#i did not mean to spend as long as i did on the first one but i was having fun

[mariasont]

Laced With Love - A.H

summary: while hotch is away on a case, you do nothing but shop, and when hotch insists you use his card who are you to disobey him? especially when what you buy benefits the both of you

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader spending hotch's money (it's giving sugar daddy af), so much teasing, fingering, oral fem receiving, hotch worshipping reader, some inappropriate comments made in front of morgan accidentally, they both just completely forget about dinner and don't mention so ya know my bad, dirty talk, soft dom hotchy poo

wc: 3.5k

You had a little problem.

It all started innocently enough: one coffee to-go, a quick window shop in your favorite boutique, and somehow that led to you walking out with a bag containing the most adorable pair of heels that you couldn't leave behind. Then it snowballed—another store, another bag. A perfume counter. A cute sweater that was on sale, and, well, that one really didn't count because it was practical. It was warm. Functional, even.

Okay maybe you had a big problem.

But it wasn't until your phone buzzed in your bag, pulling you out of a deep debate over whether you needed the floral dress you were holding, that you realized just how many bags were hanging off your arms.

Mr. Bossman flashed across the screen.

The name was completely ridiculous (and more than a little outdated now that he was your boyfriend), but it fit in a weird, nostalgic way. He'd been away on one of those long-distance cases, the kind where you weren't needed, and you'd been counting the days (and minutes) until he'd call. 

You grabbed your phone so fast you almost dropped the dress.

"Hi!" you answered, a little too quickly, your voice so giddy and sugar-sweet it could've given you a toothache. He always teased you for it, but right now you didn't care.

"Hi." His voice was warm, a little rough around the edges with exhaustion. "Just wanted to call and let you know I'll be home tonight."

Your heart practically leapt at his words. "Really? Finally! I thought I was going to shrivel up and die from boredom without you here. Okay, maybe not die, but like... what's the point of anything if you're not home to tell me I bought too many candles?"

"I'm not sure how you've lasted this long," he said. "Should I be worried about the state of the house? Or your bank account?"

"First of all, rude. Second of all, if you are so worried, maybe you shouldn't leave me alone for that long. Ever thought of that, Mr?"

His laugh came through the line, short and deep, and it hit you square in the chest. You closed your eyes, leaning into the sound like it could somehow bring him closer. You could see him so clearly--the way his face softened in a way that made him look ten years younger, the way his shoulders would drop, the way his eyes would crinkle. You missed him so much it hurt.

"Poor thing," he teased, still chuckling softly. "What's a girl to do when I'm not there entertain her? Besides spend my money, I mean."

"Don't worry, Aaron, your money is perfectly safe. My super respectable paycheck—you know, the one you sign—is covering me today."

"Hmm," he said, his voice still muffled. "Sounds like your boss is paying you too much."

"I don't know... I think you're getting a pretty good deal considering I keep you very taken care of. Would you like me to prove it later?"

"Hotch, tell me I did not just hear that."

You froze mid-breath, your hand flying to cover your mouth as a wave of heat rushed to your cheeks. That was Morgan’s voice. Morgan. You felt like a cartoon character with steam pouring out of your ears as your face burned red hot.

A nervous little squeak escaped you just as you heard Aaron fumbling with the phone, his voice clipped as he said something you couldn’t quite make out. There was a muffled shuffle, the sound of a door shutting, and finally, the blessed beep that meant he’d taken you off speaker.

"Christ, honey."

You peeked through your fingers, cheeks still burning as you tried to decide if you should laugh, cry, or maybe just dig yourself a hole and live there forever.

"So," you said, hesitating for a beat, "scale of one to ten, how dead am I? Should I preemptively file an HR complaint against myself, or just let Morgan handle my inevitable downfall?”

You heard him exhale sharply, the creak of a chair following as you pictured him leaning back with that half-smile he always gave when he was equal parts amused and exasperated.

“It’s fine. It’s a little embarrassing, sure. But nothing Morgan hasn’t done to himself ten times worse. He’ll give you a hard time for a day or so, Garcia will laugh, and then they’ll let it go.”

There was brief pause, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “That being said, maybe think twice before making explicit promises while I’m at work, honey.”

You bit your lip, your gaze dropping to the shopping bag in your hand as you toyed with the strap absentmindedly.

"I mean, it's only fair I keep my promise now," you said softly, barely loud enough for him to hear. "It's the least I can do."

You heard a faint sound in the background—maybe him clearing his throat—before his voice dropped an octave. "You're already on thin ice today. Don’t make promises you can’t deliver on."

You let out a little huff, batting your lashes instinctively even though you knew he couldn’t see it.

"I don't know why you're doubting me, Mr. Hotchner. You should know I'm very serious about keeping my promises."

"You know, you're not making this easy on me, " Aaron muttered, his voice low and gruff. You could hear a faint groan, followed by what sounded like pacing on the other end. "Alright, I've really got to go now. Behave yourself. And how about you use my card for the rest of the shopping trip?"

"No, Aaron, I can't!" you said quickly, shaking your head as if he could see you. "You'd never trust me again with your card after the damage I'd do. Besides, you're already going to be shaking your head when you see what I got with my own money."

Aaron sighed, his voice going into that low, authoritative tone that always made your stomach flip.

"You will use the card." There was no room for argument in his words. "I want you to. End of discussion."

And just like that, the call ended with a click. You stared at the screen for a moment as if it might magically reopen the call so could argue your case one more time. But, of course, that didn't happen.

He’d told you to use his card—he demanded it, actually—but your fingers still hesitated, clutching the little piece of plastic like it was about to bite you.

You glanced at the white lace lingerie folded neatly on the counter, the delicate fabric practically winking at you. It wasn’t just pretty—it was the kind of perfect that made your heart flutter. Normally, you’d talk yourself out of something so indulgent, but this time? Well, Aaron had practically begged you to buy something… and you couldn’t think of a better way to treat both of you.

You only hesitated for the briefest moment before swiping his card, your heart doing a little flip as the cashier folded the lingerie into tissue paper with careful hands. It felt like a tiny secret between you and Aaron—a very fun secret.

By the time you got home, the sun had started to dip below the horizon, and you knew you had some time before Aaron made it back. He always gave you a pretty reliable ETA. It was the perks of dating someone so anal.

You lugged your shopping bags up to the bedroom, your arms aching a little, but in the best way possible. Once in the bedroom, you started unpacking everything like it was Christmas morning. Dresses went in the closet, shoes were lined up neatly, and you stashed the receipts in the nightstand just in case Aaron did ask how much damage you'd done.

Then you pulled out the piece—the one you'd bought with him in mind. The silk felt decadent under your fingertips, and the delicate lace was almost too beautiful to wear. Almost. It fit like a glove, hugging every inch of you like it had been tailored specifically for this moment. 

Feeling pleased with yourself, you made your way to the kitchen and slipped into your favorite frilly apron, tying the bow neatly at the back. Cooking wasn’t exactly your specialty, but you were determined to make this work. Pasta seemed foolproof enough (right?), and you threw together a salad and garlic bread for good measure. By some miracle, nothing caught on fire, and the kitchen actually smelled amazing.

You found yourself glancing at the clock every few minutes. When you finally heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, you glanced over your shoulder, heart skipping a beat.

"Hi honey!" you called sweetly, pretending as if standing in the kitchen wearing practically nothing was the most common thing in the world.

Aaron stepped inside, the door clicking behind him, but the second his eyes landed on you, he froze. His tie was loosened, his sleeves slightly wrinkled, and his hair looked like he’d run his fingers through it at least a dozen times today. But none of that mattered now—he stood there like he’d forgotten how to breathe, his dark eyes drinking you in.

You smiled at him, slow and innocent, brushing your hands lightly against the counter. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Sweetheart..." His voice was deeper than usual, strained and almost ragged, like he was trying to pull himself together and failing miserably.

"Yes?" you replied, acting as if you didn’t notice the way his eyes were glued to you while you turned off the burner and set the pan aside.

"What..." He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as his gaze dragged down your body, lingering shamelessly on the curve of your ass. "What are you wearing?"

You turned to face him fully, the delicate lace tugging just slightly as you moved, drawing his eyes lower without him even realizing it.

"Oh this?" you said, gesturing vaguely to the piece. "It's just something I picked up today. You told me to use your card, so I thought I'd get something you'd like."

His jaw tightened, eyes scanning you slowly before lingering on the pink bows peeking out over the apron. "You used my card on this?"

"Mm-hmm," you hummed, your hands gliding down the soft lace as you took a step closer, looking up at him through your lashes. "I figured it was an investment. You know, for both of us."

Aaron groaned, low and frustrated, pinching the bridge of his nose for a brief second before letting his hand drop.

“Using my card for this…” His voice was rough as he closed the space between you in one long stride, his hands landing on your waist and pulling you flush against him. His lips curved into the faintest smirk as his voice dipped lower. “Was the one thing you’ve done right today. Now take this off—slowly, sweetheart—and let me see exactly what I bought.”

He pinched at the bow on your apron, his fingers tugging lightly, but you stepped back just enough to be out of his immediate reach.

“If you were that eager to see what I bought,” you teased, your fingertips grazing one of the straps of the apron, “maybe you shouldn’t have left me waiting so long.”

You slipped one strap off your shoulder, letting it fall halfway, then paused, tilting your head slightly as if daring him to come closer.

"Trying on pretty things, waiting for me to come home—must've been absolutely draining," Aaron shook his head slowly.

You pouted at him, pushing your bottom lip out just enough to make his eyes soften. He chuckled quietly, stepping closer until his hands braced the counter on either side of you, caging you in.

 "But you know what? I missed you too. And seeing you like this... makes being away feel like torture."

Your pout melted into a glowing smile as your hands found their way to his chest, your fingers brushing lightly over his shirt.

“You mean it? You really missed me?”

"Of course I did." His hands cupped your jaw gently, his thumbs brushing along your cheeks as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real. His other hand moved slowly to the bow at your waist, pulling the knot loose with an easy tug. "Now, angel, let me see what else I've been missing."

The apron slipped to the ground, forgotten, as Aaron’s eyes locked onto you. He blinked once, then twice, his expression unreadable except for the slight parting of his lips, like he’d been robbed of air.

His gaze traveled over you like a slow caress, taking in the way the lace hugged your curves, teasing him with everything it didn’t quite cover. His eyes lingered on your chest, where the sheer fabric exposed the peaks of your nipples, and you caught the subtle hitch in his breath as he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching slightly.

You tilted your head, letting your expression soften into something sweetly innocent as you leaned back against the counter. The lace shifted with the movement, exposing just enough to make his jaw tighten. Then, just for a second, you parted your legs, catching his sharp inhale as you gave him a soft, almost shy smile.

When he realized what wasn't under the lace, his eyes snapped back up to yours. Without a word, he dropped to his knees, hands sliding over your thighs until they rested just above your knees.

A soft gasp escaped your lips, heart skipping several beats as you stared down at him. You hadn't expected this. Not the way his knees hit the floor like it was second nature, not the way his palms spread wide against your skin, thumb brushing over the curve of your inner thighs as he looked up to you.

He must be exhausted, that was your only explanation. But then his hands pressed harder into your thighs, and the thought evaporated. His eyes weren't clouded with exhaustion—they were focused, like he was memorizing every inch of you. 

Your stomach twisted sharply, your legs suddenly feeling like they couldn’t hold you upright anymore. He was looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. That singular thought settled in your chest, blooming like a flower, before curling low in your belly, leaving you breathless.

His lips grazed your thigh in the softest of touches, like he was savoring the moment. Slowly, he pressed another kiss, firmer this time, his fingers tightening around your thighs as his grip became more insistent. He kissed you again, higher and slower, his nose grazing your skin, breath fanning over you. A deep, contented hum rumbled from his chest.

"What have I done," he murmured, his voice rasping like the words have been pulled from his chest, "to deserve this? To deserve you?"

His eyes flickered up to meet yours. "Tell me, angel, because I'd do it a hundred times over if it meant to have you like this."

You wanted to tell him everything—the depth of your love, how he made you feel like the luckiest person alive—but the words lodged in your throat.

"Aaron... I... you're just..." you stammered, voice trembling as your fingers curled around the edge of the counter. 

Before you could gather your thoughts, he lifted one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder, fingers digging into your skin. His lips brushed higher, dangerously close to your exposed cunt, and a soft, broken sound escaped you.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration shooting straight through you. 

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" His breath was hot against your thigh. "You always have so much to say. Don’t tell me you’re out of words already. I haven’t even started.”

"I was going to tell you how—oh, gosh, Aaron—"

Your words you had been trying to string together scattered completely, replaced by a shaky moan as his mouth pressed firmly against your clit. Your breathing stuttered, your chest rising and falling as waves of pleasure coursed through you, drowning out every thought but him.

His mouth was everywhere—warm, insistent, and impossibly skilled as his tongue traced over your clit with maddening precision. He worked like a man possessed, drawing sounds from you that you didn't even know you were capable of making. He was too good at this—too good at knowing exactly where and how to touch you, too good at making you fall apart with just his mouth.

Then he shifted, his hand gripping your other thigh as he lifted your second leg over his shoulder, leaving you completely at his mercy. The sound you made was somewhere between a gasp and a moan, your hands flying to his hair as your head tipped back.

Your back pressed against the edge of the counter awkwardly, a dull ache building in your lower spine, but it was nothing compared to the torrent of pleasure radiating through you. His tongue moved in devastating accuracy, his hands gripping your thighs like he was gluing you to himself. Your chest moved in shaky breaths, his name slipping from your lips in trembling cries that you couldn’t hold back.

