#i do just draw her fem regardless

[saym0-0]

constantly stuck between 'rabbits transition and where it is in the timeline is vital to her characterisation and her relationship with peter walter I, and is an important piece of queer media' and 'i dont want to draw her looking like a man, but i do want to draw her in practically every decade in the 20th century'

its a struggle

[nereidprinc3ss]

weber's law

in which spencer reid comforts fem!reader when she's having a panic attack at the rossi mansion

fluff warnings/tags: panic attack lol, spencer is really cute and sweet my little perfect cutie pie angel baby, classic spencer info dumps bc they're pretty much his love language, established relationship, cheesy and sweet at the end a/n: this one is for my queens with panic disorders who are triggered by literally nothing and everything i see you have this ilysm

When Spencer had invited you to a small get-together at Rossi’s, you’d imagined a small get-together at Rossi’s. 

And maybe that makes you a complete idiot. 

Or maybe Spencer is just so used to FBI work functions that to him, this really is small.

But now you’re sitting on an expensive couch in a very nice house, and you’re surrounded by FBI agents who are all milling around and talking and laughing, and you’re worried maybe your outfit doesn’t look as nice on you as you’d thought it did, and you keep having very vivid visions of spilling your drink all over a furry throw rug that probably costs more than your rent does. 

Music that could reasonably be considered relaxing or at the very least not objectionable plays over the sound system throughout the whole house and thus is inescapable—not that you’d get up from the couch even if you could, because Spencer is sitting to your right and he has his hand on your thigh and it’s the only thing that has until this point been keeping you from a full blown panic attack.

Maybe that makes you a complete idiot, too.

Regardless, you try to focus on nothing but the weight of his hand as it travels slowly up and down from knee to hip over the jeans you’re not so sure about, and the feeling of your breath coming and going, as slow as you can possibly summon it without passing out. 

Spencer is laughing at something JJ is saying as she stands next to the couch with Will and you really like JJ but her voice seems so loud right now, and nothing is going particularly wrong but everything feels so, so wrong it’s scary. 

All the buzzing tension in your body telling you to run away because you’re unsafe and at the same time locking you into place builds until you have to express it somehow. So you revert to an old habit—bouncing your leg rapidly like a rabbit thumping its foot. It’s not entirely conscious, but it feels better than being completely still. That is, until Spencer’s hand strays inward and cups just above your inner knee, where he begins fanning his thumb back and forth over the fabric. 

“What’s this?” he murmurs, head angled toward you and voice low enough to not draw attention. You force yourself to plant your heel to the ground even though it worsens the feeling of gears crunching in your chest. 

“Nothing. Sorry.”

That gets his attention. 

Because of course it does. He’s always telling you to stop saying sorry so often. 

His tone solidifies, still quiet but committed to this conversation now and no longer the whispery apparition of a quick aside. 

“Why are you sorry?” 

“I don’t know, it wasn’t—it’s nothing.”

You barely avoid apologizing again. 

For a moment he doesn’t speak, just watches you—and you make the mistake of raising your gaze to meet his. He has that curious, analytical look about him, concern tightening his eyes and knitting his brow. He’s doing that annoying mind-reading thing again, and as soon as he actually sees your eyes, he’s figured you out. 

“Do you want to go outside for a minute? Get some air?”

After examining his face for any clues that he’d rather stay in here, (not that you’d really know what to look for), you nod hesitantly. Spencer mirrors your nod and stands, holding out his hand for you to take as you follow suit after setting your drink on a side table (without spilling.)

JJ is now wrapped up in conversation with another agent and the two of you manage to abscond without attracting unwanted attention, which makes you feel slightly better as Spencer leads you deftly through rooms with high-vaulted ceilings and big windows and heavy, expensive looking oak furniture. It seems like you’ve been wandering through a maze when you arrive to a quieter part of the house and he opens a french door for you—which leads out onto an empty patio. 

A cool breeze immediately sinks into your skin, and your nervous system is so hyper-alert that it gives you chills. Spencer notices the way you shiver and steps closer after closing the door behind him, his hand finding the small of your back immediately. 

“You okay?” he asks, intentionally avoiding impeding your view of the sweeping backyard and the trees beyond. Sometimes focusing on something stationary is less overwhelming, but they’re so tall they seem imposing. Threatening, even. 

But then again, everything feels threatening right now. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Spencer seems unconvinced by your monotone—when you glance over at him he’s still watching you like you’re a puzzle to be solved. 

“Are you sure? You can tell me if you’re not.”

“Why are you so convinced something is wrong?” you laugh, but it comes out too manic. You cross your arms. He looks pointedly at the motion. 

“For starters, that. Often times crossing your arms is a subconscious way of comforting yourself when you feel defensive or threatened. And you could say it’s because you’re cold, but—” he pauses, reaching out to touch your cheek. “I can feel how hot your face is, and you shivered when we came outside even though it’s 71 degrees because your nervous system is overreacting to external stimuli. The leg-bouncing is also often indicative of an activated parasympathetic nervous system. Is me touching you okay?”

Again, you nod—unsure how to deflect when he calls you out so efficiently. 

Spencer’s hand slides down to just beneath your jaw, where he rests two fingers. Each second that passes has him looking progressively more worried. You wish you weren’t quite so catatonic—the fairy lights hanging from the pergola shine through his hair and make him glow so appealingly you want to kiss his cheek. 

“Your heart rate is really high, honey.”

That would be due to the sense of impending doom. Thanks for pointing it out.

But you’ve lost your words, and along with them has gone your sense of humor. All you can manage for a 30 second span is a meaningless shake of your head as you avert your eyes, staring at the sprawling carpet of blue-green grass soaked in night as each blade doubles with your tears. 

“I think I’m dying,” you finally croak.

“Technically, we all are. Very slowly.”

Ah. There’s that social tact he’s so well known for. 

“Spencer.”

“Right,” he kisses your cheek as you stare up at him, affronted, and pulls you into his chest. “Sorry. I was actually trying to be helpful. Changes in brain chemistry and hormonal activity associated with panic attacks change your perception of time and make things feel really fast which can contribute to feelings of anxiety. But in reality time is moving just the same as it always is. One second is always one second. Sometimes remembering that helps me to slow down. Not literally, of course. My gravitational pull isn’t great enough to have any discernible effect on the passage of time.”

You sniff, pressing your cheek to his tie. His words make your head spin, seeing as you hadn't been prepared for a lecture in psychophysics—but it spins in the opposite direction than it had been going previously. It's nice.

“Change your perception of time?”

“Weber’s law of perception. Stimulus sensitivity will increase proportionally with increased stimulus intensity. You’re only perceiving time to be going faster because your cortisol and adrenaline levels are making you hyper-vigilant and sensitive to all the markers of time passing.”

“Like what?”

Spencer hums, the bass of it a comforting resonance against your ear, and strokes your hair unhurriedly. 

“Like��� your internal clock. Your body measures time with your heartbeat, so when your heart rate increases, time seems to go faster. Also environmental cues, which lead you to understand that the world is not stagnant and thus is not frozen in time. Like the sound of the wind chimes…” he pauses, long enough for you to realize that indeed, you can hear the gentle, sonorous ringing and tinkling of steel chimes bouncing against each other. “And the wind itself, which is coming all the way from the Gulf of Mexico. Some studies actually suggest that wind direction can affect your energy levels and mood.”

It’s a gentle breeze more than it is full-blown wind. It feels cool against your hot skin. 

Spencer’s hand on the back of your head, still rhythmically smoothing your hair, seems to slow down the passage of time as well. You focus on that, and the sound of the wind chimes and the breeze on your skin for a few minutes, until your breathing and your heart rate slow and soon you regain your footing in the temporal dimension, exactly sure of where you stand on Rossi’s patio and in your boyfriend’s arms. 

“You tricked me into doing a grounding exercise,” you mumble into Spencer’s jacket. 

“I did not trick you,” he defends, voice quiet to match yours. “I just wanted to make you feel better. Did it work?”

You pull away from him and he lets you, watching on as you sniffle and wipe your tears on your sleeves. 

“Yeah, it did. Thank you.”

For a moment, neither of you speak as you gather yourself. He leads you by the hand to a cushioned hanging bench at the end of the patio, taking a seat next to you and gently rocking the swing. 

“Do you know what triggered that?” Spencer asks, over the gentle creaking sound. You shrug, observing the dance of the fireflies in the grass. 

“Nothing. Sometimes I just feel like everything’s wrong and scary but I didn’t want to tell you and ruin your night.”

“Hey,” Spencer murmurs, pulling you into him with an arm around your shoulder. “You are not ruining my night. I don’t want you to worry about that.”

“But all your friends and coworkers are inside, and you’re out here with me.”

He angles his head down toward you and you look up to meet his eyes, even warmer than the sticky summer night. 

“I am. Do you know why?”

“Because I suck,” you sniffle, more hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you attempt to look away. But Spencer’s not having it. He encourages you to sit up again so you can look at him properly, before wiping tears away gently with his thumb. When he speaks, it’s in soft, soothing tones. 

“No. I’m out here because if all my friends were inside having fun, and you were outside having a panic attack, I would choose you every time.”

You manage a laugh through the crying. 

“I don’t know if that’s healthy.”

“Whether or not it’s healthy is an entirely different discussion,” Spencer smiles wryly, before it melts into something softer and more sincere. “All that matters is that it’s true.”

For a while after that, you simply lay your head on his shoulder. Spencer controls the speed of the swing with his much-longer legs, kissing your head and rubbing your arm as you admire the expanse of Rossi’s lush yard bathed in moonlight and the black silhouette of the forest beyond. 

Eventually, Spencer speaks again, likely to make sure you’re not spiraling alone in your head. 

“Can I tell you an extremely classified secret that I've been trying really hard to keep to myself for three days?” he asks, and the mischievous edge to his voice catches your attention. You hum in assent, already wondering what kind of information Spencer would have a hard time keeping to himself. It could be anything. 

“Anderson is sleeping with Childers from Operational Tech.”

“What?”

Despite not working for the FBI yourself, Spencer and Penelope have you so filled in on the drama that you know exactly why that’s shocking. 

You pick your head up to look at him like do not fuck with me right now. 

His eyes sparkle as he nods.

“Yep.”

“Didn’t you tell me Childers was dating that girl in sex crimes?”

Spencer raises his eyebrows. The corner of his mouth twitches. You gasp. 

“No! What? Does Anderson know?”

“I don’t know. I certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell him.”

“Wait—Anderson told you this?”

“Yeah!” He laughs incredulously at your complete disbelief. “People tell me things! I’m an excellent confidant!”

“If you’re relaying all of this information to me then you’re a terrible confidant,” you chuckle, still watery—but feeling light years better. 

Spencer brushes your hair away from your face fondly, leaning a fraction of an inch closer. 

“You don’t count. Telling you secrets is basically the same as keeping them to myself.”

“Basically,” you tease, angling your head up by a few degrees in invitation. Spencer says nothing, does nothing for a long moment—just studies you with soft eyes, continues stroking your cheek. When he takes too long to kiss you, you get impatient. “I’m still kinda anxious, you know.”

He smiles knowingly.  

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, looking pointedly at his lips. “You should kiss me better.”

“I think that would take more than just one kiss,” he murmurs through a smile, leaning ever closer until your noses are bumping. “I think I would have to devote several hours to that. Maybe even a whole day.”

“How does tomorrow look for you?” 

He’s laughing as he finally presses his lips to yours. The kiss is sweet and lingering. 

“For you? It’s wide open.”

[lyvhie]

hi omg read the jeno one I requested ATE DOWNNNNNN…… so for nowwwww maybe thinking jeno (sorry I love him…) x shy!reader who doesent really like the idea of jeno seeing her naked cause reader is SCAREDDDD… so he just praises her throughout the whole thing… LOVE UR WORKS they’re so good 💖

-🦋🦋🦋🦋

touch it | ljn

jeno x fem!reader (18+ mdni)

summary: jeno never intended to invest so much time and effort just to have sex with you.

a/n: my sweet 🦋 anon... i'm sorry it took me so long to post this. as soon as i saw it i started writing but it wasn't coming out like i think it should and i didn't want to give you something bad 😞 please forgive me 🙏 i hope you like this one too, it ended up being longer than i was planning. love u, please don't give up on me!

cw: smut, shy/inexperienced!reader, jeno big dick agenda, very slightly bulge kink, fingering, oral (m), unprotected penetrative sex (bcs i forgot to write the condom part sorryyy 🫣), praising, pet names.

jeno never considered himself a patient person. he always got what he wanted when he wanted. and that's why you were driving him crazy.

at first, he enjoyed toying with you, finding it effortless to get under your skin. it was just a game to him, a way to pass the time by teasing and taunting. he loved pushing your buttons with even the slightest action, knowing how easily you would react.

he wasn't entirely sure why you acted the way you did around him. was it shyness or fear of people in general? perhaps a combination of both. regardless, he found your reactions incredibly endearing. whenever he looked at you, he couldn't help but smile at the way you fidgeted and stumbled over your words.

it was cute. he just knew he had to fuck you. he made it his personal goal.

he was aware that winning you over wouldn't be easy, and that he'd have to gain your trust and go through the whole song and dance. but he saw it as a thrilling challenge, and he was determined to make you his.

he surprisingly found it easy to become your friend. given your lonely nature, he didn't need to put in much effort. you didn't appear to have many friends, which made it simple for him to step in and fill that role.

what began as innocent gestures, like whispering sweet nothings in your ear or tenderly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, quickly escalated into more intimate encounters.

his “accidental” touches or the casual placing of his hand on your thigh, how he enjoyed wrapping his arms around you from behind, his chest pressed against your back as his hands gently roamed your sides. he did all of this to get rise out of you, to see you get all flustered and embarrassed and it worked perfectly.

he knew that simply being a good friend wouldn't be enough to take you to bed with your legs all open for him, so he doubled down on his efforts. he had to be the best friend you ever had.

he became the person you could count on for anything — if something was troubling you, he'd be there to listen and provide comfort. you wanted a plushie from your favorite show? no problem, he would make sure to get it for you. feeling lonely and in need of companionship? all you had to do was call him, and he'd be right there for you.

all of it was part of his grand scheme to lower your defenses and draw you closer to him. and it worked little by little.

when you confessed that you had never kissed anyone before, his response was instant: "that's what friends are for." he gauged your reaction, noticing the way you nibbled on your lip and fidgeted with the hem of your skirt, all little habits that he had noticed in you a long time ago.

his words were merely to test the waters, to see how you would respond to his subtle advances. he was overjoyed when you finally agreed to his suggestion, after taking some time to consider (a good 5 minutes). he couldn't help but feel proud that he was the one who would get to kiss your innocent lips, a thought that thrilled him. this small victory fueled his confidence in the belief that winning you over wouldn't be hard.

it was fun to him, teaching you how to kiss for the first time and seeing your reaction to his touch. the moment he reached out to touch your face, you quickly recoiled, as if you had been burned. it just fueled his desire to go further and explore this nervous, inexperienced side of you.

"relax, baby," he spoke softly, your favorite term of endearment rolling off his tongue effortlessly. he gently took your hand in his, soothingly rubbing his thumbs over your skin in a reassuring manner. it was his way of calming you down, a small gesture that never failed to affect you.

as you tried to follow his words and relax, he cupped your face between his hands and leaned in closer. with a soothing tone, he instructed you to close your eyes. he was so close that you unconsciously held your breath, which made him chuckle. his breath ghosted over your skin as he spoke, his proximity to you causing your heart to flutter in your chest.

as his lips finally touched yours, a soft gasp escaped you and you nearly jolted. he started with just a gentle peck, giving you a chance to adjust to the sensation. your heart pounded wildly in your chest, the rapid rhythm so intense that you feared it might burst out of your chest at any moment. you were almost certain he could hear it, the sound of your heartbeats echoing in your ears and filling the silence between you.

his soft voice gently commanded, "open your mouth slightly, sweetheart," and you obeyed eagerly, parting your lips. a small hum escaped you as you felt the warm, wet touch of his tongue slipping into your mouth. the sudden sensation sent chills down your spine, surprising you in the most pleasurable way.

as you started moving your tongue against his, following the rhythm he set, he was the one who couldn't help but let out a pleased hum. his hand moved from your face to your hair, fingers gently grasping the locks and pulling you closer to him.

the feeling of your mouth against his, your inexperienced but eager tongue trying to keep up with his, was beyond what he imagined. the taste of you, so sweet and untainted, drove him to become more demanding, rougher, and you didn't seem to mind, responding to his intensity with a sense of abandon.

he carefully maneuvered you onto your back on the couch, crawling over you and bringing his body on top of yours. his hands began to explore your form, tracing every contour until they reached your thighs and gently caressed the soft skin. with a sly smile, he squeezed the supple flesh, grateful that you were wearing a skirt, making his plans even simpler.

tou were so absorbed in the way his mouth captured yours that it took awhile for you to notice his hand roaming further up your skirt. the feeling of his fingers slowly tracing your inner thigh sent shivers up your spine, igniting sparks of pleasure that made you almost gasp into his mouth.

you managed to pull away from the kiss, panting for air, and stopped his hand before it went any higher. "w-wait, jeno," you gasped, your voice breathless and filled with hesitation.

jeno's breath was shallow, his mouth moving to your neck as he inhaled your scent and began to place soft, gentle kisses there, making you left a soft sigh. he hummed against your skin, his voice still unsteady as he responded to you. "what is it, baby?" he murmured against your skin, his warm breath teasing your sensitive flesh.

“i-i don't—” your words were interrupted by a gasp as he sucked on your neck, his lips creating a pleasant suction that made your head spin. but as he continued to nibble and kiss your skin, you softly pleaded, "j-jeno, stop.”

jeno grudgingly pulled away from your neck, his eyes a mix of desire and annoyance as he looked at you. but you were too flustered to notice his expression, hastily hiding your face in your hands, unable to meet his gaze. your embarrassment was palpable, and the moment was suspended in a brief silence.

before he could utter another word, you hastily scrambled out from under him, mumbling a clumsy excuse before hastily retreating to your room. he sat there on the couch, a little bewildered, as he watched you disappear. the sound of your door closing echoed in the silence that followed, leaving him alone with his frustrated thoughts.

he ran his hand through his hair. of course he wouldn't get in your panties so quickly. he got a little carried away by the moment and forgot that he needed to take things very slowly with you.

he had assumed you would lock yourself in your room for a while longer, probably consumed by a million thoughts and doubts that he was all too familiar with at this point.

after a while, he stood up from the couch and approached your door, knocking softly on the wood. "i'll be waiting," he called out softly, and that was all he said.

he was already starting to turn away, but the sound of the door opening caught his attention. you emerged from behind the opening, looking at him timidly, and he was taken aback by your whispered request.

"can we... keep practicing? j-just the kissing…" you spoke in a small voice, your words barely audible but filled with trepidation and desire. he froze for a moment, surprised by the unexpected request, before a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“you don't have to ask twice, sweetheart.”

in the days that followed, a new routine was established between you and him. every time you found yourselves together, whether at his place or yours, the hours would pass in a haze of lip and tongue, mouths moving against each other in a frenzy. by the end of each session, your lips would be swollen and sensitive to the touch, a reminder of the time spent indulging in such an activity.

but what truly fueled jeno's frustration was the fact that your interactions always seemed to stop at the same point. no matter how much he touched and caressed you, nothing ever went further than a few brief moments of physical contact.

he felt an intense sense of desperation growing within him, the unfulfilled desire weighing heavily on his mind. he longed to take things further, to explore more of you, but somehow he always found himself stuck in this endless cycle of heated yet ultimately unsatisfying make-out sessions.

he was already mentally bracing himself for the challenges ahead, but then you caught him off guard once more.

sitting on his lap, your tongues intertwined in a hungry dance, you suddenly did something unexpected. you began to subtly grind against his thigh, your movements and moans so natural it was as if you weren't fully aware of what you were doing.

the sensations were immediate, and he felt a twitch in his pants. the feeling of you riding his leg set his body trembling with desire. a low groan escaped him, his kiss growing more fierce as he tried to keep himself together in the face of your unintentional provocation. he could feel his arousal growing with each passing moment, and the thought of having you so close yet so out of reach was driving him insane.

jeno's grip on your waist became a little tighter as he pulled you down, pressing you against him more firmly. the thin fabric of your shorts did little to disguise the wetness building between your thighs, leaving a noticeable dampness on his pants.

your moans grew a little louder as you lost yourself in the sensations, and jeno reluctantly broke the kiss to look at you. he clutched your waist, stopping your movements and holding you firmly in place, drawing a whine from you.

your words escaped your lips involuntarily, a soft plea for more. "jeno, please," you murmured, desperation tinging your voice. he chuckled softly at the sound of your plea, his smirk growing wider. “please what, baby?" he whispered, his lips brushing gently against yours, barely making contact, teasing you with the lightest touch.

his question hung in the air, unanswered, leaving you floundering to articulate your desires. you felt a mixture of shyness and embarrassment, unable to vocalize what you truly wanted. so, your response was a soft whine as you hid your face in the crook of his neck. his chest vibrated with a low chuckle, his amusement evident at your inability to express yourself clearly.

“you want some relief here, sweetie?” his hand slid between your legs, his middle finger pressing against your clothed cunt, making you gasp at the sudden contact.

this time, you made no attempt to stop him, instead nodding silently in agreement. you buried yourself deeper into the safety of his neck, feeling embarrassment and need. you knew deep down that you were desperate for some form of release, and the realization only flustered you.

jeno, on the other hand, was practically bursting with excitement and joy, mentally launching fireworks and wanting to dance a victory lap around the house. he was finally close to getting the hardest fuck of his life — not exactly in the good way.

his voice was a soft whisper in your ear as he nibbled gently on your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. "we should do something about it, shouldn't we, pretty girl?" he murmured, his nose nuzzling tenderly against your ear. "will you let me help you again?" he asked, his breath warm against your skin.

your response was immediate, a desperate plea for his touch. "yes, please," you managed to stutter out, your voice tinged with a hint of need.

even though he just wanted to empty his balls, he knew he had to make you experience some of the sensations and induce you to want more.

jeno leaned against the bedhead, preparing himself for what was to come. his one hand began to trace gentle circles on your thigh, while the other continued to soothe you with soft caresses on your back. "okay, baby," he assured you. "just relax and let me take care of you, alright?”

jeno had become skillful in taking care of you, and his request for you to relax was met with an immediate submission from you. he wasted no time moving your pajamas shorts out of the way, efficiently tugging the fabric to the side.

due to your current position, where you were on his lap, with your chest pressed against his and your face still buried in his neck, jeno had limited visibility of you. he could feel your body against his, but he couldn't see much more than that. despite being mildly frustrated by the lack of visual access, he knew you wouldn't pull away anytime soon, even if he asked. you seemed too focused on hiding your flustered face against his skin.

even so, he could feel how soaked your panties were and that was enough for him right now. once again, jeno wasted no time in his actions, pulling your panties to the side with decisive motion. his digits pressed gently against your sensitive flesh, eliciting sigh from you. his fingers parted your folds, gently exploring your wetness with delicate movements. he took his time, savoring the moment, your soft sounds and how you were already squirming with just a few touches.

you gasped as he slipped a finger inside you. he started pumping slowly, he could feel how tight you were and he couldn't help but feel his cock stir inside his pants, his mind swirling with thoughts of what it would be like to be inside you.

