Y/N in these kinds of scenarios? definitely

Hope you like it, my dear anon! Btw, for the fans of Epic the Musical, I was inspired by certain scenes in the song Little Wolf heheh

Warnings/Notes: scene of fight, physical insecurities, I inspire me in the human Painter of the Streamer AU, using pronuns she/her with Y/N (sorry :c)

You allowed yourself to lift your head from the desk as the bell rang, signaling the start of the first recess. At that precise moment, all your classmates sprang from their seats and bolted out of the room like wild animals, desperate to escape the classroom for even a second.

You waited until at least half of them had left to avoid being pushed and squeezed between their bodies just to get out yourself. After all, your entire group of friends was absent today, so there wasn’t anyone you were particularly waiting for.

“Get up. I don’t want the cafeteria to run out of empanadas,” Sebastian said.

You lazily glanced over your shoulder and saw him standing there, hands tucked into his sweater pockets, his messy, wavy black hair as unruly as ever, and his blue eyes sparkling with that peculiar glimmer they always seemed to have.

It had only been a few weeks since you’d started talking to him—or rather, since he started talking to you. It had surprised you when he chose to pair up with you for a group project, especially since your friend didn’t protest or complain about not doing the assignment together as you two usually planned.

And it just happened—you didn’t even know how you ended up getting closer to him. Once again, you were amazed that your social anxiety hadn’t caused you to say something stupid as it often did in so many situations.

A quick snap of fingers broke your trance, making you blink and focus on the tanned fingers in front of you.

You smiled and apologized before standing up to walk alongside him, leaving the classroom to head toward the place Sebastian’s stomach most desired: the cafeteria.

“How are your siblings?” you asked, trying to start a conversation to distract yourself from the overwhelming noise around you.

“They’re fine, though… my sister’s been annoying lately, and I have to be her poor victim. So unfair!” Sebastian complained, frowning dramatically.

His exaggerated gestures made you laugh. You always enjoyed hearing how he made every situation with his siblings seem over the top. There was never a dull story about them.

Hearing your laugh, Sebastian glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. A flush of warmth rushed to his cheeks, and his palms began to feel sweaty. He quickly looked away, pulling a childish face. Loverboy.

“Hey, I’m gonna head to the bathroom for a moment. Don’t wait too long for me,” you said, stepping slightly away from his side.

He gave you a confused look for a moment before snapping out of it and flashing you a lazy smile, giving you a thumbs-up in approval.

“Just don’t take too long. I won’t promise to leave anything half-eaten,” he called out, raising his voice to make himself heard over the growing crowd of students in the courtyard.

You walked off with a small “uh-huh” in confirmation, heading straight for the bathrooms. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding it in until your bladder gave you a signal that if you didn’t go now, there’d be a bit of trouble.

It was no secret that the girls’ bathroom always had at least five people inside, most of them standing in front of the mirrors for at least ten minutes. Luckily, you only needed to take care of business and wash your hands before heading back out.

You recognized three girls from your class in there and two others who you guessed were a year or two ahead of you.

You’d always felt a bit uncomfortable around them, especially since some of them drooled over Sebastian and fit the classic “queen bee” stereotype. Honestly, you never liked them.

You entered the stall without any issues and finished up quickly before heading to the sinks to wash your hands.

Catching your reflection in the mirror, you felt a twinge of self-consciousness as you took in your appearance. You felt uncomfortable with yourself. How could you even show up to school looking like this? How could you stand next to him when—

You shook your head quickly, pushing those intrusive thoughts aside as you hurriedly left the bathroom. You’d gotten better; you didn’t need to dwell on those things—at least not as much.

Your eyes widened as you stepped outside and saw the courtyard completely packed. It was almost impossible to make out individuals in the sea of students.

You began weaving through the crowd, narrowly dodging a small paper ball some boys had decided to use as a makeshift soccer ball.

Your eyes scanned every corner of the courtyard near the tables, searching for one specific person. It was challenging, considering almost everyone had black hair. But no matter—you’d find your favorite Chilean.

Your gaze landed on a head of snow-white hair, and a smile crept onto your face as you spotted Vincent Painter in the crowd. You knew full well that where Vincent was, Sebastian was sure to be close by.

You pushed your way through, tuning out the rest of the world as you zeroed in on those two specific people.

“Painter, Seb—” The words died in your throat in an instant, the air abruptly leaving your lungs as you felt a sudden force. A hand clamped down firmly on your shoulder.

A chill ran through your body from head to toe as your heart began pounding faster and faster. You forced yourself to relax enough to turn and see who had grabbed you like that.

“Clay.”

The name seemed to slip instantly from your lips as you turned to see who it was.

It might sound cliché to say it this way, but it was the number one bully, troublemaker, and overall pain in the ass for both students and teachers alike. Always bothering people in the most unpleasant ways just to have something to do—including you.

You’d struggled to turn him into background noise back in sophomore year. Every time a teacher publicly scolded you for being late or some other "important" issue, he was always there to rub it in, mocking you for every mistake.

"Busy?" he asked with fake interest, his hand still firmly gripping your shoulder.

"A little, yes, maybe. Actually doing something worthwhile, unlike some," you muttered the last part under your breath, quickly and quietly, cursing yourself a thousand times over the moment you realized what you'd said.

His grip on your shoulder seemed to tighten and grow more forceful. You’d struck a nerve.

"Why don’t you come hang out with me and my group for the rest of the break? We’re not as boring as some," he said, maintaining that same hypocritical tone.

His hand slid down until it rested around your shoulders, as if you were lifelong friends. The gesture made your skin crawl with disgust. You wanted to shove him away, to curse him out in every way possible, to give him the slap he’d deserved for ages.

Your mind screamed yes to all of those thoughts, but your body froze, paralyzed with fear of what might happen if you so much as moved an inch while he had his arm around you.

Your legs felt like they were bolted to the ground, refusing to respond to the demands your brain was frantically making. Even though no one else could clearly see it in that moment, it was humiliating.

"No, I’m busy—"

"Someone like you is never busy."

"SHIT, NO!" you yelled with all your strength. Before he could react, you jerked your shoulders forcefully, a sharp motion that broke his grip. You freed yourself and stepped back, your body trembling with pure adrenaline.

You exhaled all the air you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in, gasping desperately for the oxygen you’d been depriving yourself of. The suffocating feeling still lingered, especially after your outburst and the scene you’d unintentionally created in front of the other students.

The noisy schoolyard, which had been alive with chatter and laughter just moments ago, fell deathly silent at your shout. Those closest to you and Clay stood frozen, watching in stunned silence to see how the situation would unfold. Further back, murmurs started among the students, curious and uncertain about what had caused the commotion.

You looked at Clay, trembling, noticing how his muscles tensed and his eyes stayed locked on you, unyielding. Neither of you said anything, locked in a tense standoff, like a predator trying not to scare off its prey.

Time seemed to stop for a moment, the only sound being your heavy, shaky breaths if someone were to listen closely enough.

Then, you clearly saw his right hand—the same one that had been draped over your shoulders—rise aggressively toward you, giving you no time to react or process what was about to happen.

The blow landed hard and fast, a lightning strike of pain erupting like a volcano in your cheek and spreading through your entire head. Your vision blurred for a moment, a dull ringing filling your ears as the world around you tilted unsteadily.

You lost your balance, stumbling to the side. Your hands instinctively reached for the ground, but the force of the impact left your arms trembling under your weight. Your skin burned where his hand had struck, a searing sensation that seemed to etch the violence into your body.

"Stop acting like a wild animal toward me! You’re that guitarist’s lapdog, so act like it—"

His words were abruptly cut off when something struck him out of nowhere, silencing him mid-sentence.

You didn’t take the moment to lift your head and see what had happened; your mind was still struggling to process the words he’d just yelled at you.

“Who the hell threw a damn empanada at me?!” he roared, utterly agitated, his fury palpable from miles away.

“Who taught you to hit a woman like that?!”

A new voice broke into the scene, one you recognized instantly.

You wanted to lift your head, even just a little, but the wave of dizziness and trembling that overtook you made it almost impossible to move.

“Shh... Come on, get up slowly and carefully. Let me help you. That bruise looks nasty,” another voice said softly, this one closer to you.

They helped you up, letting you lean on them for support as you steadied yourself, focusing on placing one foot in front of the other. Squinting, you tried to make out who it was, though you already knew.

“Painter… Seb’s—” you murmured weakly, trying to get him to stop the sudden impulsiveness of the other man.

“I know. That idiot’s trying to act tough,” Painter cut you off, rolling his eyes at the unfolding situation.

“You want to put on a show for the whole school? Fine, Solace! Let’s see how you handle this!”

Clay’s voice sent a shiver down your spine as you watched the scene play out in front of you.

Clay was advancing, his steps slow but deliberate. Sebastian instinctively stepped back, trying to keep some distance, his eyes locked on Clay’s movements, searching for any clue of his intentions.

But the gap between them was closing rapidly, the circle of onlookers around them seeming to shrink with every passing moment. Each step back was a concession, and each step forward from Clay was a reminder of who was in control.

“DON’T BE A COWARD!”

That shout rang out like the toll of a bell, marking the inevitable start of what was about to happen.

Clay lunged forward, his fist raised, ready to land a solid blow. As he closed the last few inches between them, he swung with brutal force, grabbing Sebastian roughly and shoving him back. The shove was so forceful it left Sebastian struggling to regain his balance.

Sebastian didn’t waste a second to catch his breath. He recovered immediately, ignoring his body’s cries for rest; there was no time for that now.

“Uppercut him. NOW” Painter shouted, almost as agitated as Sebastian himself at the sight of his friend fighting.

Without hesitation, Sebastian followed Painter’s instruction.