"If I'd known this would be my reward," you gasped, tugging hard at his hair, your words faltering as your head tipped back. "I'd have emptied your whole wallet—oh, fuck—“

His lips closed firmly around your clit, pulling firmly in a way that destroyed your sentence completely. His hands tightened on your thighs, keeping you locked exactly where he wanted you.

"You must really mean it if you're cursing now." His tongue flicked over you again, making your back arch sharply. "Didn’t know you had that in you... let’s see what else I can get you to say, angel."

A warm flush spread up your neck and into your cheeks, heat rising faster than you could control. "I didn't mean to--"

You were cut off once again as his finger slid into your pussy. Any trace of embarrassment was gone, swept away by the overwhelming need pooling deep in your core, leaving nothing but raw desire in its place.

The pressure, coiling low in your stomach, was building so fast you could barely keep up with it. Every tell-tale sign was there—the trembling of your thighs, the way your chest shuddered in shallow breaths, and most incriminating of all, the words spilling from your lips before you could even think about them.

"I love you," you gasp, the desperation clear as ever. "I love you so much, I love you—Aaron, oh—"

He groaned against your clit, his tongue pressing hard as though your words were the fuel he needed to pull you apart completely. His finger curled again, hitting that spot that made you vision blur. His eyes flicked up, and you could tell he knew exactly what was happening. He always knew.

"I know, angel," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. "Now show me just how much."

Your orgasm hit you with staggering intensity, a wave of heat and pleasure crashing through you that left every inch of your body trembling. Your breath came in uneven, stuttering gasps as his name spilled from your lips, over and over, like a mantra you couldn’t stop repeating.

"That's my girl," Aaron murmured, his lips brushing against your sensitive skin as his finger worked you through the waves.

His lips pressed on last kiss to your thigh before he straightened, his hands immediately wrapping around your waist like he predicted you'd collapse without him. As soon as he lifted you, you clung to him like your life depended on it (and in that moment you were sure it did), your arms winding around his neck.

Everything felt distant, like you were floating somewhere above yourself. Your head rested limply on his shoulder, your lips brushing against the side of his neck. Your fingers curled weakly against the fabric of his shirt, and for a fleeting moment, you weren’t even sure your body had substance anymore—you felt soft, boneless, entirely his.

Aaron tapped the back of your thigh gently. "Come on, sweetheart, up."

You tried—really, you did—but your body wasn't cooperating. Your legs dangled uselessly, and you let out a soft, half-laugh, half-whisper. "Can't."

He huffed a quiet laugh. 

"Hopeless," he teased. He hoisted you up before you could process it, his shoulder pressing into your stomach as he flipped you over it. A surprised squeak escaped you, but his hand was already bracing your thigh as he started up the stairs. "I guess I'll just have to do all the work, as usual."

"You're so strong," you mumbled dreamily, your head lolling against his shoulder. "Like... disgustingly strong. It’s so hot."

Aaron laughed, his hand smacking your ass. "Keep talking like that, sweetheart and I'll start using you for my next workout routine. And I guarantee it'll be something you'll feel tomorrow."

"Mr. Hotchner!" you gasped, your voice half-indignant and half-giggling. "And you act like I’m the inappropriate one in this relationship!"

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head as he carried you into the bedroom. He lowered you down, tossing you onto the bed just hard enough to make you bounce lightly against the mattress. You let out a soft laugh, body sinking into the covers as you looked up at him. 

“The difference is, I have the good sense not to say things like that on speakerphone.”

You let out a small laugh, raising your eyebrows. “And you should have the good sense not to trust me on speakerphone. Really, Aaron, rookie move.”

He stood tall at the edge of the bed, his fingers slowly loosening the top button of his shirt as he tilted his head. "“That’s fine. We’ll call it even—after you make good on that promise."

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme @pansexualhailstorm @averyhotchner @looking1016 @everythinglizzy @sky2nd @alexxavicry @spencerssatchel @candyd1es @storiesofsvu @pleasantgardenwitch @kodzukenmaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spennciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @jstcln @just-here-to-read13 @c-losur3 @wondergal2001 @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @estragos @khxna @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll @justyourusualash @whimsicalpolitical @kcch-ns @cool-light32 @reidfile @sugarbutterbailey @ssamorganhotchner @moonyxstars @spookyysinsanity @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @imsonotweird @she-wont-miss @historicallyweirdandqueer @in-the-kosmos @p13rc3-th3-m4tt13 @babyhoneybyhs

join my taglist here!

[lyricwritesprose]

Actually, as someone who used to study anthropology (albeit a very long time ago), I think it is generally accepted by now that the ability to Carry Containers Of Stuff is generally agreed to be one of the real tool-using leaps in human development, perhaps as important as fire. I mean, you'll get the impression that people studying early humans are basically spearhead experts, but that's just because spearheads don't decay. (And because for a long time people assumed that hunting was The Most Important Thing, which has a fascinating intersection with implicit bias and sexism and stuff, and yes I am still bitter at things like 2001 for popularizing the idea that the most important part of human evolution was the ability to bash the shit out of a thing/animal/person, but that's a whole other story.)

Carrying stuff is huge.

If you can put meat in a bag, you can carry more meat. If you can put something like nuts in a bag, then nuts abruptly become a food that you can bring back to the tribe or save for later and not a food that you're required to eat on the spot because they are tiresome and stupid to carry by hand. In both cases your ability to feed yourself and your tribe just got a whole fuck of a lot better.

If you can put your baby in a bag, you now have both your hands free to stick a spear into things, pick nuts, fish, dig tasty cicadas out of the ground, etc. Your ability to feed yourself and your tribe just got a whole fuck of a lot better, and so did your ability to defend yourself while you do it. (And let's face it, your babies were already getting downright ridiculous in terms of the time it takes them to be fully walking-ready, due to brain size and being essentially premature; inventing Multitasking With Baby is like, pure survival at this point, and your way to do that is to create a specialized bag.)

If you can put water in a bag (first water containers very well may have been animal bladders or stomachs, not pots) you can bring water to your sick tribe members and they have a much higher chance of recovering.

And then you have elaborations of the basic "thing that contains objects" idea. If you make an exceptionally loosely woven bag and put it in the water, you can on occasion finesse some fish into it. And then you have delicious fish. If you put yourself in a loose and flexible bag of animal skin, your tribe can operate in the cold better, which changes your entire migration pattern and opens up new environments to you. If you make a hard container and fill it with water and put it over your fire, you have invented a new type of cooking that unlocks whole new food types, such as vegetables that need softening in order for humans to eat them. (Of course at the same time your stomach is becoming steadily more dependent on being able to fuck with your food in this way, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing, because the less energy you spend on digestion, the more energy you have to spend on other things, like brains. And big brains are good for unlocking whole new levels of communication, allowing for fantastic new levels of foraging cooperation, passing knowledge through generations, mate selection, and even various sorts of mental recreation where you imagine something that you don't see, and then convey that to your fellow beings.)

Bags are important, is what I'm saying.

First ape to go to the watering hole with a container and put some of the water in it so that they could drink more later without returning to the watering hole must have been lauded as a fucking genius.

[harrywavycurly]

The Almost Bumble Fumble: Roses and Petnames

Part 1: Here

CW: none

A/N: I’m so glad yall wanted more of this, I do enjoy these two they are fun so just let me know if you’d like to see more of them✨

Tag List: @georgiarose94 @maiajadestyles @fandomfreak404 @likea-silhouette @obsessiveenthusiast @thegr8estpuff @triski73 @amarenonamari @cloudyluun

Summary: You have a new Friday night routine and as fate would have it you also get a Saturday morning surprise✨

“Are these your only options?” You don’t mean for your voice to sound so teasing as you ask the simple question but Harry doesn’t seem bothered by it as he holds up two hangers that have his shirt options for his dinner later in the evening.

Now if anyone had asked what you do on your Friday nights after work you know they’d think you were a bit off your rocker if you explained how you spend most of your Friday evening cuddled in the corner of your couch with a bottle of wine while on FaceTime with Harry Styles. But it’s the truth and it’s been your Friday routine for about three weeks now ever since you scrolled upon his profile on a certain dating app. Friday nights being your chosen night to spend with each other through phone screens since that seems to be the day when both of you have the most down time. Minus tonight because Harry reluctantly agreed to going to dinner with a few friends but you still get a few hours of his time which he made sure to clear his schedule for. Something that of course you weren’t aware of, you just assume that he calls you at the usual time of five in the evening because he needed some advice on his outfit and didn’t feel like bothering anyone else.

“Uh well I could go back in the closet and pick something else but-you really don’t like the red?” He asks as he looks down at the silky red long sleeved shirt and then back to you with a quirked brow. You rub your lips together as you shake your head making him let out a huff.

“I’m sorry it’s just a lot of red very close to your face.”

“So if I changed my face it would be a winner then?”

“Harry honestly when is the last time you wore that much red?”

“I wear red all the time.” He argues as he tosses the hanger holding the red shirt onto his bed before holding the other shirt option up to his chest as he looks at himself in his mirror.

“No you wear red as an accent color like red with giant white hearts or a floral print on top of it not just solid red.” You explain as you reach over for your glass of wine that’s sitting on your coffee table. Harry rolls his eyes as he moves around his bedroom so he can grab the pants he plans on wearing.

“I just think the blue is boring.” He states as he holds up the pants and the shirt in front of his iPad that he has perched on top of his nightstand, opting for his iPad so he has a bigger screen to see you on but you did tease him about it when he first used it last week because it reminded you of you grandpa using his iPad to take photos during the holidays.

“Blue makes your eyes pop.” You tell him making a small smile appear on his face as he eyes the blue short sleeved shirt one more time. “Besides it has white and pink stripes on it so I’d hardly call it boring.” You add before taking a sip of your wine.

“I wear blue a lot though so shouldn’t-”

“I’ve never seen you in blue.” Harry makes a face that lets you know he isn’t sure if you’re joking or not. You let out a chuckle as you lean over to place your glass back on the coffee table.

“You saw me get tattooed on television wearing a blue and white shirt love.”

“Yeah but that wasn’t in the flesh like in person or even over a phone screen.”

“So if you don’t see it with your own eyes in person then it doesn’t count? Is that what I’m learning tonight?” Harry can’t help but laugh and shake his head when you nod in response, he doesn’t know why but it’s little conversations like this that have him feeling all warm and fuzzy inside and deep down he wonders if it’s because it just feels like a conversation between two people who like each other.

“Exactly now go put the whole outfit on and I’ll tell you if it’s acceptable or not.” You smile at the way Harry doesn’t even hesitate to walk off to his bathroom so he can change. “Oh and remind me again who all is going to be at this dinner?” You only raise your voice the slightest amount since you know he can hear you.

“A few people from the label as well as Jeff and I think Mitch and Sarah but I’m not completely sure if they’ll come or not.” He answers as he walks out of the bathroom messing with the buttons of his shirt. He stands a little bit away from the camera so you can get the full picture of his outfit. “So? What do we think?” He asks as he holds his arms out and does a slow spin making you laugh as you bring your phone closer to your face so you can see the details of his black trousers better.

“Is that a gold belt?” Harry looks down at the belt he picked and immediately starts to undo it so he can slide it off while shaking his head and giving you a shrug.

“Gold belt? No why-why would I pick a gold belt with cool toned colors? That’s absurd.” You just roll your eyes as he mindlessly tosses the belt towards his closet door and gives you a playful grin. “Obviously I’ll wear a silver one.”

“Do you need a belt or is it just an accessory?”

“Uh no I don’t-”

“I like it better without the belt.”

“You know it’s sort of odd I’m taking fashion advice from someone I’ve only ever seen in pajamas or workout clothes.” Harry watches your face as he teases you because neither of you can manage to go long without a playful jab at the other and you find it’s something you enjoy about talking to Harry, he doesn’t take himself too seriously.

“You’re literally the one who called me and asked for my opinion and besides you said my smiley face pajamas were cute.” You remind him as you stand up from your couch and head into the kitchen while Harry walks over to where he keeps his jewelry so he can begin to pick out his rings.

“They are very cute.” You smile when you look at your phone screen and see him concentrating on finding a certain ring, the statement about your pajamas being cute falling out of his mouth without even having to think about it. “What are your thoughts on pearls?”

“Oh I only have inappropriate thoughts about pearls. What about you?” Harry lifts his eyes away from his jewelry case so he can send you a playful glare while the corner of his mouth goes upward into a small smile.

“Are you drinking red wine?” You laugh as you place your phone on the counter making Harry get a decent view of your kitchen ceiling. “You get a bit cheeky on red wine.” He adds as he goes back to picking out a few rings.

“I think pearls would look nice.” You answer his original question, ignoring the one about what kind of wine you’re drinking.

“What are you doing? Why am I still looking at the light fixture above the sink?” Harry doesn’t mean to sound whiney but he also doesn’t have much time left before his driver will be arriving and he would much rather be looking at your face than your ceiling.

“I’m putting a pizza in the oven you’ll get my face back in a few minutes you drama queen.”

“What kind of pizza?” He feels as if he already knows the answer because wine and pizza seem to be your usual Friday evening routine and he’s only ever seen you make one type.

“I’ll give you three guesses and if you get it wrong then I’m hanging up and unmatching with you.” You threaten as you grab your phone allowing him to see your face again after what was really only a few minutes but to Harry felt like half an hour.

“Three cheese on one of those flatbread crusts?” Harry guesses and when he sees you smile he knows he’s right making him grin in return.

“Wow a man who pays attention. You’re a rare gem Harry Styles let me tell ya.” Harry laughs as he clasps his dainty pearl necklace closed, ignoring the way his cheeks feel a bit warm at your compliment.

“I like learning new things about you so of course I’m paying attention to you love.”

“Stop it.” You place a hand over your face as your cheeks turn a light shade of pink making Harry smile. “You aren’t allowed to say things like that to me Harry it’s rude.”