"how does it feels, baby?" he coos, adding another finger to stretch you just enough, feeling how you clenched around his digits and moaned timidly into his neck. “g-good… very good,” was all you could mutter, your breath hitching as you felt him scissor and curl.

jeno hummed, a contented sound escaping him, as he used his free hand to gently push away the strands of hair that hung over your neck. he pressed his lips against your skin, gently kissing and nibbling at the sensitive flesh, feeling a shiver run through you.

jeno's fingers began to search inside you, seeking out the spot that would make you melt. when you trembled and a loud moan escaped you, his smirk widened. "found it," he chuckled, continuing to target that sweet spot with deliberate precision.

he added pressure with his palm against your clit, rubbing it softly but firmly enough to ignite intense sensations. he knew exactly how sensitive you were, and even this gentle touch was more than enough to leave you moaning and trembling.

jeno nuzzled your ear, his breath warm against your skin as he spoke soft words to you. "you sound so pretty, baby," he murmured, his hand never ceasing its movement as he felt your body clenching around him. "i know you're close already," he continued, increasing the speed of his movements. "just let it go, don't hold it back, okay?" he coaxed.

you didn't even realize how close you were, the sensations stirring in your body completely unexpected. there was a strange feeling in your stomach, your toes curling as you clung to him tighter. then, his words struck you like a command, and suddenly, a wave of pleasure washed over you. the new sensation was overwhelming, almost transporting you to another realm.

jeno absolutely loved the way you mewled his name in the midst of your climax. he relished in the sweet sounds you made, eagerly anticipating the chance to hear more and feel more of you. his desire was palpable as he continued to watch you come undone in his arms.

with your body quivering from the aftermath of your climax, you leaned against him, allowing your weight to fully rest on him. the tingles that coursed through you seemed to reach every inch of your skin, leaving you breathless. you panted slightly as you felt your body slowly returning to a state of stability.

jeno slowly withdrew his fingers, wiping them clean on your shorts. with a gentle tug, he drew your face away from his neck, allowing him to finally get a proper look at you.

your mind was still hazy from the intensity of your climax, and you barely registered his actions until you saw the smug expression on his face. the realization that you looked so utterly wrecked just from a little fingering made jeno silently contemplate how you would look when he pushed you further than just his fingers.

you were on the verge of speaking when he silenced you with a kiss, a kiss that you gladly returned. the touch of his hands slipping under your shirt sent a shiver down your spine, his fingers gently caressing your bare skin. you felt his touch drifting over the clasps of your bra, his movements deliberate and suggestive.

despite being consumed by the myriad of sensations he was evoking in you, you couldn't help but notice the way his hand tugged at the hem of your shirt, clearly signaling his intention to remove it. but as he began to lift the fabric, you instinctively halted his movements by placing your hands over his, preventing him from proceeding further. you pulled away from the kiss, gazing into his eyes a hint of hesitation.

“n-not yet, jeno,” you managed to stutter out, biting your lower lip as you averted your gaze from him. the thought of revealing yourself even partially in front of him sent a wave of fear and nervousness coursing through you. despite the intimate moment you had just shared, the idea of baring your body to him, even further, felt overwhelmingly nerve-wracking.

frustration and disappointment etched itself across jeno's features as he suppressed the urge to curse aloud. instead, he released a soft, frustrated breath, his forehead coming to rest against yours. he had been eagerly anticipating a night of finally fucking you senseless until you can't even remember your name, and your hesitation dampened that hope once again.

your soft-spoken words brought him back from his momentary disappointment. "but i..." you began, your voice tinged with coynes and a hint of determination. "i want to make you feel good too," you confessed, your eyes drifting down to his lap, where you couldn't help but notice the evidence of his arousal. there was curiosity and desire in your tone as you confessed your wish to return the favor. “j-just tell me what to do…”

a spark of something akin to admiration and appreciation flared up in jeno's eyes as he processed your words. out of all the things you had ever said, these words felt like music to his ears. a hopeful glimmer of satisfaction shone through, a realization that the night might not be a complete wash after all.

jeno chuckled affectionately, his voice carrying a hint of genuine appreciation as he spoke. "that's so nice of you, sweetie,” he murmured, gifting you a gentle peck on the lips which prompted a smile to bloom on your face. following his instructions, you carefully repositioned yourself, assuming a kneeling position between his legs, your eyes looking up at him expectantly.

a glimmer of greed flickered through Jeno's eyes as he took in the sight of you looking up at him. his hand cupped your face, his touch soft as he traced his fingers along your cheek. a subtle smile played at his lips as he issued a command, his voice dripping with desire. “you can start by taking off my clothes,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours, hungry and full of heat.

you followed his directions without hesitation, slowly unbuttoning his pants and gently pulling them down, the sound of the fabric rubbing against his skin filling the room. as the fabric pooled around his ankle, your eyes couldn't help but drift towards his impressive package, your breath catching in your throat at the sight.

you saw a darker spot on the fabric of his boxes, damp with pre-cum, you wasted no time in removing the remaining piece, freeing his aching cock that stood proudly in front of your eyes, eliciting a soft sigh of relief from him.

you continued to stare at his dick, blinking a few times as you processed the sight. he was big. too big.

jeno chuckled heartily at the sight of your eyes widening in surprised awe, his ego swelling with a touch of cocky confidence. he knew exactly what was running through your mind. "don't be shy, pretty girl," he teased, a sly smile playing on his lips. "you can touch it." he leaned back, resting his weight on his hands as he waited for you to make a move.

as calm and collected as he appeared to be, jeno was practically craving your touch. his muscles tensed under your gaze, and there was a hint of desperation in his eyes as he longed for your caress. however, he was determined to maintain a facade of coolness, masking his inner pleading with subtle smirks and sultry words.

as your delicate hands finally encircled him, a soft sigh escaped jeno's lips, his eyes closing for a moment as he savored the sensation. jis breath hitched, his teeth gently sinking into his lower lip in response to the pleasure coursung through him. his dark gaze was fixed on you, watching intently as you explored him with a look of curiosity and wonder in your eyes.

you started to stroke his cock slowly, the pre-cum acting enough as a lubricant, facilitating your movements. “just like that, sweetheart,” he said in low groans, his breath heavy.

yes, this. more. fast. please. he closed his eyes tight to savor the sensation. each sweet, slow movement of your hand pushed him closer to relief. and then... a new sensation joined the others. a delicate, refreshing affection, at the tip of his cock. almost like a breeze. you were licking it. rolling that pink, shy and naughty tongue around the head of his erection. kissing and tasting lightly. the feeling was intense. sublime. insufficient.

it took him by surprise how you effortlessly seemed to know what to do, and he found himself thoroughly enjoying it. his hands threaded through your hair, his fingers delving into the soft strands as he lavished his touch upon your head. in that moment, he found himself unable to hold back his words. his voice came out in a rough whisper, "put it all in your mouth.”

for a brief moment, a flicker of worry crossed jeno’s expression. he feared that his request might have intimidated you, that you may stand up from your position on the ground and refuse to continue. he was on the verge of pleading with you, nearly uttering a desperate “please,” but before he could voice his concern, you unexpectedly acquiesced to his command, enveloping the head of his cock in your wet, ecstatic heat.

you began hesitantly. which was understandable, since this was your first time. but you didn't need much skill. he throbbed with desire while you showed great enthusiasm, even though you had no experience. there was little you could have done — except bite him, perhaps — that wouldn't have been delicious.

you were more than good. it was fantastic. he found himself rocking his pelvis, trying to go deeper each time your sweet, juicy mouth descended on him.

a ragged moan escaped his lips as he spoke, his grip on your hair growing tighter as he moved his hips in a quicker, more insistent rhythm. “you are doing so well, baby. so, so, well,” his words came out in a deep, raspy tone.

the mounting tension between you had taken its toll on jeno, and he was acutely aware of the pleasure that had been denied to him for a considerable amount of time. it was a struggle to maintain control, and he found himself teetering on the edge of climax.

as you continued your ministrations, he swallowed hard, the air around him seemingly growing thinner. his body trembled under your touch, his breath escaping in ragged gasps as he felt his climax building up, on the verge of tipping into pure ecstasy.

and, before he could even warn you, he came in your mouth, holding your head in place, forcing you to take his entire load. he didn’t mean to do that, but it felt so good he didn’t want you to pull away at the best part.

as you pulled away, gasping for breath, jeno's grip on your hair loosened, his hands gently releasing their hold on you. his own chest heaved with effort, his breathing ragged and labored from the intense encounter. he gazed at you with eyes heavy with desire, drinking in the sight of your disheveled appearance and the thin line of his cum that traced the corner of your mouth. in that moment, his expression was one of pure contentment and satisfaction.

a ghost of a smirk played at the corners of jeno's lips, his voice lacking any trace of remorse. "i'm sorry, i should have warned you, baby," he said, his words carrying a hint of satisfaction rather than regret.

you glanced up at him, offering a timid smile as you assured him, "i-it's okay, it wasn't that bad,” he watched as you ran your tongue over your lips, innocently cleaning the remnants of his essence.

god, he thought, you're so sexy.

from that point forward, not only had making out become a regular occurrence, but oral sex had become something you enthusiastically welcomed. jeno couldn't help but notice the change in you, how earnestly you seemed to embrace the act of pleasing him. it looked like you derived a sense of satisfaction from bringing him to such levels of ecstasy.

even though jeno was completely happy with the addition of a new activity to the menu, it still wasn't enough. don’t get him wrong, he loved getting a blowjob whenever either of you were in the mood, but what he really needed was to actual fuck you.

he found himself perplexed by your reluctance to take the next step. while he was fully aware of your penchant for shyness, he couldn't help but wonder why you hadn't given in yet.

considering the things you had already engaged in, he assumed that your comfort level would have already reached a point where you would be receptive to more.

the mounting impatience and desire finally got the better of him, and he decided that it was time to address the issue directly. he took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts before addressing you with a blunt question.

“baby, why don't you just let me fuck you?”

jeno caught you off guard, interrupting your casual routine as you were making your way to bed and using a towel to dry your hair. you momentarily froze, the towel suspended in mid-air as you turned to face him with widened eyes. “w-what? jeno…!” you stuttered as you hastily grabbed the towel, clutching it against your face in an attempt to conceal your flustered expression.

he couldn't help but roll his eyes, at your reaction, with a smirk on his lips and a chuckle in his voice, he reached out and pulled you closer to him, his arms encircling your waist and drawing you into his embrace. he settled his chin on your belly, gazing up at you with a curious expression and added with nonchalant tone, "i’m just curious, you know.”

with a single movement, jeno reached up and took the towel from your hands, tugging it away from your face to reveal your expression. his eyes scanned your face, taking in the adorable sight of you all bashful and shy.

"i-i..." your voice trailed off, your nervousness clearly evident. jeno's eyes remain fixed on you, waiting patiently for you to continue. sensing your hesitance, he encouraged you gently, his voice soft and soothing. "mmm, i'm listening," he urged, silently coaxing you to continue.

you averted his gaze, your voice barely above a whisper as you finally confessed. "i-it's just...you'll see me naked and all...," you admitted, the thought alone making your heart race with anxiety.

jeno's eyes widened momentarily as he processed your words, his expression alternating between disbelief and shock.

that was the reason? no fucking way.

"are you serious?" he asked, his voice filled with a touch of incredulity. you responded with an eager nod, still not looking at him, "i-i can't do that, you'll see everything!" your voice trembled slightly, the thought of being fully exposed in front of him clearly terrifying to you.

jeno couldn't believe what he was hearing. it seemed almost unbelievable that the reason you were hesitant to take the next step was solely because of the thought of being completely naked in front of him.

his facial expression softened as he tried to understand your perspective better. "baby, it's me, you know," he said, his voice gentle and reassuring. he reached out to cup your face, his touch tender. "you don't have to be embarrassed with me," he continued, his eyes searching yours.

"i...i know that," you stammered, feeling your heart fluttering in your chest at his touch and the soothing sound of his voice. despite knowing that he was someone you trusted deeply, the thought of being completely nude in front of him still felt overwhelming.

you tried to articulate your feelings, your words coming out in a shaky whisper. "but... it's just... i'm worried i won't look good enough for you," you confessed coyly.

great. you were insecure. he forgot that.

“that's just so stupid," he muttered, pulling you onto the bed with him and positioning you straddling his lap. his fingers gently cradled your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "you know i love every single part of you, right?" he repeated, his tone tender and sincere. "even those i'm yet dying to see," he added with a smirk, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every contour. "you are just perfect.”

your eyes widened slightly at his words, his unwavering confidence in your beauty causing a flutter in your chest. insecurity still lingered, but the way he spoke with such certainty made your doubts waver.

your hands unconsciously found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as your breath hitched. "you...you really think that?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as your lips form a small pout.

jeno chuckled softly, his hands moving from your face to your hips, their grip firm but gentle as they held you in place on his lap. "i don't just think it, i know it," he replied, his eyes scanning your face as his thumbs began to trace soothing circles on your hipbones.

his voice dropped lower as his eyes held your gaze, “your body is incredible," he repeated, "i love every inch of it." his expression softened, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "and i would love even more if you just let me see more of you. you have nothing to be shy about, baby. let me show you just how much i appreciate every part of you.”

your heart skipped a beat, his words igniting a flutter of anticipation within you. despite your lingering insecurities, you couldn't deny the way his words made your stomach churn with excitement and nervousness, he sounded so inviting.

after a few moments of contemplation, your voice trembled as you finally gave in, your eyes meeting his.

"o-okay," you whispered, the word barely audible, as if spoken more to yourself than to him. taking a deep breath, you made the decision, your heart racing in your chest. “i-it's fine.”

as soon as the words left your mouth, granting him permission, Jeno's lips were on yours in a heartbeat, the kiss passionate and feverish. his hands didn't waste any time either, slipping under the fabric of your shirt to caress the soft skin of your back.

“that's it, sweetie,” he said against your lips. “i promise it will be worth it,” he pulled you closer, the intensity of his embrace and the hungry way his tongue sought yours sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

jeno's impatient hands were soon tugging at the hem of your shirt, his movements eager and insistent as he lifted it over your head, revealing your bare upper body, clad only in a bra. his breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of your exposed skin, his eyes roaming over you, appreciating every inch. his hands continued to caress your skin, the feeling of flesh on flesh sending shivers down your spine.

his touch was gentle and deliberate, his fingers tracing soft lines along your collarbones, your arms, down your sides. he leaned forward, his lips pressing kisses along your neck and collarbones, nipping and nibbling at the sensitive skin there. "you are so beautiful, baby," he murmured against your skin. "i've been wanting to do this for so long.”

he continued to kiss and nibble at your neck and collarbones, his movements soft but insistent. as he trailed a path of kisses down your chest, his fingers traced the lace of your bra, tracing the edge of the fabric with the tip of his fingers.

his lips moved lower, his kisses growing more frantic as they reached your chest, his tongue tracing the contour of your cleavage as his hands continued to roam your body. his fingers trailed a path down your back to the clasp of your bra, his knuckles brushing against your skin as he fumbled to undo it.

jeno's fingers worked quickly to undo the clasp of your bra, his touch both impatient and skillful as he finally managed to free you from the confines of the undergarment. he pulled it away, revealing your bare chest to him, your tits jiggling slightly.

“fuck,” he exhaled a shaky breath, his eyes taking in the sight of your exposed flesh. "you're more beautiful than i ever imagined," he murmured, his voice filled with desire and awe.

as jeno continued to gaze at you, you couldn't help but feel a wave of shyness wash over you. your arms instinctively moved to cover your chest, attempting to shield yourself from his unabashed staring. embarrassed, you muttered, "s-stop looking at me like that.”

he reached out and gently pulled your arms away from your chest, exposing your bare skin again. “don’t be embarrassed,” he said, his voice soft and soothing. “you’re gorgeous. i could look at you all day.”

He leaned down, his hands trailing a path across your chest, his fingertips gently caressing your boobs. his touch was feather-light, almost reverent as he explored the contour of your flesh. he took his time, seemingly wanting to savor every moment of this encounter.

slowly, he lowered his head, his hand reaching out to cup one, his thumb brushed over your nipple, his fingers closing around your breast, squeezing gently as he drew your nipple into his mouth, sucking softly. he hummed contentedly, lost in the sensation, his lips working slowly, savoringly.

a soft gasp escaped your lips as jeno's tongue worked its magic, sending shivers down your spine. your body writhed beneath him, your fingers tangling in his locks, tugging at them softly.

feeling your body respond to his touch, he took the opportunity to lay you down on your back, gently coaxing you into the plush pillows. he never stopped his ministrations, he caught your nipple between his teeth, giving it a light bite and then sucking, his hands roaming over your body with a possessive touch, as if marking you as his own.

“god, you're so perfect," he whispered, he moved to your other tit, giving it the same attention. "don't hide yourself from me again.”

jeno's hands slid to the waistband of your shorts, his touch burning against your skin. he pulled them down, along with your panties, as you lifted your hips up to help him guide them down your thighs and off your body.

when you were finally bare before him, he couldn't help but take a moment from sucking your boobs to admire the sight of you laid out beneath him, open and vulnerable.

“look at how hot my pretty girl is,” he bite his lower lip, leaning closer to capture your lips in a rough kiss, his fingers making their way to between your thighs. he knew he needed to prepare you for the main event, to make sure you were ready for what he was dying to give you.

you were so sensitive that it was easy to get reactions from you, he didn't even need to finger you that much to make you come a few times, that, along a few praises on your ear while hitting your sweet spots, were enough to have you squirming under him.

jeno's breath was warm against your ear as he spoke, his words sending delightful shivers down your spine. "okay, sweetie," he whispered, his lips still pressed against the sensitive skin of your neck. "you're doing so well."

he could feel your quick breath and the sweat beginning to form on your forehead. his wrists were growing tired from his efforts, but he wasn't backing down. "i'll make you feel even better," he promised, his voice low and seductive.

he shifted his body, his hands working quickly to remove his clothes, discarding them carelessly on the floor beside the bed.

your eyes drank in the sight of jeno's body, taking in his toned muscles and the way his body glowed in the faint light of the room. your gaze fell on his cock standing proud and ready, and a wave of heat washed over you, making you instinctively press your legs together. he was so hot. it was unfair how good he looked.

“like what you see, pretty?” he asked with a smug smile. you weren't brave enough to say the words out loud, but you wanted him to know that you appreciated him too, so you only nodded fiercely, making him laugh and lean over you to press his lips against yours in a gentle kiss while positioning himself between your legs, his erection rubbing against your thigh.

jeno broke the kiss to look into your eyes, his gaze intense and serious. he gently cradled your chin in his hand as he spoke, his voice filled with concern and desire. "just listen to me for a moment, okay?" he said softly. "i need you to promise me that if it becomes too much, if it hurts in any way, you'll tell me to stop. can you do that for me, baby?”

his words hung in the air for a moment, the implications clear. you knew why he was saying that. the size of his cock was undoubtedly intimidating, and it was natural to feel a pang of fear. but your desire for him overpowered any reservations you might have had.

with a nod, you responded. "yes, jeno, i can," you gave him a small smile, "i’ll tell you if it's too much.” he studied your face for a moment, making sure you were sincere and not just saying it to please him. he could see the want in your eyes. the way you nodded your head and answered him firmly gave him the reassurance he needed.

“that’s my good girl,” he kissed your cheek, straightening his back and wrapping his hand around his cock, stroking it a few times before pressing it against your entrance, teasing you lightly by rubbing the tip up and down.

then, he slowly pushed his lenght inside you, as he advanced, you gasped and clutched the sheets, small whimpers of pain escaping your lips. you were lucky you were wet enough to ease the pain, his dick slid into you with ease, he really prepared you well.

jeno's expression mirrored pleasure, his eyes closing in ecstasy as he threw his head back and let out a silent moan. it was as if he had been waiting for this moment for an eternity, and the feeling of you enveloping him was like entering a state of nirvana.

he paused for a moment, his body trembling with pleasure and exertion, as he looked at you. he was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he tried to regain control of his breathing.

"are you doing okay, baby?" he asked, his voice hoarse and low, he wasn't even half way and you seemed to be struggling already.

he looked at your face, taking in the expression of pain and pleasure mingled on your features as your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes welled up with tears. despite the discomfort you were feeling, you reassured him. “y-yes, keep going," you managed to say through trembling lips, your voice shaky but determined. "i can take it, i promise.”

jeno couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for finding you so incredibly hot even in that moment. he leaned in closer, pressing his face against your neck, and sought out your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours. it was an attempt to provide some distraction from the pain, and his words were a soothing whisper against your skin.

"that's it, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and comforting. "you're doing so well. just a little more,” he continued to move his hips, causing you to gasp once more, and he couldn't help but moan at the feeling of you squeezing him. his grip on your hands tightened as he fought to maintain control of his own desire to simply fuck you hard.

and when he was finally fully inside you, a wave of relief washed over you, releasing a soft sigh from your lips, you never felt so full before.

he soon let go of your hand to straighten his back again, you were speared open by his cock and when he pressed the palm of his hand on your belly and you felt the bulge he made there, it was too much. neither of you were expecting you to cum right now, your voice crying out his name as your entire body tremble.

“fuck, baby, already?” he asked under his breath, a smile on his lips. again, that was so hot of you. he can't believe he made you come like that.

and that was enough for him. he pulled his hips back slowly, his cock almost all the way out, a brief moment of relief when your insides were empty again, which didn't take long when he pushed back into you hardly, his tip hitting your cervix, making you both moan loudly. you didn't even had time to recover from the most intense orgasm of your whole life.

“fuck,” he said almost breathless. “feel that, pretty girl?” his grip on your hips tightened enough to feel painful and leave bruises. “feel how deep i am?”

the room was filled with sounds of skin against skin as he increased his pace, thrusting even harder while voicing out a few praises to you, saying how well you take him, how good your pussy feel, how he wanted to fill you up with his cum.

he nipped and nibbled at the sensitive flesh, leaving behind a trail of kisses and light love bites as he continued to move in and out of you. your name spilled from his lips like a prayer, a plea, a mantra.

you had intended to speak, to ask him to slow down, but before you could utter a word, jeno sealed your lips with his own, effectively silencing your pleas. his kiss consumed you, capturing all your moans and protests.

he picked up the pace, his movements growing more urgent, more desperate as he feel himself getting closer to his climax. jeno's voice was a low, seductive whisper, his breath hot against your neck. "gonna fill you up, pretty," he murmured, his teeth sinking into your flesh. "you're gonna take every single drop," he whispered fiercely, nibbling at your neck once more as he continued to move, his thrusts growing more insistent.

his hand went to your clit, wanting to make you cum once again, this time right with him. he was close to his limit and he knew he was overstimulating you, then it wouldn't be so difficult. within moments, jeno felt his body become tense and his thrusts more erratic, his movements stuttering even more as he felt you tighten around him.

it didn't take long for you both to cum and you feet him fill you with his hot seed, both moaning loudly. jeno gave a few more thrusts to make sure you were going to take everything he had to give you before pulling out of you.

jeno's body collapsed onto yours, both of you panting and struggling to catch your breath in the aftermath of your climax. the room was filled exclusively with the sounds of your labored breathing.

you could feel the hotness of his skin against yours, his heartbeat racing against your chest as he tried to regain some control over his own breathing. his weight pressed you into the mattress, his body limp and sated.

he buried his face against your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. his grip on you loosened, his arms coming to rest by your sides as he lay on top of you, completely spent.

after a few moments of comfortable silence, jeno rolled off you and settled onto his back beside you. he broke the silence, his voice gentle, "how are you feeling, baby?" he asked, turning his head to look at you. he noticed the tired yet content smile on your face.

“blissful,” you answered with a light giggle, making him smile back at you.

good. he was going to focus on that now instead of thinking about how stupid he was for cumming inside you on the first fuck and how this could be a big problem in the future.