His fist shot upward with calculated precision, aiming for his attacker.

The sound of the impact was the only thing that could be heard in the courtyard—a crack that left more than a few eyes wide at the sheer violence of the scene. Clay’s jaw snapped upward with the force of the punch, sending him stumbling back, reeling from the sudden blow.

Clay forced his gaze back toward Sebastian, his face twisted into a deranged grin full of rage.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the furious voice of a new arrival shattered the overwhelming silence of the courtyard.

“Solace and Torres! I want both of you in my office NOW!” bellowed the principal, his uncontrolled fury directed at the two named offenders.

. . . . . . . . . .

“That was stupid.”

Silence.

“Impulsive. Way too impulsive.”

Silence.

“Something you’d never do. Especially getting involved in something like this.”

Silence.

“Did I mention how much of an idiot you were?” You tightened the bandage around his palm.

“Ow!” he hissed, wincing at the sting from your touch.

You shot him a glare, still struggling to understand why his foolish mind had decided to intervene and start a fight—especially one that escalated so violently.

He avoided your eyes, turning his head to the side, causing strands of his dark hair to fall across his forehead like a curtain, partially obscuring his vision.

You let out an audible sigh, one that sounded more like an exasperated groan than anything else.

Your hand was still holding Sebastian’s as you finished wrapping the bandage. Even though his palm had small, raw scrapes, his touch was warm and comforting. A part of you didn’t want to pull away.

“I just… I felt awful seeing him hit you, and I couldn’t do anything. You didn’t deserve that—especially not from a guy like him!” he muttered, pressing his other palm against his cheek in frustration.

He looked endearing like this, grumbling while trying to explain why he’d felt the need to protect you from someone like that.

“Don’t worry about it anymore, okay? I’m fine, and so are you,” you reassured him, offering a soft smile.

A faint hum, something like an “mmh,” escaped his lips.

You laughed a little more at his antics, catching a brief glimpse of crimson red coloring his cheeks. How cute.

[inseobts]

Hi there may i request usopp x strawhat!reader? (fem!reader too) For the scenario i want something like them going on their first date together? Maybe somewhere along the way the two of em try to avoid the Marines during the date hehe,, i would like it to take place at post timeskip please tysm in advanced ! 💗

Troubled Date

usopp x fem!reader

a/n: thank you for this request, it was really fun to write ♡

words count: 1.1k

tags: fluff, romance, first date

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The Sunny is docked at a lively island town, filled with colorful markets, busy streets, and the smell of grilled seafood in the air. It’s the perfect place for a date, or at least, that’s what Usopp tells himself as he waits for you at the edge of the ship.

“Okay, Usopp, you got this,” he mutters, taking deep breaths “It’s just Y/N. Y/N, who’s been my crewmate for years. Y/N, who—who looks really cute today.” He swallows hard when he sees you walking toward him, wearing a bright smile.

“Ready to go?” you ask, tilting your head.

“Pshh, of course!” Usopp straightens his back “This is gonna be the best date ever! A legendary date! People will tell stories about it for generations!”

You giggle “Then let’s make it a good one, great warrior.”

He turns red but quickly clears his throat “Ahem! Yes! Let’s go!”

The two of you step off the Sunny and into the town. The streets are full of life, merchants selling trinkets, children running around, and street performers juggling flaming torches. Usopp’s eyes shine with excitement.

“Ohhh! Look at that!” He points at a booth selling deep-fried snacks “Let’s start with food! You can’t go on an adventure on an empty stomach!”

“I thought this was a date, not an adventure” you tease.

He grins “Same thing!”

The two of you buy some snacks and walk through the marketplace, enjoying the sights and sounds. Everything seems perfect, until Usopp suddenly freezes, his eyes wide in horror.

“Uh-oh.”

“What?” you ask, mouth full of food.

He slowly turns to you “Marines. Over there.”

You peek over his shoulder. A group of Marines is walking through the crowd, scanning faces. They don’t seem to have noticed you two yet, but they’re getting closer.

“What do we do?” you whisper.

“Hide! Quick!” Usopp grabs your hand and pulls you behind a fruit stand, both of you crouching low.

“Why do we always run into Marines at the worst times?” you whisper, pressing against the crates of apples.

“It’s the curse of being too cool” Usopp whispers back.

You roll your eyes but smile. The Marines stop near the stand, talking to the merchant. You and Usopp hold your breath.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice suddenly soft “I, uh… I’m glad you came today. I was really nervous.”

You blink in surprise, then squeeze his hand “Me too.”

He turns bright red.

Before you can say more, a loud CRASH echoes through the market. You both peek around the corner and see Luffy at a food stall, arguing with the owner, his face stuffed with meat.

The Marines immediately turn toward the noise.

“Oh no” you and Usopp say at the same time.

“There! That’s Straw Hat Luffy!” one of them shouts.

Usopp’s grip on your hand tightens “Oh no, oh no, oh no—”

“RUN!” you yell, yanking him in the opposite direction as the Marines push through the crowd.

The two of you weave through the busy marketplace, dodging fruit carts and leaping over barrels. Usopp almost trips over a stray chicken, but you keep pulling him forward.

“Why does this ALWAYS happen?!” he cries.

“Because we’re pirates?” you laugh breathlessly.

“I just wanted a normal date!”

“You expected NORMAL?! On a date with me?!”

“…Okay, that’s fair.”

Behind you, the Marines shout orders. You spot an alleyway between two buildings and pull Usopp into it. The two of you press against the wall, panting.

The sound of boots stomping on cobblestone grows louder. Usopp peeks around the corner and immediately pulls back, eyes wide.

“They’re close” he whispers.

You glance upward and spot a wooden balcony above you “Up there!”

Without thinking, you grab Usopp’s waist and boost him up. He yelps, flailing before grabbing onto the ledge.

“H-hey! I’m supposed to be the one protecting you!”

“Less talking, more climbing!”

Usopp scrambles onto the balcony and reaches down for you. You grab his hands, and with a strong pull, he hauls you up, though he nearly topples over in the process.

“Phew,” he sighs, wiping his forehead “That was close.”

You both sit on the balcony floor, catching your breath. The Marines run past below, completely unaware.

For a moment, there’s silence. Just the distant chatter of the town, the cool breeze, and the two of you, still holding hands.

Usopp realizes it first. His face turns red “A-ah! Uh—”

You laugh, giving his hand a squeeze before letting go “Thanks for pulling me up.”

His heart is beating way too fast “A-anytime.”

You both sit there for a moment, looking out at the town. The sun is starting to set, casting a golden glow over everything. Even after all the chaos, just sitting next to you feels nice.

“…So, this wasn’t exactly the date I planned” Usopp admits.

You tilt your head “Oh? And what was the plan?”

“Well,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck, “I was gonna take you to a nice restaurant, impress you with my amazing storytelling, maybe buy you a cool gift—y’know, romantic stuff.”

You smile “This was fun too.”

His eyes widen “R-really?”

You nod “Running from Marines together? That’s a real Straw Hat date.”

Usopp stares at you for a second before bursting into laughter “Okay, okay, you have a point.”

You stand up and offer your hand “Come on, let’s find the others before Luffy causes more trouble.”

He takes your hand, smiling “Yeah. But, uh…” He hesitates. “Maybe we try another date next time? A real one?”

You squeeze his fingers “I’d like that.”

His face burns red, but he grins, heart pounding in the best way possible.

You’re about to turn when Usopp suddenly tugs on your hand, stopping you. His expression is serious for once, though his face is still pink.

“…Wait.”

You blink “What?”

He hesitates for a moment, then takes a shaky breath “I, uh—before we go, I just…”

Then, before he can overthink it, he leans forward and presses a quick, warm kiss to your lips.

It’s short, barely a second, but it leaves you completely frozen.

Usopp pulls back, looking like he might pass out. His eyes dart everywhere except at you “S-sorry! I just—! I thought—! B-but if that was too much, I—!”

You cut him off by grabbing his scarf and pulling him in for another kiss, this one slower, softer. He lets out a tiny, surprised squeak before melting into it, his hands awkwardly hovering before resting on your waist.

When you finally pull away, his face is an impossible shade of red “Oh.” His voice cracks “Oh.”

You smile, brushing your fingers over his “I really, really liked this date.”

He sways a little, dazed “…I think I did too.”

You laugh and take his hand again “Come on, Romeo. Let’s go before the others start looking for us.”

Usopp stumbles after you, still red-faced but grinning like an idiot.

Maybe this date didn’t go as planned.

But honestly?

It turned out way better.

[makeyoumine69]

Possessive hurt-comfort sex with Patrick, please? HEAR ME OUT!😥🤤🤤💖💖

Heal Me

Pairing: Patrick Bateman x fem!Reader; CW: SMUT, unprotected sex, fingering, soft dirty talky, hurt/comfort, angst, sensual foreplay and something more, hehe. Links: [MASTERLIST]; Song Rec: Lady Gaga—Heal Me; A/N: It's been a while since I've written any prompts, I'll try to catch up with them since I have a lot of requests to finish. I hope you like this one and thank you so much for sending it in, I love possessive Patty!

It wasn't uncommon for you to be overwhelmed by life's problems because living in a busy city like New York wasn't easy, especially if you weren't from a rich family. But even in the darkest of days, you never gave up, even though it was hard not to when everything around you was pressing down on you. You struggled until one day you met a man who changed your life and even though there was something strange about him, he became your salvation and in some twisted way you hoped to repay him. However, you never really knew what he really needed. He was a total mess, but maybe you were too? But did you ever think that you would find comfort in the arms of a man who probably broke a million hearts and ruined just as many lives?