“Rude? It’s just the truth.”

“Because what am I supposed to say to that?”

“You don’t have to say anything.” He reassures as you finally lower your hand allowing him to see your face again. He gives you a soft smile as the two of you just stare at one another for a moment. Harry can practically see his words sinking in, him admitting that he likes learning things about you and he doesn’t really have time to get nervous that maybe he overshared or said something wrong as he watches as you slowly start to smile and look away from him.

The two of you have casually flirted with each other but it normally is in the middle of random conversations and most of the time it’s been over texts exchanged during the week, so hearing him make a comment like that to your face is something you aren’t quite used to. But you don’t hate how it makes you feel, all the butterflies it causes to erupt in your tummy and how pink your cheeks get. And you know it’s not because it’s Harry Styles saying it, it’s because someone you’ve found yourself developing a rather large crush on is saying it as his way of dropping little hints of how he’s feeling about you.

“I like the pearls.” You motion to your neck and Harry just smiles as he takes a small step backwards so he can show you his hands letting you see which rings he went with. “Oh no initials?”

“Eh everyone at this dinner knows my name so there’s no need for them.” You laugh as he shoots you a playful wink.

“That isn’t why you wear them Harry and you know it.” Harry just shrugs as you grab the phone and carry it with you as you head back into the living room to grab your wine glass.

“No I wear them because I’m a narcissist right? That’s what the rumor is?” He questions as he watches you take a sip of your wine that is in fact red making him smile to himself.

“I have no clue? Are there rumors about your rings?” You ask with a raised brow as you place your glass down on your counter before leaning your phone against your coffee maker so you can check on your pizza that’s in the oven.

“I don’t really know actually. I know people think I’m like a hand guy and-”

“Well yeah you’re totally a hand guy.”

“What? I am no-”

“You have a song about choking someone and you have that cross tattoo and all the rings.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m-I’m a hand guy? That just means I like rings and uhm the choking thing isn’t like-”

“Harry.” He stops his rambling and looks at you the moment his name slips out of your mouth making him let out a huff as you just stare at him with an oven mitt on one hand and the other resting on your hip. “We listen and we don’t judge okay? It’s fine. Besides you have nice hands.”

“Thank you.” Harry feels like his cheeks are going to be permanently flushed a light shade of pink with the amount of blushing you have him doing. You hear a light dinging sound come from your phone as you put your oven mitt on the counter.

“Was that you or me?” You ask as the corners of Harry’s mouth start to droop a bit.

“It was me. My driver is here.” You want to roll your eyes at how he lets out a sigh as if going to dinner with his friends and a few label people is the absolute worst thing he could be doing with his Friday night.

“Well have fun and I’ll talk to you later okay?” Harry just gives you a smile as he nods and runs a hand through his hair.

“Don’t worry I’ll be sure to fill you in on any hot gossip I hear.” You laugh as you grab your wine glass so you can take a sip. “Enjoy your pizza and your wine. I’ll talk to you later love.” You smile as he gives you a small wave that you return with your free hand and before he ends the call he quickly blows you a kiss that makes your face get hot just as the screen goes black.

What are you doing right now?

You smile as you read Harry’s text, having spent most of the morning chatting with him about how his dinner went last night you’re not shocked at his sudden subject change. You quickly type out a reply before grabbing your sunglasses and your water bottle and walking out your front door.

About to go on a little walk. What about you?

Harry chews on his bottom lip as he reads over your text, he doesn’t know why he feels a sense of nervousness begin to overtake him for simply wanting to hit the FaceTime button near your contact name in his phone. Now that he knows he wouldn’t really be interrupting anything serious, not that walks aren’t important because he knows you enjoy your “hot girl mental health walks” as you call them and go on a few a week but surely you could walk and talk to him at the same time.

“Oh just do it already Harry don’t be a ninny.” He mumbles to himself as he uses his thumb and presses the FaceTime icon.

“Well hello there.” You smile as you answer after just two rings. “Miss my face already huh?” Harry has to laugh to keep himself from just openly admitting that yes, he did miss you a bit because he didn’t get his usual amount of time with you last night due to his dinner plans.

“How’s the walk going? Are you doing your usual route of going around your neighborhood?” He asks as he notices some trees and bushes in the background as you continue walking down the street near your house.

“Sort of but I’m going left instead of right at the stop sign up ahead.” You inform him as you hold your phone up and flip the camera so Harry can see the stop sign just a few feet in front of you. “See where that leads me.”

“Sounds like an adventure.”

“What’s the pop star got on his agenda today? Anything fun?” Harry just shrugs as he sits down on his couch and runs a hand through his hair.

“No plans today actually.” He answers as you flip the camera back around so he can see your face. “I am feeling a bit restless though so I might go to the gym later-”

“The gym in your house or the gym you do your little boxing stuff at?” You ask before you take a quick sip of water while Harry silently deals with the fact you managed to remember him briefly telling you about his boxing class the other day that he takes at a gym not too far from his house. “What? You thought you were the only one who pays attention?” You joke as a grin takes over Harry’s face as he shakes his head and lets out a chuckle.

“No I just-I don’t know? It feels nice.” He clears his throat before he continues trying to explain how he’s feeling. “I don’t always feel like people are actually hearing what I’m saying. Sometimes I think people sort of get caught up in who I am so they kinda can’t focus on what I’m saying so it’s just a nice feeling to know you’re listening.” You can’t help but feel your heart drop the tiniest bit at Harry’s honesty, having no clue what it must feel like for him to not know if what he’s saying is even registering with whoever he’s talking with or if it’s just going in one ear and out the other because they let the fact he’s Harry Styles get in the way of really hearing him.

“Well you do talk a lot but don’t worry I’m always listening even if sometimes I look like I’m not.”

“Oh yeah? Like that time you were asleep? Were you listening then love?”

“I wasn’t asleep I was just resting my eyelids. Blinking all day is hard work.”

“Last time I checked sweetheart that’s just called sleeping.” He doesn’t mean to let the petname slip out but he also isn’t mad that it did because in his mind he’s been talking and getting to know you for three weeks now so calling you something other than love isn’t that bad, or at least he hopes you don’t take it badly.

“Okay and when was the last time you checked? Because I wasn’t asleep. I responded to your question and everything.” You can’t help the smile that takes over your face as you try to keep the conversation going without letting Harry know how his little petname has you feeling like you’re back in high school talking to a crush. But of course Harry notices right away how your cheeks get pink and your smile seems to stretch extra wide as you continue on your walk, finally reaching the stop sign and heading left.

The two of you continue talking as you enjoy your walk through a new part of your neighborhood. You notice once you’re about five minutes away from where you turned left that the houses in this part of the neighborhood are mostly gated and a bit on the bigger side than the ones in the part you live in. Harry is in the middle of telling you a story from his One Direction days when he notices you stopped walking.

“Everything okay?” His voice is only mildly filled with concern as he can clearly see you’re not hurt and for the most part he can see you’re still alone on the sidewalk you’re currently walking on.

“Oh yes sorry I just got distracted by these flowers.” You say with a laugh as you turn the camera around once again so Harry can see the flowers that had you stopping in your tracks.

Now Harry could argue that he’s quite used to being sort of caught off guard, having been stopped at random and sometimes inconvenient times by people asking for a photo or just wanting to say hi. But being actually shocked isn’t something he’s used to, so when you turn your camera around to show him some flowers he isn’t at all prepared to see his own flower bed appear on your screen. The reason he knows it’s his flower bed that he has right outside his front gate is because of the roses, something his mother planted there during one of her visits and he makes sure to take excellent care of them.

“Uhm those-those are very pretty.” He answers as he quickly gets up from his comfortable spot on the couch and heads for his kitchen where he keeps the tablet that shows the cameras he has around the outside of his house.

“Right? I love roses they are simple but so pretty.” You explain as you flip the camera back just as Harry is taking a little look at the camera he has on his front gate and sure enough on the screen he sees you standing there holding your phone up while slightly bent over so you can smell his roses.

“What color roses are your favorite? I quite like the classic red ones if I’m being honest.” He asks in an attempt to get you to stay where you’re at for as long as it takes him to find and put on his shoes.

“Oh the reds are lovely but the pink-” You stop talking when you hear a sound coming from behind you that sounds an awful lot like a door opening and then shutting.

“Pink huh? I don’t know why I had you pegged for yellow or maybe orange.” Harry watches your shoulders go tense as he stands behind you, right outside his gate. You look down at your phone and see Harry has turned his camera around so all you’re seeing is your back letting you know you’re in fact not dreaming and his voice is really coming from directly behind you.

“Oh my god.” You mumble as Harry ends the FaceTime call so he can slide his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. You slowly turn around and slide your sunglasses up so you can see him better. He gives you a smile and a small wave as you put your phone in the side pocket of your leggings.

“You’re real.” Harry laughs at your comment as you take a small step towards him as if you’re worried he might disappear if you get too close.

“I am.” He answers with a smile as he also takes a step towards you but unlike you he’s not worried about you disappearing he is more so worried you don’t think he’s actually standing here.

“It’s nice to finally meet-” Before he can finish his sentence you’re dropping your water bottle on the ground causing a metallic clanging sound to be heard as it lands, then you’re wrapping your arms around him in a hug that he immediately returns.

“You smell good.” Your voice is muffled a bit as your face is pressed against Harry’s chest but you know he heard you because you feel his chest vibrate as he lets out a low chuckle.

“Would you uhm mind some company on the rest of your walk?” He asks nervously once the two of you pull away. You give him a small nod before you turn to grab your water bottle off the ground.

“I’d love some.” Harry smiles as you slide your sunglasses back down and turn so you’re facing him. He takes a step towards his flower bed and you watch him bend down and reach out for one of the roses.

“Since you like them so much.” He explains as he stands up and hands you one of his roses, you let out a sigh as you take it from him with a smile.

“That was smooth Harry real smooth.”

“Yeah that’s probably the smoothest I’ve ever been.”

“So it’s all downhill from here then?” You tease as you bring the rose up to your nose and give it a sniff. Harry laughs as he takes a step to the side so he can stand next to you on the sidewalk.

“Exactly.” Is all he says as the two of you begin walking down the street, you keep the rose in your hand while Harry has to shove his in his pocket so he doesn’t try to reach over and grab yours.

“Looking forward to it.”

[nkplanet]

JUST A TOUCH

castiel x gn!reader cw all fluff with the tiniest smidge of angst, touch starved cas (he cries a lil but they’re happy tears)

notes just a short one bc i thought about cas earlier and started spontaneously weeping (also i wrote this on my phone so the formatting might be weird and it’s not proofread oops)

it wasn’t often that you and cas got time alone, especially not with sam and dean around. when you did spend time together, it was usually quality time - parallel play, some would call it. you’d sit together, each doing separate activities, or just talking. occasionally you’d lay together in bed, simply taking time to be. cas had never been a particularly touchy person (or rather, angel), and you were okay with that. you respected that.

when he came to you one day, asking for a hug, you were a little shocked to say the least. you gave him one, of course, but the way in which he’d approached you, the way he’d asked you - it was nothing like the cas you knew at all. beneath the rush of affection you felt, concern lingered.

he hugged you softly at first, then gripped you tighter. you reciprocated, your own grip practically squeezing the life out of him. it didn’t take long for you to grow more worried. he wasn’t letting go. in fact, he seemed to be holding on ever so slightly tighter, clearly wanting more while staying aware of his own strength.

“cas?” you asked, voice as soft as you could manage, “are you okay?”

he gripped you tighter, letting out a soft sniffle. worry shot through your chest and you pulled away slightly, cupping his face. there were tear stains on his cheeks, his eyes were wet, and his hair was messy. any other time you’d make a comment about how beautiful he looked, but now you were admittedly scared for him.

“cas,” you whispered, hands cupping his cheeks and fingers wiping at his tears, “what’s wrong?”

he took a deep breath. “i cannot explain it,” he said, clearing his throat, “i’m not sure myself.”

“that’s okay, we can sit for a while - give you time to think, if you want?” you responded, leading him to a nearby loveseat.

“when you hugged me, i felt an overwhelming sensation. i don’t know… i can’t figure out what it was, but i wasn’t sad. you - your hug - i think it made me so happy that i couldn’t help it,” he said, taking a while to carefully articulate his words. all the while you sat next to him - practically on his lap - with a gentle hand resting on his shoulder. though he couldn’t make eye contact with you, you looked at his face the entire time.

“aw, cas,” you cooed, a hand moving to cup his neck. “y’know you can ask for a hug anytime, right? you don’t have to wait until you need one.”

“i… am aware. i just didn’t think i would be this affected,” he said, a hand absentmindedly moving to your knee.

“everybody needs hugs sometimes. just because you’re this big, important angel doesn’t mean you’re an exception.”

he wrapped an arm carefully around your shoulders, pulling you in again. your arms wrapped around his waist while his free hand rested on the small of your back. he buried his face in your shoulder, breathing deeply.

“thank you,” he whispered, his voice muffled. “i will seek this out with you more often, love.”

you smiled softly, relishing in the warmth and comfort that radiated off him. perhaps you both needed this, despite neither wanting to admit to it.

“i’ll look forward to it.”

[oncasette]

𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗜'𝗟𝗟 𝗕𝗨𝗥𝗡

rafayel qi x fem!reader, boyfriend!xavier shen x fem!reader

summary: 1.0k

“You can have a couple weeks off,” he coughs out. His brows pinch together, a hand coming out to swipe through a dab of still wet paint. He wants to tear through the canvas. He wants to set it alight with his evol, coat it in a thick layer of everburning flame.

or the one where you finally have enough pto to take a holiday with your boyfriend, but that means also taking a holiday away from rafayel.

content: jealousy, unrequited love

masterlist | beat you to it masterlist

If Rafayel had it his way, you’d never leave his side. You’re already gone enough as it is with your regular hunter duties, why couldn’t you just spend the rest of your time here, with him, in his studio? He knows it’s a drastic measure, but it’s one he can’t help but fantasize about at times. Keeping you close to him, his heart. Still, he’d yet to formally declare his feelings for you, so he guesses he’ll have to settle with being your employer. For now. Even if he was already planning your wedding. 