[k3n-dyll]

how about when things start to get spicy with sevika and she finds out it's readers first time

This got longer than I thought it would lol, but I wound up making her kinda soft in this one. The world needs more soft Sev content.

☆Men, minors and ageless DNI

Warnings... 18+, wlw, not proofread, established new relationship, fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), domtop!Sevika, virgin!reader, fem!reader, AFAB reader, praise, no specific physical descriptions but reader is implied to have plush hips for like a second Word Count: 1.5k | Masterlist. | Divider Creds | Links 4 Palestine

Notes ☆ This one's been in my drafts for months I'm so sorry. I kinda rushed the ending (it's past my bedtime) and I've been hating my writing recently so a reminder that (constructive) feedback is much appreciated

"Baby...you okay?"

Sevika's voice echoes through your mind, drawing you out of your thoughts, her hands now lightly trailing from where they'd once been underneath your shirt to rest on your hips. She looks a bit concerned, her head cocked to the side as she looks up at you from where you're perched on her lap. The rigidity of your spine hadn't gone unnoticed by her, her plump lips retracting from your neck, sharp, silver eyes narrowing at the sudden show of unease in your body.

You had kissed before, briefly. It wasn't like the contact was something new, it was simply elevated. A nice, home-cooked dinner and a few glasses of expensive red wine she'd smuggled from Piltover had wound up with you in her lap, straddling her thighs as your lips crashed together in an almost desperate make-out session, her hands gripping and fondling your body in a way you'd never felt before. You'd convinced yourself that you were fine, confident even. But as her kisses turned into licks and bites along your neck, her hands traveling upward into the thin cloth of your blouse something in you snapped. It's entirely irrational, and yet you can't control it asyour mind suddenly rushes with thoughts of every single way you could fuck up in the moment and do something that would make her want to stop. Something that would make her not want to be with you anymore.

"Baby" she repeats herself, her flesh hand giving a gentle squeeze to the plush of your hip, wanting you to speak to her.

Your eyes cast down in slight embarrassment at being detected so easily in your nervousness, giving her a small smile and dismissively waving your hand in an attempt to downplay your tension, you speak.

"Sorry, babe. I'm okay" You murmur, leaning in to kiss her again, which, for a moment, she allows, but if there's one thing about Sevika it's that she isn't going to let it go. Not when you're still so stiff in her arms.

"What is it?" she demands, once again breaking the kiss and moving her head back a bit in order to look you in the eye. You let out a sigh, not having expected this to make you as anxious as it did.

"I just...I haven't really...done this before" You admit after a bit of quiet.

That admission gives her pause, a flicker of surprise crossing her features before she lets out a soft hum in acknowledgment. Despite her urges, and the sticky pool of arousal that's already formed in her panties, the last thing she wants to do is have you uncomfortable.

"D'you want me to stop?" she questions, her hands already loosening their grip on you. Before she can fully move them away though, you wrap your hands around her forearms, still craving for her touch regardless of your internal conflict. You shake your head quickly in response.

"No, no, I don't want...I don't want you to stop, I'm just nervous is all"

"Nervous?" she asks, now admittedly more worried.

"I just don't wanna fuck up" The words come out quickly as you see Sevika's eyebrows knit together, not wanting her to think your reservations are her fault. To your shock, she just chuckles at your response, shaking her head before pressing a soft peck to your lips. "You aren't going to fuck up, baby." Her voice coming out as more of a calming purr rather than the concerned tone she'd had a moment ago, using her mech hand to pull you further up onto her lap. "Just let me take care of you, yeah?"

You nod, and without warning she stands up, arms hooked under your thighs.

"What're you doing?"

"Well, I don't want your first time to be on that banged-up old couch" she mutters, continuing to pepper kisses along your neck as she walks you to her bedroom.

Sevika's never really been one for tenderness. And the idea of taking things slow with a sexual partner, at least most of the time, wasn't really her thing but you would never know it from the way she handles your body in this moment. Gingerly lying you down on her bed, pressing soft butterfly kisses on your cheeks and mouth. Using her mech arm to hold herself in a hover above your body, her flesh hand rides up your shirt again, slowly caressing and massaging the soft skin underneath before slipping it off of your torso entirely.

"You sure you want more?" Sevika hums against your skin, nuzzling the tip of her nose against your throat, needing to confirm that you're absolutely sure before she lets loose. You nod, but of course, your girl's not having it.

"Speak. Tell me you want more."

The soft, commanding tone of her voice sends a shiver down your spine.

"Please Sev...I want more, I'm sure. I promise I'm sure." your cheeks hot as you stumble awkwardly with your words.

That's all the affirmation she needs, her hands now working around your back to unhook and discard your bra. You feel the calloused palm of her large hand grazing against your skin, groping at the fat of your breast as her lips latch around your nipple on the other, gently sucking and nipping at it with her teeth.

Her normal impatient attitude when it comes to most things has seemingly disappeared as she makes her way down your body. It takes every ounce of self-control to make it so, Sevika denying her urge to rip your clothes off to slowly strip you down instead, then herself, hungry eyes flickering up to you with each article of cloth shed to make sure you're still okay.

It's when you feel her hand beginning to slip underneath your panties that you tense again. The stiffness earns you a softly uttered "Relax baby" from Sevika before you feel the pads of her fingers begin tracing your puffy clit, the contact almost soothing now that there's some relief to the growing ache between your thighs.

Sevika is quick to replace her fingers with her mouth, eager to position herself snugly between your thighs, hoisting your legs over her broad shoulders and pressing her tongue flush against your cunt. The feeling sends a jolt of electricity through you, the expected but new feeling of her soft lips pressing kisses against your swollen pearl, her tongue dragging along your slit rendering your brain useless.

"Oh my god..." Your hands instinctively weave into her short, dark strands as you unconsciously press yourself into her closer.

Sevika can feel her own need growing by the second but she refuses to rush you, her own cunt gushing with every little move you make. The way you whimper when she finally pushes two of her thick fingers into you is driving her absolutely wild, moaning with you against your pussy as she finds herself humping mindlessly at the scrunched blanket between her own legs.

"There you go, pretty girl...so fuckin' tight" "Taste so fuckin' good, baby.."

Every word she speaks is caught between her own stifled grunts and heavy breathing, her impatience becoming clear in the way she begins pumping her fingers ruthlessly in and out of you, audible sloshing and sucking sounds only drowned out only by your increasingly loud, untamable moaning.

Every muscle in your body seems to tense as you near your peak, back arching up off of the bed as you try to warn her you're close

"Sev, Sev....I'm g'na - fuck, I'm so close"

Sevika just groans in response, her fingers curling upward inside of you with each pump, triggering a wave of all consuming pleasure to course through your body. You've touched yourself before, but not a single one of your solo sessions could compare to the blinding euphoric feeling that rips its way through your body. Your fingers curl harder into her hair, accidentally tugging off the elastic that usually keeps Sevika's hair in place as you grind yourself agsint her tongue.

Her hands keep a firm grip on your thighs as you ride out your orgasm, only detatching her lips from your body when you begin attempting to pull back from overstimulation. A dopey grin is spread across her wet lips when she looks up at you - a rare sight to most, the small gap in her front teeth on full display.

"You did so good...so fuckin' good for me" Sevika murmurs, not bothering to wipe her mouth when she leans down and crashes her lips into your own parted ones, your breathing still short and heavy.

With how she's repositioned herself on top of you, her core hovering just above you thigh, you can feel just how wet she's gotten without even having been touched yet, the dark hair of her bush grazing against your skin and leaving a cool, dewy trail on your leg.

"What....what about you?" You ask, to which Sevika snorts, this time, purposefully lowering herself a bit more to let you feel just how drenched she truly is, as if wanting you to know that it's your fault her body is reacting this way.

"I never said I was done with you, did I?"

Reblogs are appreciated <3 || Taglist: @archangeldyke-all, @delinthecut, @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery, @glass-apothecary, @cobraisveryhorny

[puck-luck]

explodin' (like a golf ball) | quinn hughes

warnings: fem!masturbation, fem!receiving oral, a sliver of dom!quinn pairing: fem!reader x quinn hughes request: @captainlexaproluvr "quinn catching his gf getting off while watching one of his interviews (then perhaps him going down on her but forcing her to keep watching the video).... yeah" wc: 1470

It’s the black button-up, black dress pants, and pristine white sneakers that do it for you, really. Or maybe it’s Quinn’s perfect new haircut and his big, genuine smile, which he so rarely shows in interviews, that are the minor catalysts in your current predicament. It could be his focus, how quiet he is as he lines up his shot and prepares to swing, to bury that ball as far down the range as he can. 

You realize suddenly that you’re biting your lip hard enough to leave a mark.

You’ve got the video memorized at this point, the way he murmurs out an “Alright” before he swings at the ball, how he freezes in his stance and does a double take when the ball explodes, how he looks around to make sure everyone just saw what he did. 

You find yourself particularly endeared by how excited your sweet boyfriend is, excited to the point that he can barely string together a sentence before starting a new one. He calms down after a moment, his voice returning to its normal, controlled tone as he marvels over the moment to the main interviewer. 

Still, you watch over and over again to see your boyfriend light up like a Christmas display. It’s so rare that you see him act that way in front of the cameras, still a little shy despite his star-status. He should be used to the media by now, years into his career, but he still struggles with coming out of his shell. He overthinks it. But, sometimes, he gets caught off guard and the world gets to see the real him.

It is one of the most attractive interviews you’ve ever seen of Quinn. 

You remember him coming home the day of this shoot, beaming and bragging about how strong he was. You remember him picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder and taking you to the bedroom, so giddy and on a high from his great feat that he needed to get his cock in you and make you feel good. 

And the memories of that make you slip your hand into your shorts, into your panties, and pet over your folds. You’re wet already, just from the thought of Quinn pushing his thick cock into you, hovering over you and watching your face as he causes you to contort and moan recklessly from the pleasure. You jolt as your finger comes in contact with your clit, the bundle of nerves receptive and aching for a repeat. 

The video is still playing, on a low volume but next to your ear regardless, and you can hear Quinn speaking over and over. It’s a recording, but it’s like he’s there, breathing meaningless words into your ear and praising you. 

On a loop, your heart jumps with his repeated “I have… like, come on” because he’s just so precious and such a sweet boy and you want him to be that happy all the time. You want him to be so elated that he’s speechless, that he’s smiling wider than he ever has in front of a camera.

“What’s this?”

Your eyes flash open, finding Quinn in the doorway. His eyes are scanning your body, devoid of emotion and dark. Your fingers still over your clit at the look, then you draw your hand out of your shorts. You rest your hand on your stomach, your shirt riding up so that Quinn can see the soft skin of your belly and love handles. 

“Touching what’s mine?” Quinn asks, his voice low and scratchy. “I was just down the hall, baby, you could’ve called for me.”

He approaches the bed, and suddenly, you remember that his voice is ringing out of your phone speakers on a loop. You go to grab your phone and silence it before he reaches the device first, but you’re too late. He scoops up your phone, planning to just turn it over and place it on the bedside table, but he’s stopped in his tracks when he comes face to face with himself on your screen. 

He watches the video twice, only looking up at you briefly between plays, a smile growing on his face.

“But you already had me here, I see,” Quinn teases. “Have I spoiled you that much, pretty girl? You can’t get yourself off without me talking in your ear?”

“Don’t be mean,” you plead, reaching for him.

Quinn shies away from your touch, opting instead to turn up the volume on your phone and place it, face down, across the room. He returns to your side, chuckling as you stare up at him from your position, then Quinn kneels at the edge of the bed. Your eyes follow him, taking in each of his movements.

Quinn reaches up and dips his fingers into your waistband, gently pulling your shorts and panties down. He reveals your wet pussy, humming in approval as he spreads your legs to get a good look. He pulls you closer, strong hands dragging you by your ankles until your fluttering entrance is a mere breath from Quinn’s mouth. 

“Now you get the best of both worlds,” Quinn mumbles, interrupting himself to plant a kiss on your clit. “I get to take care of you down here, and I can still talk to you from all the way over there.” He nods back at the phone, still repeating the same audio. “I’ve legit never seen anyone break a golf ball before.”

He dives in, tongue first like he’s trying to catch a melted drop from a popsicle before it drips and stains his pants. His hands hold your hips down, keep you from moving underneath him, squirming away from the contact. He groans into your slick, like he’s never tasted anything so lovely before. 

Your hands find his hair, neck craning to catch a glimpse of his focused glare through his eyelashes. He’s staring at you, watching you fall apart under his tongue, and he’s barely done anything at all. 

Quinn eats you out like he always does, like a loyal follower getting a chance to worship his goddess. He stares at you like you’re a masterpiece, painted by the greatest artist in the entire universe, their fame and talent surpassing the boundaries of space and time. You are their creation and Quinn is beyond blessed to have you, to own you.

Because you are his, after all. You’re scrambling beneath him, breathing heavily and whining and cussing and sweating, arching your back and sticking your fingers in his hair, pulling for some reprieve. Quinn will not let up. He cannot bear to part with your pussy, he needs it like air. 

And it needs him– clenching down on his tongue and bumping against his appealing nose with each repeated “Come on” and “That’s a win.”

You’re moaning, helpless to the noises that are falling from your lips. 

Quinn’s eyes are dry, almost looking like he couldn’t care less about the noises he’s pulling from you, the shaking in your legs that he causes with each swipe of his tongue. He looks disinterested, like this is just another thing on his agenda. You’d believe that he considers this a chore just by the looks of his eyes, if not for the fervor with which he licks you out.

It’s the perfect mixture– the plain and confident and quiet Quinn Hughes shown in his eyes, and the brazen, goofy, loving Quinn Hughes in his actions.

You tip over the edge as if leaping from an airplane, falling freely to the ground. The sensations overtake you like wind whipping at your hair throughout the fall. You sigh, grinding against Quinn’s face slowly, just riding out the waves. You drag your lips over the expanse of his lower face, his mouth and nose nudging you softly, reminding you that they’re there. Quinn presses a few kisses to your entrance, clit, and inner thighs before crawling up your body and hovering over your face. He smiles, leaning down to pepper kisses all along your features, making you giggle and squirm away.

“I didn’t know you liked me so much,” Quinn teases, nibbling your lips. “We’ll have to look into cloning. Then you’ll really have two of me.”

“Such a dork,” you reply, caressing his cheek and capturing his lips. He’s strong and solid above you.

“Let's just drill that thing down at like 320?”

You pull away. “Can you go turn that off?” You whisper. “It’s starting to annoy me now.”

Quinn chuckles. He presses his forehead to yours for a brief moment, just long enough for you two to take a breath together. He shifts to the side and leaves you on the bed, tired of his own voice as well. They’ll have to find a new video for next time.

note: i thought the title was funny! but it's probably just lame boooooooooo

ok loving you guys, make sure you sent me more requests for NOT jack or trevor. i'm bored of those requests. i've got plenty. and trevor is like constantly on my mind. so shush. i will get to him.

[allfearstofallto]

PLS CAN YOU FEED US MORE hero of the nation knight!childe ON MY KNEES I LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH AND I SEARCHED EVERYWHERE FOR A FIC LIKE THIS

This took FOREVER to write, but here you go!!

Blessings Be to The Hero of the Nation

Historical AU

Yandere Hero of the Nation! Childe x Fem! Reader

TW: yandere themes, stalking, minor character death, blood, threatening, forced marriage/engagement

He kept one of your hair ribbons wrapped around the hilt of his sword. It billowed in the wind constantly and would draw watchful eyes to it. That pastel pink fabric didn't match a single thing on his brutish, usually bloody exterior, but he still kept it regardless. You tragically didn't give it to him in a blatant display of affection and well wishes for him on his journey, instead, he found the little ribbon after it'd blown off your head and up to the wind. A little pout formed on your lips realizing you'd lost it, but you decided against retrieving it. He didn't though. He picked it up and placed it in his pocket, taking it home to clean off the dirt and grime.

That same ribbon was clenched in his hands when he arrived at the gate of your manor, along with a few other gifts that he would give to you. He'd just slayed the dragon, the wretched menace that was terrorizing the nation, now and only now did he feel worthy to ask for your hand. Cleaning off all the blood and gore that was on his armor, polishing it into light metal that could blind anyone who looked directly at it, he was certain that this would charm you off of your feet.

When he was invited into your home by your parents who were surprised to see the hero himself at their door, he didn't care about the tea or the cakes. The praise meant nothing coming from them. He skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the point. He wanted your hand in marriage and he wanted the wedding to be soon.

A skittish expression crossed your father's face as he gritted his teeth, “We've decided to leave that decision up to her.” Childe smirked, that was even better. He'd never met a woman who wouldn't fall for his charms.

You were called down from your room, eyelids heavy and half open, still in your thin sleeping gown with a robe over it. You were rubbing the tiredness from your eyes as you walked down the stairs, your other delicate hand gripping the banister. And when you saw him, you bowed. A deep traditional bow, given to those of a respectable higher status.

He kneeled down on one knee before you. The male kneeled for only one person, the queen herself. His sword pulled from its sheath, he laid it flat against his palms, offering it up to you. That knocked the sleepiness from his body and suddenly your eyes were wide open. Genuine shock was making your body stiff as a board and you looked back and forth to your parents who didn't say a word.

“Your visage has danced around my heart non stop since the first time I laid eyes on you. I wish to use this sword only to fight for you. Won't you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Words spoken in honor, with him meaning every bit of it. You were meant to take the sword from his hands, tapping it gently upon each of his shoulders, but you didn't. You just stood there, lips trembling, but not saying anything.

A marriage proposal via a letter was easy to ignore or reject, you didn't have to see their reaction. But never had you had someone be so bold as to propose to you in person. And not only that, the very hero that saved the Kingdom. Rumors told you he'd be marrying the first princess, she obsessed over him before he became the hero and those feelings seemed to only grow stronger after he waltzed into the city with the bloody head of the beast. Yet here he was at your feet, patiently anticipating your answer which he was positive was going to be a yes.

“I-'' you began, trying to think of the easiest way to let him down gently, “I fear that I'm not ready for marriage yet.” You said hurriedly. That wasn’t entirely a lie. You spent countless hours looking at the list of marriage candidates and scoping them out at balls and parties, but quickly realizing that none of them suited your tastes in that way. The entire idea of being wed barely satisfied you. You wanted to push it off for as long as possible.

“I'm willing to wait for you until the world crumbles. I'd even accept being your fiance until the day we die, as long as I can say you're mine,” he was persistent, you'd give him that.

You fiddled with your fingers nervously. Time felt as if it had stopped and this moment would never end. No matter what you did, he was still going to be there, “I thought you were to be wed to her highness, the princess?” You questioned him.

A scoff fell from his cherry pink lips, eyes looking you up and down, drinking in every inch of your body in that thin nightgown, “She does not interest me. Not the way you do.”

“There is really nothing interesting about me,”

“Won't you let me be the judge of that?”

Your shoulders slumped as you looked to your parents. They seemed as surprised by his persistence as you did, but weren't going to step in to help you, they always affirmed that it was your decision, they wanted you to be independent.

“Forgive me, hero, but I can not accept your offer,”

For just a split second you saw that princely expression slip. His eyes grew dark, lips in a deep frown, a rage you'd never seen before. But he was back to his usual expression in less than a second, that charming smile forming on his lips again as he stood from his knees and sheathed his sword a little too slowly.

“You wound me, my lady,” he'd mutter softly, hands still conveniently tight around the hilt of this sword, “Won't you please accept my gifts? And if you are to begin considering marriage, I hope that my proposal will be remembered fondly.”

Childe showed himself out, a little too quickly, but you didn't dare tell him to slow down. It was only once he was out those large double doors, did the air in your home feel breathable, you finally felt safe again. You watched his carriage leave from a window, watching as his eyes went dull again, losing all shimmers and feeling like a hollow mimicry of what humans were supposed to look like.

You were quite embarrassed to say you fell in love after that. Not with Childe, of course. You mentally tried to push the man from your mind after the way he startled both you and your family. Instead, your feelings developed for a commoner boy. You found yourself eyeing him when he'd deliver produce to your home, his face being one of pure beauty despite his messy exterior. As months went by, you'd catch yourself stealing bashful glances at him, locking eyes only for both of you to look away shyly. When the engagement was announced, Childe was one of the first to hear about it.

You twirled around the house in your wedding dress. Something plain and basic, but it was what your family could afford, and quite honestly, you loved it. You didn't want to take it off. Your fear of getting it dirty lessened as the days went by, until the wedding was only a week away.

“A guest for you, my lady,” one of your maids had said. Typically, when the employees of the house saw you dressed in your white gown, they'd smile at you, overjoyed as well. But she didn't. She looked worried, even a bit tense as she made the announcement to you.

“I hadn't arranged to meet anyone today,” you said a bit quietly, going to you closer to pick out something to change into, “Please tell them to wait in the day room.”

She stood stiffly for a second, then opened her trembling mouth to speak again, “I tried to, my lady. But he insisted on seeing you right now. He's just outside the door,”

A part of you wanted to ask who it was, who would be so disrespectful as to barge right up to a lady's room without her permission. But you already knew. There was a sense of unease sinking into your stomach. Unease and recognition. All the gifts and letters he'd sent weren't enough, were they? The man you were ignoring just had to come see you in person.

“Let him in,” you told the maid. She seemed confused at the ease at which you allowed such a thing, but still opened the door, revealing Childe who stood still in the hallway. He stepped past her, eyes only trained on you, “You're dismissed,” you said quietly, with a reassuring smile to the maid. Hesitance danced across her face, looking back and forth between you Childe, but she still did as told, bowing before leaving.

“You look lovely,” he said breathlessly, taking in the sight of you in that pure white dress.

“Thank you,” was all you could think to say back. Now that he was here before you, your mind was growing blank, all the things you wanted to say suddenly getting lost in fear. You tried not to notice the tension in the room, the way he was eyeing you like a predator about to pounce on a rabbit, but even your tough exterior was easy to see through.

“My heart aches for you, my lady,” he speaks softly while taking slow steps towards you. The terror of this situation made you move backwards, until your feet had made you press your back against the wall, “I fear that my haste might've made me do something…irrational.”

His dominant hand seems focused on the sword at his hip, making you look at it. It was only when you saw the red speckles all over his hand, hilt of the sword, and the oddly familiar pink ribbon he kept tied around it, did that coppery smell fill your nostrils.

With a trembling voice and a fake smile, you tried to assure him, “Any mistake is fixable, Sir Childe.”

“Not this one,” his hand continued to hold the hilt of his sword, squeezing it a few times as of testing the weight of his blade, “Do you know the best part of being the hero? The dragon slayer?” He asked, waiting for your response which was just a slow, forced shake of your head, prompting him to continue, “It's not the riches or the praise. It's not even the women.” As he speaks, one of his hands slides down from your cheek, to your neck, to the bodice of your dress. Tearful eyes look down to see him smearing that red liquid, that blood onto you white dress, staining it.

“I don't understand,” you mumbled, but your words fall on deaf ears.

“The best part of being the hero, is the freedom to do what I want. With no prosecution. Who in their right mind would stand up to the man who saved our failing nation? The answer is no one. Not the king, nor his workers, and especially not your weak little fiance,”

The sight and smell of blood, Childe's deep, hollow blue eyes, the way your heart felt as if it wanted to lurch out of your mouth. All things you tried to focus on as his words pounded their way into your skull, understanding washing over you like a wave that was trying to drown you where you stood.

“Wh-what did you do?” Your voice, so high pitched and breaking as the weight of the words forced through your body.

His hand, cold, soft, wet with blood rubbed your cheek, while his face never faltered, those dead eyes never changing, he had no remorse. It made you sick to your stomach, images of your fiance flashing through your head as you tried to imagine what he looked like, the hopeful ones saying that he was at least still alive.