You asked yourself this question every time you crossed the threshold of the luxury apartment on the 11th floor of the American Gardens Building. But the answer to that question always got lost in the spiral of emotions that overtook you the moment Patrick touched you. The same scenario, the same place, but the specter of sensation he made you feel was limitless, you got addicted to it—you got addicted to him.

The softness of the perfectly white sheets met your naked skin with a familiar feeling, the silky touch of his hands sliding down your body was heavenly, leaving you craving for more, burning with anticipation. This man, he knew everything about you, while you seemed to know nothing about him. It was confusing, perplexing, but intriguing. Patrick Bateman was an enigma, a puzzle you desperately wanted to unravel.

"What's on your mind?" Patrick suddenly murmured above your ear, noticing your thoughtfulness. "You seem to be somewhere else, but not here..."

You huffed and pressed your palm against his soft cheek. "Nothing... nothing serious," you replied, leaning up to kiss him, but he stopped you, holding you down with both hands. "Hey! It's really nothing...I just had a fight with my family."

"Your family?"

"Yeah," you gave him a serious look, considering how cheeky he was grinning. "Sometimes people have fights with their family members. Can you believe that?"

Still smiling, Patrick straightened up a bit to unbutton his blue shirt with the white collar. "Honestly... no," he said nonchalantly. "Such things are too mundane for me. But I'll tell you this," the man unbuckled his belt and then pulled down his Armani pants. "When you're with me... I don't want you to think about anything or anyone else. Do you understand?"

Without waiting for your answer, which wouldn't really change anything, Bateman moved closer to your face to peck at your temple, his hands working to get rid of your remaining clothes. Slightly embarrassed, you let him position himself between your legs, his warm lips locking with yours in a searing kiss that left you breathless. Patrick savored your every reaction, from your shaky gasps to the way you writhed beneath him. His possession over you was bordering on obsession and he could never get enough of you. If he had to fuck you senseless to make your mind go blank, he would do it—neither of you had any doubts.

"Patrick... I need you..." you murmured against his swollen lips. "I need you s-so much."

Wrapping his hand around your neck, he pulled you closer. "You won't think about it anymore," he whispered, trailing his hand down your stomach right under the lace of your panties, playing with it to tease you. "Promise?" Bateman's thumb pressed against your clit, making you whimper. "Talk to me, doll."

You wanted to answer, you really did, but this man was nothing more than a torturer, reveling in the power he had over you—your desperation was like water to a thirsty man.

"I...I promise," you finally managed to answer, shaking from the friction Bateman caused as he pulled on your underwear, letting it rub agonizingly against your swollen pussy. "You're the only one...I can think about...a-ah!"

You arched your back as his long fingers pushed inside you effortlessly, your slick juices making a wet, lewd noise every time Patrick moved his digits, stimulating you right where you needed it.

"Fuck, you sound so sweet like that," he curled his fingers, scissoring your soaking cunt with masterful precision. "Life is too short to waste it on unnecessary emotions," Patrick crooned, sliding his free hand along your soft breast, playing with its hard peak. "But this..." he grinned when he heard your high-pitched moan. "This is worth living for."

This man was blessed with the ability to sweet talk, you could bet on that. "You...you devil," your voice wavered from the pleasure his fingers were giving you, each thrust inside you and pull on your nipple bringing you closer to the brink of ecstasy. "God...I have so many problems..."

Suddenly, your eyes shimmered with unwanted tears—such an abrupt change in your mood forced him to stop. Slightly confused, Bateman looked at you from under the brown, messy curls. For a moment, the two of you just stared into each other's eyes, as if trying to imprint this moment into your memories. Things wouldn't be the same for you, not anymore.

"Listen to me," his velvety baritone broke the silence, his fingers remaining deep inside you while his other hand found yours to intertwine your fingers. "Right now you just need to focus on me...on us," Patrick cooed to you before kissing away a single tear that ran down your cheek. "Forget the problems, I will take care of them."

"You don't have to."

"Shhh, sweetheart," he leaned closer to you, letting your noses brush against each other. "Remember your promise, leave the other things to me." 

For once in your life, you decided to do what he asked and just follow your instincts and let them take over. 

The air around you was so hot, electric with sexual tension and desire. When Patrick withdrew his fingers, leaving you empty, you couldn't help but wail in frustration, but it was only an introduction to the real act. Flustered and utterly aroused, Bateman sat on his knees before taking you with him, making you circle your legs around his waist as he whispered sweet praises in your ear. It was only when you felt his hard cock slip between your pussy lips that you realized you were completely lost in the blaze of passion and the uncontrollable willingness to give him all of you. With a slow but determined move, Patrick sheathed himself inside of you, hugging you tighter as he stood on his knees and pounded into you in deep and calculated strokes.

"A-awww," you mewled, clinging to his broad shoulders and hiding your face in the crook of his neck—the mixture of his expensive cologne and his natural scent making you nearly explode with overwhelming emotions. "Feels s-so good...you make me feel so good," you couldn't help but nip at his neck, leaving a red mark and causing him to fuck you harder. "Deeper...mmhm-please!"

Bateman made a guttural sound in response. "You think you can handle it?" You nodded your head so eagerly that you could see stars in front of your eyes. "God, you are such an insatiable little slut."

Without further ado, he changed your position so that you were now standing on your knees facing the white wall above his bed, where a statue stood in the ledge. That thing probably cost a fortune, it would be such a shame if it got broken in the middle of your ravenous lust, but Patrick seemed indifferent to that as he moved it a bit to the side and placed your hands on the edge of the ledge so you had something to grab onto.

"Hold on tight, baby." He sneered devilishly as he snuggled up to you from behind, showering your neck with little kisses. "No safe words since you asked for it."

Your breath hitched at the tight grip on your throat, the thrill of danger mixing with excitement in a wicked cocktail of pure madness. Being so strong, Bateman was able to wreck you like a doll, drawing you onto his thick cock with ease, forcing you to arch your back even more so that its tip could reach your most sensitive spot. You felt so helpless and small in his hands, the way his firm hips slammed into yours, practically fucking you into the wall, left you no choice but to surrender to this raw pleasure.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

hi! is there any chance you could write a scenario for spencer with a plus sized reader? love your writing!

ೇ mornings like these ― spencer reid .ᐟ

pairing .ᐟ spencer reid x plus size neighbor!reader

summary | every day you and spencer talk to each other on your balconies, but you want more, and spencer is more than happy to - albeit shyly - oblige.

warnings | mentioned/referenced marijuana usage, the reader smokes cigarettes, reader with a potty mouth, a tad bit of emotional hurt/comfort but not really, mutual pining, polar opposites, opposites attract, black cat and golden retriever vibes, neighbors to lovers, balconies as the main plot point of this fic somehow, fluff, the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff :[

wordcount | 1208

۶ৎ a/n .ᐟ | okay would you believe me if i told you that this was not only supposed to be a drabble, but was also for a whole other request entirely? 😭 i really got lost in the sauce that was this fic and i really hope you enjoy because this is probably my favorite work that i have done in a while :]

— links .ᐟ masterlist | ao3

This has got to be a skill issue.

Maybe it was because of his job, but Spencer often finds himself attracted to danger – or most of the time danger finds him.

Now technically speaking, there’s nothing dangerous about you, but just one look at you and everything just screams trouble; you’re covered in tattoos, and you always seem to smell like a mixture of your perfume and whatever you bathe with along with a hint of weed and cigarettes. 

You’re sarcastic, witty, and above all else, you’re beautiful. So beautiful that sometimes Spencer feels the breath get stolen from right out of his lungs. You wouldn’t have to be doing anything, just hanging outside on your balcony shrunk into your lawn chair early in the morning, the sun hitting your sleep-ridden face, a cigarette hanging delicately between your fingers.

Your first meeting hadn’t been ideal, but it truly was an honest mistake.

You had a large gathering inside your apartment when you had first moved in, metal music and music along that genre blasted through the thin layers of the wall separating your respected spaces.

Spencer couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning in his bed. He thought that maybe once it had hit later on in the night it would quiet down, but it had been just as roundy as it was in the afternoon. He had willed himself to get up, mentally preparing himself for an unpleasant conversation that would no doubt be unfriendly.

He hadn’t been expecting you to open the door with a beer dangling in your hand, perching yourself against the door frame with crossed arms.

From what Spencer could see from behind you, there was quite a crowd of people dispersed about. A wave of liquor and marijuana infused air hit his nose and tried his best to keep himself from grimacing, but you had caught it.

“Hey uh-” Spencer was strangely intimidated by you, by your dark beauty and his hands came together, fingers picking at a hangnail nervously. “I live next door and um- would you mind uh… keeping the music down?” 

A flash of guilt graced your features for a moment before you spoke. “Oh shit, sorry man, yeah totally, no problem. Sorry about that.” You gave him a once over before smirking. “What’s your name?”

And after that, the rest of your friendship was history; sometimes he’d catch you coming up the stairs as he’d leave his home to run an errand, or he’d run into you getting your mail.

It was a slow building friendship, but it was one that he was happy he was able to make, because he really really did not want to have a rivalry with a neighbor. The feelings came later though, but maybe they had always been there.

The mornings when Spencer had a day off had a different kind of air to it, one that allowed him to feel at ease, relaxed. He had been deep in thought as he stared out at the quiet, empty street below him when he heard the sliding glass door of your apartment open, and there you were, tumbling out groggily.

You had stepped out with a cup of coffee, much like him in a way; you had a severe case of bed head, your black tank top and sleep shorts did nothing to hide the curves of your body as well as the art that painted your skin like an ethereal canvas.

You were drowsy, he could see it in the bags under your eyes and the frown that you normally adorned after a long night at the diner you worked at.

Maybe it was weird that he was watching you, but there was nothing more that he enjoyed than seeing you in your natural element.