“Rafayel?” he hears you say as you enter his studio, prompting him to nearly topple off the ladder he was perched on, but he manages to steady himself enough to stay atop it. He doesn’t know how you manage to startle him so thoroughly sometimes. His senses are already keenly aware of you, the fact that you’re able to sneak up on him at times is beyond him. 

“Hey, uh… you usually text when you’re stopping by. Not that I mind, of course,” he says awkwardly. He sets his brush down and climbs off the ladder to stand in front of you. 

“Oh, sorry. I was just already on my way home from work and… you know,” you say and Rafayel flounders for a recovery. To think that he made you feel unwelcome in his home? He could die.

“No! It’s not a problem, really. You know the door’s always open for you,” he says, resting a hand on your shoulder for a second in what he hopes reads as reassurance. 

“I actually did come over for something,” you say, moving to plop yourself down on his couch. He was glad you were so comfortable in his space, a space he’s so keen to share with you, and smiles softly as you kick off your shoes and tuck your feet up under you. Now, if he could just get you to wear something of his, the scene would be perfect. Maybe that button-down you’d complimented once…

“Raf?” you call.

“Yes, sorry,” he clears his throat and moves to sit beside you. “Anything you need.”

Rafayel lets a myriad of different scenarios run through his mind. Were you finally declaring your love for him? Were you telling him off, telling him you couldn’t be his bodyguard anymore? Were you moving out of Linkon–not that that one would matter, he’d follow you anywhere. Was your building being destroyed and you needed a new place to stay?

Did you remember him?

“My PTO request finally through and I’m taking a couple of weeks off work,” you tell him. His ears perk up. Were you inviting him on a vacation? “And I was hoping, as a token of my exemplary work as your bodyguard, that you would give me some time off too?”

His eyelids flutter a bit, confused. Time off? From him? You seem to notice his hesitance. 

“So…”

“Where are you going?” he asks softly. 

“My boyfriend, Xavier, is surprising me with a trip, actually,” you say and his fingertips ache at the way you seem to warm at the thought, your face ducking down to hide the way you fluster. “He won’t tell me where.”

“Your boyfriend?” he asks. It just barely crests his lips. It sits on the center of his tongue. He traps it there, tight. But, I love you… 

My beautiful, wondrous bride. I have loved you since the dawn of time, since the first drop of water formed the ocean. I have loved you for as long as I’ve known myself.

You don’t notice. Or, if you do, you don’t care to comment on it, on the longing in his eyes.

“Yeah, I haven’t told you about him? He’s my partner at work, too. I feel like I would have mentioned him before,” you say as if it doesn’t drive the knife that much deeper. 

He swallows, his throat dry. “And you wanted some time off from being my bodyguard?”

“Yeah, I mean, if that’s alright? You didn’t mention any events or anything coming up that you would need me for. I figured it would be a good time…” you trail off. 

Never. Never would it be a good time for you to leave him.

You start up again. “I mean if there’s something you really need a bodyguard for, I can see if Tara could step in in my place. She’s wonderful, really, I think you’d get along great.”

Rafayel waves you off. He stands quickly, his back facing you as he turns to the painting he’d been working on when you arrived. It all seems inconsequential now. The colors, the strokes, the artistry of it all. 

“You can have a couple weeks off,” he coughs out. His brows pinch together, a hand coming out to swipe through a dab of still wet paint. He wants to tear through the canvas. He wants to set it alight with his evol, coat it in a thick layer of everburning flame. 

“Really? Oh, Rafayel, you’re the best,” you cheer. He doesn’t turn, can’t bear to see the joy carved through your cheeks. He feels your presence behind him and his muscles tense. He hopes you don’t touch him, and he realizes it’s the first time he’s come up not willing to bear your touch. The brand of your skin against his. 

“You should go, then. I have a deadline,” he says coldly. 

“Oh.” And your looming touch retracts. “Right, I, uh… I’ll text you when I’m back in Linkon.”

Something in him braces as you walk out the door. The loss of your presence in the room feels like a rib has been yanked from his sternum. It’s so cold, so lonely, so quiet. The absense of your touch and your voice sits heavy over his head. Rafayel stares blankly out the window, watching as the waves crash against the shore, wondering what the point of it all was. After everything he’d lost, after all the times you’d forgotten and moved on without him, he still couldn’t get you in this life. His bride, held in the arms of another man. 

[covenofagatha]

The Mile High Club

Jennifer Barkley x reader

When flying back to Washington, DC with your boss, Jennifer Barkley, she comes up with an interesting way to relax when there's some turbulence

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: fingering, semi-public sex

“Ugh, why are there so many people here?” your boss, Jennifer Barkley, scoffs when the driver drops you off at the Indianapolis airport. 

After spending the last six weeks in Pawnee, Indiana on Bobby Newport’s campaign for city counsel, you and her are finally getting to go home back to Washington, DC. It’s been the first time in her career that she’s lost a campaign, but even she has to admit that Leslie Knope and Ben Wyatt did a really good job. 

It was the most engaged in a campaign you’ve ever seen Jen, the most challenged, and you’ve been working with her for about a year now. It was exciting to watch her strategize like this, hot even. You’ve always had a thing for powerful, older women, and that was the definition of Jen Barkley. She oozes confidence and she’s not afraid of how good at her job she is. 

The two of you have a pretty good relationship — you’re actually the longest assistant she’s ever had, so clearly you’re doing something right. The easy banter between you is one of your favorite parts of the job. 

You glance at her as you take her suitcase out of the trunk and then yours, putting them on the ground and groaning with the effort. She’s wearing a navy blue blazer over a striped pink and gray button-down, with a gray pencil skirt, her signature string of pearls around her neck. Her brown hair is perfectly fluffed and curly, with makeup accentuating her lips and eyes. She looks good. 

“Well, I offered for us to fly out of the Pawnee airport, but you said, and I quote, ‘I don’t trust Pawnee to have planes that aren’t just tiny steel death in the sky—’”

“‘— that will fall apart if you breathe too loudly,’” Jen finishes with a chuckle at her own joke at the small town’s expense. She’s been making a lot of them the entire trip. “Yeah, I remember. I just still can’t believe the private jet had routine maintenance scheduled for today and now we have to fly with them. God, if only Knope and Wyatt hadn’t insisted on that recount.” 

By “them,” you know she means normal people who don’t run congressional campaigns for some of the most powerful people in the country and don’t just have access to private transportation whenever they want it. 

And without the recount, Jen and you would’ve been done a few days earlier. You still remember her little meltdown where she collapsed on the table, whining about wanting to leave, and it brings a smile to your lips. 

You roll your eyes fondly and grab both of the handles of the suitcase. “Well, we’re still in first class, so you won’t have to sit with all the peasants,” you tease. 

Jen points at you and moves her finger back and forth for emphasis. “That…that was a good one,” she decides and you can’t help but feel warm with her approval. And then she swats at your hand that is holding onto her bag. “I can wheel my own suitcase, sweetheart.” 

You mutter a half-hearted apology and follow her through the doors of the airport and go to the counter to check your luggage. Jen starts digging through her purse and you raise an eyebrow and wait for her to ask you for something. 

It’s always fun to watch your boss go as long as she can without willingly asking for help, even if you have exactly what she needs. Her tenacity and stubbornness often go hand-in-hand. 

She huffs exasperatedly before looking up and giving you a prize-winning smile. “Honey, do you happen to know where I put my—”

You reach into your pocket and pull out her boarding pass, reaching it out with a smirk. 

“Thanks, doll,” she says and snatches it from you before examining it like you may have given her the wrong one. You always keep an extra copy of all her documents on you at all times, just in case situations like this ever arise. “God, I cannot wait to be home and not sleep in sheets that smell like mothballs.” 

Giggling despite yourself, you think back to the small motel rooms the two of you had to sleep in. “It wasn’t all bad. JJ’s Diner was pretty cute.” 

“Yeah, after I bought them that cappuccino maker,” she retorts. “Everyone there was a moron. Did you know one of them told me they voted for Leslie because I said she was a dog murderer? Another thought I was Bobby’s sister. As if he and I could possibly share any of the same genes. Did you see him try to sound out ‘Connecticut’?”

It makes you snort. People in Pawnee were surely not the brightest. 

“I almost pity Leslie,” she sighs as the two of you move up in line. “You could not pay me enough money to trade places with her. I love my life way too much.” 

You laugh. “That’s good to hear, because I need someone to boss me around.” It’s meant to be a light quip, but there’s no mistaking the innuendo and Jen smirks before looking you up and down. You’re wearing leggings and an oversized T-shirt — nothing special, especially compared to her. But you’d rather be comfortable for the flight, rather than look as professional as you usually do. 

“Don’t worry, hon. I’d bring you with me,” she reassures with a wink and your cheeks heat up, breath catching in your throat. She’s just being nice, you think. You are a good assistant. 

After you check your bags, you walk to the gate with Jen next to you, typing something one-handed on her phone and occasionally bumping into you. Boarding is in about thirty minutes, so you tell Jen you’re going to get something to eat. You end up choosing a soft-serve stand and get her a cup too. 

When you get back to her, she’s now reading a newspaper that she must have bought, and doesn’t look up at you until your arm starts to get tired holding out her ice cream. 

“Well, aren’t you sweet,” she purrs and takes it from you, ignoring the spoon and just licking a stripe straight through the swirl. Your eyes widen — you feel a tug in your stomach and you rush to sit down next to her and think about anything else. 

You busy yourself by scrolling on your phone until it’s time to board, and then you settle into your seat in first class next to Jen. You’ve only flown first class a few times, but you’re not sure you could ever go back to sitting in economy. Your seats are spacious and luxurious, with fancy screens in the backs of the chairs in front of you. There’s an armrest between you and your boss, with a piece that could slide up to separate you, but you make no moves toward it and neither does Jen. 

The flight attendant comes around and gets your drink orders, a coffee for Jen and a hot chocolate for you. She snorts when your drink comes back with a mound of whipped cream and you take a long sip, appreciatively humming when the warmth spreads through your body. 

“Oh, honey, you’ve got a little—” Jen says when you turn to look at her, and you scrunch your eyebrows before she cups your chin and swipes her thumb across your upper lip. 

You freeze and your heart rate spikes. 

When she pulls her hand back, there’s a smear of whipped cream on her thumb. She smirks before sucking it into her mouth, never breaking eye contact. You feel your body get warm and you shiver. 

“Are you cold?” she asks. Before you can tell her that you’re fine, she’s waved the flight attendant over and asked for a blanket. It’s touching to have this badass woman you’re always chasing after trying to take care of you. 

The stewardess brings a heated blanket over and Jen helps you tuck it around yourself despite you muttering that you’re really okay. 

And then the safety video plays on the screen and the plane takes off. You’ve never been great with flying and you try to distract your anxious mind with a movie. 

It works until the plane starts to shake. Your hands fly to the armrests and dig your fingers into them as if that will steady it. It doesn’t; if anything, it just gets worse and a small whimper escapes your lips. 

Jen, who is reading a different newspaper now, glances over at you and must see the panic evident on your face, because she lays a hand on top of yours. “Are you okay?” There’s an uncharacteristic gentleness to her voice and you wonder if she’s going soft from the exhaustion of having been in Pawnee for six weeks.  

“Yeah,” you say through clenched teeth. There’s another rough patch and the plane dips and you sharply inhale. You expect her to laugh, maybe make fun of you, but her eyes are understanding and she starts to stroke her fingers up and down your forearm. 

Is she trying to comfort you? You swallow roughly as her warmth seeps through your skin. “It’s okay,” she coos. “It’s going to be fine.” 

You nod and try to repeat the words to yourself until you believe them, but the plane shakes again and you shudder. “Oh, god,” you whisper, feeling a little sick. Jen is frowning next to you and closes the little cabin door on the aisle, essentially hiding the two of you from view of anyone else. 

“Just breathe. Try to relax, honey,” she says soothingly, and then apparently decides she’s being too nice, because she tosses her hair over her shoulder and huffs haughtily. “Don’t let a bit of wind scare you. There’s so many other things to be more afraid of. Like me, if you don’t relax.” 

It makes you smile a little and your muscles loosen ever so slightly. The turbulence stops and you’re able to breathe normally. 

Seemingly satisfied, Jen turns back to her newspaper and removes her hand off your arm. You miss her touch, but brush it off and start scrolling through the screen to find a movie to watch. 

The plane starts to shake violently and a terrified gasp slips out of your lips, hands scrambling for purchase and your legs tensing against the seat in front of you. This is it. 

You can practically hear Jen roll her eyes and she gives you a pointed look. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, breathing heavily. “How are you so calm?” 

Jen shrugs. “I’m exceptional,” she states matter-of-factly. Her fingers reach over to lay on your forearm again and you’re able to feel yourself relax. Just slightly, but she feels it too. “Is that helping?” she murmurs. 

“Yeah,” you rasp and she smirks. 

Her fingers trail up your arm and then back down, and slide into your lap and ghost over your thigh. All the air leaves your lungs. “Do you want some more help?” 

Surely she can’t be offering what you think she is. But there’s not a single hint of jest on her face with her eyebrow arched and her pupils blown out. “Jen—” you swallow, your mouth suddenly so dry. 