“I'm going to ask again, nicely this time,” he began while pulling a ring from his pocket. Much more intricate than the one your fiance had given you, seeing as he had the hero's budget. But that didn't make you feel any less light headed when it was slipped onto your ring finger, freezing cold against your warm skin, “Will you do me the honor of becoming my bride?”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Broken Heart Mender

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: After hearing Tim tell Angela why he's not in a relationship with you, you pull away and make yourself sick with a broken heart. After too long without hearing from you, Tim finds you and promises to make everything better.

Warnings: reader gets sick (vomiting, headache, losing weight, crying), slight miscommunication, angst to fluff & hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2.4k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

“You know, you’re here a lot for someone who doesn’t work here,” Smitty points out.

“And you’re here a lot for someone who doesn’t work at all,” you argue playfully.

“She’s got a point,” Tim adds, shrugging at Smitty’s offended look.

You smile at Tim as you walk out, needing to return to your own station after spending too long on paperwork (to visit Tim). He’s been your friend since you were a rookie, and now he’s so much more.

You and Tim are safe places for one another; whenever one needs it, the other becomes an unlicensed therapist, a no-strings-attached hugger or cuddler on bad days, and a good listener, no matter the time or problem. Part of why you’re so willing to do such things for Tim is because you have feelings for him, a long-harbored crush that grows each time he’s kind to you or asks for your advice.

Tim, however, will happily listen to your problems and provide a shoulder to cry on, but he prefers to show his care by being what some (Angela) might call a ‘protective menace.’ He’s had feelings for you for as long as he can remember and shows it by staying close and keeping you out of harm’s way.

Whenever you run into each other at work, you find a way to stay together, and while Tim protects you, you try your hardest to make him smile. You like doing small things for him to make him happy because he deserves it. Likewise, he stays close because you deserve more than anyone can ever give you.

The only problem is that you’re both scared to let your feelings show, so you disguise it as friendship, a special bond that no one can break. Only a few people, those willing to look, can see that there’s more to your actions and words than a time-tested and bulletproof friendship.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim sighs when he sees Angela sitting at his desk.

“Don’t you have work to do?” he asks.

“You have questions to answer,” she replies, moving out of his seat and blocking the door. “I want to know about you and your friend.”

Tim rolls his eyes at her tone and air quotes. She has asked him about you before, but she’s relentless.

“Why aren’t you in a real relationship? Why haven’t you asked her out?” Angela inquires.

“Not your business, Lopez,” Tim answers.

✯✯✯✯✯

You slow as you near Tim’s office, his voice and Angela’s drawing your attention as your smile drops.

“Just tell me why you won’t let her in that last little bit,” Angela demands.

“Not that it is any of your concern, but we won’t work. We’re not made for each other, we’re not soulmates, and we will not be good for each other, not like that,” Tim snaps.

Swallowing, you feel like your heart physically drops into your stomach, making you nauseous as you fight tears. You leave before Tim or Angela notice you’re outside, unwilling to see Tim after learning how he feels.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What does that mean, Timothy?” Angela asks, quieter as she digs for the real reason.

Tim shakes his head, not ready to admit that he doesn’t consider himself relationship material. Regardless, you deserve someone better than him, though he has never considered it the other way around: you are too good for him and always have been.

“You’re right, it’s not my business. But it is hers,” Angela reminds him before leaving.

✯✯✯✯✯

Distancing yourself from Tim is hard, but after his comments to Angela, it’s what you have to do. Tim doesn’t have feelings for you and thinks you aren’t good enough, which hurts. More than your feelings, you are mentally distraught. Your emotions are all over the place, swinging aimlessly from anger to denial to an overwhelming sadness that makes it impossible to do anything but cry.

After a long night of fighting with your emotions, you try to eat breakfast and realize that the hurt is physical, too. Rushing to the bathroom, you empty your stomach before moving to the floor as your tears continue. Losing Tim is the worst pain you’ve ever experienced, and this is only the beginning.

The alarm on your phone goes off, and you pull yourself off the bathroom floor and get ready, ignoring the pain building behind your eyes and the churning sensation in the pit of your stomach. It will be a long day, but if you can power through, you will take some time off next week.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim is neck-deep in paperwork for a Metro case, but every spare second he has is spent calling and texting you. You don’t answer, and Tim can't do anything as his worry increases. He realizes Angela was right, and you deserve to know how he feels and why he keeps you so close, yet not close enough.

✯✯✯✯✯

By the end of the day, you haven’t been able to keep a single thing down, and you’re not sure if the emotional or physical pain is worse. Collapsing onto your couch, you let the tears begin anew as your week of PTO begins and your life as you know it ends.

Each day seems worse than the last, as you get sicker and sadder with each passing moment. When you summon the courage to step on the scale on Sunday morning, just three days after hearing Tim’s comments, you’ve lost a concerning amount of weight. You know it’s dangerous, but between the constant crying and the anxiety and sadness eating at you, there isn’t much you can do. There isn’t much you want to do except find a way to make yourself good enough for Tim Bradford.

✯✯✯✯✯

It’s been days since Tim heard from you, and he’s worried. When Mid-Wilshire gets called to assist your station, he hopes to see you. Tim searches the crowd of blue until he finds your partner.

“Bradford,” your partner greets.

Tim asks where you are, curious as to why you aren’t together, and your partner explains that you’ve been off work since Saturday, sick with something.

“Do you know if she’s okay?” Tim asks.

“All I know is it has to be bad for her to take this much time off,” your partner explains with an apologetic shrug before being called away.

Tim’s protectiveness kicks into overdrive, his worry keeping him from being able to focus on anything else. He finds his captain and tells him what's going on before asking if he can go check on you.

As he drives to your apartment, Tim hopes it’s not as bad as it sounds while beating himself up for not coming to visit you sooner. The ignored calls should have been a sign that something was wrong, but he let work get in the way. Though you aren’t there to hear it, Tim promises he will never neglect you again.

✯✯✯✯✯

It takes a minute to realize that the pounding sound is someone knocking and not an effect of your headache. Stumbling to the door, you answer it without checking who it is. When you see Tim’s face, you try to close the door, but you’re too weak, and Tim is too quick.

He rushes inside, looking at your pale face, unruly hair, and how your clothes hang off of you: an indicator you're unhealthily losing weight. It’s enough to push his protective side to action even as he fears the worst.

“You should go,” you tell him.

Tim ignores you, walking to your kitchen and setting water on the oven to boil. While he waits, Tim straightens up your apartment, moving quickly from room to room. He hasn’t spoken to you yet, and as you watch him, your emotions take over again.

With a few tears running down your face, you raise your voice and say his name. “You need to go.”

“No,” he answers simply. “You need help, you’re obviously sick and you’re not answering my calls.”

Tim's presence and how he acts like nothing has changed, and he’s still the protective friend he pretends to be, hurts you.

“Tim, get out!” you demand.

“Let me help,” he argues.

Shaking your head, you walk to your room and close the door, curling around your pillow as you cry. Each noise Tim makes in the kitchen feels like he’s laughing at you, and you don’t know how much more of this you can take.

He lets himself into your room after knocking, setting a mug of tea beside your bed, and rubbing your back. He notices how you stiffen but thinks it’s because you’re sick.

“What do you want to eat?” he asks.

“I want you to go.”

Tim nods, more to himself than you, and walks out of your bedroom. 

You hear the door close behind him and roll over, unable to decide if you want to drink the tea or throw it at the wall.

✯✯✯✯✯

The following morning, you wake, and the first thing you remember is Tim leaving yesterday. Yes, you asked him to, but it still hurts. The cold mug beside your bed is a cruel reminder of everything you’ve lost. Rolling out of bed, you reach for the water on the nightstand. After the first drink, you race for the bathroom, wondering how long it takes for a broken heart to heal.

Someone pulls your hair out of your face, a kind hand pressed to your back as you cry. When you feel able, you lean back against the tub behind you. Tim moves back, wetting a washcloth before he kneels beside you. As he wipes your face and neck with the cool rag, you wonder what he’d do if you gave him an out.

“I heard what you said,” you admit quietly. “That we wouldn’t be good together.”

Tim slows his movements as he listens to you.

“It hurt.”

Fresh tears break over your waterline, tracking down your cheeks. Tim realizes that he’s the reason you feel so bad; that one comment made to protect his feelings, to hide them, made you feel so bad that you’re now physically sick.

“Hey,” he begins, moving to sit before you when you turn away. “Listen, I know you don’t want to believe me, but I only said that to get Angela to leave me alone, to protect myself. I don’t think that.”

“But you said it,” you point out tearily.

“I know, and I’m sorry. The truth is we wouldn’t be good together, but not because of you, never because of you. It’s me; I am not made for relationships and I’m not good enough for you.”

You choke on a sob, leaning toward Tim. He extends his arm, letting you move against his side.

“Since we met, I’ve wanted more,” he whispers against your hair. “But I was scared you’d realize I’m broken and leave… like everyone else.”

Shaking harder against his side, you cling to him as all your emotions mix. There is a chance this is a dream, but if you have to lose Tim, this seems like the best way to say goodbye.

“C’mon,” Tim urges gently, pulling you with him as he stands.

With a gentle hand on your back and one on your shoulder, Tim leads you to the couch. Covering you with a blanket, he promises to come right back. When he returns with a glass of water and a pack of crackers, you turn toward him.

“Are you going to leave?” you whisper.

Tim shakes his head. “Never.”

Nodding, you accept the crackers. After you eat a few and drink half the water Tim gave you, you sit back.

“I cleaned your apartment last night,” Tim tells you. “You want to change and clean up?”

You take a deep breath, and Tim senses your apprehension before adding, “I’ll help you.”

Taking Tim’s hand, you follow him back into your bedroom. After you change into the clothes he hands you, you sit on the bathroom vanity and let him wash your face and secure your hair.

“When’s the last time you ate? More than a few bites, I mean,” Tim asks, laying a hand on your thigh.

You shrug before admitting, “Last Wednesday.”

Tim’s jaw clenches, but he hides it with a quick nod. “I’m going to make you some more food. I know you probably don’t want to eat, and you don’t have to eat much, but you need something.”

Moving your hand onto Tim’s, you interlace your fingers with his. He leans in, releasing a chuckle when you throw your arms around his neck. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulls you to the edge of the vanity.

“I missed you,” you whisper in his ear.

“I missed you too,” he responds.

✯✯✯✯✯

As you dry the ends of your hair while you exit the bathroom, you feel like a new person.

“We need to talk,” Tim says when he sees you. Your smile falls, and Tim takes your hand. “Not like that,” he promises.

“Like what?” you ask, curling your legs under you as you sit beside him.

“I meant what I said, but I need to make sure you know that. I have feelings for you, I have for a long time, I’m just terrified to show them because I’m not good enough for you.”

Boldly, you press your finger to his lips to stop him. He raises his brows at your movement, smiling with you.

“Yes, you are. You’re more than good enough. That’s why I fell in love with you.”

Tim pulls your hand away from his face, kissing your finger as he does so. “Even though I broke your heart and made you sick?”

“Broken heart sickness is curable, and you’re a pretty good doctor,” you tease, leaning toward him.

“I promise to make it better, and never do it again.”

You nod, trusting him entirely. Now that you’ve had a shower and heard that Tim feels the same, your stomach growls.

“It’s working already,” Tim says.

“I’m hungry again,” you marvel, smiling at Tim.

“I’ll offer a trade,” Tim begins. “A home-cooked meal for you, and a kiss for me.”

You nod, but Tim adds, “And I promise never to lie to protect myself again. I’ll tell you exactly how I feel, as long as you do the same.”

“I feel like I love you, Tim Bradford,” you reply, pulling him in for the promised kiss.

Your kiss is better than he expected, and Tim loses himself in the feeling of you until your stomach growls again, and you laugh against his lips. Tim broke your heart, but he put it back together with a piece of his; the best-broken-heart-mender in the world was by your side all along.

[catslvrr]

you know all my dreams (you were one)

danielle marsh x fem!reader | one shot

Synopsis: Being a superhero involves a lot of saving, like saving people from burning buildings, saving cats stuck in trees, and even saving yourself from being evicted from your apartment. There’s one thing that you haven’t saved yet, and that’s your relationship with Danielle.

Contains: cursing, blood, violence, death, cliche hero stuff

You would like to believe that you are a good roommate.

But when you come tumbling through the window, landing with a raucous thud, all you have the strength to do is squeeze your eyes shut and pray to the heavens that your roommate graciously ignores you. Again.

This is the fourth time in a week that you have managed to enter your room in such a manner. You rely on the fact that your roommate is abnormally nocturnal and is most likely asleep by now.

You grimace as you remember that one time you accidentally crashed through her window, blacked out, and woke up to her grim face as she poked you with her foot. It wasn’t that far off from how she originally found out you were Spider-Woman two years ago.

It had been a rough day. You didn’t leave exactly scot-free after fending off the attempted escape of some maximum security prisoners at the Raft. 

This attempt may have been catalyzed by the recent blackout that you may have caused by fighting off another escape attempt, but who’s to say that’s the case?

Regardless, all escapees were given a scenic swing, free of charge, straight back to prison—a temporary one anyway. Now all you had to worry about was making it home in one piece.

By the time you reach home, the muscles in your arms giving in from the endless web-slinging, you don’t have enough energy in you to ease your landing (which really just meant trying to land on cool superhero poses). You swoop right onto the floor, face-down and limbs sprawled out like a measly bug helplessly trapped in a web.

You’re not entirely sure of the full extent of your injuries in the moment—mostly because of the way your whole body is burning, reminiscent of the building you were thrown into, but you’re pretty confident you have at least multiple bruised ribs, a black eye, and a mild concussion. 

“So, all things considered,” you say half-heartedly to no one in particular. “Not too bad.”

(Future note: You actually also had one fractured toe.)

You’re happily drifting off into unconsciousness, with nothing but the belated, slightly panicked thought of whether you locked your door or not, when three sudden strikes at your door jolt you awake.

Suppressing a groan, you roll over and pull yourself up as best as possible, ignoring the way your ribs scream at you. God, you were in so much pain. You let out a breathy exhale and even muster a crooked smile, even though you know your roommate can’t see you.

“Roomie! What’s up?”

A pause. 

You cringe. Seriously, ‘Roomie’? You should’ve gone with the name you saw on the leasing contract.

(When you first saw it, you thought that the lease was some sort of scam, because your roommate’s signature looked like someone trying to draw Australia from memory. Upon further questioning of the landlord, you were left with the information that your new roommate, Haerin, was indeed real.)

Before you can even apologize for your lame attempt at a greeting, Haerin’s response comes curtly.

“There was a crash.”

You pick up on a slight inflection of curiosity in Haerin’s tone—is glad that despite her nosiness, she didn’t decide to barge in and see you in your full Spider-suit glory. You force out a chuckle, hoping your roommate doesn’t notice the strain.

“Oh—right. I just fell. Tripped over my own feet. I mean, while dancing. Well. Trying to, you know?” 

Your embarrassment grows with every word that bumbles out of your mouth, and when the heat in your cheeks is too much to bear, you manage out a simple:

“Yep,” to eloquently finish it all off. You cross your fingers and hope your roommate doesn’t question the fact that there is no music playing at all.

You barely hear a non-committal hum over the pounding in your ears, and only release your breath when you hear the familiar obnoxious typing of keys, finding your heartbeat in tandem with its rhythm.

There are some things you can always depend on, and one of those things is Haerin’s perpetual typing as she attempts to finish her journalism assignments at the last minute. The incessant clicking of the keyboard gradually becomes soothing, almost therapeutic. You pass out before you can even register any sliver of drowsiness.

And then you wake up to a deafening bang and splinters of your doors ricocheting toward you. 

Reflexively, you flick your wrist, effectively webbing any stray pieces of your door to the ceiling. But you also web your roommate’s face. There are a few seconds of silence as you both just stare at each other.

“Funny how you find me in my Spider-Woman cosplay,” you chuckle awkwardly. “Because I’m not, you know, Spider-Woman.”

Haerin slowly peels the web off her face, face wholly impassive, still menacingly holding the ax. “I’m hungry. Buy me Wingstop.”

It takes you an hour to get the Wingstop back home. Ten minutes was dedicated to a mini meet-and-greet.

“What the fuck, Haerin,” you say with a mouth full of lemon pepper fries. “You broke my door down with an ax.”

“I was hungry,” she replies matter-of-factly, as if that’s a reasonable justification for the insane property damage she just inflicted. “But you were also not responding for sixteen hours.”

“I was out for sixteen hours?”

“A bit of an exaggeration. Maybe around 10.”

“Why do you even have an ax anyway?”

“Look at where we live,” Haerin clicks her tongue. “And you being Spider-Woman just slaps a big target on our backs.”

“Pause,” you raise your hand and stop chewing. “I’m not Spider-Woman. I’m just… a huge fan.”

Haerin’s exasperated eyes flicker to yours.

“I’m serious!”

“Yeah right,” she scoffs. “You make way too many spider puns.”

“Like what?”

“Like ‘I’ll swing by’, or ‘I’m kinda tangled up in something right now’,” she explains with air quotes.

You noisily take a sip of a lemonade you bought from a random stall. “Huh.”

“So,” you chew thoughtfully. “Hypothetically, if I was Spider-Woman, how would you react? Would you tell anyone?”

Haerin scans you, still wearing the Spider-suit, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, ungracefully shoving chicken tenders in your mouth with ranch dribbling down your chin. “I’ve known for, like, three months.”

You almost knock the ranch cup over in shock. “What?”

You swallow the chicken tender too quickly, and have to take a breather because you almost choke on it. “How—I mean, why would you think that?”

“You discarded one of your broken web-shooters in my room.”

“Oh. That’s where it went,” you scratch your cheek. “So… you won’t tell anyone, right?”

Haerin smiles. “Only if you pay for the door.”

You hear the screeching of a chair against the floor, hear the imposing footsteps headed toward your room. You feel something poke you. It’s probably the handle of that stupid ax she’s so attached to.

“You good?”

You respond with an unintelligible noise.

Another poke. “Rent’s due soon, you know.”

You roll over with a groan and pull off your mask. “Spare me some sympathy, I’m dying.”

“No you’re not. You’ve had worse.”

Haerin squats down to your level and dabs a cut on your forehead, leaving a burning sting. “Ow!”

You stay mum as Haerin wipes your face free of grime and blood. It’s rare, but when Haerin patches you up, there’s a tinge of gratefulness that twists your heart, and you know it’s better to leave it unspoken. That’s just how you two are.

You break the silence after a while. “I really need to find a job, don’t I?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Haerin replies. “I think you should start your own business: Spider-Eats.”

“Like… Uber Eats?”

“Exactly,” Haerin nods proudly. “But you don’t need to pay for gas, because you just swing over. And I’m sure people will tip you because you’re Spider-Woman.”

“Huh. That’s actually a really good idea.”

As you shuffle out of your Spider-suit and wince at the way your bloody clothes stick to yourself, you make a mental note to start designing and coding a Spider-Eats app. And to also do laundry again. You languidly stretch your limbs, trying to ignore the aches and pains.

“Thanks, doc,” you grin at Haerin. “I feel better already.”

Haerin nods and walks out to the living room. You hear some faint rustling, and the smell reaches you first: pepperoni pizza. You can practically hear an orchestra of trumpets and horns and trombones sing as Haerin re-enters your room, like an angel from heaven, holding three boxes of pizza. It’s even from the same parlor joint the two of you always loiter around.

“Wait,” you pull a can of grape Fanta out of her hand and toward you with a web. “I’ve always wanted to try something.”

Haerin watches as you dangle from the ceiling upside-down and crack open the can. You bring it to your mouth and attempt to drink it, only for you to choke and spill it on your floor.

“Oops.”

After that sad display, you both find yourselves in a familiar position: sitting cross-legged on the floor across from each other, absolutely devouring the food you’ve chosen to be a victim to your outrageous appetite. It comes with being a superhero.

“Seriously, Haerin,” you sigh in satisfaction. “I love you so much.”

You and Haerin mostly eat in silence and scroll on your phones until all three boxes are demolished. You pack up all the boxes and push them to the side, flopping into a starfish position and feeling bloated already.

“You know,” Haerin starts, her voice surprisingly sincere. “Tomorrow’s the day.”

You slowly exhale. “Yeah.”

She flops down beside you. The two of you stare at the LED strips (set to red and blue) that you both went to hell and back trying to tape on the edges of the ceiling.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

You offer a small smile. “Nah. You know how it is.”

The two of you lie there for a while until you both fall asleep.

Unfortunately, being a superhero is not all glitz and glamor. You find yourself to be quite the average Joe, living an ordinary life. At the end of the day, you’re just an engineering college student with no job. Well, besides the occasional side gig of being a masked vigilante.

You tend to relish the mundane moments these days, and maybe it’s the age. (Haerin would roll her eyes if she heard you say this.) Those fleeting moments where you can bask in the serenity of a night without any pings from the local police database you hacked into, although often only lasting several minutes, are valuable to you. Sitting on rooftops and indulging in the view that is the city skyline at night—you never get sick of it.

You used to hate this—being human, that is. After the bite all those years ago, being Spider-Woman was riveting. The novelty of your superpowers made you feel competent. Made you feel like someone. (Only after you persevered through the beginner's clumsiness.) Of course, there are the not so great parts of still being human. Like attending mandatory labs, dealing with group project partners who go M.I.A., and the exorbitant rental rates. Regardless, you believe the good still outweighs the bad.

But like most good things in your life, they never stay. How foolish of you, to think that your newfound powers could somehow transcend the inevitability of pain and loss. If anything, you face it more now. 

That youthful naivety led to more trouble than you can handle. That night when you swung past that robbery at the bodega, without a care in the world, unwittingly sealing the fate of your aunt. Any last connection you had to your family was violently torn from your grasp.

It was your fault. And nothing can change that. It haunts you every waking hour of the day, manifests itself as a wicked virus, and its suffocating tendrils latch onto you on the nights when you’ve delved too deep into your own thoughts.

You try to block it out now, but the best you can do is repeat to yourself that it’s a reminder. A reminder of who Spider-Woman has to be and what she means to the city. An unwavering hero who stands for justice and protects everyone. A hero who does the right thing.

You hum to yourself as you push the door open with your shoulder, exiting the shop with a bouquet of pale purple forget-me-nots. You shove your hands into the front pocket of your hoodie after adjusting your backpack, slightly shivering at the crisp chill of the early morning.

You greet the local store owners as you pass by, even giving a hand in moving crates or supplies to help set up shop. It would be so much easier to just swing to the cemetery, but there’s a sense of reverence you feel you need to uphold, and the only way to do that is just to visit as yourself. No mask, no secret identity. Just you.

You’ve just crossed the threshold to the cemetery with one step when there’s a prickling sensation on your skin. As you get closer to her grave, the discomfort only grows, and so you swing to the nearest tree and perch yourself there.

And then you see her. In the flesh.

“Danielle?” You whisper to yourself, dumbfounded. What was she doing back here, after all these years?

Danielle stills for a moment, and so do you. She turns around and eyes the surroundings as if she heard your voice. You duck and burrow yourself deeper within the leaves.

You observe her quietly, donning her own bouquet of roses, and you smile wryly at the sight of them. Of course, she remembers her favorite flowers. Danielle sits at the grave for a while, her lips moving as if talking, but the music blasting in your headphones blocks it out. You don’t try to eavesdrop.