You traded your coffee for the carton of cigarettes on the small table you had outside, slipping one of them safely between your lips before attempting to light it to no avail. He could hear you struggle with the cog before huffing and tossing the lighter on the glass table with a small ‘piece of shit’.

“Maybe it’s a sign.” Spencer called out from where he stood. There was no need to shout, seeing as though there was only a couple of inches separating your patios.

You threw a look at him, a lazy smirk dancing on your lips as you tucked the stick of tobacco behind your ear.

“Oh yeah? A sign of what?” You egged on. You rested your arms on the railing that faced his left side. “A sign that you should quit.” You scoffed. “No, it’s a sign that I should stop letting my friends swap their shit out for mine and pretending I don’t notice.” 

That pulled a chuckle out of Spencer, the man lifting the coffee to take a leisure sip of before continuing. “Long day at work last night?” He inquired.

You sighed, burying your fingers in your hair before dragging your hands down your face roughly.

“You could say that. I feel like my job does shit just to fuck with me, because every table I was given had people that were total fucking assholes.” You groaned, “Plus most of them didn’t even fucking tip! It’s like God Spence, I’m just about to fucking quit and get paid minimum wage somewhere else.”

Spencer feels a pang of sympathy in his gut. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He says with a frown. You just wave him off. “No, no. I’m sorry. It’s too early for my bitching.”

“I…” He begins with a gulp, “I don’t mind your bitching.” He adds with a sheepish grin. You laugh, and the sound is almost like bells in his ears. “You’re too sweet to me, Spence.” He gives you a noncommittal shrug, hiding his quickly reddening face behind another sip of his coffee.

“You’re off today right? What’re your plans?” You ask. You retreat for a moment before grabbing your own mug and taking a sip. There’s a slight grimace on your face, “God this tastes like shit.” You mumble beneath your breath.

“Nothing much if I’m going to be honest.” Spencer hadn’t really thought about what he wanted to do. He mostly planned on having a lazy day that was made up of tv show reruns, his new book he had bought and a nice dinner.

“There’s some grocery shopping I need to do, so you’re welcome to come with me if you want.” You say before you can stop yourself. You can feel nervous butterflies flutter around in your lower belly. You had never gone out of your way to invite the genius out anywhere, but you yearned to spend time with him.

It’s not like you guys don’t hangout, but it mostly consists of domestic conversations like these, speaking to each other from your balconies either during the morning or at night.

There’s no hiding the redness that completely overtakes Spencer’s face, his gaze falling for a moment before meeting your eyes.

“That sounds great.” Spencer says sweetly, and he really hopes his voice isn’t as breathless as it sounds.

“Cool.” You feign nonchalance by taking a hefty drink out of your mug.

“Cool.” Spencer reiterates with a small smile on his face.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna @moonysreid

[geotjwrs]

Hey is it possible if you could do Jenna x male reader based off the song Dark Red by Steve Lacy? Thank you

only you babe

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

The faint sound of music hummed in the background, barely loud enough to be heard over the quiet tension in the room. Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, his phone clutched in his hand, his eyes staring blankly at the screen. It had been an hour since Jenna had texted, and her silence felt louder than anything else in his life right now.

"I think you know that I miss you…"

The lyrics echoed in his mind, but all he could focus on was the gnawing feeling in his gut—the one that told him something was wrong. He hadn’t heard from her since their last conversation, and now every passing second felt like a countdown to something he didn’t want to face.

He stood up, pacing the small apartment. He’d always had this fear, deep down, that Jenna might slip away. That one day, she would realize she didn’t need him. And lately, that fear had started to feel more real. The way she’d been distant, the way her messages came less frequently, it all pointed to something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

"Something bad is ’bout to happen to me…"

The words from the song buzzed in his head, like a warning he couldn’t ignore.

Y/N ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of everything bearing down on him. He knew he should call her, talk to her, ask her what was really going on. But every time he thought about it, that voice in the back of his mind whispered, What if she’s done? What if you push her away?

Just as he was about to give in to the anxiety, his phone buzzed. A message.

Jenna: “Can we talk?”

Y/N’s heart dropped. He stared at the screen, his hands shaking slightly. Those words—“Can we talk?”—were never a good sign. He could feel the blood draining from his face, and the room suddenly felt too small, too hot.

He sat down again, his mind racing with every possible worst-case scenario. She was leaving, wasn’t she? She had found someone else, or maybe she had finally gotten tired of him. Y/N’s thoughts spiraled out of control, and before he could stop himself, he typed out a response.

Y/N: “Is everything okay?”

The seconds stretched into minutes, and still no response. Y/N stood up again, pacing even faster now, his palms sweaty as he waited for her reply. He couldn’t breathe. His mind was clouded with every possible thing that could go wrong.

"I think I’m losin’ it…"

He looked around the apartment, his gaze falling on the little things that reminded him of her. The jacket she’d left hanging on the back of his chair. The coffee mug she always used. The picture of the two of them sitting on the shelf, smiling like nothing in the world could ever come between them.

But now, Y/N wasn’t so sure. He hadn’t been sure for a while, and it scared him more than anything.

Finally, his phone buzzed again. He snatched it up, his heart pounding in his chest as he read her message.

Jenna: “Yeah, but… I just feel like things have been off between us lately.”

Y/N closed his eyes, feeling a lump form in his throat. He had known this was coming. He had felt it in every silence, in every missed call, in every time she had looked at him like she was seeing someone else. But hearing her say it, seeing it in black and white on his screen, made it real.

Y/N: “I know… I’ve felt it too.”

He didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to tell her how scared he was, how much he loved her, how the thought of losing her made him feel like he was drowning. But he didn’t. Instead, he just waited, feeling like the walls were closing in around him.

An hour later, Jenna showed up at his door. She stood there, her arms crossed, looking at him with those dark eyes that had always been able to read him like a book. There was something different in them tonight, though—something he couldn’t quite place.

Y/N stepped aside, letting her in. They hadn’t talked in person for a couple of days, and the air between them felt heavy, loaded with everything left unsaid.

“Hey,” she said quietly, her voice almost fragile as she walked past him.

“Hey,” Y/N replied, his throat tight. He closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a second before following her into the living room.

They sat on opposite ends of the couch, the space between them feeling much bigger than it had ever felt before. Y/N fidgeted with his hands, trying to come up with something to say, but his mind was blank.

Jenna looked at him, her expression soft but serious. “Y/N… I don’t know what’s been going on with us lately. But I can’t shake this feeling that something’s wrong.”

Y/N swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest. He wanted to tell her everything—about how terrified he was of losing her, how he’d been feeling this weight of uncertainty pressing down on him for weeks. But instead, he just nodded, afraid that if he said the wrong thing, he’d make everything worse.

“Me too,” he finally managed to say. “I’ve felt it too.”

Jenna sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t want us to fall apart, Y/N. But lately, it feels like we’re not even on the same page anymore. Like we’re both just waiting for something bad to happen.”

Y/N’s heart sank. That was exactly how he had been feeling. Like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to say she was done with him. He hadn’t realized she was feeling the same way.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Y/N said, his voice cracking slightly. He hated how vulnerable he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. This was Jenna, the girl he had loved for longer than he could remember, and the thought of her walking out of his life was unbearable.

Jenna’s eyes softened at his words. She reached out, taking his hand in hers. “I don’t want to lose you either. But we need to figure this out, Y/N. We can’t keep going on like this, pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.”

Y/N nodded, squeezing her hand tightly. “I know. I just… I’ve been so scared, Jenna. Scared that you’d wake up one day and realize you didn’t want this anymore. That you didn’t want me.”

Jenna’s expression softened even more, and she moved closer to him, her hand still gripping his. “Y/N… that’s not it. I love you. I always have. But we can’t keep letting fear control us. We need to talk to each other, not shut down every time things get hard.”

Y/N closed his eyes, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. She wasn’t leaving. She didn’t want to leave. But the fear, the doubt, had been eating him alive for weeks, and now that it was out in the open, he realized just how much it had been affecting them.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own head that I didn’t realize I was pushing you away.”

Jenna shook her head, her thumb gently brushing over the back of his hand. “We’ve both been doing it. But it doesn’t have to be like this. We can fix this, Y/N. We just need to be honest with each other.”

Y/N nodded, finally meeting her gaze. “I want that. I want us to be okay.”

Jenna smiled softly, leaning in to press her forehead against his. “We will be. But we have to stop letting fear get in the way.”

They sat there like that for a while, their foreheads touching, the weight of their unspoken fears slowly lifting. The tension between them wasn’t gone, but it felt lighter now, more manageable.

As the night wore on, Y/N realized that the dark cloud that had been hanging over them for so long was starting to fade. There were still things they needed to work through, still conversations they needed to have, but for the first time in weeks, Y/N felt like maybe they could make it through this.

And as he held Jenna close, he knew one thing for sure—he wasn’t going to let fear take her away from him. Not again.

[scarletwinterxx]

but if it's forever, it's even better - joshua hong imagine

helloooo

i will start this off by saying i am down bad for this man right here. ISTG i see him and i'm smiling all stupid like a school girl who has her first crush. i cannot get him off of my mind so yea now we're here😅

if there's one song i would say is written about this guy, it's birds of a feather by billie eilish. i just feel like it's so easy to love him, like you'd be sitting in a diner with him then you'd take one look and think about how you love him so much🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 okay okay i'm getting carried away😅

it's my first time writing a story outside the nct-verse hahaha but i love it🥺 maybe i'll write more svt scenarios in the future but for now, i hope you enjoy this one🤍

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

for my other joshua fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"Oh my god, you like him"

"What are you talking about?"

"You know we follow each other on spotify right? You've been listening to the same 6 7 songs for days now. It's a playlist isn't it?"