“You can say no,” she reminds you. She lifts her hand off the blanket and hovers over it, showing that she’ll accept whatever you say. 

But you couldn’t even dream of rejecting her. “Please,” you say, voice suddenly full of heat, and your boss looks absolutely overjoyed. 

She drags part of the bunched up blanket covering the lower half of your body over herself, so if anyone were to look over the top of the cabin when she sneaks a hand under the cover and rests it on your leg, they wouldn’t be able to see. 

The plane rocks and dips, but you couldn’t care less because Jen has just dipped into the waistband of your leggings, her cold hands making you hiss. 

“Why don’t you put on a movie?” she suggests, her hand moving lower and cupping you over your underwear. You can feel yourself starting to get wet and you nod, tapping on the screen and clicking on the first thing it opens to. The film starts, but Jen’s fingers have found your clit and you can think of very little else. 

She rubs around it for a bit, teasing and feeling the crotch of your panties grow wetter while you squirm and try to get more stimulation. 

“You got to stop being so obvious, honey,” she whispers, ducking her head down to scrape her teeth against the top of your ear before nibbling on your lobe. You can’t stop the small moan that escapes you and she presses down on your clit. “Do you want the flight attendants to come over and see what a slut you’re being?” 

Heat tears through your body and you clench around nothing. You’d like to point out that this was all her idea, but you don’t want to risk her pulling away to teach you a lesson for talking back, which is exactly what Jennifer Barkley would do. 

So you shake your head and try to act like you’re watching the movie, but your eyes keep straying down to the blanket. 

She tuts lowly in your ear before sliding your underwear to the side and you jump when her fingers trace through your folds. “God, you like this a lot, don’t you,” she observes, amusement leaking into her voice. You blush and nod, softly whimpering when she teases your clit without touching it. 

“Jen, please, I need you,” you whine, and she chuckles humorlessly before pushing a finger inside you. She’s met with absolutely no resistance, and your walls bear down around her immediately, drawing a small gasp from her mouth. You’re vaguely aware of the sound of the drink cart coming down the aisle. 

She doesn’t move at first, just enjoying the feeling of you being around her, and it isn’t until you choke out another plea that she starts to slowly withdraw and then thrust back in. 

The flight attendant comes into view over the cabin walls and by the looks of it, she’s about two rows ahead of you. Your head tilts toward Jen, who is already watching you, a wicked glint in her eye. Her thumb expertly rubs at your clit while her one finger fucks you at a leisurely pace. It’s not enough to get you there, but the possibility of being caught and the way Jen’s eyes are burning into your face, watching every little twitch, are helping build the tension in your stomach. 

The stewardess stops at the row in front of yours and if she looked to her right just a little, she would see your knuckles straining as your fingers grip the armrests to try and stop yourself from reacting. 

“Better behave, honey,” Jen whispers dangerously, tongue flicking out against your earlobe. It makes you shiver and clench around her finger. “Don’t want her to know how naughty you’re being right now.” 

She smirks at your muffled whimper and finally gives your clit the direct stimulation you’ve been looking for and you have to clamp a hand over your mouth to stop any other noises from crawling out. 

The flight attendant pushes the cart forward and pauses, looking at you and Jen over the cabin door with a warm smile. Jen pulls her finger out of you and you bite your lip at the sudden emptiness. 

“Hi ladies, can I get you anything else?” she asks, looking at Jen first. 

“Oh, I’m perfect, thank you,” Jen gushes, and then turns to you. You can feel both Jen and the flight attendant’s eyes on you. 

You nod in agreement and open your mouth to answer, but Jen chooses that exact moment to shove two fingers inside you, and you’ve never heard the sound that comes out of you before. You see her stifle a laugh in your peripheral vision and you plaster what you hope is a convincing smile onto your face, but probably looks more like a grimace. “I’m good,” you squeak. 

Jen’s fingers curl roughly and your hips jolt. 

The flight attendant looks like she wants to say something, but purses her lips tightly and moves on. The second she’s out of earshot, Jen laughs cruelly in your ear. “That was close, honey,” she mocks and scissors her fingers to stretch you out and you hiss. “Do you think she knows that you’re taking my fingers like such a good slut? That this was the only way I could get you to relax?” 

She presses her thumb against your clit and starts to thrust into you fast and you have to bite down on your hand to keep from crying out. The pleasure starts to spread from your pussy to your stomach to all over and you feel your orgasm building. 

“Jen, I — please, fuck,” you groan when she twists her fingers. Your hands are scrambling for purchase on the armrests, hips rolling as much as they can, and you can feel your head start to spin. 

“God, hon, your cunt feels so good around me,” she says conversationally and your head falls back against the seat, clenching violently. “So warm, so wet. Think I might have you ride my fingers while I have to sit in all those boring meetings.” 

Your whimper is one of a wounded animal and she grins, flashing her perfect teeth at you. It turns you on even more, how perfectly composed she is, while you’re a fucking mess in the chair next to her, a few miles above the ground, in a plane where you could get caught at any moment. 

“Please, I’m so close,” you beg quietly, one of your hands clasping onto hers over the blanket. You can feel her muscles move as she thrusts into you and you gasp, heat searing through you. 

Jen leans over and nudges your head to the side with her own before sucking on your neck. You keen softly and your chest rises and falls rapidly, your orgasm steadily approaching. 

You slouch down even further in your seat so that her fingers can reach deeper inside you and it makes your eyes roll back in your head. “So good,” you whisper and Jen huffs in agreement. 

Her thumb speeds up on your clit and her fingers hits the spot that makes sparks erupt in your cunt each time and you’re so fucking close —

“Cum for me, honey,” she rasps, and it’s strangely what makes you finally cum isn’t the way her fingers curl particularly deliciously when your hips meet her thrust perfectly, it’s not the way her thumb presses harder on your clit when she circles it again, it’s not the way her tongue draws a hot stripe up your throat — it’s the flustered, pink tint in her cheeks and her slightly uneven breathing and the way her eyes dart from yours down to your lips and then back up. 

It’s knowing that she’s affected by you falling apart for her: that's the final nail in the coffin, and your pussy walls spasm around her fingers, pleasure erupting through your trembling body while you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying out. 

She fucks you through your orgasm, whispering what a good girl you are, and you finally slump back into your chair, feeling ruined and much more relaxed. 

“Did that help?” Jen asks, wearing a playful smirk. 

You laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of her question. Of course it fucking helped. “Yeah, I’d say so.” And you’d like nothing more than to kiss the smug look right off her face. 

The pilot comes on the intercom and announces that you’ll soon be starting your departure into DC and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you,” you say, for getting you through your anxiety and fear about the turbulence, and for fucking you. Something you’ve been wanting since you started working for her. 

Jen knows exactly what you mean and she presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “Anytime.” 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly

[jonquilyst]

Day 0 - Introduction

🎵 Dear Mom and Dad, I’m doin’ fine. You guys are on my mind… ����

Welcome to the premiere of the 3rd season of Total Drama Sims: the hottest, freshest reality TV show on simblr! I’m your host jonquilyst, though I'm sure by now you already know that 😜

18 ambitious teenagers have gathered to put their wits, guts, and strength to the test to seek out the ✨ grand prize. ✨ Like the previous two seasons, they will compete in crazy challenges, deal with less-than-perfect living arrangements, and face the judgement of each other!

🎵 You asked me what I wanted to be, and I think the answer is plain to see… 🎵

🎵 I wanna live close to the sun. Pack your bags ‘cause I’ve already won… 🎵

Allow me to give you the grand tour of our portable "camp" for this season: an airplane that totally isn't run-down and hasn't been sitting unused in a hangar for years! We will be using this airplane in our journey across the sims world, and it will be here that our contestants will spend their time between challenges!

Because of our tight quarters, everyone will be sleeping and eating all in one place! No more team separation here! That also means we no longer have a designated place for confessionals; they'll be done in the bathrooms, just like the good ol' outhouse from season one!

However, we were able to designate a room for our elimination ceremonies, of course! The door you see here is where our losing contestants will take the drop-of-shame, out of the airplane and onto wherever we're flying over! (Don't worry, TDS will make sure they'll land safely and have accommodations... maybe...)

Now, here's the real kicker of this plane: first class.

I did say that everyone would be sleeping together, but that isn't technically true.

Unique to this season, the team that wins a challenge will win a reward along with invincibility. That reward is first class. Complete with quality beds and all the entertainment to satisfy even the most brainrotted teenager, first class is the place to be!

The beds in economy class? Let's just say we assembled the bedframes ourselves and got the bedding from a dump... 🤭 There's also no room for games and such, so all the fun stuff is in first class!

So! If contestants want nice beds and all the entertainment they want, they will need to work for it. All they need to do is be on the winning team.

🎵 Everything to prove nothing’s in my way. I’ll get there one day! 🎵

Now, allow me to formally introduce you to our 18 new contestants!

(from left to right; top to bottom)

ALANNA CASTILLO (she/her) by @lyratea - A writer who wants an unforgettable adventure

AVERY BENNETT (she/her) by @hellogreta - An athletic girl who wants a break from her chaotic family and home life

BRENDAN TOWNSEND (he/him) by @sanitysims - A skilled cook who is nervous to compete on the show

CARSON FOSTER (he/him) by @changingplumbob - A Llamacorn Scout that was convinced to sign up for the show by his new girlfriend

ELIO ALVORETTER (they/he) by @paracosmic-sims - A generous and outgoing person who is representing themselves and their partners in the competition

ESPRESSO BEAN (she/her) by @riverofjazzsims - The twin sister of Season 2 contestant Coffee Bean; competing to get the Total Drama experience for herself

ESTRELLO PYRE (he/him) by @invisiblequeen - A long-time fan of Total Drama Sims who wants to win the show with kindness and friendship

JOSUE SUAREZ (he/him) by @simsinfinitylt - An outdoorsy guy who was unexpectedly signed up for the show by his abuela

LUCIAN BRIGHT (he/him) by @simstagramsomeone - A gaming streamer who is competing on the show to promote viewership on his channel

MAEVE BARGEN (she/her) by @aniraklova - A mischievous party girl who wants to build relationships with others, both friendships and rivalries

MARILYN MOORE (she/her) by @aliengirl - A spoiled popular girl who signed up for the show because she thought it was acting-related

MATTEO PERALTA (he/him) by @matchalovertrait - A musician who wants to make some new friends and get exposure for his band

MINATO MATSUDA (he/him) by @ravingsockmonkey - A loyal party guy who wants to meet new people

NITE CROWE (she/her) by @kissalopa - A nature and animal-loving half-alien who wants to test herself and try new things

RAYLAN K. RODRIGUEZ (he/him) by @bloomingkyras - A highly competitive boy who likes challenging himself; was inspired to sign up for the show by Season 2 winner Liana Morris

TOMIKO MORIYAMA (she/they) by @kari-sims - A staunch bug-lover who wants to travel the world; signed up for the show without her parent's permission

TOUMA REID BEASLEY (he/him) by @nakasumi-sims - A bubbly shrine caretaker who has an array of survival and outdoorsy skills

ZIGGY SKINT (he/him) by @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants - An outdoorsy boy who is relatively shy but has a strong moral compass

🎵 I WANNA BE, I WANNA BE, I WANNA BE FAMOUS! 🎵

So... We're Waiting on Teams Again?

Yep! Like last season, our contestants will remain teamless until the first challenge, but the unique part about this season is that the first challenge itself will be determining which teams contestants are placed on. And remember, there will be 3 TEAMS this season!

[starredblood]

NOWHERE GIRL

PART EIGHT

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: you’ve gone off the grid. however, your short lived presence finds a way to haunt sae-byeok.

wc. 2.1k

warnings: none

(nowhere girl masterlist)

“Don’t worry, Miss Kang! I will keep you updated the second we hear from your mother’s whereabouts. Of course, it just takes some time so please be patient!”

Sae-byeok’s about had it with this North Korean agent. His blind optimism makes her jaw clench. This is not a fairytale where Sae-byeok will spontaneously stumble across hoards of wealth—it’ll take mental and physical sacrifices to get her mother to South Korea. And this agent has the audacity to sip his cup of coffee comfortably lying to her. Just like that too tight suit is lying to him.

Before he tosses her more vexing lies, she rises up from the couch and walks off the tiny worn down agency.

It’s the start of rush hour when she gets back on the streets. Sae-byeok purposefully walks on the busier end of the sidewalk to hit shoulder blades with passerby’s who all seem to be in a hurry. It’s a free for all to pickpocket and Sae-byeok is desperate. Whatever valuables she takes from these strangers could mean seeing her mother sooner. By the time the waves of people start dwindling, her shoulders are sore and her pockets full to the brim with whatever knickknacks she stole.

When she reaches Cheol’s school, her heart swells in content when she notices he was giggling and chatting with another peer. Sae-byeok knows she’s long gone, she could never bounce back to fit in with society now. But Cheol has a chance to do everything she couldn’t and that might be enough.

“Noona!” her brother squeals. He waves his friend goodbye and sprints to her. “I thought you said you couldn’t pick me up today!”

“I got off work extra early today.” she explains and grabs Cheol’s school bag to sling it over her shoulders. “Is that your first ever friend I saw you speaking with?”

Cheol rolls his eyes, his cheeks dusting pink.

“I’m only teasing, Cheol.” she laughs, nudging him playfully. “I’m glad you’re making new friends.”

Cheol huffs and cross his arms, sulking. “He’s my second friend actually.” he states matter-of-factly.

“Oh? Who is the first? Me?”

“As if! You’re my sister!” he says then scratches the back of his head. “But I kind of forgot the first friend’s name. She is the artist noona.”

“You mean, Ji-yeong’s friend?”

Cheol nods. “Yeah, she said we were friends—so, hah!”