She’s dyed her hair blonde now, and you didn’t think it possible, but she stands out even more. The color suits her—it matches her personality, akin to a warm and inviting sunflower. Seeing her treat the grave with such care and tenderness makes your heart pang. You grip the tree branches tighter to try to steel yourself, swallowing the guilt and heartache that arises. You don’t expect anything less from her. She’s still so kind and loving even after what you did.

She takes out a small pouch, eventually settling down and crocheting. You’re surprised for some reason, but you also make yourself comfortable in the tree. Even though you’re a hundred feet apart, being in the same vicinity of her fills your body with a sense of repose. You allow yourself to believe that you’re sitting next to each other, still friends, grieving together, and you think that helps you heal a bit.

Half an hour passes before you feel a droplet hit your face. And then another. You and Danielle look up at the same time, only to see the billowing clouds roll in.

Without a second thought, you slip your mask on and shimmy out of your clothes, fishing an umbrella out of your backpack before webbing it to the tree. You clear your throat as you land behind her, as gently as possible so as to not scare her.

“Need this, Miss?” You forcefully deepen your voice, holding out the umbrella above Danielle’s head.

She turns around, lips slightly parted in shock, and it takes all your willpower to not visibly tremble.

“Thank you,” she smiles sweetly. You wonder if she would greet you like this if she knew who you really were. “Let me give you something in return.”

Danielle hands you a crochet ribbed beanie, a bright red just like the roses she brought, with a white pom pom on top.

“This one took me a few days.”

It’s incredibly endearing, but you’re panicking at her presence so you can only express your gratitude with an awkward, “Thanks!”, voice crack included, before slinging to the nearest building. 

You make sure to wear it on the way home.

Haerin notices it as soon as you return.

“What’s with the new look?” She asks, not looking away from her laptop.

You set an iced Americano for her on the coffee table, and then proceed to drape yourself on the sofa, feet nudging Haerin’s side to annoy her. She chooses to ignore you rather than resort to violence only because you bought her coffee. She also chooses to ignore how your suit is still wet from the rain outside, droplets of water permeating the sofa. You take off the beanie, making sure to gently lay it on the table before slipping your mask off.

You rest your head against the arm of the sofa and close your eyes, but all you can think about is Danielle. The sincerity in her eyes as she gifted you the beanie and her saccharine voice rings out in your mind. You lay there and reminisce in silence for a while. You end up falling asleep for a few minutes.

Then Haerin wakes you up.

“Hey.” She slaps your foot. “Answer my question.”

“What—oh.” You mumble in confusion, trying to regain your senses. “I saw… someone at the cemetery.”

She finally turns to give you a deadpan expression. “Be more specific. A ghost? One of your many archnemeses?”

“Worse,” you rub your face tiredly. “Danielle.”

Her typing pauses. “Wait, the childhood best friend you told me about?”

“Yeah.”

“The one you ghosted?”

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“The one you pitifully pine over?”

“Well—yeah.”

Haerin lets out a low whistle. “She gave you that?”

“Yeah,” you murmur. “She didn’t know it was me.”

“You should keep it that way,” Haerin says. “It’d suck to open up old wounds after so long.”

“I know.” You puff your cheeks out. “And that’s not even the end of it. I spent forty bucks on flowers just to leave it to rot in a backpack in a tree.”

She glances at the wet puddle you created on the couch. “We can go back tomorrow and get it?”

“It’s okay,” you reply, opening your eyes to the pouring rain outside. You hope Danielle made it home okay. “I’m gonna wait for the rain to die out a bit and then head out again to investigate that weird case. I’ll put the flowers where they belong on the way there.”

“Is there a new lead?” You can practically hear Haerin’s ears perk up.

“Yeah, all the reports of the disappearances seem to pop up in the same area. I just checked for a location that shares an equal distance to all of them and came up with an abandoned warehouse.”

Haerin sits in thought for a second before asking, “Can I come with? You know how the college blog always relies on me for Spider-Woman content.”

“Fine.” You begrudgingly acquiesce. “Only if you get a cool shot of me.”

Haerin takes out her camera and snaps a quick photo of you.

“How about this?” She turns the camera around to show you the result.

You scoff in offense. “Seriously?”

“Is it not flattering enough?” Haerin teases, wrestling the camera away from you.

“I look like a wet dog!”

You web the camera to yourself and delete the photo.

“Stop abusing your powers.” Haerin clicks her tongue. “Go web a towel to clean this mess up.”

“What a coincidence,” you cheerfully ignore her. “The rain’s stopped.”

Like a miracle, the rain has cleared out, the darker clouds making way for the sun. You web a towel to dry your suit (but not the couch or floor) and slip your mask back on again.

“Alright,” you step out onto the balcony and turn to Haerin. “You want a ride there? Uber? Spuber…?”

“Let’s just stick to Spider-Eats.”

“Yeah.”

“And, no thanks,” she winces. “You almost swung into a pole last time.”

“Oops,” you say with no sign of regret. “Anyway, I texted you the coords. Meet you there.” 

You hop on the balcony railing and salute Haerin before proceeding to fall backwards with your hands behind your head. The rush as you swing through the city is unmatchable. You savor the wind rushing against you, the boisterous noise of cars honking and mindless chatter zooming in and out of your ears.

You’re back at the cemetery in no time, and after checking if anyone’s around, you stand before your aunt’s grave once again. Danielle’s roses are still lying there. You wipe some raindrops off the headstone before laying your bouquet down. Then, you’re off again. There’ll be time for that later.

The abandoned warehouse is not too far from the docks, a very typical location for people who are up to no good. You perch on the roof of a building opposite it, where Haerin is already squatting and taking photos. You can spot her motorcycle stationed in the parking lot behind the building. She barely flinches as you tap her shoulder.

“How did you get up here?”

“A good journalist never reveals her secrets.”

“Isn’t it ‘sources’?”

Haerin shrugs. “Same thing.”

You squat next to her. “So… did you notice anything before I came?”

“I did some research. Think this warehouse is registered under the name of just Jace.”

“Just Jace? That’s such a sick name.”

Haerin doesn’t bother to correct you.

“Name doesn’t ring a bell though.” You squint and scan the seemingly innocuous warehouse. “And I’m not picking up any heat signals… looks like nobody’s home.”

“How are we getting in?”

“This is a job for Spider-Woman!” 

You leap off the roof and swing around the warehouse, sweeping the perimeter to search for a way in. 

“There’s always an entrance when you can climb walls,” you muse to yourself.

You open up a voice channel as you crawl up the side of the warehouse, eventually reaching the roof where there is a conveniently open skylight. “Bingo!”

“Psst, Haerin,” you say. “There’s an open window on the roof.”

“Awesome,” she replies, although you note that her tone lacks excitement. “Can you get in and open the door for me?”

“The door?” You peer inside the open skylight. “You mean the gigantic sliding doors?”

“Don’t tell me you’re too weak to open those.”

“No,” you huff. “It’s just that… wouldn’t it be too loud?”

Haerin’s response is reluctant. “I guess.”

“You know what that means,” you sing-song. “It’s time for a Spuber ride!”

There’s some silence followed by a long sigh.

“I thought we agreed to not use that anymore,” she grumbles. “Hurry up and get back here.”

Haerin’s pick up and drop off is quick and easy, much to both of your satisfaction. You asked her to give you a five star rating, to which she replied, “That took literally less than thirty seconds.”

Inside the warehouse is dark, with only some dim flickering lights providing you with a shadowed view of the interior. The warehouse is stocked with looming cargo containers.

“Seems pretty filled for an abandoned warehouse,” Haerin muses, her voice echoing in the void. The silence feels foreboding, which makes you glad that Haerin asked to come, not that you would ever admit that.

“There’s gotta be something here,” you run your hand over the undulating surface of the steel containers. “A secret room, or some complicated contraption.”

“What about that?” Haerin points at a scrape mark on the floor in front of one of the containers, which coincidentally matches the circumference of a quarter circle.

“Oh. That was fast.”

You walk over and tug on the latch, before pulling the door open.

“No worries,” you strain out. It’s heavier than you thought. “Leave it all to me.”

“If you say so,” Haerin says with a smug smile on her face, standing there with no care in the world.

Once you finally get it open, inside the container is a set of stairs that lead downwards to an ominous tunnel.

“Totally not creepy,” you laugh nervously and gesture to Haerin. “Ladies first?”

She rolls her eyes before making her way down. The tunnel is fairly well-kept and it’s not long before you find yourselves in the secret room. It’s a lab, wires running hazardously on the ground, bits and pieces of machinery scattered on tables and filling up boxes, and computer screens displaying complex data and research.

“Okay,” you drawl. “Kinda getting evil mastermind vibes.”

You ruffle through some papers lying around. It seems to be sketches of some cylinder machine with cogs and complicated wiring in it. After inspecting the lab for a bit longer, you both come to the same conclusion.

“He’s trying to time travel,” Haerin notes as she snaps some shots of the lab.

You nod. “His experiments are probably what’s causing all those people to disappear into thin air.”

“What were the statements of the witnesses again?”

“Like the victims were just sucked into an invisible portal.”

Haerin pulls up some files on one of the computers. “It makes sense. It looks like he’s trying to time travel to the year his daughter died.”

You both are silent at this information. Until that silence is broken by a screeching sound outside, one that oddly sounds like the gigantic sliding doors opening.

The two of you immediately break out into a sprint and up the stairs. You don’t hesitate to scoop up Haerin once you’re out of the container and soar up to the roof with a web.

“He’ll know someone was here,” Haerin whispers.

“I know,” you sigh. “Hopefully it won’t lead to anything. We’ll have to come back later.”

Like the true neighborhood-friendly Spider-Woman you are, you give Haerin a Spuber ride back to her motorcycle. She revs the engine once to get your attention, then bids you farewell with a teasing “Race you home!” as she accelerates into the distance.

“So not fair!” You shout out at her retreating figure, swinging to catch up. You’re straining your arms to keep up with Haerin’s motorcycle, but a police car passes by with sirens on, and you know what you need to do. At the last second, you snap your left wrist to make a breakneck turn. Haerin will understand.

You can barely keep your eyes open as Minji nudges you with her elbow.

“Late nights playing 2K again?” The image of her stupid grin floats by in your mind.

“Something like that,” you whine, flicking your head up so your lab goggles fall on your nose. “I should’ve skipped today.”

Minji pulls up the DXF files you made for the project and resumes with the task of readjusting the ratio of some gears. “You don’t even need your lab goggles for today.”

“I look smarter with them on.”

“Yeah, right.” Minji peeks at your rough outlines of the gearbox transmission on paper. Some edges are ripped and it’s crinkled under your folded arms. “Damn. When are you gonna digitize that and render it?”

You slump back in your chair and close your eyes. “When I get a good night’s rest.”

“So, never.”

“Yeah.”

“The assignment’s due next week.”

“Yeah.”

“I hate you.” But she doesn’t. Because the two of you have been lab partners ever since you tripped on her lab coat in class a year ago and knocked over a bunch of her circuits and wires, which, to this day, she still blames you for, which is ridiculous, because who on earth owns a lab coat long enough to the point where it spills on the floor? But, you digress. Her lab coat is now properly tailored.

You’re half a second from drooling and snoring when there’s that prickling sensation on your skin again, and the hairs on the back of your neck shoot up, leaving you with that sinking feeling in your stomach. You sit up so abruptly that you almost slam your forehead onto the table.

Minji’s arm flies in front of your chest to steady you. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you stammer. “I just… need to go to the bathroom.”

You grab your backpack and sprint out of the lab, navigating yourself to the nearest exit. You’re on the roof of the building in no time, in your suit, and you immediately see what’s wrong. There’s a man in the middle of campus, floating above the ground, and whatever objects are around seem to be gravitating toward him. The objects begin to orbit around him, creating a mini tornado.

You try to call Haerin, but she doesn’t pick up. You try to call Minji too, but no luck. Your stomach coils with anxiety. You don’t have long to dwell on it though.

As objects slam into one another, students begin to file out of class and understandably panic. Campus security is screaming and directing people to emergency exits, but the whirlwind only gets worse and things are smashing into windows and buildings.

“This isn’t good,” you mutter, immediately diving into action. You web benches, bicycles, poles, and trees in all sorts of directions to disrupt their trajectory toward anyone. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a blur of orange amidst green, and hear a very distinct meow.

“Tiko!”

You hurtle yourself toward the flying tree and narrowly shoot through the branches, successfully grabbing Tiko. You were going to plop him down somewhere safe, but it seems he had other plans, because he crawls into your backpack and nestles inside it, sticking his head out.

“Hang tight, Tiko,” you scream, swinging toward the mystery man. “I’m going to stop this!”

The man now stands on a rooftop, the debris around him thrashing against the building which is threatening to fall apart. You land not too far from him.

“Hi!” You yell over the deafening winds.

He whips his head around, raising his palm to hurl a rock at you. “Stay away!”

“Wait!” It narrowly misses you as you skillfully duck just in time. “You’re Just Jace, right?”

“How do you know my name?” He falters for a second, taking a step back. “…And it’s just Jace.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” You mumble to yourself in confusion.

You shake your head to focus on the situation at hand. “Please stop this, Just Jace. You’re hurting others!”

“I… I know!” Jace’s hands tightly grip his hair in frustration. “I don’t know why it’s not working.”

As his ire flames up, so do the winds, dust and small rocks starting to obscure your vision.

“Please, calm down!” You desperately yell, slowly making your way toward him with arms raised as a sign of peace. “Let me help you!”

The sound of police sirens grows louder, and you can hear the whirring of helicopter blades behind you. The police helicopter sways in the midst of the tornado, and you fear for both Jace and the police.

“No, no, no!” You try to wave the police away, knowing their presence would only distress Jace more.

“Police! Hands in the air!”

Police officers begin to rappel down from the helicopter, guns aimed at Jace. He scrambles in fear, sending rubble hurling at them in defense. Bullets fly out immediately after.

The sound of gunshots rings through your ear as you expertly maneuver through the ricochets and try to keep everyone safe. You burst through the combat and tackle Jace whilst he’s busy with the officers, trying to Spuber him to somewhere safe.

He wrestles in your grasp, screaming at you to let him go. Tiko gives him a few smacks in response. As you swing through a window, you release your hold on him, both of you rolling over to catch your balance. 

You lean against the wall, taking a moment to catch your breath. You’re rubbing your head that’s throbbing in pain, not noticing Jace’s sudden silence.

“The police really have the worst timing, am I right?” You awkwardly laugh.

You look up to see Jace stalking toward you, like a predator to prey, a dark intensity in his eyes. Any trace of the Jace you encountered before is gone. You bounce on your feet immediately.

“Jace?” You say hesitantly, walking backward. “We can talk about this…”

“You broke it,” he snarls. That’s when you notice what he’s clasping onto so stiffly. It looks awfully similar to those sketches you and Haerin saw in that secret lab. He lets it go and it clatters on the floor.

“I didn’t mean to,” you try to ameliorate the situation. “I was trying to save you.”

Your pleas don’t seem to reach his ears. He just simply repeats, “You broke it.”

“No need to get so upset,” you laugh sheepishly, hands in the air, discreetly scanning for the nearest exit. “I know a really good tech support guy.”

Your skin tingles. Jace then lunges at you, and out of instinct, you web onto the broken device and you swing it around to slam it into the space between you and him. The device makes contact with the concrete and shatters into pieces, shards of glass flying everywhere. For a moment, you feel as if time has slowed down, and everything sounds muffled, like you’re sinking deeper and deeper into the ocean.

And then everything goes black.

You wake up with a gasp, cold sweat sticking to your body. Haerin steps back, surprised. She’s holding her beloved ax, its handle hovering dangerously close to your cheek.

“You’re awake.”

“What?” You look around frantically, hands squeezing the sofa. “How am I back here?”

“What do you mean?” Haerin frowns. “You fell asleep.”

You stand up and squish your face against the window. The college campus is untouched. “What happened to Just Jace? Is Tiko alright?”

Her eyebrow furrows. “Who’s Just Jace? And Tiko the campus cat?”

You don’t respond, still lost in your own thoughts.

“Did you get a concussion on the way to the cemetery?”

You stop pacing and look down, and sure enough, you’re still in your suit, wet from the rain just like two days ago, and the beanie Danielle crocheted is lying on the table.

Then it dawns on you.

“Oh my god, Haerin.” Your jaw is slack. “I just traveled back in time.”

“What.”

It takes you fifteen minutes to sum everything up.

“But the weird thing is that the device didn’t seem to be done when we were in the secret lab.” You bite your cheek in thought. “I don’t know how he would’ve been able to get it working in the next two days.”

“He probably knew someone was onto him when we left the door open,” Haerin says, searching up ‘If you travel back in time, will you break time and space if you get into contact with someone?’ on Google. Most of the results are fruitless.

“That makes sense,” you nod. “But I wonder why he would end up at our college campus out of all places.”

“Maybe it’s the college his daughter went to?”

“Right,” you nod again. You prop your laptop on your lap as you start scouring through the map of the area around the college. “I need to know where he first appears so I can stop him before he gets to campus.”

Haerin ponders for a second. “You mentioned that there was some research on nuclear fusion, right?”

“Yeah… hold on.” You zoom into a nuclear power plant just a few miles from the college. “The device must need a lot of energy to work. He probably got it from here.”

“So,” Haerin hums. “What’s the plan?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Haerin’s voice is unimpressed over the static. “This was your plan?”

“You know me,” you quip ironically while weaving in between the blasts of energy that Jace is throwing at you. “My plan was to come up with a plan now.”

“And have you thought of one?”

“Not really!” You coolly avoid his punches and slide in between his legs. “I’ll call you back!”

When you manage to catch Jace off guard with a roundhouse kick, he stumbles and you use the opportunity to swoop into a vent to hide. You did not expect this alternate version of Jace to be so hostile. You tried to talk to him, really.

(You lower your web bit by bit as you dangle upside-down behind Jace. His back is facing you, clearly focused on wiring his device to the generator.

You tap his back. “Hey.”

He swivels around so fast he almost loses his balance, but immediately regains it and squares up. “Stay away!”

“No, no.” You plop on the floor. “I’m not here to hurt you. I know you’re trying to time travel. I’m from the future, actually.”

There’s an air of hope in Jace’s voice. “The device worked?”

“About that,” you rub your nape and flash an embarrassed smile under the mask. “I kinda had to smash it onto the ground for it to work. You were kind of trying to kill me. But no biggie, I forgive easily!”

Jace narrows his eyes. You stiffen as you feel dread trickle into your stomach. His fist jerks out and you jump back just in time, feeling the wind from the blow brush against your face.

“What the hell, man?” You pout. “I literally just forgave you.”

He doesn’t waste time and continues with a flurry of punches. “I must’ve been attacking you for a reason.”

You shake your head as you roll to the side. “Don’t say I didn’t try to be nice.”)

“Come out and face me!” Jace yells, his voice reverberating throughout the power plant. “You’re nothing but a pest.”

You silently crawl out of the vent and onto a supporting beam. Once you’re positioned right above him, you web him up, landing a nasty uppercut. You don’t have time to celebrate though, because on the way down, he grabs your ankles and pulls you down back to Earth.

“Oof!”

“This ends now.” He hisses, blood dripping from his mouth. He charges toward you, bearing a metal rod in his hand.

“Really getting into the villain role now, huh?” You joke, voice strained as you leap off the ground and kick him square in the face. “Give me some time to think of a name for you.”

You side step another one of his tackle attempts. “Oh! How about Prime Time?”

The only response you get is Jace surging forward with more punches and kicks. “You could just say you don’t like it!”

Jace doesn’t deign you with an answer. He unexpectedly throws a crate toward you, and just as you duck to avoid it, he gets his revenge with a successful blow to your chest with the metal rod.

You slam against the wall, slumping as the wind is knocked out of you.

“Like I said,” Jace says with heavy breaths, towering over you and looking down with a sneer. “This ends now.”

You can only see his silhouette because of the light shining through from the entrance to the power plant behind him, and this gives you an idea. You muster up any remaining willpower and web onto two pillars, pulling yourself toward it and using the momentum to swing kick Jace.

You both fly through the air and outside the power plant, crashing on the roof of a passing car. You wince as you feel the dent in the car. Jace rolls down to the hood of the car. Logically, the driver starts steering off course because the windshield is blocked and they’re probably freaking out at the fact that there are two injured people on their car.

Your body moves before your mind processes what’s going on—you’re webbing people out of the way of the speeding car, even though you’re still lying on your side. But the car spins out of control too fast for you to react. It ends up ramming into the front of a cafe. The impact of the crash sends you flying into the glass wall and into the cafe. You’re getting deja vu: glass is shattered and people start screaming and running away. 

“Oh no,” you groan, trying to ignore the burning pain. “This will not look good in the press release.”

What’s also burning is the car that you’re pinned under—the heat from the crackling fire licking at you, so hot that you can feel it through the spandex. All you can see is the thick smoke that blankets the cafe. From the shadows emerges Jace.

“Please,” you wheeze, feeling like you’ve been hit by a train. Which actually happened once, an experience you wouldn’t recommend to anyone. “This isn’t what your daughter would’ve wanted.”

“Don’t mention her again.” He digs his boot into the car, forcing pressure on you, and you’re exerting all your muscles in your arms to hold the car up. “And some superhero you are. Look at what’s left of this place.”

You strain your neck to stare at the inside of the cafe, and the sight horrifies you. It’s a complete wreckage. Your eyes zero on blonde hair that peeks out under a table that’s been flipped over. Your blood runs cold and there’s a sharp pain in your gut, like a knife sickly twisting itself over and over again. 

Jace chuckles cruelly at your silence. “What, no more snarky remarks?”

She can’t be dead. It’s all your fault—you were too busy slinging people out of the way to notice where the car was headed. How did she not get out in time?

“No,” you choke out. Your lip trembles pathetically. “Turn back time. Please.”

He follows your gaze and smirks. “See someone you know? I guess now you know how it feels.”

Any empathy you felt for him is overridden by the sheer anger that engulfs you. Your body shakes with rage. What comes out next is guttural and raw.

“I’ll kill you,” you spit. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

Jace turns around and cackles, and you wonder how everything went to hell so fast. You wonder how he changed so fast. He’s walking out of the cafe, to the college campus probably, and as much as you want to grab him and beat him until he’s blue, there’s something more important. Or rather, someone.

The adrenaline from the rage earlier is still coursing through your veins and you use your remaining strength to push the car off you. (You wanted to hurl it at him too but your arms were failing). You know exactly what you need to do. You sling a web to the device he’s holding loosely, then repeat that same swinging motion that you did the other timeline, slamming it so hard on the ground you almost feel like your arm will rip off.

Time slows again, and you find yourself in a familiar position, deep in the abyss. The world goes black.

It takes you three times before you realize you’re stuck in a time loop. You don’t know why, but you only get sent back a few hours to the nuclear power plant. You try everything, anything to keep Danielle safe. You know it’s selfish, that you should be caring about everyone else too, but you can’t stand the thought of her dying. You’ve already lost her once, back then when you left her. You can’t be the reason for the world losing her.

In the first loop, you spray the wheels of the car with webs to prevent it from crashing in the first place, but the car stopping in the middle of the road only causes another car to veer off the streets and into the cafe. In the second loop, Jace hurls a boulder mid fight and despite you redirecting it to the building next to the cafe, that building ends up collapsing… on top of the cafe. Everytime, you saving other people leads to Danielle dying in some way.

It’s the third loop. You’re at the nuclear power plant again, head in your hands, and Jace hasn’t noticed your presence yet. You want to cry. Nothing is working. Maybe this is karma for ghosting Danielle all those years ago. Being a superhero is all about sacrifices—is this the sacrifice you have to make? You thought you would be better at letting go by now.