"Where is this conversation going exactly?"

"Who is it? Tell me"

You look at your friend confused. Soonyoung can be random at times, like right now. He just started this topic randomly.

"You like someone, you only make a new playlist when you like someone so who is it?" he asks

"No one, oh my gosh"

Just then the bell hanging by the door chimes, signaling someone just walked in. You didn't look over only to be surprised when someone sat beside Soonyoung,

"Hey guys, sorry I was late. Have you ordered?"

"Hey" you nod over at Joshua, the guy smiling back at you

Soonyoung watches the exchange, looking back and forth between you and your other friend. It's like a lightbulb just lit up in his head.

You can see his expression change, but before he could say anything you kick his leg under the table to stop him

"AH!"

You shoot him a look, meanwhile Joshua stays oblivious to the chaos. He reads the menu, looking for something to order.

"Is the coffee good?" he asks no one in particular

"Yea, she likes it" Soonyoung points at you

"Oh uh yea it's good"

"Okay, I'll go get that. Do you want anything else?"

"I'm good" your other friend answers, then the two look at you

"Me too, thanks Shua" he shoots you another smile before standing up

"Shua? SHUA? You call him Shua???"

"Yea, because that's his name" you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool

"Oh my god, it's him. You like him" he points at you

"Shut it before he comes back"

"You didn't deny it"

You shoot him another look just as Joshua takes the seat beside him again. The three of you hang out to catch up, a little tradition you do with your friends when you have free time. Sometimes, you drive around town or go on an easy hike or set up a picnic.

Sometimes your other friends join you, but today it's just the three of you.

"The sky's getting dark, it'll probably rain soon" You say while looking out the window, the two guys following your gaze

"Oh yea, we should go. Hey Joshua, can you drive her home? I have a thing I have to drive by before going home"

"Yea no problem" ever the gentleman, Joshua agrees with a smile. The three of you walk out the cafe, saying goodbye to Soonyoung as he walks over to his car. You catch him mouthing something a long the lines of "you're welcome". Probably trying to play cupid between you and Joshua.

The two of you also walk to his car, a hand behind the small of your back to guide you. Even though the ground is flat concrete, you feel like you're going to trip just thinking about how close he is.

Joshua opens the door for you, holding a hand over your head as you get in. You're not even close to hitting the roof of the car, but still, he does it because he is the epitome of 'gentleman'. He waits for you to settle in before closing the door and jogging over the driver's side.

When he gets in the car, he puts the keys in and turn the engine on. Putting one hand behind your seat as he maneuver out of the parking lot.

You can feel your cheeks get warm, it's nothing special but you had to admit he looks so good while doing such a mundane thing.

Joshua looks over at you and notices the blush on your cheeks.

"You okay, baby?"

"Shut up"

He laughs louder, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers together.

"Soonyoung thinks I have a crush on you?"

"Does he?"

"Mhm, been listening to the playlist you made me. He said I only ever make a playlist when I like someone" you tell him, you see the smile forming on his pretty lips you had to stop your self from leaning over to steal a kiss from your boyfriend.

"I mean, he's not wrong. You made me one before"

"Yea like before we dated, now you do it too"

It was how you confessed to him, too shy to say you like him to his face so you did it through songs. You thought he didn't get the message you were trying to send over because he didn't say anything to you after you sent the playlist.

You really thought he really didn't see anything other than a friend until one night while hanging out he started to play one of the songs on his guitar. It was during a party, surrounded by all your friends, with people having their own conversations all around you.

And yet your attention was on him, listening to each note he's playing.

"When will we tell him?" Joshua asks you

"Let him figure it out on his own. It's kind of fun to see him get excited over it, it's like we have a fan rooting for us"

"What if I kiss you in front if him"

"You wouldn't dare, Joshua Hong" he smirks when he heard his full name, sparing you a quick glance. He waits until the light turned red before turning over to you, a hand behind your head to pull you closer to him then he's crashing your lips against him.

His lips moving against yours in sync. Like a routine he worked hard on memorizing, he knows just how to get you chasing after his lips asking for a few more kisses. Each one taking your breath like it's the first kiss.

He's the one to break away first (even though he didn't want to, but you're in middle of the road), he kisses your nose before going back to his seat. His hand goes back to holding yours, like back to normal. Like he didn't just kiss the breath out of you.

Joshua smirks when he looks over at you, looking at him with round eyes he loves so much.

The traffic light is still red but you don't dare to tease your boyfriend again because you know he won't hesitate to do it again and then some.

"Hey, I love you" he squeezes your hand, making you look over at him

"I know" you jokingly reply, then you lean over to give him a peck on the cheek.

"Let's sit together next hang out and pretend to secretly like each other" you say, "Easy, I already look like I like you" he say

"No kisses though, have to take me out first"

"We'll call it a date then"

[brackenfur]

okay so i kind of.......wrote a lot more than i really intended to, but long story short - years ago i had this headcanon/au of sorts that birchpaw/fall saw ashfur and hawkfrost at the lake together, standing over firestar. mostly because when you squint at that whole sequence it kinda doesnt add up in canon, but its not canon that birchfall saw anything - it's just me taking this what if scenario and expanding on a side character

anyways this was kinda a quick project so its not perfect buuuuuut i wrote something so ! enjoy :)

birchpaw is back at camp doing everything he can to avoid the worried looks of his clanmates when his mentor stops him.

"hey, birchpaw," the fur on the back of birchpaw's neck stands up, and he slowly turns to the other tomcat. "are you okay?"

birchpaw does the best he can to keep the nervousness out of his voice as he answers: "i'm fine, ashfur. really. i- uh, i mean, i really just wish i had...been faster, that i had..."

he can't look at ashfur's face. not now, maybe not ever again. he knows that as soon as he meets his eyes, he won't be able to stop asking questions:

what were you doing with a riverclan cat? why didn't you help firestar? did the other cat threaten you? did you-

"you did the best you could, birchpaw," ashfur tells him gently; he pauses, flicking his tail-tip, before murmuring: "come on, let's go over to the apprentice's den to talk. i can tell you're shaken up."

and you're not, birchpaw wants to say, but he's a coward. this is his uncle, his mother's twin, and he doesn't really know what he saw, anyways. maybe ashfur had been standing there, sure. and maybe firestar had been clearly injured, clearly dying - well, ashfur isn't a medicine cat. he couldn't have known that, even if birchpaw had been making a lucky guess. but maybe hawkfrost threatened him, or maybe he lied to him-

you don't believe that at all, he thinks.

but he follows his uncle all the same to the apprentice's den; whitepaw is comforting her father at the medicine cat den while leafpool treats firestar's wound. no one is around - they're all either out searching the territory to make sure hawkfrost didn't have any accomplices, or with firestar's family on the other side of camp.

"you did the best you could to get help as soon as possible, birchpaw," ashfur tells him softly; birchpaw is staring at the grass between his paws, not looking at the other tom. "everyone knows that. i'm sure firestar does, too."

"right."

"but i could scent your fear-scent," ashfur continues, "and it does seem like you didn't go straight back to camp after telling firestar about blackstar. why?"

birchpaw's whiskers quiver. he shouldn't be scared - if anything, ashfur should be worried. he's the one who didn't do enough to help.

but the look in ashfur's eyes. the blank, distant stare as he watched firestar gurgle at his paws.

even the badgers didn't look at sootfur like that after they killed him, birchpaw remembers.

"i....," birchpaw's voice wobbles. "i thought i scented another cat, and i was worried," he clears his throat, trying to stop the shakes, "about you. i thought- i thought maybe you were...in trouble, and i...."

ashfur is quiet for a long time; if birchpaw wasn't so scared - why should i be scared? he's my uncle and my mentor, he wouldn't....he'd never.... - he'd look up, joke with him. pretend like it's all a big joke.

but those eyes. that look. the sounds firestar was making.

"so you didn't go straight back to camp," ashfur says with a disappointed sigh, "and firestar lost a life."

birchpaw's heartbeat skips. his paws shake. "wait," he says, his voice becoming shrill. he doesn't want anyone else to hear, but- what ashfur's saying, it's not...that's not right. that's not how it went. "wait, i- i did go back, as fast as i could, and i told squirrelflight-"

"you waited to tell her, you mean," ashfur tells him, frowning. "and he lost a life because he lost too much blood."

"but i didn't....i'd never..."

"it probably wasn't your intention," ashfur murmurs. "but that's how it happened. what if it was his last life? firestar and i trusted you to do one simple task, and you couldn't do that. you can't even look your uncle in the eye when he's talking to you."

birchpaw quivers as he slowly lifts his eyes to look into his uncles. ashfur's dark blue eyes stare back at him, just as emotionless as they did hours before.

"that's better," ashfur tells him, but it doesn't feel better. all of this is wrong.

"i was just trying to help," birchpaw whispers. "i didn't....i saw..."

"what did you see?" ashfur asks him, with a tone that birchpaw's never heard him use before: it's low, angry.

it's terrifying.

"um," birchpaw stutters. "i don't- i don't know. i don't know what i saw."

i saw you. i saw you and hawkfrost.

"if you don't even know what you saw," ashfur says slowly, "then maybe you shouldn't say anything. not to me, or to your mother. not to firestar."

birchpaw slowly lowers his gaze. how did today end up like this?

"you didn't see anything out there, birchpaw," ashfur continues. "you're an apprentice - you don't know your left paw from your right paw."