“Alright, you got me.” Sae-byeok says, she clears her throat trying to find a different topic to talk about with Cheol on their journey home.

Luckily, Cheol was the one who did that for her and started talking about his first ever project for science class. As long as he kept chatting he wouldn’t hear the clanking noises going on in her pockets.

✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

Sae-byeok plops on the couch beside Ji-yeong who was currently engrossed in filing her nails. The tall girl peers over her shoulders to make sure Cheol entered the room before emptying out her pockets and stuffing whatever dollar bill, piece of jewelry, or wallet she managed to pickpocket, underneath the couch cushions. She could see Ji-yeong from the corner of her eyes observe her amusingly, she lets out a little sigh, then goes back to grooming her nails.

Sae-byeok slips off her jacket and tosses it to the side. Now, she’s really comfortable and ready to nap the rest of the evening. But it isn’t an easy task when her mind is buzzing with activity.

Eye bags were a normal trait in Sae-byeok’s face, she always remembered having prominent eye bags but lately they’ve become more darker and even more prominent. At night, while Cheol is sleeping merrily beside her, she tends to spend her nights staring at the ceiling with her concerns. But it has gotten worse these past few weeks.

“You look like hell.” Ji-yeong chirps, her eyes however now staring at the small television screen propped up by a plastic kids table. Sae-byeok turns to scowl at her. “It’s obvious something is going on, Sae-byeok might as well spill it now that we are finally in the same room for once.”

Talking about her concerns is the last thing she wants to do. “I’m just having trouble sleeping.”

Ji-yeong scoffs but a smile crept her lips. “Yeah, because you’re obviously stressed out something duh.”

Sae-byeok can’t tell Ji-yeong that Jang Deok-su, his good-for-nothing son, and his gang could possibly be on the lookout for her. And if they are, then Ji-yeong and Cheol are their number one targets too.

And Sae-byeok swore to her that she had put it all behind her. So, she sacrifices her sleep to hear every movement in her apartment just in case Deok-su and his gang do find them. And she’ll be prepared.

Ji-yeong snaps her fingers in her face, breaking her from this overthinking trance. “Fine. If you don’t wanna tell me at least get some eye cream for those dark circles.” The shorter girl lays back down on the couch. “So, I’ve been thinking.”

“About?”

“Visiting my dad. In prison.” she says and no words are exchanged briefly.

Sae-byeok’s eyebrows furrow. “Why?”

“I don’t know—closure I guess?” Ji-yeong fiddles with the hem of her shirt. “It’s a shitty idea, isn’t it?”

“Not if it’s for closure. But do you think he’ll give it?”

“Who knows. I want him to look guilty when he sees me and to fucking beg for my apology and explain himself but—“ she pauses after croaking. “but—but…it won’t change anything. Right?”

Sae-byeok was so lost in her own worries she forgot Ji-yeong was battling her own struggles too. Now she feels like an asshole. She wonders how long these thoughts were looming in her head before she finally decided to speak them out loud.

“It won’t.” Sae-byeok tells her. “But if you keep thinking about seeing him then maybe you should. You might not get closure but at least you can finally move forward and he’ll remain stuck in prison. I think that’s satisfaction enough.”

Ji-yeong’s eyes grow wide. She clearly wasn’t expecting Sae-byeok to answer in such a thoughtful manner. “Hey, since when did you become, Yoda?”

Her face contorts in confusion. “Yoda?”

“Yeah, you know that little wise green goblin from Star Wars.” she explains. Sae-byeok still doesn’t seem to understand her reference. “Oh right, you couldn’t watch that growing up. Sorry.”

She rolls her eyes and slides off the couch.

“No, I’m sorry come back, Sae-byeok!” Ji-yeong calls out to her, pouting. “I take it back! Come on we are having such an insightful chat!”

“I’m going to take a nap in my room.” Sae-byeok announced followed by a long yawn as she makes her way over to her room.

Cheol is sprawled on the floor, still wearing his school uniform and coloring in his notebook. Right as Sae-byeok was about to throw herself on their shared bed, she spots a familiar folded piece of paper by the foot of the bed. She bends to pick it up and unfolds it when she lays down on the mattress.

She stares at the sketch you drew of her for who knows how long. Absorbing every detail, every pen scratch, every strand of hair you drew astray on her head. She didn’t notice it when you first gave it to her, but your name is signed at the bottom corner of the paper.

It’s been two weeks since Sae-byeok has seen you.

Although you’re now the bakery’s new upstairs neighbor, Ji-yeong mentioned to Sae-byeok out of the blue a few days ago that you’ve consumed every single minute of every day into school and work. Since you’ve gone AWOL from the rest of the world, one can assume that you didn’t let the disparity of that rainy Thursday afternoon ruin your entire semester.

It really bothers Sae-byeok how you still linger in their lives, even in the of smallest ways, when you aren’t physically around.

But it’s her fault. She did risk exposing herself to Jang Yen-ho to save you from his wrath now she has to pay the consequences. It irks her that you just disappeared though—leaving her to deal with this mess when she went out her way to help clean up yours. That’s something she normally will never do for anyone. But she did it for you and she will never make that mistake again.

✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

The next day Sae-byeok notices something odd.

It wasn’t normal to see a bouquet of wildflowers by the cash register. But Sae-byeok didn’t ask any questions, she just wanted to get this shift over with in time so she can book it to Cheol’s school. She might be paranoid, maybe Deok-su isn’t looking for her. But what if he is and his plan is to kidnap Cheol to get back at her? The thought makes her want to throw up.

“Ugh!” Yong-sun gags at the sight of the bouquets. He goes to cover his nose with the inside of his shirt. “Sae-byeok, I swear if you put these here—I’m fucking allergic to pollen.”

“I didn’t, you prick.” she scowls. “But now that I know, I’m possibly tempted to contact my florist.”

He points a menacing finger at her only for it to be swatted off by Miss Ahn.

“You are supposed to be working in the kitchen and the kitchen only!” Miss Ahn scolds her grandson.

“But—“

“That’s what you get for trying to scare away my customers with your nasty flirtations. Now go away!”

Sae-byeok flips him off while Miss Ahn wasn’t looking. He does it back before entering the kitchen.

“Oh, how beautiful.” the elder lady ogles at the bouquet.

She grabs it and takes a large whiff, savoring the floral scent and offers Sae-byeok to smell them but she quietly declines.

“That child. I swear.” she tuts. “I told her the other day about how my late husband would always assemble bouquets for me and here she goes leaving me a bouquet! Next time I see her I’m going to offer her a meal…You know, I’ve been too hard on that child ever since she moved in because she reminds me so much of myself. Young and impulsive but her heart must be in the right place to do this—just like yours.”

Miss Ahn pats Sae-byeok’s cheeks and goes off about how she needs to look for her vase somewhere in the kitchen. She could hear Yong-sun screech, telling his grandma to keep the flowers away from him. But this commotion is drowned out by the thought of the girl Miss Ahn is talking about potentially being you. Sae-byeok knows Yong-sun is her only grandchild and since you live right upstairs all clues point to it being you.

Sae-byeok is here almost everyday how coincidental is it for you to show face when she isn’t present? It’s so obvious now. You’re avoiding her.

She fights the urge to march up to your door and demand answers but she swore to herself not to repeat history.

For the rest of her shift, she keeps herself busy by wiping down the counter, organize the pantry, and ice some cupcakes to keep her mind at bay.

By the time she had thirty minutes left, she stayed by the register. Her chin resting on her hands that were propped on top of the counter. She was fighting sleep, slowly closing and opening her eyes. The lack of activity today at the bakery didn’t help her drowsiness. At some point she shut her eyes and kept them closed longer than usual, accidentally bringing herself to sleep.

You entered the bakery and the first thing you see is the taller girl sleeping on the job. The little ring at the door didn’t phase Sae-byeok. You freeze up when you spotted her and wonder if it’s a good idea or not to approach her after two weeks of no contact.

The closer you got, the more you saw how weary she looked. Her usual freckled cheeks lack color, her eye bags became more sunken and dark, and her eyebrows remained furrowed even during slumber.

You start to clutch tighter onto the bouquet you were holding without realizing because the guilt of seeing her like this was almost unbearable to watch. Maybe if you didn’t disappear you could’ve helped her like she helped you. There is a moment where your legs took a a few step back to walk away. You only have a few seconds to decide to stay or leave before Sae-byeok inevitably wakes up.

🏷️: @monroesturnns @knfthxv @jumpedthenfell-13 @peelover25 @karli6 @kissedberries @bitchybananaflower @laurenkenss @saebyeokbliss

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Misunderstood

It started small. Marshall wasn’t the most openly emotional guy, but you always knew when he was present—when he was *there* with you. He had his way of making you feel like the only person in the world, even in his quiet moments.

But recently, that connection felt like it had been fraying. He’d been coming home later, spending more time in his home studio, and his usual warmth had been replaced by something distant. When he did talk to you, his responses were clipped, like he was only half-listening.

You tried to push through it at first, chalking it up to stress. He was always juggling a million things at once—his music, his kids, his public image. But when he started leaving the room to take phone calls or spacing out during dinner, a nagging thought crept into your mind.

What if he was pulling away because there was someone else?

It wasn’t like him, but you’d seen it happen to other people. Relationships falling apart quietly, slowly, until one day you wake up and realize you don’t know the person lying next to you. The fear of that happening to you and Marshall clawed at your chest, and the frustration of not knowing how to fix it bubbled over.

---

It was late, and you were already in bed, staring at the ceiling. Marshall had just gotten home after another long day. He sat on the edge of the mattress, scrolling through his phone, completely silent.

“Marshall,” you said, your voice sharp in the quiet room.

He didn’t look up. “Yeah?”

You sat up, your arms crossed. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, finally glancing over his shoulder.

“You’ve been acting weird for weeks. Distant. Distracted. You barely talk to me anymore, and I feel like I’m invisible.”

He sighed, setting his phone down on the nightstand. “I’ve just been busy. That’s all.”

“Busy?” you repeated, incredulous. “You’re not just busy, Marshall. You’ve been completely checked out. What is it? What’s going on?”

“I told you—it’s nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me!” you snapped, your voice rising. “Is there someone else? Are you cheating on me?”

His head snapped toward you, his eyes narrowing. “Are you serious right now?”

“What else am I supposed to think?” you shot back, throwing your hands up. “You’ve been shutting me out completely, and I don’t understand why. If there’s something you’re not telling me, just say it!”

Marshall stood, pacing the room, his jaw tight. “You think I’d cheat on you? After everything we’ve been through?”

“I don’t know what to think!” you yelled, your voice breaking. “I don’t know anything anymore because you won’t talk to me!”

Marshall stopped pacing, running a hand over his face. He looked… tired. Defeated.

“It’s not what you think,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “I’m not cheating on you.”

“Then what is it?” you asked, your tone softer now.

He sat back down on the bed, his shoulders slumping. “I have to go to L.A. for a few weeks. The label booked studio time, and I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you without it turning into a fight. I know it’s part of the job, but it’s killing me, okay?”

You blinked, confused. “Why would it be killing you?”

“Because I hate being away from you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Every time I leave, it feels like I’m leaving part of myself behind. And this time, it’s worse. I don’t know why. I’ve been trying to deal with it on my own, but it’s messing with my head.”

The weight of his words hit you like a freight train. All your anger, all your suspicions melted away, replaced by a pang of guilt so sharp it made your chest ache.

“Marshall,” you whispered, reaching out to touch his hand.

He shook his head, his blue eyes clouded with emotion. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t care. I didn’t mean to shut you out. I just didn’t know how to talk about it without making you upset.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you scooted closer to him. “I thought… I thought I was losing you. I’m so sorry. I should’ve asked you about it sooner instead of jumping to conclusions.”

“No,” he said, his voice firm. “You shouldn’t have had to guess what was going on. That’s on me. I should’ve talked to you.”

You sat there in silence for a moment, his words settling between you. Then you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against your hair, his voice breaking.

“Me too,” you whispered, holding onto him like you never wanted to let go.

**Rebuilding**

That night, the two of you stayed up talking. You told him how his behavior had made you feel, and he told you about the pressure he’d been under, the way the thought of leaving had been eating at him.

It wasn’t easy, but by the time the sun started to rise, you felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted off your chest.

When the day came for Marshall to leave, you were still sad to see him go. But this time, there was no tension, no distance between you. Just love and the promise of his return.

As he kissed you goodbye, his hands lingering on your face, he said, “I’ll call you every day. I’ll be back before you know it.”

And for the first time in weeks, you believed him.

**The Return**

Three weeks had never felt so long.

Marshall had called you every day like he promised—sometimes more than once. He sent pictures of the studio, snippets of songs he was working on, and messages that made you laugh. He was doing his best to close the distance between you, but it wasn’t the same.

The house felt emptier without him. You missed the sound of his laugh, the warmth of his arms around you, the way he’d sneak up behind you in the kitchen just to kiss your neck. You tried to stay busy, but it was impossible not to count the days until he came back.

Finally, the day arrived.

You were in the kitchen, cleaning up after breakfast, when you heard the front door open. Your heart leapt as you rushed into the hallway, wiping your hands on a dish towel.

And there he was.

Marshall stood in the doorway, his bag slung over one shoulder and his baseball cap pulled low over his face. He looked tired, but the second he saw you, his entire expression softened.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quiet.

You didn’t say anything. You just ran to him, throwing your arms around his neck. He let out a soft laugh as he dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I missed you more,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands cupping his face. “You look exhausted.”

He shrugged, giving you a small smile. “Long flight. But I’m good now.”

“Are you hungry? I can make you something—”

He cut you off with a kiss, his lips pressing against yours with an urgency that made your knees weak. When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours.

“All I need right now is you,” he said softly.