Haerin’s voice is soft in your ear. “Have we had this conversation before?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “This is the fourth time.”

“I’m sorry I can’t remember. And that our solutions didn’t work out.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re the only thing keeping me sane right now.” You bite your lip. “And it’s my fault anyway.”

There’s some faint rustling of paper and typing.

“Nuclear fusion,” Haerin says after a while. “Have you tried slamming the device into the generator? The sheer energy might just break the loop.”

“I might as well.” Your voice is thick with fatigue. “I have nothing else to lose.”

You don’t even bother to greet Jace this time, just immediately pulling the device toward you and slamming it onto the generator. The reaction is instantaneous—the device explodes and the generator rumbles, sparks flying. Waves of energy start pulsing out in irregular patterns. It’s so strong that you’re knocked off your feet and your back hits a railing.

You’re knocked out again. Maybe you’re setting a new world record.

Hidden under the knitted quilt, you stir, the thin web of strands barely stifling the bite of the morning cold. Someone is sweetly humming a melody that’s on the tip of your tongue. The constant hum finds its way into you, it softens your bones and eases your heart. The constant hum sings, enveloping you, lulling you back into the solace of the darkness. 

This tranquility is swiftly broken by you remembering. You launch out of bed, blinking your eyes to gain a hold of your surroundings. You’re in a campervan. Nostalgia washes over you as you realize that this is the campervan Danielle’s family used to take on road trips. You wearily eye the photo frame stuck to the rustic fridge. Gleeful smiles and sand-covered faces adorn the frame, reminding you of what you left behind. 

You were known as that quiet kid who had no parents. Any attention you received would consist of pitied stares and hushed whispers. You didn’t mind the loneliness—you were used to it. And your aunt took care of you and showed you love. That was enough. You didn’t think you needed any more love until Danielle moved in next door and changed your life.

She was the first to approach you, holding out a four-leaf clover with a bright smile, saying “Hi! I’m Danielle, you look like you need some good luck!”. It only took you a few months to warm up to her, not that it was hard, because she was so understanding and cheery. She never cared about what other people said at school. She cared about what you had to say, and that’s something you never thought you needed, let alone deserved, until her.

Danielle’s family is equally as sweet, and they welcomed you with open arms. Every few months, they would go on a road trip and you and Danielle would always say farewell with teary eyes and lingering hugs. Until Danielle insisted you tag along, and that’s how it became a tradition.

Lightly caressing miscellaneous decorations as you make your way outside, you take it all in. The gentle twinkle of fairy lights shyly shines through the tinted windows that are littered with stickers and magnets. This caravan was your second home. Inextricably imbued with memories with Danielle, the two of you left no inch of this van unexplored and untouched. Outside, the fresh smell of subdued smoke (bacon and eggs) wafts to you, beckoning you. Your stomach growls. You forget about the ravenous appetite of a superhero.

But you’re not a superhero right now. You’re twelve, not yet bitten, meant to be blissfully unaware of the terrors that await you as you grow up. You run outside to find Danielle. She’s preparing a plate of breakfast for you.

“Danielle!” You rush toward her and tackle her in a hug, tears subconsciously spilling onto your cheeks. She steadies herself so that the plate of food isn’t knocked over.

She gasps out your name, concern etched in her eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head and nuzzle her neck, sniffling like a baby. “I’m just glad you’re my best friend.”

Your voice is so high and prepubescent, which makes you burst into laughter out of nowhere. Danielle laughs with you. “I’m glad you’re mine, too.”

“Where’s your parents?”

You lean back as she tilts her head to the barbeque grill a few yards away. “Cooking up their breakfast.”

You eventually let go, quite reluctantly, and take a moment to admire her. You’re smitten. Her hair is brown, bangs slightly ruffled, and she’s sporting a toothy grin. You’re so overwhelmed with love you can’t even speak, but this is soon overshadowed by guilt. This is the girl whose heart you broke.

Nothing about you gets past Danielle, so she immediately notices your wavering.

“You okay?” She intertwines your fingers together “Let’s eat breakfast.”

‘I don’t know,” you mumble, feeling a wave of nausea hit you. “I feel a bit dizzy.”

She quickly sets down the plate of bacon and eggs, her hands instantly finding their place on your waist.

“Maybe you should get some more rest,” she pouts, gently squeezing your waist. You try to suppress the shiver that this causes.

“Yeah,” you agree without a sliver of resistance. “Come with me?”

Danielle sends you a knowing smile. “Okay.”

You both make your way back into the van, ditching breakfast. You climb into the comfort of the bed, lifting the same knitted quilt so that it hugs both of you. Your body relaxes, for the first time in a very long time, and you bask in the heat radiating off Danielle.

As your eyes involuntarily close, you can hear the faint sound of ticking. You’re unsure of what is to come, but the curl in your stomach unfolds and pardons you, allowing you to feel Danielle’s love. For just one more time.

–

There’s a brief moment where you regain a shred of consciousness at the nuclear power plant, but everything is too bright and you have to squeeze your eyes shut. You only feel another wave of energy vibrate against your skin before your vision’s black again. Definitely a world record.

Someone’s playing with your hair. Deft fingers weave through strands of your hair and twirl it, lightly pulling on it before letting go and repeating. You blink your eyes open and are met with Danielle already staring at you. She’s older than the last time-travel episode, but younger than the current her. You’re still smitten.

You’re laying in her bed, in her room, in her house. You surmise it’s probably a sleepover night. She’s wearing those glasses with a clear frame, so it must be midway through senior year. You smile to yourself as you remember that she breaks it just before graduation by sitting on it. (She forgot that she put it on her seat.)

“What are you smiling about?” Danielle pokes your nose. “Are you thinking about how that one kid fell off his chair while falling asleep in class?”

“No,” you giggle as you sit up, nostalgia pervading your chest. “But that was funny though. Thanks for reminding me.”

She’s playing with your fingers now, head tilted with that starry look in her eyes that always leaves you dumbfounded. Your smile slowly fades. You feel like a kid again, even though this was only the two of you from three years ago.

“Danielle,” you say shakily, eyes locked onto your entwined fingers. “Would you believe me if I said I’m from the future?”

She considers your question for a second. “What happens in the future?”

You swallow a lump. Where do you even start? ‘Well, I’m actually gonna ghost you in a few months and we’ll never speak again, but then we meet, well not really—it’s more like I see you, and then you die in a cafe because of me. Oh, and I’m Spider-Woman.’

“You dye your hair blonde,” you continue, voice barely above a whisper. You’re holding back tears. “And you go to college overseas to study.”

Danielle’s face shifts into something sadder, half sympathetic. “That doesn’t sound too far-fetched.”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” your voice cracks. “I do some really bad things in the future, and I’m really sorry.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Danielle tries to lift the mood. “Can’t be worse than the time when you spilled orange juice all over my biology assignment the morning it was due.”

Your rambling teeters on the line of coherence. “I push you away—and I’m such an asshole. But I had to, you have to believe me. I can’t tell you why because it hasn’t happened yet and it will probably break some rule of time-traveling, but I just want you to know that I’m so–”

“Hey,” she cradles your face like you're something delicate. Like you’re not the person who will leave her behind with no explanation. “It’s okay.”

“I miss you so much, Danielle.” It’s all you can say. “I miss you so much.”

Her thumb tenderly swipes away any tears that fall. “I’m right here.”

But she’s not.

You’re sobbing pathetically into her hand. You can’t remember the last time you cried. It must’ve been at your aunt’s funeral. Your head is pounding and even though you’re in the body of your younger self, you can still feel the phantom repercussions of fights with Jace. Danielle continues softly, “I could never hate you, no matter what. All you need to do is talk to me—the me in your world.”

“I love you,” you hiccup, lip quivering. “I never got to say it in my timeline. I hope you know that.”

“You know I do too,” Danielle smiles, bitter-sweet. “Promise me you’ll say it to the other me.”

You nod, looping your pinky finger with hers.

She seems satisfied. “You’ve been through a lot. Let’s get some rest.” She guides you back onto the pillow and onto your side, nestling behind you, arms wrapped around your waist and clasped on your stomach.

The ticking sounds again, and it slowly floods your mind as your vision fades to black.

“Please tell me it’s over,” you plead weakly as you wake up to the sight of peeling plaster on the ceiling. You force your body up, and you see an unconscious Jace collapsed against the wall. The broken device is just a fingertip away from you. This is the room you Spubered him into while distancing him from the police. You’re back. 

“Thank you,” you breathe out. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Tiko hops out of your backpack and rubs his face against yours.

“Hey, buddy,” you coo, scratching his chin. “Thanks for the help. I’ll see you around campus.”

You pick yourself up, shaking stray shards of glass off you. You web Jace against the wall, and make sure to add extra to ensure he doesn’t escape. You briefly notice the wrinkles on his face and his calloused hands.

“Some things we have to let go,” you say softly to him, even though he can’t hear you. “I need to take this to find the missing victims.”

You leave a space in your heart to mourn for Jace’s daughter, and genuinely wish the best for him. Tiko’s already run off somewhere. You take the device and stretch your limbs, preparing for the long journey home. 

Actually, you have two stops before you go home. First stop is a safe place to change out of your suit and temporarily hide the device.

Second stop. You run to find Danielle. You think that this has been a long time coming, considering that you’ve been running away from her for the past three years.

You’re standing like an idiot outside the cafe, hands in your pockets, just staring at Danielle through the glass wall. She seems to feel the weight of your gaze though, because she eventually looks up and her eyes widen at the sight of you. You wave awkwardly, to which she starts packing up her things in a hurry.

You breath hitches as she says your name. It rolls off her tongue in a way that is so familiar.

“Care to join me on a walk?” You rock back and forth on your heels, avoiding eye contact with her.

Her face is passive. It scares you more than it should. But she complies without any questions. “Okay.”

It takes around twenty minutes to reach your aunt’s grave. You pat the space in front of you as a gesture for Danielle to sit down, and she does.

“Before I start,” you say. “I just wanted to say thank you for visiting my aunt. You didn’t have to.”

But she did. Because that’s what she always does—go above and beyond. You take a deep breath before releasing it. “I’m sorry.”

She nods, showing that she’s listening, but doesn’t respond.

“I… was an asshole,” you clench your jaw and close your eyes. “I said some hurtful things.”

(“Are you avoiding me?” Danielle asks, eyebrows furrowed.

It’s another morning of a school day.

“No,” you exhale deeply. You don’t spare her a glance. “I’ve just been really busy.”

“We’ve both been busy for a while,” she counters, frustration laced in her voice. “But the difference is that we still made time for each other.”

You slam your locker door shut. The spider bite thrums with pain. “Take the hint. I don’t have space for you in my life anymore.”)

“And even after I said those things, you still tried to reach out to me.”

(More unread texts from Danielle. Can we talk? I’m sorry about the other day. 

Hey, I’ve been trying to give you space, but I just wanted to check in.

Why are you ignoring me?)

“There’s a reason I ghosted you. Not that I’m trying to justify it, but I just wanted to let you know it wasn’t because of you or anything.”

The other Danielle’s words flash through your mind.

“I love you,” you finally say, and it feels as though there’s this weight lifted off your chest. “I have, for a long time. And I needed to leave you because I love you. Because I was scared.”

Her eyebrows crease in thought. “Because you were scared I didn’t love you back?”

“No—well, not no! Of course I care about that. But that wasn’t my main concern.”

“How do I say this,” you scratch your head. “Oh. You gifted me a beanie the other day. Crocheted by you, red with a white pom pom.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Oh.”

You fiddle with the grass that you’re sitting on. “I accepted a long time ago that anyone close to me will be in danger because of, well, who I am. And being Spider-Woman… it’s a responsibility that I have to commit to. I can’t just fall in love.”

A pause. “Who said you can’t?”

“Well,” you stutter. “It’ll put you in danger. And I have to put my Spider responsibilities first.”

She shifts closer to you. “And what if I’m okay with that?”

“You’d… you’d have to actually like me back anyway.”

Danielle punches you on the shoulder.

“Ow!” You frown. “What was that for?”

“For being an asshole.”

“Oh.”

“You should’ve just talked to me.”

“I know,” you admit. “But I just felt like I couldn’t.”

“I never stopped thinking about you all these years,” Danielle shakes her head. “I was a mess. I wanted to hate you so much, but I just couldn’t. And I hated that even more.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Danielle says, and the look in her eyes tells you that she really does mean it.

You hesitantly reach out toward her. She grabs your hand and moves it to her face. It’s your turn to cradle her, making sure that she’s really here and that this is real. Her smile is teary. 

“I love you,” you breathe out. And that’s the only thing you want to say for the rest of your life. To make up for all the times that you didn’t. 

“I love you, too.” Her smile is so enchanting and you want to lean in and kiss her.

But gunshots ring out nearby and there’s shouting. You turn to Danielle, distraught. She grabs your phone from your pocket and adds herself as a contact.

“Go,” she nods softly, handing you back your phone. “Call me when you’re done. I’ll tend to your wounds.”

Your eyes flit over to your aunt’s grave. You hope you’ve become a hero she can be proud of. And you thank her for everything. You slip on your mask and stuff your clothes in a backpack.

Being a superhero isn’t all that easy, but you’re glad you have people you love to lean on to relieve the burden. You leap off the ground with confidence, swinging toward the chaos.

Dedicated to user phamphamz... happy early birthday!

Title is from Autumn by Niki :]

[the-s1lly-corner]

I might've already asked this, so please forgive me if I have...

Could you write the creepypastas coming across a strong woman (reader) who could easily beat them with her physical strength, but she doesn't bc she doesn't want to hurt them? Bonus points if reader never realizes just how dangerous they are

- 🏃‍♀️💨

Various crps x strong!fem!reader

Writing the notes and stuff for a lot of posts as I debate if I want to write tonight or go to bed... hmm..

Characters: jeff, nina, Ticci toby

Notes: reader is fem, jeff gets a little butt hurt because he has an ego

CWs: none

JEFF THE KILLER

hes a little butthurt that youre stronger than him, actually, though its not enough to break the relationship.. he just needs a push to pull his head out of his ass first

hes got an ego, unfortunately

though it does... make him glad that you can fight for yourself in an event where you need to, it takes some pressure off of him to come running to you

not that he isnt going to anyway, hes not going to pass up the opportunity to stick his knife into someone and draw blood

the fact that you werent aware of your strength does get under his skin, and may encourage him to try to work out more himself- what do you mean you dont even try but you can still sling him over your shoulder?

NINA THE KILLER

ooooohoho she is totally into it- youre pretty and you can kick her butt? she wants to marry you on the spot... add in the fact that you seemed surprised too? it feels so..... oblivious strong person

be warned that she is going to ask you to do things for her- carry heavy things, open things.... carry her around... though only if you want to of course!

if you show no problem with it shes probably going to jump on your back so you can carry her, or alternatively just jumping into your arms for hugs.. loves when you twirl her around

will brag about how strong you are to anyone who will listen though she may exaggerate your strength

TICCI TOBY

like nina hes kind of into it- strong woman who can throw him across the room- sure hes strong but hes faster, hes kind of... lanky...

jokingly calls you names that relate to your strength, regardless of if you have visible muscles or not

will sometimes lay on the ground and make you physically drag him around to one place to another, he thinks its a little funny

does feel reassured that you can fight for yourself when push comes to shove, but he would still prefer you carry a weapon around on you if possible- due to the nature of his work hes not around for some periods of time

[just-aake]

Everlasting Devotion - Part IV

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel of Boundless Devotion Series. MedievalAU. With her coronation over, Natasha is now the queen of the Romanov Kingdom. However, the position comes with challenges from both old and new enemies as Natasha tries to maintain the peace while also navigating her relationship with you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Warnings: light angst, violence

Words: 2599

The clatter of horse hooves and the steady roll of wheels over the path fill the evening air, masking the conversation inside the carriage as it continues to your manor.

After you finish your brief explanation, Wanda holds up her hand and shakes her head in disbelief.

“So, just to be clear,” she begins, her voice filled with confusion. “Queen Natasha didn’t break up with you?” 

“No,” you reply in a quiet whisper. “I’ll explain more later, but regardless of what did or didn’t happen, that doesn’t give you two the right to do something like that back at the castle.”

Wanda huffs in disagreement, crossing her arms as she leans back in her seat and turns to stare out the carriage window.

Sighing at her response, you lean back in your seat as well. 

While you’re glad that Wanda is growing more comfortable with her powers, you also want her to understand the need for more caution when using them.

Sitting next to his sister, Pietro awkwardly glances between the two of you and attempts to lighten the mood. With a cheerful tone, he holds up a small basket, pulling back the cloth to reveal an assortment of pastries.

“Hey, I got you some treats from the bakery to welcome you home,” Pietro announces, offering the basket to you with a broad grin.

Before you can reach for them, Wanda’s hand darts out, slapping his hands away. Her eyes widen in alarm as she grabs the basket, quickly inspecting its contents.

“Pietro!” she exclaims, exasperated. “Were you even paying attention when you bought these?”

Pietro blinks, confused. “What? What’s wrong with them?” 

Wanda holds up one of the pastries, her finger pointing at the glistening red filling. 

“Y/N can’t eat these. They have raspberries in them. She’s allergic.”

Realization dawns on Pietro’s face, and he looks at you with wide, apologetic eyes. 

“I’m sorry! The baker’s daughter was flirting with me, and I guess I got a little distracted…” 

You give him a reassuring smile, waving off his concern. 

“It’s okay, Pietro. The thought is what counts.”

Pietro’s face brightens with relief, his smile returning full force. 

“Well, on the bright side, I did score a date with her next week.” 

Wanda immediately slaps his arm in reprimand, her glare sharp. 

“Really, Pietro? She just lost her relationship, and you’re bragging about yours?”

Pietro winces, rubbing the area where Wanda had hit him, and turns to you with another sheepish apology. 

“Sorry…”

You can’t help but chuckle at their familiar antics. However, the laughter feels a bit hollow when you remember that your relationship with Natasha is technically over for now. 

As you glance down sadly at your hands resting in your lap at the thought, Wanda’s warm hand suddenly covers yours, drawing your gaze back up to meet her concerned eyes.

“Are you really okay with this?” she asks gently.

“I’m fine, Wanda,” you reply, attempting to sound reassuring. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Her expression softens with concern, her brow furrowing slightly. 

“Because you were happy.” 

“I still am,” you insist, looking between them reassuringly. “It’s going to be okay. This secret will not be any different from when we pretended to be together.”

Pietro shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers fidgeting anxiously with the hem of his clothes. 

After a moment of hesitation, he blurts out, “Is that the only thing you wanted to tell us?” 

Before you can respond, Wanda’s sharp elbow digs into Pietro’s side, cutting him off with a yelp. She shoots him a warning glare before turning back to you with a more composed expression.

“What he means is… we’re here for you,” Wanda says, her tone softening. “Anything you need or want to talk about, we’re…here.”

Your eyes flicker to the stack of books beside you, the top one charred and blackened—a silent reminder of the other secret you’ve been keeping from them. 

It’s not that you don’t trust Wanda and Pietro; it’s just that you’re unsure if you have the courage to reveal the truth.

How can you tell them that you’re part of the family responsible for the tragedy that took their parents from them and destroyed their lives?

You shake your head lightly, forcing a small smile. 

“Thank you, both of you, but there’s nothing else.”

Wanda’s brow creases with concern, and she opens her mouth as if to say something more. But then she hesitates, biting back the words, and instead presses her lips into a thin line, offering you a small, understanding smile. 

“Okay,” she says quietly, though the look in her eyes tells you she’s not entirely convinced.

You turn your attention away, picking up one of the other books to silently signal that the discussion is over, pretending to read. The rest of the ride continues in relative silence, occasionally broken by light whistling from Pietro.

After a while, familiar landmarks come into view, and you realize you’re nearing your manor. Leaning forward, you peer out of the window, a mix of conflicting emotions rising at the sight of your home.

The last time you were here, you nearly lost your life. 

As the memory resurfaces, a sharp, jarring pain erupts in your mind, forcing you to clutch your head in agony. Everything around you suddenly falls into a numbing silence, and for a moment, you can’t even remember what you were thinking about.

Then, a piercing whistle slices through the disorienting quiet, immediately followed by Pietro’s urgent warning.

“Watch out!”

Before you can react, Pietro shoves you back against the seat, the force of his push nearly knocking the breath out of you.

An arrow thuds into the carriage wall, embedding itself in the exact spot where you had been just moments before.

“Whoa—steady! Steady!” the driver shouts, desperately trying to calm the horses as they rear back in terror, their hooves clattering against the cobblestones.

Another arrow slices through the air from the shadows of the trees, aimed directly at the carriage. 

But before it can strike, it suddenly halts mid-flight, surrounded by a crimson glow. 

The arrow hangs suspended for a second before it’s flung back into the shadows from where it came. 

Standing in front of you, Wanda’s hands are still raised, her fingers enveloped in that familiar red mist, and her eyes glowing with power from when she controlled the arrow’s trajectory. 

Her expression is one of fierce concentration, every muscle in her body taut with tension. 

Brushing away the subtle pain in the back of your mind, you scramble to the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the attackers hidden in the darkness of the trees. 

But the forest remains eerily silent, the shadows concealing any sign of movement. 

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of something. 

A yellow glow begins to pulse within the shadows, faint at first but quickly growing brighter and more intense. 

Your heart beats faster as a feeling of uneasiness hits you. You turn quickly to the other two.

“Get down!” you shout, grabbing Wanda and Pietro and pulling them to the carriage floor just as a volley of glowing shards erupts from the trees, streaking through the air like a swarm of deadly fireflies. 

The shards tear through the air, embedding themselves into the carriage with a series of loud cracks. You can feel the heat emanating from them as they pass overhead, singeing the edges of your cloak.

“What was that?!” Pietro exclaims, his voice tinged with shock. 

“I don’t know, but they’re not going to do it again,” Wanda says, determination lacing her words as she rises to her feet.

“Wanda, don’t—” you start to warn her, but it’s too late.

She’s already standing, her hands and eyes glowing with an intense red light. The power radiates from her, casting an eerie glow inside the carriage as she prepares to catch the next wave of attacks. 

Another barrage of shards shoots toward the carriage, moving faster than any arrow. 

But Wanda is ready. 

With a flick of her wrist, the shards freeze in midair, their yellow glow clashing against her crimson aura. The air hums with energy as she holds them suspended for a second when the sound of another whistle pierces through the air, followed by a new barrage of glowing shards, too many for Wanda to control.

She tries to catch them all, but her focus falters as the shards move rapidly, slipping past her defenses. 

Some of them manage to strike the driver, who lets out a pained cry as he falls from his seat. 

The horses, already on edge, rear up in panic, the sudden movement jolting the carriage violently.

“Wanda, get down!” you call her back to safety, reaching for her, but the chaos is already unfolding too quickly.

Now wild with fear, the horses break into a full gallop, dragging the carriage behind them. The sudden acceleration throws all of you off balance. 

Wanda struggles to maintain her concentration, but the erratic movement of the carriage makes it impossible. The red glow around her hands flickers, and with a sharp gasp, she loses control.

A surge of power lashes out uncontrollably, and you feel a sharp, searing pain as Wanda’s magic strikes you. 

The force of it slams you back into the carriage wall, the breath knocked out of your lungs. 

The carriage continues its wild, uncontrolled dash, the horses veering off the path and heading straight for the manor gates.

The carriage smashes into the gates with a deafening crash, the wood splintering under the force of the impact. The world spins as the carriage tips over, throwing all of you against the walls and ceiling before coming to a shuddering halt. 

In the aftermath, the silence is broken only by the distant whinny of the panicked horses, now free from the wreckage. 