"okay."

ashfur stares at him for a long moment, sighing. "i'm not trying to scare you, birchpaw," he murmurs, "but i don't want you to get in trouble for firestar losing his life. sometimes we make mistakes; i don't want this one to be the defining moment of your apprenticehood."

shame burns through birchpaw - shame that he can't stand up to his uncle and tell him that this is all wrong.

but more shame that there's a part of him, deep down, that knows ashfur is right. if birchpaw had been quick enough, firestar wouldn't have lost a life. hawkfrost would've been stopped quicker.

and maybe....maybe ashfur was just trying to help firestar. maybe in some way, he's embarrassed because he couldn't help him, either. is that what this is about? trying to save face, because brambleclaw once again saved the day when ashfur couldn't?

"i want to be a good apprentice."

"and i'll help you do that," ashfur tells him, his voice becoming warmer. "and we'll start by making sure that today stays behind us, forever. okay?"

"okay."

it doesn't feel okay.

--

the rest of his apprenticeship goes by largely uneventfully. ashfur isn't exactly the same as before he and squirrelflight drifted apart, but he never speaks to birchpaw the way that he did the day firestar was injured.

he becomes a warrior by the name of birchfall. he makes friends, falls into an easy routine. he even still spends time with his uncle - with each passing day, the events from that afternoon become a faded memory. sometimes it plays out differently in his mind - there's days where he thinks he did see ashfur try and help firestar. where he heard him tell hawkfrost to go away.

(and maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought it was back then if the memory keeps changing. if it really was so awful, wouldn't it be the same? was he just trying to make ashfur out to be a bad cat?)

everything in thunderclan is mostly calm, until ashfur gets lionpaw as an apprentice.

he's heard cats joke about being jealous when their old mentor gets another apprentice - how it's weird, seeing the cat who taught you everything teaching someone else the same things, telling the same jokes.

he's still ashfur's nephew, so he knows that his former mentor still holds a special place in his heart for him - but it's not exactly that jealousy that other cats talk about that he feels towards lionpaw.

he feels...strange, seeing them together; there's this weird fluttering feeling he gets when he catches ashfur's expression as lionpaw walks away from him.

sometimes he can hear a voice in the back of his mind, screaming at him to go and get between the two of them. to protect lionpaw.

but ashfur....well, it's ashfur. outside of that one afternoon moons before, he's a normal warrior. he wouldn't...

so birchfall does what he did over a year prior; he buries the feelings. he can't trust his eyes - that's what ashfur told him before. he doesn't know his left paw from his right paw.

(except that he's a warrior now, and a damn good one, so why-)

that changes one day, when the talk of thunderclan is how lionpaw and ashfur got into this huge fight - claws drawn, teeth bared. ashfur scratched up pretty badly, spiderleg had told him, shaking his head.

i knew that was going to happen, he's not a medicine cat or particularly gifted, but he knew. he knew, he knew, he knew, he knew.

i knew he was going to hurt him, birchfall watches as lionpaw trudges into camp, surprisingly fine physcially - ashfur is the one with the injuries, blood dripping on the camp floor as he trudges to leafpool's den.

lionpaw is standing there after all is said and done, after cats talk to him to ask him if he's okay. standing there in the center of camp, alone.

birchfall is only foxlengths from him, watching, and the thought slips into his mind easily: i should tell him that i know what ashfur is really like. that i saw the same look in his eyes that he probably saw. that he watched firestar die inches from his paws and did nothing to help him.

he almost does it, too. the memories from that day come back, flooding his vision - ashfur's dark expression. the white flash of hawkfrost's teeth. firestar's gurgles.

i'm so sorry, firestar.

"why are you staring at me?"

birchfall snaps out of it quickly; lionpaw is staring at him, amber eyes narrowed.

"what?" birchfall blinks. "i wasn't staring at you."

"yeah, you were," lionpaw tells him, shaking his head. "weirdo." lionpaw hisses under his breath.

and before birchfall can say anything, do anything, hollypaw and cinderpaw bound up to him to talk to him, stealing the moment away.

birchfall watches the apprentices for a couple more seconds before he turns away.

he didn't see anything that day. it's his fault that firestar lost a life, anyways. that's all anyone would be able to see - firestar is one pawstep closer to being gone forever because of him.

--

birchfall keeps his word for the moons to come; lionblaze becomes a warrior with hollyleaf and cinderheart. whitewing - his longest friend, the molly who withheld her warrior ceremony for him, just so he wouldn't be alone,

(and was there for him on the nights when all he dreamt of was the lakeshore, never asking him what woke him up shaking)

well, they become closer and closer until they're not really just friends anymore, and one morning she bounds up to him to tell him that she's carrying his kits. that leafpool had just told her moments before, and she couldn't wait to find him.

and it finally feels like maybe birchfall is at peace - maybe starclan isn't angry with him after all. maybe that one thing that birchfall didn't do years ago - it'll be okay. firestar is alive and happy, with grandchildren now.

the fire rages through thunderclan not long after, but thankfully there's no casualities - he grew up hearing the stories of the one from years ago, back in the old territory before he was born, and he's glad that everyone was okay this time.

well.

he heard berrynose say that everyone had been looking for squirrelflight, her kits, and ashfur for awhile - that ashfur had turned up, laughing. he wouldn't say what was so funny, though.

he didn't think much of it, until he saw the way ashfur was acting after the fire. the way he leered after squirrelflight and her kits; hollyleaf's eyes glaring back in defiance, lionblaze's hackles raised, jayfeather's avoidance.

i don't want any part in this, he thinks, focusing on whitewing and their future together. i didn't see anything. i don't know anything. ashfur isn't dangerous.

he repeats the mantra more often than he'd like; at night, he dreams of the lakeshore for the first time in years and wakes up shuddering against spiderleg's side. his older brother shakes him off, confused, but birchfall can't meet his gaze, or anyone elses.

i didn't see anything. i didn't see anything. i didn't-

and then just like that, one day ashfur is found dead on their territory.

someone said that a patrol found him in a river, throat torn out.

it doesn't feel real to birchfall until he sees his uncles body laid out in the center of camp, with ferncloud's muzzle pressed into his fur.

that's my uncle, he thinks as he watches spiderleg lead icepaw and foxpaw to their mother, trying to comfort her. he was my mentor.

you don't know what you saw. it's ashfur's voice, clear as day in his mind as he watches his clanmates gather around the tomcat. you don't know your left paw from your right paw. you're just an apprentice; how can anyone trust you after what you did?

firestar walks over to ferncloud and dustpelt, murmuring a few kind words to them. birchfall can hear his leader's voice carrying over the wind, mentioning something about dogs, about bravery.

he watched you lose a life, birchfall wants to scream, but he can't move. he stood there and watched you gargle for breath and did nothing.

birchfall shuts his eyes. no. no, it was because of me, because i decided to take too long to go back to camp, his mind can't decide what's right or wrong. it's my fault, that's what....that's what ashfur says, and...and now he's dead, so....

"birchfall," whitewing's voice is soft; he jolts, eyes wide as he looks at his mate. she leans against him, whiskers drooping. "this is so sad. i mean....ashfur, i just- i just talked to him yesterday. he was asking me about the kits, if i was feeling okay..."

you wouldn't want to be with me if you knew what i did, ashfur had never threatened him after that day, but birchfall knew that was what his uncle was conveying to him every time they talked after that day. that he could tell everyone, and everyone would know it was birchfall's fault that firestar lost a life.

or....or wait, maybe that wasn't right. not anymore.

maybe he should blame himself for not saying anything all these years. he could've told firestar and had ashfur punished, and he didn't.

the realization burns deep in his chest; he can barely register what whitewing is saying.

ashfur knew that if you said something, any cat could probably figure out that something about his story didn't add up, birchfall thinks, his heart thudding. and you were just too stupid to realize you could have said something years ago.

"birchfall?" whitewing says, frowning. "hey, birchfall. are you okay?"

birchfall's fur raises. "i'm okay," he tells her, taking a deep breath. "all things....you know, considering, i..." he shakes his head. "i'm gonna get some air, okay?"

whitewing touches her nose to his. "i'm here, you know that, right? i've been here for you since we were 'paws."

that stings more. i could have told you years ago, birchfall touches his nose back to hers, and turns away. i can't say anything now. she'd never trust me again, i kept this secret from everyone because i was too scared of my uncle. and now he's dead, and now....

birchfall resigns himself not to think about it anymore. he can't.

he can't. he won't.

--

after his daughters are born, birchfall wants this to be his new purpose in life.

forget about the lakeshore. the foxtrap. hawkfrost. ashfur. firestar is fine now; thunderclan is fine. sure, maybe there's been some earth-shattering secrets that have been revealed, but- all in all, they're mostly fine.

ivypaw and dovepaw mean the world to him; he can't imagine being without them.

he looks at them and wants to do right by them; they'll never know the fear he's carried for all this time, the same.

he'll teach them to say something if they see something; to be outspoken, brave.

but he can barely keep his head above water; it started when he met a cat from the dark forest one night. who promised him that he could make up for the mistake he made years ago; that he could do right by firestar. by thunderclan.

he trains every night but it doesn't make the shame go away. it won't scrub off after he bathes himself. nothing works.

it's not until the wall is lifted over his eyes - after his daughter, ivypool, a warrior grown - tells him what the true intention of the dark forest was.

all the moons he spent there, training, trying to prove that he could make up for what he did - gone.

and after the battle with the dark forest, both his mother and firestar are dead - killed by the cats that birchfall wanted to impress. wanted to show that he could be better, that he could be stronger.

how did everything go so wrong? he thinks as he watches his father crouched over his mother. dustpelt won't even look at him; he doesn't know about firestar, but he knows about the dark forest. and he hates him - despises him for training with the cats who are responsible for ferncloud's death.

he's right.