**The Rest of the Day**

You spent the day curled up on the couch together, talking, laughing, and just enjoying each other’s presence. Marshall told you about the recording process, the late nights in the studio, and how he’d stayed up some nights just staring at his phone, wanting to hear your voice.

“You know, it’s not the same,” he said, running his fingers through your hair as your head rested on his chest.

“What’s not?” you asked, tilting your head to look at him.

“Talking on the phone. It helps, but it’s not the same as being here with you. I hate being away from you. Every time I leave, it feels like part of me is missing.”

You reached up to touch his face, your thumb brushing over the stubble on his jaw. “You don’t have to explain, Marshall. I get it. I felt the same way.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment. “I promise, I’m going to try to balance things better. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pulling away again. Ever.”

You smiled, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I know. And I’ll try not to jump to conclusions next time. We’re in this together, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, his lips curving into a smile against yours.

**That Night**

As the day turned to evening, you found yourself in bed together, tangled up in each other like you couldn’t get close enough. He held you like he was afraid you might disappear, his hands tracing gentle patterns on your skin.

“I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t important to me,” he said suddenly, his voice low. “You’re the most important thing in my life. You know that, right?”

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you nodded, your fingers threading through his. “I know. And I feel the same way about you.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “Good. Because I don’t ever want you to doubt that. No matter where I am, you’re always on my mind. Always.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for the man beside you. As you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you felt more connected to him than ever before, knowing that no matter how far apart you might be, you’d always find your way back to each other.

[asheepinfrance]

chat am i cooking (this fic is ass) am i cooking chat. chat is a little rat tugging at the roots of my hair and making me concoct a delightful little dish. just enough salt, too. wow, this rat's good.

Sometime around May of last year, as you recall, was when the little notes started coming in. Folded, hand-written notes in something halfway to cursive. You’d sit there, wracking your brain for any recognition, anyone who writes with a muted flick of the wrist, but nothing came. They were in jacket pockets on rare occasion, slipped through the crack under your door even rarer. Primarily, they appeared at seats you frequented. First row, third seat on the left of your English lecture. Closest table to the back in the library. The ugly, lime green couch in the common room that’s been essentially assigned to you and your friend group. They were sweet, innocent, a bit too romantic for coming from a stranger. Cheesy, in less polite terms. It didn’t mean you didn’t like them, though.

Eventually, with the notes came a boy. A boy who supposedly had “no idea, sorry” where these notes were coming from. You knew better. He knew you knew better. You watched him, wide-eyed and hopeful for something you couldn’t quite place, as he began frequenting your space. Inserting himself into the bubble of your friends. He wrote with a muted flick of his wrist.

Since those little library meetings with Art, the relationship had gone from ‘yearning glances across cheaply made tables’ to ‘actual, official dating’, and you can’t quite place a time you’d been more happy. Happy in a way you hadn’t really been since childhood. He brought it out of you. It was around this time, too, that you began being integrated into his life, the way he was yours. It’s around this time the name Patrick Zweig went from a name mentioned in passing to a figure you could vividly picture. It’s about then that his name began to matter to you. 

You’d realized almost immediately, when you finally got to meet him. Art was, by nature, a man of flowery language and starry-eyed adoration. He showed that to you before he’d even spoken to you (though he claims you had lent him a pencil once. You can never seem to remember this). You’d assumed that this best friend of his received similar treatment in conversations with you because he was just that, a best friend. Best buds since 12 sharing beds, sharing secrets, sharing smuggled, cheap alcohol stored under piles of old t-shirts. “He’s really just the greatest guy, babe. Trust me on this one, you’ll adore him the way I do… don’t tell him I said ‘adore’. He hates that fancy, poetic shit.”

Art hadn’t been wrong, you really do like Patrick a lot. Art just likes Patrick too much. Patrick likes Art just the same. The question of if one, or either, of them knows this is one you can’t quite answer based on pure observation. You spend so many dinner dates, with Patrick as the self-proclaimed ‘greatest third wheel’, feeling like you’d walked in on two reuniting lovers. You essentially had. Your lover’s lover. Great.

It’s not that you minded it, really, because this man still fell asleep curled into your chest like he was seeking the warmth of your literal soul. What you did mind was how obvious it was to everyone but them. You’d seen it the second Patrick walked in, long, confident stride and a smirk to match, and wrapped your boyfriend up in his arms like they’d been separated at war. Art had pulled back and just watched Patrick’s face for a moment, and Patrick watched right back. They breathed in tandem, the way only two people so deeply connected could. Their hands lingered beyond just friendly pats on the back, their knees would brush and neither seemed put off, they insisted Pat come to your dorm one night when your roommate was out. The three of you had whispered into the dark, night-time air, breaths mingling into one collective energy. You knew you had it in you to adore Patrick, too. When you all fell asleep that night, all just a little too close to the wrong person to be close to, you think he’d found it in himself to feel the same way.

The trouble of it all was denial. Denial is an evil trick to play on yourself. It’s a pathetically hurtful weapon made of incompetence to wield against others. You’d have to be gentle. Coax it out of Art with touches to his hair, fluttering eyelashes against his cheeks, speak soft, honeyed whispers of praise. Art would take, and Patrick would follow. It’s the first time Art would ever find his actions not guided by Patrick’s. What particular touch had done it, you’re not sure, but it happened. The words ‘I love you’ had tumbled out and branched into two directions. Two splitting paths. A ball rolled into two courts. It was yours to continue accepting, it was Patrick’s to welcome in for the first time. The room echoed with heavy breaths, thumping hearts contained in the chests of three people desperate to be seen for what they are. What they are was hungry.

Art was right, Patrick did, in fact, hate poetic confessions. He opted for a kiss instead. One to Art that was so painfully tender, and it only partly surprised you when he gave one to you afterwards. Hands on hips, hands on cheeks, hands tangled in thick, curling hair, and you’ve got no idea where yours are and whose are on you. You’re trading kisses like stories around a campfire, back and forth, person to person, willing to divide and conquer. 

It made you smile, over the next few days, to see things change. To see Patrick begin making his way in, as well. Three heads on a pillow, not two. An extra set of shoes, expensive though tattered, sitting at your doorway. It made you happier to see that twinkle in their eyes when they look at each not be pushed aside, explained away as if loving the closest thing to yourself was something to be ashamed of. They welcomed it. They kissed it good morning when the sun shone in through the windows. They kissed their love for you good morning just the same, with soft inhales and shaky sighs of an exhale. 

When Patrick’s break had ended, back to tour, and he stood in the doorway of your room with a bag slung over his shoulder and a weary smile on, you and Art had both cried. You’d cried like two people losing a piece of themselves that they hadn’t been aware they’d possessed. He’d stayed calm, called you both losers, and left with a hug and a kiss that were too sweet to show apathy. He’d bawled like an infant the moment he was out of earshot. The greatest thing, though, was that group chats existed, and one was promptly made. You now had two little icons in your phone with a boat-load of hearts next to their names. You had two boys who dedicated wins to you, and one had those wins televised. You had two pairs of hands, holding each other, holding you, and you’d hold them in return.

[eggcompany]

Divorced Zaundads AU

Except they get back together after years of being apart.

Silco grew his business, renting a big empty apartment that didn’t smell like their old apartment above the bar. He mostly just sat on his little balcony and smoked cigarettes. He spent all his time alone, doing yoga in his living room and eating salad. Food didnt taste good when he made it. Nothing felt good if he was doing it by himself.

Vander raised little Violet and baby Powder. He tried his best but he felt kinda… empty. He was stressed and did his best working the bar and taking the kids to school and trying to keep the apartment clean. He sometimes still grabbed four plates for dinner.

Everything falls into place one day, after three years. Silco’s in a bad place. He’d been drinking and yelling at employees and just spending every minute out of the office sitting in the dark of his apartment. Vander was burnt out, going through the motions. He just wanted to sleep all the time.

Silco decided he’d go to the place him and Vander used to go to. The bridge. He threw on his coat, wearing his slippers and wrinkled silk pajamas, and went out to smoke a cigar and over look the river.

Vander decided he needed to go on a walk, get some fresh air. Benzo had agreed to babysit AKA sleep in the recliner in the apartment living room just in case one of the girls woke up. He ended up at the river, the bridge, the one where he asked Silco to spend their lives together.

Silco didn’t notice him until Vander was leaning against the guardrail next to him. He could’ve cried. He was warm and the smell of him was so bone deep familiar. Silco didn’t mean to let the sob out.

“I missed you. I miss you so fucking much it’s killing me.” Silco said as Vander pulled him into a hug, so close, so tight. Vander held onto him like he’d never let go, nosing at his dark hair.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just- I need you.” Vander said and Silco nodded, hands twisting in Vander’s jacket.

Silco was being pushed away, his hands coming up to wipe away his tears before Vander was leaning down to press a kiss onto his lips. Neither of them knew who started it but soon they were making their way to the closest motel.

It was a blur of familiar hands, clothes hitting the floor, whispered ‘I love you’s, and what they both needed. The intimacy of being with someone who knows every inch, every good spot, everything.

Vander kissed across the scar on Silco’s face, the mark he’d caused, even as Silco cried, the feeling of being full, for the first time in so long, he could feel Vander’s heartbeat, his sorrow.

“I wanna go home.” Silco said as they laid together in the motel bed, cuddled close, satisfied and happy.

“I what you home. It’s where you belong.” Vander said and pulled Silco impossibly closer.

When the morning rolled around Silco put his pajamas back on and his coat, a giddy, teenage kinda laughter filled them as they put their clothes on and left the motel. It was a flower bloomed again for the first time in the spring.

The girls were happy when their papa came back. Powder clinging to his pant leg, violet was a little more withheld. Silco understood. The scars and his eye, she was afraid of him. It was okay.

Soon he let his lease end and their apartment, the one that they were always supposed to have, was bright and back to the way it was supposed to be.

[nicolgue]

Blessed By Love And War

Summary: Love and war is not something that you would think goes together but what happens when they do? You are the daughter of a Greek king friend of Odysseus and Penelope, what happens when you and Telemachus fall in love in the events of the Odyssey?

Warnings: A cute chapter, a little bit of angst maybe, possible spelling mistakes.

A/N: sorry for the delay of the second chapter I promise not to post with such long dates I have just been very busy, art it's not mine and don't copy my work.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

"You and Telemachus are now betrothed"  were the words that changed your life forever.

So here you were three years later on a boat to Ithaca , you had to delay your arrival in Ithaca for reasons of both families, from you family it was for the wedding of your older brother and for the family of Ithaca because of some suitors of Queen Penelope, but after three years it was time to go to your new home to spend the rest of your life there alongside Telemachus, your betrothed and future husband.

You weren't against the idea of marrying Telemachus if you were honest you really, really, really like Telemachus the thing it's that you hate being lied to or that people keep things from you and you have the suspicion that Telemachus already knew about the marriage before they told you and it was a struggle inside you because you were happy that you were going to marry Telemachus but at the same time you were angry at the possibility that he knew and didn't told you.

"Something on your mind dear?" Asked your mother, she is accompanying you on your trip she will stay a few days and then return to your kingdom until the day of the wedding.

You sigh softly and look at your mother "I just..." You sight again "I don't like the idea of prince Telemachus lying to me".

"What do you mean dear?" Your mother had a face of confusion and surprise.

"It's just that he knew about the possible engagement and didn't tell me anything even though I was confused" I told her, her eyes softened at your words and she gave you a smile

"Well queen Penelope probably told him not to say anything until it was decided by both families, don't be angry dear he probably was following instructions or he was too nervous to tell you, after all he has known you all he's life, don't think too much about it, everything it's going to be okay" she kissed your head softly and turned to continue seeing the sea while traveling. It was strange for you how she was so calmed but it helped even a little so you did what she said and didn't think too much of it.

"Mother?" You asked your mom

"Yes dear?" She looked at you with those eyes that told you that everything would be okay even if it didn't look like it.

"Will you keep visiting me? I mean now that I'll be living in Ithaca?" You were scared that now that you were about to be married in a few years she would no longer visit or want to see you.

"Of course dear, I will visit even more often now that my precious daughter is there" she kisses your forehead again and embraced you in a hug. "Don't be afraid darling, everything will be okay" she tells you one last time and you believe her.

You arrived at Ithaca in the afternoon, Queen Penelope and Telemachus were already expecting you, Queen Penelope took you to your rooms your mom to a guest room and you to other.

"This is your temporary room while the wedding arrives, were delighted to have you here Princess Y/N" she tells you with a smile on her face "Rest for a little bit and then we'll have dinner"

"Thank you Queen Penelope" I tell her bowing my head.

That night at dinner the dining room was filled mostly with talk between your mother and Queen Penelope, Telemachus was mostly quiet like always and you were in your head trying to get used to the idea of your new home. It was like a dream because you had always liked Telemachus but you didn't want to leave your family, the first night at Ithaca was the hardest for you because you kept reminding yourself that this was no longer the palace you grew up with, it wasn't sadness or something it was mostly nostalgia.

Your mother left and two weeks passed by, you and Telemachus didn't talked, why you ask? Well in your part was because in your head was the voice that told you that Telemachus knew about your engagement and didn't say anything to you. Now Telemachus was nervous and scared that you didn't like him and even you would like to cancel the engagement. Three weeks passed and you were taking a stroll around the gardens it was the only place you liked to have strolls around now that the suitors where around the palace and it was the only place where they didn't dare to be around so you enjoyed taking strolls around the gardens, still you had to have a maid around you but you didn't mind, sometimes you would talk to her and sometimes you just walked in silence. You were walking around the garden when you spotted Telemachus looking at you and he smiled at you, sometimes you tonight that maybe he was just nervous but when he smiled at you like that you weren't so sure. You were so caught in your thoughts that you didn't see him approaching you until he was right in front of you.