The carriage lies on its side, broken and battered, the once-sturdy gates of the manor reduced to twisted debris.

As you struggle to regain your bearings, the sound of footsteps approaching cuts through the haze, and you realize the attacker is closing in.

Besides you, Pietro realizes this too and acts quickly. With all his strength, he slams the broken carriage door into the approaching figure, knocking them to the ground. 

You catch a glimpse of the attacker as they roll away from Pietro, their identity completely concealed by a hooded black outfit and mask.

Wanda emerges from the wreckage just as they stumble upright, her face twisted in fury. She seizes the shattered remnants of the iron gates with her powers.

With a flick of her wrist, she hurls the gates toward the attacker. 

They attempt to dodge, but they’re not quick enough. The heavy iron catches their arm, pinning it to the ground with a sickening crunch.

The attacker lets out a muffled cry of pain, struggling to free themselves, but they are trapped. 

With the attacker momentarily stalled, Pietro rushes to your side, his face pale with worry. 

“Y/N, are you okay? Can you move?” His voice trembles, but he tries to keep it steady.

You wince as you try to sit up, the pain from Wanda’s accidental strike still sharp in your side. 

“I’ll be fine,” you manage, though the words come out more strained than you’d like.

Hearing your voice, Wanda turns to you, her expression crumbling as she sees the pain etched on your face. The red glow fades from her eyes, replaced by a look of horror and guilt.

“I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean to—” she stammers, her voice breaking.

You reach out, placing a hand on hers to steady her. 

“I know, Wanda. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Before you can reassure her further, the pinned attacker, still trapped beneath the iron gate, snarls in defiance, catching your attention. Despite the pain, they reach for something on their trapped hand—a small, glinting object atop their glove.

“Get down!” you warn, recognizing the danger. You pull the twins to cover, shielding them just as the object explodes in a blinding flash of light, turning the world around you white. 

When your vision clears, you look toward the broken gates, only to find the area empty—the attacker has escaped. 

A conflicting mix of relief and worry washes over you at the knowledge that you’re safe for now, but the threat is still somewhere out there.

You let out a deep sigh, wincing at the slight pain it causes, before quickly turning your attention to the twins.

“Are you two okay?” 

You gently hold their faces, examining them for injuries.

“Ow, ow, just some scratches,” Pietro insists, pulling his face away slightly. “I’m okay.”

Seeing that he’s telling the truth, you shift your focus to his sister. 

“Wanda?” 

Her hand trembles slightly as she grips your wrist, then gently pulls your touch away from her face.

“I’m fine,” she mutters softly, her head bowed in guilt.

A soft groan draws your attention to the walls of your manor, where you see the driver leaning heavily against the wall. 

“Pietro, can you check on him?” you ask.

After a brief, hesitant glance at his sister, Pietro nods and moves toward the driver.

You turn your attention back to Wanda, who now looks as small and uncertain as she did when you first met her—the younger of the orphaned twins brought into your home after losing everything.

“Hey, look at me,” you gently coax, guiding her eyes to meet yours with a reassuring gaze. “Wanda, you did a good job.” 

“But I—”

You quickly shake your head, cutting her off with a firm tone.

“No, you protected us all with your powers,” you remind her. “You did good. Do you understand me?” 

Wanda hesitates before nodding, though the uncertainty and doubt are still evident on her face. Realizing she’ll need more reassurance later, you decide to let it go for now.

“Alright, go see if Pietro needs any help,” you gently instruct, giving her something to focus on to distract her from her troubled thoughts.

As she moves away, you slowly rise to your feet, wincing at the lingering soreness in your body. Your gaze drifts to where the manor’s entrance gates once stood, now reduced to a twisted heap after the carriage crash.

And just when you thought all the repairs to the manor were complete. 

Adding that to your growing list of concerns, you head off to check on the others once more. As you pass by the fallen iron gates, something catches your eye—a faint glow from beneath the wreckage.

Upon closer inspection, you spot a metal glove, that must’ve been left behind by the attacker, trapped under the gate. The faint light comes from a stone embedded in the glove. 

Curious, you reach for the object, your hand hovering above the warm yellow glow and feeling the lingering heat of its use. The stone seems strangely familiar as if you’ve encountered it before. 

A dull ache suddenly blooms at the back of your mind, causing you to close your eyes briefly and press a hand to your temple.

A quick flash of memory flits through your mind—a voice, someone speaking, no, commanding you, but you can’t make out what they’re saying.

The headache subsides just as quickly as it came, and when you open your eyes again, the yellow glow of the stone flickers and fades away.  

You frown, staring at the stone in confusion, struggling to remember what had just crossed your mind. 

Why can’t you seem to recall what you were doing just now?

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

a/n: this was meant to be a part of the previous chapter but it ended up too long so I decided just to cut it and put this as its own short part. thanks again for reading!

Taglist : @midastouch013, @2silverchain, @dvrkhcld, @observeowl, @x-drowned-x, @fireandblood-3, @natsxwife, @leequifey, @blacklightsposts, @srt-sah, @scar-letwidow, @likefirenrain, @autorasexy, @natsbiggestfan1, @lex13cm, @iheartjohansson, @tofu9162, @nothanksbye07, @unexpected-character, @natashasilverfox, @acciowriting, @qtreesfanstuff, @mrsrushman

[mintiicinnamonii]

Open requests u say?? Could you do a Red Son or Macaque with a fem reader who’s super into drawing? Like, been doing it their whole life, pretty good at it

Specifically people tho, I hate drawing backgrounds and never do it so I exclusively draw oc’s or (rarely) do figure drawing

Also if you need more to work on, have em draw the character in a cunty fit (if you need references i actually posted exactly that for both of them)

notes: OHOHOHO YOU SCAMP /POS

i wish all artists reading this a 1000 year long ability to draw proportions properly <33

here’s the dress concept:

Art Shenanigans

Red Son

he was BAFFLED

like.. he knew you were an amazing artist, he appreciates your talent

but you drew him in THAT??!

the weirdest part was how.. gorgeous your made him look

GIRLIE YOU MADE HER LOOK LIKE A GODDESS

you even drew little sparkles and hearts around him

Red Son just stared at the drawing, flabbergasted at how you drew him in that dress

he asked you if you found him that beautiful, which you quickly agreed to

he called you an idiot and pouted, but he was still very flustered

he cant stop looking back at the picture…

he might even be convinced to wear dresses and makeup normally 

hes always wanted to be more androgynous, regardless of gender headcanon, but now he can without ANY EXCUSES!!

you encourage her to embrace her androgyny and shes very grateful for it <33

Macaque

unlike red son, he’s intrigued

he was actually always been jealous of your art ngl..

so when he saw you draw him in that revealing dress

flabbergasted 

macaque rlly being looking like either “😦” or “😏”

“soooo- can you draw yourself in that or-“

you’ve got him curious now, he WILL beg you to draw yourself in cunty outfits

hes just chilling with it, didnt impact him much

[star-girl69]

Lovers Rock

Caroline (KK) Harvey x Fem!Reader

—-

synopsis: kk wins national gf day, obviously

a/n: shoutout to you anon anyways super short!!!!

Lovers Rock - TV Girl

warnings: swearing, kissy kissy, literally just fluff, mentions of freaky stuff tho, tell me if i missed anything tho!!

—-

“Good morning my beautiful, beautiful girlfriend.”

You groan into your pillow.

“What? Too tired to let me love you?”

You can feel someone’s hands all over you. You’re lying almost on your stomach, someone else practically on top of you, moving your hair to the side to kiss the back of your neck, hand sliding under your shirt to hold you against them.

“Y/N,” the voice whispers. “Y/N, wake up. I’m bored.”

“What?” You finally manage to say, cracking one eye into the darkness of KK’s bedroom. You slept so good last night, it takes you a second to realize where you are.

She forcefully flips you over so you’re on your back, climbing on top of you with a grin that can only be described as mischievous.

“Too early for you to be so happy,” you mutter, eyes falling shut again as she grabs your legs, wrapping them around your waist and not so subtlety feeling you up. Regardless, you wrap your legs around her tight and draw her down to you.

You finally crack an eye open, her hands moving from your thighs to your waist, her hands so big it makes you’re stomach do a few somersaults- you’re sure she can feel it.

She looks at you with absolute reverence, biting her lip lightly.

“Fuck, baby,” she mutters, looking up from the way her hands look around your waist to stare at your eyes. She kisses your temple. “You look especially pretty this morning.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around her neck to play with her hair.

“Thank you, my very happy girl.”

It’s another second of just basking in her touch, your eyes drifting shut again-

“Happy national girlfriend’s day, baby,” she whispers before pressing a kiss to your lips, one she obviously means to deepen-

You gasp, sitting up and forcing your faces to clash together in a way that is not at all sexy.

“Sorry!” You gasp, kissing her on the lips again before quickly trying to escape from her. Of course, she’s on top of you, so that’s not really possible. “Wait! Let me get up for one sec, I’ll be right back.”

She rubs her forehead where you had slammed into her, immediately frowning.

“No,” she says.

“Caroline,” you say, exasperated already.

“Um, babe, it’s national girlfriend’s day for me too, and all I want to do is stay in this bed the entire day. With you. I seriously don’t even want you to leave this room.”

You fall back against the pillows, fake pouting and putting your hand on her face, your thumb pulling her bottom lip down.

“Aw, that’s sweet.”

She kisses the pad of your thumb.

“I want to spend the entire day with you, my pretty princess. And since you’re my princess, that means you cannot leave this room- preferably this bed.”

“Caroline.”

“Why do you need to leave?” She asks, pressing her face into your hand.

You sigh. “It’s national girlfriend’s day for you too.”

“We’ve discussed this.”

“I have something I want to give you.”

“Your body?”

The sweet, sleepy smile on your face immediately drops.

“We just woke up, horny freak.”

She smiles even wider, leaning down to peck your forehead. “Love you.”

“I don’t,” you huff, attempting to push her off of you. Your denial of loving her shocks her enough to give you a little traction, and you’re almost free of her-

“Hey!” She yells, somewhat annoyed like you’re ruining her entire life. She immediately drops all of her weight onto you, pressing her hands against your arms to keep you literally pinned down- you always forget how strong she is. Until she’s on top of you like this, and suddenly her strength is the sexiest thing in the world.

“Caroline!” You yell right back, also annoyed. “Let me get your gift!”

“Fine,” she huffs, and you can’t help but chuckle at her.

“You’re a big baby,” you tease, finally escaping bed, standing up and immediately putting your hands over your head to stretch.

She comes to sit at the end of the bed, her legs wide open and eventually her hands on your hips pull you in between her legs.

“You’re so sexy,” she complains.

“And this is upsetting to you?” You grab her wrists and tug her up, letting her keep her hands on you and she follows you closely throughout the apartment.

“All I want to do is love my beautiful girlfriend, and she won’t let me.”

You sigh, finally reaching the kitchen cabinet, opening it to reveal a bouquet of flowers in a small glass of water. It wasn’t anything fancy, it was just from the grocery store two blocks down- KK pretended like she was really some big tough guy, but you smiled at the way she blushed when you turned around to present her with the flowers.

“For me?”

“I- babe. Yes, for you.”

She smells them quickly before immediately putting her hands on your face and kissing you, hard.

You laugh against her lips, choosing not to tease her for the way she’s blushing like crazy right now, and instead deciding to kiss her back just as hard. Eventually, her tongue slips into your mouth, and when you finally do manage to pull away from her you’re completely breathless.

“I love you,” she says, so seriously it’s like she’s vowing it to you. “I love you so much.”

You place the flowers on the middle of the kitchen counter where everyone can see them, feeling kind of proud of yourself- when you’re suddenly turned around and bombarded by a beautiful, ornate vibrant bouquet.

“You’re fucking joking.”

She lowers the flowers that were previously covering her face to stare at you.

“Oh, I’m completely serious. I don’t play when it comes to my princess.”

“Caroline,” you sigh, looking between your sad bouquet- at least they were her favorite color, you supposed- and her extravagant one that must have cost a small fortune.

“I love your gift,” she quickly blurts out, sensing that you’re feeling a little shitty about yourself now. “That’s exactly what I like. And I probably could have gotten you a simple one like that, too, but I… kinda wanted to one-up you.”

“One-up me?” You repeat, eyes narrowing. “You did this on purpose.”

“Nope. I’m simply just the winner.”

“Of what?”

“Best girlfriend.”

“Oh, my God,” you moan, leaning against the counter but feeling a smile cross your face. “You’re so fucking competitive, KK.”

“You love it,” she smiles, placing the bouquet down and kissing your chastely once more. Unfortunately, you do. “Okay, sweetheart, seriously- can we go back to bed now? What’d you want for breakfast?”

“What do we have?” You ask, her comforting hand pressing against the small of your back, leading you back to bed.

“Anything. Too early to cook, I’m ordering.”

“Really?” You ask, kind of shocked. Caroline was always one to choose cooking at home over ordering out.

“Yeah,” she replies, like it’s the most simple thing in the world. “Cooking would mean less time spent with you. I mean, if you really want me too I’ll cook you lunch and dinner. Whatever you want, really. Put on a movie, baby?”

She hands you the remote, climbing back into bed and opening the duvet up for you.

You hesitate for a second.

“Oh, and for dessert I was thinking that maybe we could go to your fav ice cream place?”

You think you might cry.

“I don’t deserve you,” you smile, somewhat teary. She smiles as you finally get back into bed with her, curling up into her side. She holds you against her, slightly disturbed by your crying, you can tell, but knowing they’re happy tears.

“I don’t deserve you,” she echoes.

You rest your head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat, wrapping your arm around her waist as she wraps one arm around you and presses the other against the back of your head. Keeping you there, as if you would ever want to move.

You take a deep breath, savoring this moment.

You finally look up at her, so overwhelmed with love for this girl your heart feels like it might burst. But just when you think you can’t take it anymore, your heart will burst, you love her that much- your heart simply grows.

“You deserve everything and more. Happy national girlfriend’s day, my pretty girlfriend.

She smiles and presses a kiss to your nose.

“I love you,” she replies, and those words don’t feel enough, but you can’t even describe how much you care about her. How much you need her. How much she means to you. How she makes you feel. You don’t think there are words in any language.

“I love you too.”

And, you know what? She doesn’t even say a single word when the movie you pick is the one she hates.

You spend the entire day in her arms, listening to her call you baby and pretty and just hers. She probably says “I can’t believe you’re mine” at least 20 times.

She pays for breakfast to be delivered, you battle her to pay for lunch, and as much as you love her cooking- you think she had the right idea. You can’t let her get out of bed.

She of course pays for dinner too, and ice cream, claiming that she has to spoil her girl.

And you don’t get mad at her when she reveals her second present- lingerie for you in her favorite color.

—-

[seattlesellie]

not about love: part three ♡

ೃ⁀➷ read part one | part two | part four

pairing: college loser!ellie williams x fem!reader

synopsis: you go to a frat party, ellie is a dumbass.

warnings: heavy sexual themes, alcohol, weed, JEALOUSY (both ellie and reader but reader goes through it)

You stirred from your nap, your eyelids fluttering open as you gradually became aware of your surroundings. It was hot, too hot, and the AC wasn’t working. Neither was the fan. So much for one of the “Best colleges in the world!” as they liked to boast on their little website page. A faint buzz emanated from your phone.

You groaned. Dina's persistence was relentless, and she refused to accept no for an answer. The thought of going to a Kappa party was one thing. Sweaty bodies, lame college boys who thought they were hot shit because their daddy was the CEO of toaster strudel or whatever, cheap liquor that burned inside the pits of your stomach even three days after the party was over…

That was the least of your problems.

The problem was, you guessed it — Ellie.

Wherever Jesse and Dina went, Ellie was always there, tagging along like a lost little puppy. They never turned her away; they actually seemed to enjoy her company. And who could blame them? Ellie had a wicked sense of humor, and some might even say she had a sweet side. Plus, she always had a fat joint tucked away in her pocket, ready to be shared. The thing was, Dina and Jesse were a fucking couple, and Ellie somehow managed to squeeze herself into their most intimate moments too.

You asked Dina about it once, and she just shrugged — “She’s a little lonely sometimes, so why not?”

Dina was right. Ellie was… a little lonely. When she wasn’t with you, shed lock herself inside her dorm room (which she thankfully shared with no one), solemnly strung on her guitar, broody and quiet. She’d blast metal when she was upset, and draw till her arm hurt. It was “by choice” she always told, shrugging off your attempts to convince her to socialize, enjoy the college life, have some fun. She wanted to tell you that you were enough. That she didn’t need those random hookups, that parties were the last thing that interested her, when you were around. Her cheeks would blush a soft, dusty pink whenever she entertained the thought of confessing her feelings to you. The uncertainty of your response weighed on her mind like a pesky little irritant. What would you think then?

None of it mattered, anyways, because you and Ellie hadn’t talked in a week. That was the longest time without contact since 10th grade. Granted, you did fight that Christmas night, just a year ago — but you never went completely cold. Not like this. Ever since that day in her room, something shifted. You saw her in the cafeteria, Sitting alone with white string earphones in her ears, she bopped her head to the rhythmic tunes of Bob Dylan. Pretending not to see you, she shifted her gaze towards the window, fixating on the birds' nest nestled within the tree nearby.

She thought you knew.

She thought her secret was out.

“You’re not” Was the last thing that left her mouth that day.

Ellie was delusional, Because you didn’t fucking know.

“I cant see her EVER again” she scribbled in her journal with dark ink, pressing down on the pen until her thumb turned white.

When NASA released the stunning images of millions of galaxies, your thoughts inevitably gravitated towards her. She was a constant presence in your mind, after all. You sent her a message, a sweet one. “thought of u” it said, with a picture attached.

It was radio silence. No response, no call, nothing. Cold.

This is why you didn’t want to go to the party today. And maybe, this is why you did go — regardless. Stand up to her, ask her what was wrong. Did you do something? did you hurt her feelings? did you finally fucking break her?

It was 9PM, and there you stood, butt naked, facing your closet.

“fuck you Dina” you whispered sotto voce, as the weight of blame rested squarely on her shoulders. She’s the reason you’re here, your mind completely blank, staring at a pile of unfolded clothes, Your makeup sprawled open on the table, the powders and the colors creating an accidental artwork. You had a half empty bottle of boxed wine in your hand. Definitely Dina’s fault.

“Nothing!" you exclaimed, flinging a delicate light pink tank-top onto the floor in frustration. “To fucking wear!” you groaned, tossing a black pair of jeans of across the room. It was your turn to throw a tantrum now.

You dialed Dina on the phone, more than ready to complain to her over your lack of clothes, her stupid kappa party, maybe even over the pumping headache you had three days ago, maybe that was her fault too.

She picked up.

“Heyyyy pretty” Her words slurred, and the scent of vodka almost wafted through the screen. Oh god, she was drunk already. Just great.

“You pregamed without me?!” You yelled, perplexed.

“Wh— I called you like five times! So did Jesse, you didnt pick up the phoneeee”

“Pick up the phoneeeee” you heard Jesse mock Dina, his laughter echoing in the background.

“Fine, whatever. I have nothing to wear, I’m gonna look like shit, my ass hurts because I slipped AND I think this white wine’s poisoned. Plus I need something that makes my tits look good and all i have—“

You grabbed a crumpled white corset top from the floor, its fabric wrinkled from being discarded.

“Is a stupid corset! and you still didn’t give me back my dress!” You whined, pacing around the room, still naked, still chugging on some “poisonous” white wine.

“You’re on speaker, babe”

“I dont care. Hey Jesse, you sound wasted too” You tried on the white corset, surprised at how good it fit around your body. Huh. Maybe you didn’t need to iron clothes like, ever.

“Heyyyy” his voice came through muffled, mixed with fits of laughter as Dina had apparently spilled vodka on herself.

“D, I’m sending you a picture of my fit, I have no pants on so don’t save it, weirdo”

She coughed.

“On speaker” she repeated.

“Jesse doesn’t care” You rolled your eyes, as you struggled to zip the corset top up.

“Ellie’s here”

Oh.

“Oh” you froze. Of course she’s here.

“Say” Dina's voice descended to a hushed tone, as if her words were no longer intended for your ears.

“Say hi” it was quiet, but you could hear.

"I don't—" Ellie's voice emerged, subdued and suppressed, barely audible.

Dina shoved the phone to Ellie’s hand.

“Hey”

You gazed at your complexion, transfixed as if you were trapped in a moment suspended in time.

“Hi” you quietly said.

“Okay— whatever you two have going on… figure it out, be there in twenty. And send me that pic!”

Dina hung up.

Be there in twenty. Okay, you got this. You looked at yourself in the mirror, half naked, your hair a mess, your heart beating out of your chest. Maybe you don’t got this.

Frantically, you swiftly gathered yourself. You hastily slid into a sleek black skirt, styled your hair, generously applied a thick layer of lip gloss, and quickly slipped into the tallest heels you could lay your hands on.

“Skirts too long” you whispered to yourself.

It wasn’t too long, the plush of your ass was almost peaking out of it.

It was borderline comedic, how you fast you shifted when you heard her voice. How quickly you went from not giving a shit, whining quietly about the sweaty bodies you’re going to bump into, and the thick smell of cigarette smoke and cheap alcohol you were going to have to breathe through, to caring so heavily, and so deeply, about something completely different. You put the shiniest pair of hoop earrings you could find in your drawer, spritzed a thick layer of sweet, vanilla and almonds perfume, and took another glance in the mirror.

This is how she was going to see you. She’ll smell your perfume, you were sure of it. Perhaps she’d even glance at your legs if she got close. you see, Ellie had a habit of… looking up and down. She thought she was sleek, she thought she knew what she was doing. She thought she was hiding it, and hiding it well, but she never did. You always noticed how her eyes would flicker up and down, how a rosy pink would grace her cheeks.

This isn’t about Ellie, though — right?

There was a loud thud that echoed across the room, originating from the big window above your bed.

Dina and Jesse were here. Oh, and her.

“fuckfuckfuck” you frantically whispered to yourself as you went to grab your purse. You glanced at your reflection again. You looked good, and you knew it. Hell — everyone would know it, but not everyone mattered.

You took a deep breath, and with that, you were out of your room.

Click-clack—the sound of your high heels grazing the ground filled the air.

“oh sh—“

you almost slipped.

Right as you exited the building, your eyes landed on them.

Three, slightly inhibited, babbling adults standing besides each other.

You moved closer, the sparkling keychain attached to your purse swaying and jingling with every contact against your figure, a touch of girlish charm to your stride.

“Holy shitttt” Dina gasped, her eyes widening in awe.

You didn’t even glace at Ellie. Non existent.

“Jesse” she nudged his arm. “I’m leaving you for a girl”

She wrapped you in a tight embrace, her sweet but subtly spicy perfume filling your nostrils. The moment your eyes met hers, any lingering anger you had towards her completely melted away. The Dina effect.

“You look so hot” she teased, flashing you a sly smile.

“Hey idiot” Jesse chimed in, embracing you tightly, looking dapper with a tight, black t-shirt adorning his body.

“Look at those muscles” you said, punching his arm lightly.

And there she was.

a black leather jacket, a white button-up shirt with the top buttons left undone, a tight pair of jeans and her trusty old Chuck’s.

She dressed up. She never dresses up.

Her eyes were glued to the ground. What was she hyper-focusing on now? The ant crawling on the ground? a dry, crumpled leaf? Perhaps on your high heels, and the thought of you keeping them on while your legs are resting on her shoulders?

Her throat closed up at the thought.

“Hey” she said, her voice low.

You could tell she had been drinking, based on the dazed look she had on her face. Maybe she smoked some too.

“Hi” you said, and flashed her a small, awkward smile.