"birchfall," whitewing's voice jolts him out of his thoughts. "please. i want to talk."

it was inevitable - he knows that it's over between them at this point. he follows her out of camp regardless, deep into the territory. there's birds in the trees, chirping quietly amongst themselves, and everything is in bloom, yet nothing is beautiful to him at this moment.

whitewing turns to face him, her green eyes sad. "can you just tell me why?"

birchfal looks down at his paws, just like he did years before when ashfur told him to keep quiet.

"i'm sorry," he tells her, and she scoffs.

"i'm sorry isn't an explanation," she meows. "just....why, birchfall? why would you train with cats like that? and why- our daughter was there too, why wouldn't you try and convince her not to? what's wrong with you?"

i'm a coward.

"that's still not an answer," he hadn't realized he said it aloud. he finally looks up at his mate - probably soon to be ex-mate. "you need to talk to me. you're not a 'paw anymore."

and for some reason that burns more than anything else.

you're not a 'paw. you should have said something. you should have told everyone what you saw. and you didn't. it's your fault. all your fault. everything-

"i need to tell you something," he finally says; the story is bubbling at the surface. ashfur is long dead. firestar is dead. his family hates him. whitewing is going to leave him anyway; what else does he have to lose? brambleclaw might exile him, might not; he might not care what birchfall does.

whitewing is silent; birchfall opens and shuts his mouth a few times, trying to find the words, until he meows:

"i saw what happened to firestar on the lakeshore, that day when hawkfrost from riverclan died."

whitewing frowns; she looks taken aback, and blinks a few times.

"i....ashfur...he told me that he scented blackstar on our territory," the memory comes back hazy at first, but starts to clear as he goes on: "he said to tell firestar about it. i did, but....a few minutes later when i was heading back, i could scent another cat. and i remembered ashfur was out there, and i was worried for him, so i followed him and the other cat so i could protect him. and..."

the gurgling. the look on ashfur's eyes. the sound of the water lapping at the shore.

"ashfur was standing with hawkfrost over firestar's body. he was caught in the foxtrap and....ashfur, he...." birchfall shuts his eyes. "you should've seen how he looked. he didn't care at all that firestar was dying. i ran away, i didn't....i didn't know what to do. i thought maybe i didn't see anything at all, so i just told squirrelflight what ashfur had said about blackstar when i saw her. i thought....i thought maybe if she caught ashfur and hawkfrost, it'd....she'd know what to do, more than i would....."

birchfall stares at his paws. "when i got back to camp and brambleclaw had killed hawkfrost, ashfur told me....he said i didn't see anything, and it was easier to pretend i didn't see anything. and he was...he was right - i should've just gone back to camp right away. i should've just done the right thing, not been a stupid 'paw. i should've...it's my fault that firestar lost a life. he'd still be here right now if i just had listened back then, 'cus he'd have an extra life, and..."

birchfall trails off, shaking. "so that's...that's why i wanted to train at the dark forest. because i let firestar down. because i didn't say anything all these years, and i should've....i mean, what if ashfur had hurt someone else? and i just sat there and let it happen."

it takes him a moment after everything spills out to realize that whitewing is very quiet; he finally looks up at his mate.

she looks so sad watching him; and there's a bit of anger in there, too.

"he threatened you?" whitewing finally says; birchfall winces.

"i don't....maybe, it doesn't really matter."

"you were his apprentice and his nephew," whitewing tells him firmly. "of course it matters. he knew he was manipulating you, and that you just wanted to please him, so you'd do anything to make sure you wouldn't make trouble."

whitewing's tail lashes, and she shakes his head. "that- i can't believe he did that to you, that he made you think...."

"whitewing, it's-"

"it's not your fault, birchfall," her voice is gentle, yet he can tell she's holding back so much rage, rage for ashfur, pain for firestar's death. "if you really think for one second that you have anything to do with firestar laying in that clearing right now, you're completely wrong. that was tigerstar, first of all, and ashfur's fault years ago."

"but-"

"you went to help your mentor, and you were intimidated into keeping this a secret," she tells him, stepping closer. "and now you think that because you didn't say anything, that that's worse than what he did."

"i should have said something," birchfall tells her, harsher than he means to. "i mean - for starclan's sake, whitewing, i- i saw, and i didn't do anything. i'm no better than he is-"

"you are twice the cat that ashfur was," whitewing meows firmly. "and if i had even....if i saw him right now, i'd slash his ears for doing that to you."

whitewing shakes her head, looking at him. "all these years," she whispers, frowning, "all these years, and we- when you were in the apprentices den, having nightmares..."

"you couldn't have known," he mumbles. "i didn't tell you."

"and then....birchfall, i..." she presses her noses into his neck; birchfall is stiff from shock.

"i thought you were breaking up with me," he tells her, aghast; whitewing sucks in a breath, pulling away.

"what?"

"why not? after the dark forest, all of this...."

"i'm disappointed in you for training with the dark forest," she tells him softly. "but your mother is dead, and you....you've been holding this in for years, birchfall. i can put off asking you about the dark forest for awhile; i.....i didn't know. all these years, and i had no idea you were punishing yourself for ashfur's crimes."

when she puts it like that, a small - a tiny one, really, nothing huge - light begins to flick in his mind.

i've been punishing myself, he thinks, and it strangely makes a lot of sense - thinking about the lake all these years has felt like punishment. refusing to get close to firestar out of shame was his way of punishing himself, telling himself what he did was wrong.

"i don't know if i can tell anyone else," birchfall tells her in a whisper; whitewing nods, brushing her muzzle against his.

"that's okay," she meows, "because now i know, and now i can shoulder it with you."

"it's not a very romantic secret." he doesn't say it like a joke, but she still smiles a little.

"it's not," she shrugs. "but no one helped birchpaw back then; i'm here for you now."

[geonwooz]

♡ ARGUMENTS WITH HONG WOOJIN + KIM GUNWOO

bf!woojin + bf!gunwoo x reader | wc : 0.9k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, major angst, established relationship, mentions of arguments, mentions of food, swearing, crying | request : hello. i was wondering if you could write something about an argument with hong woojin. maybe a headcanon or a scenario, whichever you prefer. thanks ^^ + your writing is so good 😭😭😭 please do how they would react to getting in a argument for the first time!!! have a nice dayyyy

“baby, i’m home! i’m sorry i was late. gunwoo was hungry, so we went–”

woojin’s words fizzled out, a string of curses leaving his lips ever-so-softly as his gaze landed on the dining table.

his favorite foods were prettily plated, practically covering the table with how much food there was.

the cinnamon-scented candles he loved were lit across the room, making his heart melt because he knew how much you didn’t like them but still used them for him.

the curses only continued when his eyes fell on you, seeing the way you had fallen asleep while waiting for him.

you wore one of his hoodies over the red dress he bought for you, having opted for comfort to huddle on the sofa while you waited for his arrival.

his heart fell as he saw the tear stains on your face, realising you had cried. i’m fucking stupid. what have i done? he wondered as he looked at you, not knowing what to do.

broken between waking you up and carrying you to bed, woojin chose the former, not wanting you to go to bed without eating anything.

“y/n, my love...” he softly called, pulling you out of your drowsy state. “hey–”

your gaze set into a glare as you saw your boyfriend, shaking his hand off you.

your attempt to hide away in your room failed when woojin held onto your arm, pulling you closer to him.

“let me go.” your voice was barely audible, afraid it’d crack if you were to yell. “i want to be alone right now, woojin.”

“i-i know i messed up, babe.” he sighed, dragging his hands over his face. “i’m really sorry, and i promise i’ll make it up to you. let’s have dinner and talk, okay? please–”

you pulled your hand away from his grasp, twisting it free. “i’m tired of your apologies, woojin. every single time, it’s the same story. you forget, you apologise, and you expect me to forgive you,” you cried, the tears running down your face.

woojin stayed quiet, not knowing how to make things right. it was true. he was always forgetful of things, and it affected your relationship at times. he took a deep breath, seeing the way you cried harder at his silence.

“i went to my graduation alone. i went to your aunt’s restaurant's opening alone. you stood me up on our dates several times. it was just me doing things couples do for half of our relationship, and i never said anything!”

“y/n, truly, i am–”

“don't say you are sorry if you don't mean it, woojin.” you shook your head. “because if you really cared, you would've remembered that today was our three-year anniversary.”

you wiped away your tears, taking a deep breath before turning on your heel. you walked to your room, shutting the door behind you so you could break down in peace.

woojin sat outside, leaning against the door. he felt his heart break as he heard your pained sobs, realizing he fucked up majorly this time around.

even though he knew he didn't deserve someone as caring and patient as you, hong woojin wasn't going to stop until he did everything in his power to gain your trust back again.

“jagiya, seriously. it’s nothing. don’t worry about it, okay? i’m fine.”

gunwoo assured, knowing he was going to have a hard time convincing you with his words as he saw your frown.

you crossed your arms over your chest, taking a deep breath. “it’s not boxing season, woo. bruises i can brush off, but those cuts i cannot. what’s going on?” you asked, trying your best not to raise your voice.

“don’t worry about it, really, jagiya. please.”

“fine. if you won’t answer my questions, then i won’t ask any.”

gunwoo’s brows furrowed, skeptical of your sudden change in response. he waited for you to continue, but you simply walked away, leaving him even more confused.

he didn’t want to leave you in the dark like this. he really didn’t.

but when president choi made him promise not to tell you anything, especially considering you were his granddaughter, gunwoo really had no choice but to keep quiet about his work.

as he stood in the middle of the room, occupied by his thoughts, gunwoo was pulled out of his trance when you walked out of your room, pulling along with you a suitcase.

“jagiya, what’s this?” his voice was an octave lower, brows raised as he looked between you and your luggage. “you aren’t really leaving, are you?”

you kept quiet, not even having the courage to look at his face. you knew you’d crumble down into tears the second you saw his face, and it’d definitely result in both of you crying.