"Y/N hello" he said while having a smile, a nervous smile?

"Hello, what brings you here?" You ask him.

"I actually wanted to talk to you" Some kind of hesitation was clear in he's eyes. "Sure, what is it?" I asked.

"Not here" he took your hand and led you to the path that took you to the benches, the bench between the two arched trees, the place where you realized you liked Telemachus, he extended he's hand inviting you to sit down, you sat on the bench and he sat next to you, he still looked scared but there was a look of courage?

"So I wanted to ask you something if it's okay with you?" He looked at you with those eyes that made your heart jumo and forget that you were angry at him.

"Ask me" I said while looking at him

"So the last weeks I have noticed that your distant, I don't know I feel like it and I wanted to ask if you didn't like the idea of us being married?" Wow that straight forward, you weren't expecting him to ask you that. Something in he's eyes told you that it was okay to tell him the truth.

"Well I'm not against the engagement but I need to ask you something too" You try to look serious, even angry. He nods at you signaling that you can ask. "So I wanted to know if you knew about the possibility of us being engaged and if you did why didn't you tell me?" You see a spark of sadness and even fear flash throw he's face.

"Well i did know about the engagement but let me explain" he's eyes changed to ones of pleading "I did know about the engagement because I was the first one to suggest it, when I told my mom she asked me not to say anything to you until it was settled between your mother and your brother"

"Why did you suggest the marriage?" He probably did because of some diplomatic thing, he probably didn't even liked you, he probably just was doing the best for Ithaca you though.

"Well if I'm being totally honest with you I... I have l... liked you all my life, and after the first time I brought you here I realized that I wanted to marry you but we were kids and I said to myself that it was just a crush maybe but when I turned sixteen I just knew I wanted you to be my wife so I told my mother and she was enlightened because she always wanted us to be married" He told you. So he liked you? He really liked you the way you liked him. "Of course if you don't feel the same it's okay"

"I feel the same way" you don't know we're that courage came from but you just let it out "I think I've liked you all my life but I realized it the day you brought me here too and believe I'm really excited to marry you I was just afraid the you hadn't told me because it was just a diplomatic contract" You pour out your feelings and your fears.

"No, no, no, I really didn't tell you because of my mother but I really really like you" he said taking your hand in he's.

"Then that's makes the two of us" You said taking he's hand too.

After that day the dining room was filled with talk between you, Telemachus and Queen Penelope, he took you to strolls around the palace at least two times the week and every time your eyes locked he smiled at you even sometimes he blew you a kiss with he's hand. You still missed your family of course but it was still worth to be in Ithaca. Everything was perfect.

Little did you know about what was to happen next in the palace.

[drleggman]

Otoya Eita x reader

summary: Otoya learns that you had sex with his best friend, and the envy he feels isn't towards who he expected

tags: bi/pan!gn!reader, no physical descriptions (character & reader), established relationship (fwb), vague descriptions of sex, 18+ minors don't look or I'm telling your parents

wc: 1.9k

a/n: this is mostly just a convo between Otoya and reader, and the horny bits don't even directly involve him rip. it's very silly and unserious! sorry if you were expecting more

“Curve or no curve?”

Otoya’s question catches you off guard. You’d been sitting in relative silence until now—both reclining on his couch, legs intertwined between you with only the soft sounds of your respective video games filling the otherwise quiet room.

“What?”

“You prefer your cocks with a curve? Or without one?” He asks again like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

The music pouring lowly from the console in your hands stops abruptly, your game momentarily paused. “My bad for the confusion? I don’t always have dick on the mind, unlike you apparently.”

“Answer the question, will you?”

You take a moment to consider. And then another. Is one better than the other? This isn’t something you’d really put much thought to until now. “I… don’t think I have a preference.”

“Oh bullshit.” You can tell he's rolling his eyes without even seeing them.

“I don’t! You know what people say, it’s about how you use it or whatever. As long as your stroke game is good, it doesn’t really matter what your dick is like.” You shrug, and just as you’re about to return to your game, he pipes up again.

“Well Karasu said-“

“You talk about dick with Karasu?” You grin. This is more entertaining, you decide: fucking with him. You set your Switch on the coffee table beside you and give him your full attention.

“Will you shut the fuck- Ugh.” You hear a long exhale, and he sets his controller down. "Karasu said," he turns to you, eyes squinted and brows pinched together, “bottoms prefer it with a little curve. To hit all the good spots or whatever. I told him the same thing you told me, that it doesn’t matter.”

You blow air through your nose, grinning to yourself. Oh you know exactly why Karasu said that to him.

“He’s had a big head ever since I told him that,” you murmur.

“What?”

Your brow furrows. “What?”

“Since you told him what?”

“That the way his cock curves feels good…?”

He makes a face at that, pained and something else that you can’t quite place, and you hide behind your hand so he can’t see you snickering.

“Hated that.” He says, but you can’t help but notice that he’s blushing, though just barely. Almost as if he’s flustered. “How do you know what his dick feels like?”

“We’ve… had sex?” What kind of question is that? Is he stupid? “How else would I know that?”

He straightens up, noticeably more invested in the conversation now that you’ve divulged this information to him. “ When did that happen?”

“Why are you interrogating m-“

“When??” His tone is by no means stern, but he’s insistent. You’ve always known this to be true. He’ll pester you til the end of time if you don’t tell him what he wants to hear.

“Like, five months ago?”

You’re not even sure exactly. It happened when you and Karasu were both a little tipsy at a birthday party. Whose it was, you can’t remember. You’d been complaining to him about being pent up, and Otoya had chosen to spend the night with another girl. Karasu offered himself up, cozying up to you and whispering low and raspy into your ear, “How about I take care of you tonight, then?” He’d had his eye on you since you were first introduced to him, seizing the opportunity to finally get a taste of you as Otoya usually doesn’t let you out of his sight when he’s around.

“We were fucking then.” He states plainly. His expression is unreadable, ever the face of indifference even as his words contradict that sentiment.

“Otoya. Since when do you care about the other people I sleep with?”

“I don’t care. I’m just… curious.” You don’t think he’s even trying to be convincing. He won’t even look at you.

“It seems like you care.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve never cared less about anything, actually.”

He does care. Obviously. You’ve talked to him about all of the women you’ve slept with since the two of you had started your relationship, if you can even call it that, and never once has he been this weird about it. It’s something you bonded over, in fact, because of course he’s sleeping around too. Sharing the intimate details of your trysts with other girls is a favorite pastime of yours. At some point Otoya started to wonder if he’s the only guy you’re actively having sex with, so to hear that not only is he not the only guy you’ve fucked recently, but that the other guy was Karasu Tabito, of all people, has him feeling. Feeling what, exactly? He’s not sure.

You know full well about how he likes to fantasize about you with your other partners after you’ve recounted every last detail to him, just as you do with him and his. He’ll let his hand slip between his legs, lazily pleasuring himself as he imagines you with the pretty girl you’d shown him a picture of—sometimes in front of you as you tell him about her, sometimes when he’s alone and too lazy to find a video to jerk off to.

Is it okay for him to think about Karasu like that? What exactly would it mean if he does? God, he has so many questions.

Were you a bit more dominant with him like you are with those girls he hears about? Or did his friend have to put you in your place after you started acting bratty like you do when you're with him? Karasu is a charmer though, and a sweet talker too. Maybe you didn't want to be bratty at all. Karasu has always had that subtle air of dominance about him. He knows how to get his way with people. He’s more than capable of teasing and talking down to you in a way that would lull you into a sense of submission. Otoya has seen it before, both on the field and off, the way that Karasu commands obedience.

He lets his mind wander further. He pictures you with Karasu. You're sweaty and panting, your hips grinding together and hands groping and tongues down each other’s throats. He can hear you so clearly in his mind. Can see the way your face scrunches up in pleasure. If Karasu’s dick really does feel as good as you say it does, it must leave you a whining, overstimulated mess by the time he’s done with you.

The image of Karasu is just as vivid. He can see the cocky smirk he wears as he comes undone underneath him. He can see the sweat beading down his forehead, his neck, and his chest. How he’s glistening with it as he puts more and more force into each thrust. He can hear him too, his honey-slicked words spilling from his lips that are pressed against his neck. And his cock… the ease with which it hits all of the right spots inside of him.

It’s gotta feel so fucking good, Otoya thinks to himself. And I bet he’s hung-

He cuts the thought off immediately once he realizes the gravity of it. He crinkles his nose as he wills away the image of his best friend on top of him.

“What is this?” You say, and suddenly Otoya is reminded of your presence.

He can pretend not to care about Karasu all he wants, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s visibly unsettled by what you’ve said. After knowing each other for as long as you have, you find him easy to read. The way he fidgets with the frayed fabric of his beanie, the way he refuses to meet your gaze. All easy tells. He’s lost in thought, and you think that whatever image he’s conjuring up in that pretty little head of his must be really good to get him to shut up for this long. “Are you… jealous?”

You’ve never seen him react like this to hearing about you fucking someone else. Otoya doesn’t care about exclusivity. He never has. You two sleep with whoever you want, whenever you want. You have a feeling it’s not the fact that it’s a man you slept with that’s getting to him, but rather because it was Karasu specifically.

“Why would I be jealous? I get to fuck you all the time.” You just barely catch the way his voice quivers.

Oh. He doesn’t even know. He’s got that look on his face, the one you’ve only seen a handful of times. It’s the face he makes when he wants something that he thinks is out of reach, and he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. His genuine confusion is almost endearing. He’s seemingly blissfully unaware of his own desires.

“I didn’t mean jealous of Karasu.”

He’s stone faced as he finally looks at you now. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head.

“You are, aren’t y-“

“Shut up.” He doesn’t let you finish. He doesn’t like what you’re implying, and he doesn’t want to unpack that.

You bark out a laugh. “Why were you even thinking about that conversation you two had anyway?”

“Shut. Up.”

You listen, though only for a moment. There’s a pregnant pause, and he’s daring you with his gaze to keep pressing.

“His cock does feel good-“

“Stop that.”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning confusion.

“Stop talking about my friend’s cock.”

Oh, but that wouldn’t be any fun, now would it? You have to push his buttons some more. “It’s not like it only feels good because it’s curved, though it does help.”

He says nothing, giving you one last opportunity to drop the topic before he turns his attention elsewhere.

“He just knows how to fuck, I think.”

Another sigh, then he turns back towards the tv and mutters, “I’m done with this conversation.”

He picks up his controller and unpauses his game, and the rhythmic sound of him tapping buttons fills the space between you. He’s getting his ass kicked, not that he doesn’t usually, but right now he seems to be particularly incapable of defending himself from the ai enemies on the screen. You can tell his focus is elsewhere, try as he might to pretend he’s more invested in the game than whatever thoughts are swirling around in his head.

Your lips are pursed as you hold in the words threatening to spill from you. He’s aware that you’re watching him, he can see you in his periphery. Your self restraint is running thin, and he’s started to squirm in anticipation, knowing full well you have some more bullshit to say.

“Have you ever played with your ass before?” You blurt it out before you’ve even realized it, hands clamping over your mouth as if you can’t believe you just said such a thing.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Again, he sighs. The game pauses and he briefly tightens then releases his grip on his controller. He sits on his answer for a moment, not yet sure if he should indulge you further. Maybe if he imagines it hard enough, he can explode you with his mind and be done with this.

“Yes, I’ve played with my ass before.”

You beam, the part of you expecting him to just call you a freak and disregard your question entirely put at ease. “Did you like it??”

You're much too excited about this for his liking. “I- yeah… I did.” Head rolling back onto the couch and his whole body slackening, he looks utterly defeated. You, on the other hand, are basking in your victory. You’re peeling away at him, layer by layer. Unveiling his desires that he’s kept hidden so deep within him he may not even be sure they’re there. “It’s just usually too much of a hassle to do it most of the time...”

Your tongue pokes out to wet your lips, and he watches the movement with rapt attention. “I have this toy… It looks a lot like Karasu’s dick…”

His eyes snap back to yours in an instant, and you continue on as if he’s not silently pleading with you to have mercy on him. To stop implanting these images in his head.

“It’s not quite as thick, but it’s got the same subtle, upward curve~” Your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth. Otoya watches again, letting himself get lost in the visual to distract from what you’re saying to him.

You feel his leg shift between yours. His foot trails up, settling just shy of the apex of where your thigh meets your hip. “Okay… You’re telling me this why…?”

“We should try it.” You grin. His face goes flush. “On you, of course.”

“And why do you think we should do that?”

You sit up and push yourself towards him. He tries to back away, but there’s nowhere for him to escape to.

“So you know what to expect when you finally decide to ask Karasu to have his way with you.”

divider by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[siyuri]

Ef's moment of respite at the bottom of the Mariana Trench from amazing story Falling Falling Stars by @not-poignant

[2129888]

i don't remember how i stumbled across this interview but i've never seen anyone mention it so i'm dropping it here <3 it's a little dated but still like super valuable and a decently in depth look at higuchi-sensei's previous works and how she works and thinks as a mangaka... personally i think it's the most i've ever learned from an interview of hers. super interesting stuff :0)

[dawnthefluffyduck]

Took me a while to figure out what I wanted to see you draw, but I think I got it now:

Would you be able to draw a character of your choice being "bear"-hugged by a Hildebear (haha see what I did there)? I feel like it might be excellent for comedy purposes, and I know how much you adore them :P

Thank you in advance :3

See, now you're starting to see why they're so cool, their arms were made for bear hugs :3 (surely your character would be inclined to agree, right? /s)

(but also, it would be a crime to miss an opportunity to draw Ralsei)

Thank you for the request! I feel closer to the Hildebears already :D