“y/n … please. talk to me.”

“if you aren’t answering my questions, kim gunwoo-ssi,” you stated, making him wince at how you used his full name. “i don’t think i’d have to answer yours either.”

gunwoo watched you walk out of your shared apartment, tears filling his eyes as he fisted his hands by his side.

he wanted to run after you; he wanted to tell you the truth; he wanted you to stay.

but the reason he was hiding everything from you was for your own safety. he promised your grandfather he’d keep you safe no matter what.

and if keeping you safe meant letting you go, kim gunwoo would do so — even if it resulted in the two of you getting heartbroken in the process.

TAGLIST :: @missscarlettangel (TO BE ADDED, PLEASE COMMENT, SEND AN ASK OR DM!)

[namyejuns]

Can I request a Noah x Fem!Reader where she’s a member of PLAVE (the typical only girl in boy group scenario ;) ) and she’s getting shipped with Bamby, and he sees all those comments about her and Bamby and gets jealous of their interactions? Reader reassures him and it can be fluff or smut (you choose) 👁️ —🩷 anon.

hey!! thank u so much for my first ever plave request, i was so so excited to write this!!! i'll keep this fluff for now but i wouldn't mind expanding on it later with some smut........ just lmk if you'd be interested hehehe.. i kinda struggled with characterization so pls be kind!! // divider by @/adornedwithlight // requests open!!

"Noah, sweetheart, please calm down," you pout, following him to the breakroom of your studio. Despite trying his best to keep it together, tears are tugging at his eyes - he's always been more of the melodramatic type.

Shutting the door behind the both of you, you lock it so no one else can barge in - they can think whatever they want to think is going on. The blonde refuses to face you, instead plops down in a chair with his back to you as he sips from his water bottle. Practice had been vigorous today, followed by another two hour broadcast, and it had definitely worn everyone out - likely why tensions and stress were a little higher than normal.

"Han Noah," you repeat, using his surname to convey that you're serious. This needs to be discussed.

"Go talk to Bonggu about it instead," he finally replies, crossing his arms and legs with a hmph.

"Excuse me?" you raise a brow.

"The whole world thinks you two belong together, right?" he scoffs. "Just go be with him already."

You sigh and roll your eyes. Drama queen, as always.

"Every comment on the lives is about how perfect the two of you are together," he sniffles. "Maybe it's true."

Coming up behind him, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and plant a kiss on his cheek.

"It's true that I love Bonggu very much," you start, etching a deeper frown into the blonde's face. "But not the way I love you, Noah. I don't dream about Bonggu every night, I don't count down the seconds until practice and lives are over so I can get my hand on Bonggu. Not the way I do with you, baby."

He grumbles but still stays silent, though you know you've already won him over again.

"You know the world doesn't know about us, Noah, and we have to live with that. We have to live with the fact that fans might fabricate things between me and Bamby, and with any other member they see fit that day. But I will never love them like I love you, okay?"

At this point, you think Noah is just smugly enjoying you waxing poetic about how much you love and adore him, but if it makes him happy, you'll do it. You'll do anything.

"Fine," your boyfriend finally gives in, and you sigh with a smile.

"Good," you giggle, making your way around his chair to plop in his lap and throw your arms around his neck, his hands settling on your hips. "My beautiful fairy princess." He guffaws and rolls his eyes.

"Your beautiful fairy princess who loves you very, very much," he replies, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "Thank you. And... sorry. That I got jealous."

"It's okay, sweetheart," you assure with a shake of your head. "I'm here for you, to reassure you, always. I'll never get tired of telling my adorable Noah how in love with him I am."

With that, you hear a loud banging on the door, and the groans of multiple tired men.

A voice that sounds remarkably like a man with gray and black hair pipes up. "You lovebirds done in there?"

[thatlotuscookie]

i couldnt be anymore glad i found your page. in love with all your mha works. i request dabi x reader, where femreader has been going through stuff at home? maybe toxic parents and he does things to cheer her up and comfort her?

✧･ﾟ: a/n : aww you're so sweet, im glad you like them! i love these scenarios my anons keep asking me. LIKE?? you guys are so creative, everything goes to yall because you got the ideas. i LOVE YOU ALL! enjoy, this isnt anything long, short and simple. thank you for the req<3

✧ Title: ✧ A Safe Haven ✧ ✧ Characters: Dabi x Fem!Reader ✧ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: You’ve been carrying the weight of your toxic home life for far too long, never telling anyone about the struggles you face. Not even Dabi, despite how close you’ve grown. After a particularly rough day, you head to the hideout, emotionally drained. Dabi notices something is off and decides to take care of you. In his own way, he shows you that you don’t have to handle everything alone. ✧ Content Warnings: Toxic household, Emotional exhaustion, Mentions of mental health struggles, Heavy themes, Comfort, Slight language. ✧ WC: 1116 words // 6.1k chars

You had never told anyone about the struggles you faced at home. It was something you buried deep, never letting it see the light of day. Not even Dabi, despite how close you had gotten over the past few months. Maybe it was pride or fear, but something kept you silent, even as the weight of your toxic household pressed down harder each day.

Today, however, everything seemed too heavy to bear.

You dragged yourself to the hideout after a particularly rough day. The yelling, the accusations—it had all piled up and left you feeling drained, worn down, and numb. Walking into the dimly lit space, you didn’t expect Dabi to be there. But there he was, lounging lazily on the couch, cigarette between his fingers, blue flames flickering faintly from his palm. His eyes flicked to you as soon as you walked in, immediately noticing the slump in your posture and the dullness in your usually bright eyes.

"You look like shit," he said bluntly, though there was an undertone of concern in his voice.

You rolled your eyes halfheartedly, too tired to play along with his usual banter. You were too mentally exhausted to do anything but collapse into the nearest chair, not even bothering to take off your coat. He studied you quietly, frowning.

"You’re quieter than usual," he muttered, snuffing out his cigarette and sitting up straight. "What’s going on?"

You shook your head, biting your lip, trying to hold it together. You weren’t ready to spill everything to him, not now. But you didn’t have the strength to hide it either.

"I don’t want to talk about it," you whispered, staring down at your hands, which were clenched into tight fists on your lap. "It’s just… home stuff. Nothing new."

Dabi’s expression darkened at the mention of your home life. He’d picked up on bits and pieces over time, though you never directly told him the full extent of it. Still, he wasn’t stupid. He could sense when something was weighing on you, and he wasn’t the type to ignore it.

Instead of pushing you, Dabi stood up, stretching lazily before sauntering over to where you sat. He crouched down in front of you, resting his arms on your knees as he tilted his head, trying to catch your eyes. You didn’t look up, still avoiding his gaze, but you felt the warmth of his presence close to you.

"Hey," he said softly, an unusual gentleness in his voice. "Look at me."

You hesitated before finally meeting his eyes. There was no teasing smirk, no sharp quips—just a rare, quiet concern in his mismatched blue and purple gaze.

"You know you don’t have to handle this on your own, right?" His voice was low, serious. "You can talk to me."

You sighed, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. "It’s just… they’re always fighting. Always blaming me for everything. Nothing I do is ever good enough. I just… I don’t know how much more I can take."

Dabi’s jaw clenched. He hated seeing you like this—broken down by people who were supposed to protect you. The anger simmered just below the surface, but he kept it in check. This wasn’t the time for his usual biting remarks. You needed him to be something else right now.

Without a word, he gently took your hands in his, prying them open from their tight fists. His touch was surprisingly soft, his thumb brushing over the indentations left from your nails digging into your skin. You flinched slightly at the contact, but he didn’t pull away.

"Come on," he said quietly, standing up and pulling you to your feet. "I’m gonna take care of you tonight."

You blinked, confused but too tired to resist as he led you to the small kitchen in the hideout. You sat on a stool at the counter while he rummaged around, gathering a few things. It was strange seeing him in such a domestic setting, but you didn’t question it. Not when the smell of something savory started to fill the air, and for a moment, you forgot the chaos you’d left behind.

Dabi worked quietly, occasionally glancing over at you as he cooked. When he finally set the food in front of you—some kind of simple but hearty meal—you realized just how hungry you were. You hadn’t eaten properly in days.

"Eat," he ordered, but his tone was gentle, more of a suggestion than a command.

You picked up the fork and took a small bite, warmth spreading through you as you ate. It wasn’t just the food—it was the fact that Dabi had taken the time to make it for you. He didn’t need to say anything for you to feel how much he cared.

Once you finished, Dabi handed you a glass of water and a couple of pills. "Painkillers," he explained. "Figured you’d have a headache with the way you’ve been acting."

You took them gratefully, feeling a little lighter. Dabi wasn’t the type to baby you, but his actions spoke louder than words. He cared in his own way, even if he wasn’t great at showing it.

When you were done, he pulled you up again, guiding you to the worn-out couch. He sat down first, then tugged you down next to him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. You hesitated for a moment, but then relaxed into him, resting your head against his chest. His body was warm, comforting, and the steady rise and fall of his breathing started to calm your racing thoughts.

"You don’t have to go back there if you don’t want to," Dabi muttered, his hand running through your hair absentmindedly. "You can stay here. I don’t care if you think you’re a burden. You’re not."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they were tears of relief. You felt safe for the first time in what felt like forever. His words, his actions—they soothed the ache that had been gnawing at you for so long.

"Thank you, Dabi," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "For everything."

He didn’t respond right away, just tightened his grip around you, holding you a little closer. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it.

"Don’t mention it."

For the rest of the night, Dabi stayed by your side, letting you find comfort in his quiet presence. And though the chaos of your home life still lingered in the background, for the first time in a while, you felt like everything might just be okay. And maybe- just maybe, you'd want Dabi by your side throughout it all.