“Start walking idiots” Dina exclaimed, and grabbed your hand in her palm.

The walk to the party was not quiet. It was anything but. Filled with aimless giggles, and Jesse almost walking in to a pole. Ellie dragged by quietly, chuckling to herself at a funny anecdote someone had made. She never was quite like this. Of course, she was broody, some would say somber, but she was not a “quiet” person. Not when she was with her friends. Tonight was different. Tonight, Ellie had something else in mind. The way you swayed side to side, giggling loudly and boasting into a Britney melody made her heart swell in her chest. She couldn’t stop replaying the events of that day in her mind. The way she got close, the way you whispered that you weren’t like Dina and Jesse, and the way she agreed. The way she had never come so hard in her life, with her hand between her thighs and her phone in her hand.

Tonight was going to be fucking difficult.

You finally arrived to the party.

As anticipated, the scene unfolded before you— a pulsating mass of sweaty bodies, shirtless college guys, and scantily clad girls grinding against each other, moving rhythmically to the beats of a 2013 Jason Derulo song.

“Shots?” Dina questioned, her eyes scanning the crowded house.

“Shots” you responded, a slight panicked look on your face.

“Sure, yeah” Ellie quietly said, her hands stuffed inside her pockets.

Dina was out of your sight at the speed of light.

You were left alone with her.

It was suddenly harder to breathe, and it wasn’t the lack of oxygen from the dozens of people breathing it in.

“So…” you said, trying to be as loud as you could — so she could hear you, amidst the loud music and the occasional screams.

She was standing in front of you. God, was she beautiful. She didn’t even try, was the frustrating part. The way her hair rested half down, the rest of it tied in a bun, the way a small strand of hair framed her face — she was flawless. Her freckled cheeks were glowing, a red hue caressing them, and as her hand came to scratch her face, presumably a nervous reaction, it flexed slightly. You always stared. Just like she stared at your tits — you always stared at her hands. It was a silent agreement, tit for tat.

“So many people” you chuckled.

“Listen, I-“

“Tequila for you” Dina’s voice startled you from behind, making you flinch.

“And… a shot of whiskey for the lady” She handed Ellie the short glass.

“3, 2–“

It was warm inside your throat, and it slid so uncomfortably, you had have a reaction. Your face twitched, tongue peeking out of your mouth.

Ellie couldn't help but crack a smile, stifling the urge to burst into laughter.

Ellie never made a face when she drank. Swallow it in, Joel taught her. Hold your breath — and let it slide.

“EVERYBODY!”

the loud voice of a college frat-boy echoed through the room. Did he have a fucking microphone?

“SPIN THE BOTTLE IN KEVIN’S ROOM TO THE LEFT!”

You rolled your eyes.

“What are we, thirteen?” you sighed.

“No…” Dina responded, her gaze shifting between you and Ellie.

“But you need to get some” she nudged your arm.

“And so do you” She whispered to Ellie.

Ellie could feel her heart beat fasten up. Funnily enough, it wasn’t because she was embarrassed to play. It wasn’t because she cared about it, or wanted to “get some” — It was the thought of you. The thought of you, getting some. How could Dina even dare to suggest such a thing? Of course, Dina didn’t know about Ellie’s… situation. Still, how could she say that? How could she endure the thought of you with somebody else? What if you end up meeting somebody? What if you, god forbid, end up kissing somebody? Ellie felt it in her stomach. It was that same rage she felt when you had your first girlfriend, Emily, in 10th grade. When she caught you kissing behind the bleachers. She remembers how her mind went blank for a second, fully white. A moment after, she saw red. She punched a fucking wall, and promised herself that if she ever gets the chance — the actual chance, she’d beat Emily up so bad it would leave her bleeding. Of course, she never got the fucking chance. Emily was nice to Ellie, hell, Emily loved Ellie, and Ellie never had the guts to do it, so she punched her pillow instead, every goddamn night.

“Let’s go, c’mon” Dina exclaimed, taking hold of both your hands and skillfully maneuvering through the bustling crowd.

—

At first, the bottle landed on a sweet cheerleader named Amy, and a dumb jock named Steve.

“I dare you to make out shirtless in front of everybody” Kyle, a blond frat guy said, gaining himself a couple of “Oooo” sounds from the people gathered around the room.

“It’s not truth or dare Kyle—“ A loud voice popped off from the background.

“My house, my rules” He shrugged as he responded.

“I should be paid to watch this” You said in a whiny, slightly bitchy tone, Ellie and Dina chuckled in response.

They went at it, shirtless and sloppy. Tongues clashing in an unsynchronized dance, slurping each other up like animals.

“Okay, okay — next round” Kyle exclaimed, burping into the mic.

“Ew” you gagged.

The bottle spun.

You were standing besides Ellie, her shoe nudging yours. At one point, she accidentally touched your thigh, followed by a breathy “Shit — sorry”.

There was absolutely no way it would spin pointing at her, and then point at you. But she fucking hoped. Maybe, if it was a dare, shed have the balls to do it. Maybe she’d be too embarrassed to say no in front of all these people, who might think she was even a bigger weirdo for turning a game down, so she’d have to kiss you. Maybe her lips could touch yours like she desperately desired. Maybe shed manage to put her hands on your waist, and hold you still. Maybe you’ll feel it, finally, and give into her.

Slip a tongue in, who knows?

It landed on her.

“Fuck” she hissed under her breath.

“Oh” Kyle said into the mic.

“Who are you?”

“Ellie” she said quietly, internally punching herself in the gut.

“Cant hear”

She cleared her throat, feeling her face heat up.

“Ellie” she said, louder.

You felt your throat close up. This can’t possibly be happening. Dina was ecstatic.

“Okay… Ellie, never seen you around here… Spin”

“I don’t—“ she quietly said, looking at you from the corner of her eye.

Something was wrong. Your body tensed up.

“Cmon, El” Dina nudged her arm.

She spun the bottle, the sound of the glass grazing the floor filling up the room.

It landed on a ginger named Alison. You recognized her from one of your classes. Alison was a nice girl, popular, but kept to herself. She was pretty, a sweet pair of big brown eyes, and a cleavage that left no room for the imagination. Alison smirked at Ellie, tilting her head.

You weren’t exactly a firm believer, but you prayed to god louder than anyone has ever did.

Please don’t kiss. Please don’t kiss.

“Ellie… Alison… Who else thinks those names go fucking along?” Kyle exclaimed into the mic.

The crowd whood, the crowd of people cheering this… Obscenity — as you’d call it.

Ellie shifted uncomfortably, digging her short fingernails into her palms.

You lifted your chin up. Shit.

“Ellie and Alison,” Kyle whispered dramatically.

“Kiss.”

Dina squeezed your hand.

“Ellies gonna get some…” She melodically hummed in your ear.

Your face twitched.

“Alison — take your shirt off. Ellie, gotta give us a show”

Ellie went bright red. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to fucking do this. It buzzed in her ears, echoing inside her brain.

It was almost as if a comically bright light bulb appeared on top of her head.

What if this was payback.

She could never have you, couldn’t she?

What if this one hurt.

What if you realized.

Ellie didn’t dare to look at you, but she felt it. She felt you shift, she felt the harsh breath that escaped your mouth.

Alison crawled closer. So did Ellie. Her shoe grazed your knee as she moved.

You swallowed deeply.

Alison’s eyes twinkled amidst the dim lights.

Ellie felt her toes curl inside her Chuck’s. Her breathing got heavier, and her heartbeat fastened up. It wasn’t because of Alison, or Andrea, whatever her name was. It was beating because you were watching.

Alison initiated it. It was a small peck, at first.

Your hand was trembling.

“Go Ellie!” Dina cheered.

Ellie took it as a green light.

She parted her lips slowly, and sucked Alison in for a kiss. A hungry one, slow and steady, a wet tongue slipping in, gently swirling inside the shirtless ginger’s mouth. When Alison whimpered silently, Ellie brought her hand up to squeeze her breast. The crowd was cheering her on.

You felt like a monster took over your body. Your throat closed up, eyes growing moist. Oh shit. You were about to fucking cry.

Ellie grabbed Alison’s neck, and held her firmly.

It felt like it was going on for hours.

And then it stopped. Alison was panting, and Ellie was too.

There it was. The first tear that crawled down your right cheek.

“I’m going to the bathroom” you whispered to Dina.

Ellie looked across her shoulder.

You weren’t there anymore.

“Where’d she go?” She wiped her wet mouth on a black leather covered shoulder.

“Bathroom” Dina said, absentmindedly with a smile.

“Fuck”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

♡ part four ♡

[robinsno1lesbian]

𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬༄｡°

-r.b. x reader

summary: robin buckley summer headcanons!

warnings: lots of fluff!! some (hinted) 18+ content, oral sex, vaginal fingering (fem!receiving obviously), mention of weed, non-sexual nudity & skinny dipping (let me know if i missed anything!)

a/n: send me your requests for my summer fics & find my guidelines here!

❀ in summer, robin takes you to lover’s lake right after work to cool down (after spending your shift sorting in vhs tapes in sweaty uniforms, it’s a pleasant way to spend the afternoon)

❀ she sunburns so easily! the fact that she constantly forgets to apply her sunscreen doesn’t make it better either.

❀ so she always has a slight sunburn on her rosy cheeks.

❀ “i’m not sunburned at all! this is a tan”

❀ she loves to apply your sunscreen though, regardless of how careless she can be herself: she always helps you in the places you cannot reach. she’ll draw random shapes and patterns on your skin before spreading it.

❀ robin’s freckles are even more prominent in summer and you spend hours counting them as you lie close to her.

❀ robin will never not insist on buying you a sweet treat: mostly ice cream that she’ll later kiss from the side of your mouth.

❀ she also frequently goes to hawkin’s public pool with you and the rest of the group (where she will act like a kid)

❀ she’s in the water 24/7, constantly begging someone to join her.

❀ “come on y/n!! the water isn’t thaaaat cold! i’ve been in there!”

❀ if you decline, she’ll get out just to give you a tight hug while the water is still dripping from her.

❀ when she’s not bothering you, she’s splashing water at steve or busy having a canon ball contest with him. (again: literal kids.)

❀ but if you do join her, she’ll pull you close under the water or carry you around on her back, enjoying the possibility of being close like this in public without catching anyone’s attention.

❀ later, you’ll lie in bed with her, the two of you sharing kisses that taste of sunscreen and the last remains of pool water she’s soaked in all day.

❀ falling asleep is hard with the summer heat threatening to suffocate the two of you, but comes much easier when you’re home alone and don’t have to bother to wear clothes.

❀ her bare body pressed against yours, her chest rising and falling with even breaths, is enough to soothe you to sleep, regardless of the heat.

❀ this often leads to wandering hands in the morning though…

❀ …when the sun is still rising and a comfortable breeze is going through the room. when you wake up to soft kisses peppered down your back and robin’s hair tickling your neck.

❀ …when robin’s voice is still raspy from sleep as she asks you if you’re okay with it and instead of answering verbally, you pull her on top of you and taste the laughter from her mouth.

❀ …when she grinds down against you, and you move back up against her and you have to stifle your moans because she left the window open.

❀ “that’s my girl. so good. i wish i could hear you. you’re so pretty”

❀ so you end up coming with your face pressed against her pillows and her head buried between your thighs.

❀ her savings are not enough to take you to europe just yet, but she insists on taking you to a beach town for the summer vacation. somewhere where no one knows the two of you and you have a place for yourself.

❀ she loves to talk you on long walks along the shore, where she holds your hand and steals quick kisses when there’s no one around to see.

❀ robin brings french and spanish books that she’ll read to you while you’re sunbathing. you don’t understand what she’s saying, but there’s something comforting about the way she pronounces each syllable, while she runs her fingers through your beach waves.

❀ one night, she convinces you to go skinny dipping with her:

❀ it’s nearly 3am, you’re both a little high from a joint you’ve shared and there’s no one around to see.

❀ she’s giddy when she sheds her clothes for no one else but you to see and races you to the shore.

❀ the water is cold, yet robin’s body warm, when she wraps her arms around you from behind and pulls you into the waves of the sea.

❀ she holds you over the surface with ease so you can wrap your legs around her and cover her in salty kisses.

❀ you can kiss her openly that night, and enjoy being close and affectionate with her without having to worry that someone might catch you.

❀ robin collects the prettiest rocks and shells for you while you’re sunbathing.

❀ she’s constantly moving, walking along the shore as she’s looking for new things to find among the seaweed and sand.

❀ she then sorts them on your back and puts them down along your spine while you’re still dozing in the sun.

❀ robin definitely brings watercolors to the beach and paints the scenery.

❀ but she also has a camera she brings along to capture the moments, constantly snapping pictures of you when you’re not paying attention.

❀ after a long beach day, you can’t wait to wash the sand and salt off of your skin. you untie your bikini the moment you step through the door, letting it drop to the floor as you step to the bathroom with robin watching you.

❀ you beckon her over, then, and she stumbles over her own feet in an attempt to rush to the shower with you.

❀ she washes your hair under the shower, runs her gentle fingertips up your body, and traces your curves under the steam.

❀ only when you’re both clean and no longer covered in sea salt and sweat, she lowers herself down on the shower tiles until she’s kneeling between your legs.

❀ “so pretty. such a pretty girl”

❀ she doesn’t stop talking, not even when she puts her mouth on you and licks through your wet folds.

❀ “hmm such a pretty pussy too. taste so good for me.”

❀ you love to braid her hair, when she’s got her head in your lap and you’re listening to the soft sounds of the waves meeting the shore.

❀ when it’s your head in her lap, she’ll feed you the food she’s brought along; dropping grapes and apple slices into your mouth while she rambles on and on.

[cherryredstars]

holy sbit i just read your actor!mig oneshot and i’m frothing at the mouthjfjfjdand it got me thinking

how would reader react if mig had to do a sex scene for a movie? i mean she’d be fine with outwardly but inwardly, understandably she’d be jealous asf, even though there is security in their relationship i feel like it would be difficult, how would mig react to her being insecure? or maybe jealous because of that🥹

(i saw ur requests were open and i couldn’t help myself, tysm for reading this and you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to i love your work regardless<333)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Insecurity, Mirror Sex, Praise, Fingering, Oral Sex, Mentions to Breeding Kinks

Summary: Nothing but a good sex scene. 

Word Count: 2K (Not Edited)

Part 1

The internet sucks.

You know that, Miguel knows that, everyone knows it. Yet, here you are, hurting your own feelings as your phone feeds you countless posts about your boyfriend and his new movie. His new movie that also stars a really popular, really really pretty female co-star. Who he had sex with. Cinematically. In the movie.

Movie sex is not real sex. Miguel says and reminds you all the time. Most of the time, sex scenes only consist of the actors being shirtless and zoomed in shots of their upper bodies. Convenient things like a perfectly placed object or being under the sheets hid the fact nothing is actually going on. Miguel always assures you that, if the directors want a real sex scene, he’d be out of there in seconds. 

But still, all the edits and tweets and pictures that are filling up every corner of the internet make your skin raise and ache. It definitely looks real. It’s not really a surprise, Miguel and his co-star are wonderful actors. They’re so good at their jobs. It makes you feel gross. Especially when you can’t stop replaying the scene over and over again. It’s not hard to find it, the scene devours the internet like a wildfire. 

She looks pretty. No, not pretty, gorgeous. Hot and sexy and erotic. Nothing like you at all. Her skin is impossibly smooth, shiny and soft. Her lips are painted in a deep red that pops against her skin and draws attention to her perfectly sculpted face. Even if it weren’t for the lipstick, the calculated moans she makes for the camera draws your attention to her mouth. Her moans are perfectly pitched. They’re breathy and her mouth forms the perfect ‘o’. It makes you rub at your throat, an uneasy feeling getting stuck there. You don’t moan like that. 

Her facial expressions are amazing too. Brows furrowed in a way that perfectly showcases her pleasure. But they don’t look funny or distort her face too drastically. When her eyes roll back, her eyelashes flutter so nicely. She doesn’t look possessed or ugly. Your hand subconsciously rubs at your cheek. You don’t look so effortlessly pretty like that.

It ruins you. Why would Miguel possibly want to have sex with you if he has pretty, hotter co-stars? The thought sticks with you even with Miguel on top of you. Usually, you’d be on your back, legs spread and exposed for his viewing pleasure. But you can’t, not today. So Miguel has begrudgingly agreed to take you in a different position. Your ass is in the air, upper body pressed into the mattress. Your face is completely hidden from his view, something Miguel isn’t the happiest about. What’s even worse, he can barely even hear you. You’re pushing your face into one of the stupid pillows, muffling the minimal sounds you’re making. 

Usually, you’re moaning and whining uncontrollably under him. Your mouth never shutting as noise spills from your swollen lips. It drives him crazy to hear your verbal pleasure. The pleasure he gives you. Sometimes you’re babbling broken sentences or just calling out his name, but it's everything to him. So hearing almost complete silence from you, paired with not being able to see your reactions, shoots worry through him. 

He tries everything he knows drives you crazy. He leans forward and pinches and tugs at your clit. It twitches in his fingers, but you don’t make your usual gasps. He spreads your legs wider and juts his hips into you with more force, hitter deeper against your wall. You don’t give him that beautiful, high-pitched scream of his name. You instead, shove your face into the pillow and hum. He leans in and whines into your ear about how tight you are. How he really, really wishes the two of you would throw away all protection so he can fill you up with his baby. Instead of begging and babbling, you wiggle your hips and push back into him. 

Something awful hits his chest. Did he do something wrong? Are you upset with him? Are you not feeling well? Does it not feel good?

He instantly stills, all the arousal he once had disintegrating. He pulls out slowly, not wanting to hurt you. You turn to him in confusion, brows furrowed from over the pillow. He flips you over gently, turning you on your back and dragging you close to him. You still have that pillow pressed to your lower face, arms wrapped around it. You look like a damn vision, naked before him with your hair spread out on the bed. You look like an offering with that white pillow covering your face and chest, leaving him to only focus on your big doe eyes and the fact your legs are spread to accommodate his body. Innocent and cute and sexy. 

His hands land on your outer thighs, warm and big as they rub up and down your skin. It makes you melt into the bed, a sleepy look masking your eyes. Miguel’s heart sings at the pure content on your face, but it doesn’t drown out his concern. He can feel unease in the air and his hair stands on end. Slowly, you pull the pillow away from your face as you realize he isn’t going to slip back inside of you.

“Why y’stop?” you call out shyly to him, a small pout on your lips. You seem nervous and Miguel’s hands tighten on your thighs. 

“You’re acting differently. What’s wrong?” He counters. 

You grow bashful under him, pulling the pillow up to hide your cheeks that are colored in shame. You simply shrug, turning away from him as you slowly start to close your legs. He doesn’t stop you, but he doesn’t take his hands off of you. He helps you sit up when you make the move to, his hand moving to grasp both of yours. He gives them a comforting squeeze and a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter shut, breathing in the comforting clean scent he carries. 

“What’s wrong, mi vida?” He asks again. 

You don’t respond. But you don’t have to. Miguel looks at you like he knows. He always knows. Tentative and caring Miguel who always knows. His kiss to your forehead is rougher, more pressure behind it before he pulls away. The way he carries you is effortless, like he’s carrying a bag of feathers. He moves the two of you to the opposite side of the bed, directly in front of the wall of mirrors that make up the walk-in closet. He sits down first, maneuvering you to sit on his thigh with your back pressed to his front. 

Your eyes are glued to your reflection, naked against Miguel with nothing but a fluffy pillow hiding you. His face nudges at your jawline and neck. He places soft kisses along the skin, distracting you as he takes the pillow from you. He places it to the side, still within your reach. Your fingers itch to grab at it again, but you resist. Instead, you close your eyes and focus on the way Miguel’s fingertips glide over your warm skin and make you shiver. You lean back into him, head resting against his shoulder. His hands travel down, and you bury your face into the crook of his neck to hide your gasp. His fingers caress the lasting stickiness between your thighs, his own leg moving to widen yours. You peek at the mirror from beside his neck, eyes falling to the glistening between your thighs. Your cheeks heat and you nuzzle your face into Miguel as a way to hide. He hums against you, hand still moving and collecting your juices on his finger. You whimper when he pushes it in, thumb swiping gently over your clit.

“Shh, taking it so well, mi hermosa. My pretty baby.” He coos gently into your ear, curling his finger inside of you. 

Your hips buck instinctively, another whine leaving as his finger grazes your walls. His other hand comes to massage your hip and your eyes catch the movement in the mirror. Miguel is looking at the mirror too, studying you. His touch is soft, his finger pumping in and out of you slowly. You moan into his neck, eyes fluttering when he adds another. They scissor inside of you, meeting together to curl. Your hand comes up to hold his, taking it away from your hip and squeezing it tight to stabilize you. 

He hums into your hair, muttering soft praise into the strands. His fingers continue curling, going to the knuckle so he can press onto the gummy spot inside of you. You can’t hold in your moans anymore, giving them freely to him. It makes him smile, kissing the crown of your head. 

“That’s it, singing so prettily for me, yeah?” He asks, letting go of your hand to grab your chin. 

He removes your face from his neck, making you face him. Your eyes are droopy from pleasure, and your lips are parted slightly so soft moans can escape. It makes his cock jump, but he ignores it to give you a sweet kiss. It’s soft and passionate. His lips opened and slanted against yours. His tongue is warm as it slips into your mouth, caressing your own until the both of you are moaning into each other's mouth. It makes your head foggy and you forget all about what you were scared about before. 

When Miguel pulls away, he turns back to the mirror and groans at the sight of you. You’re slick is dripping down his fingers and your skin fucking glows in the reflection. His fingers speed up, his thumb pressing into your swollen bud. 

“Been thinking about you so much, y’know that. Was fucking fantasizing about you during that whole movie. Imagining doing all those things in the script to you drove me fucking crazy. Had to take care of myself in my dressing room thinking about your cute little noises and the faces you make. Mi hermosa nena.”

The little whimper you let out paired with the tightening of your walls is fucking precious. He pulls you into another kiss, quickening his fingers until your whole body is twitching. You have to pull away from the kiss, your hand clawing to his arm and nails digging in as your moans get louder. With a hard flick to your clit and the curling of his fingers, your body is shaking with an orgasm. Your toes curl, head thrown back against his shoulder as he finger fucks you through your orgasm. 

“That’s, that’s my beautiful girl. Ride it out baby, I got you.” He mumbles against your shoulder, pressing kisses along the curve of skin. 

He only stops pumping into you when your hand pushes him away. Your body is heaving with the effort of breathing, and Miguel watches every second through the mirror. When you finally compose yourself, you nuzzle into his skin. It makes Miguel smile, kissing your hair again before gently lifting you off of his lap and laying you down on the bed. You watch hypnotized as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, humming around them before popping them back out. You whine softly at him, and he chuckles down at you. 

He leaves you on the bed, vanishing into the bathroom before coming back with a towel. It makes your brows furrow, leaning up and your elbows as he begins to clean you up. 

“But… What about you?” You ask, eyes trailing down to his prominent hard-on. 

Miguel follows your line of sight, shaking his head when he looks back up at you. “Don’t worry about it baby, all I care about right now is you.”

His confession makes you melt, letting yourself sink into the bed. His touch is gentle as he cleans you, and he throws the towel to the floor when he’s done. He hovers over you, leaning down to kiss you softly before resting his head against yours. 

“Te amo, mi amor.”

And you know. He always lets you know.

[lizdive]

I was thinking of older sister violet_evergarden!reader who is also a stoneheart x aventurine. I'd like to see how they interact since canonically, violet sees herself as nothing more than a weapon and will do whatever she has to do, to protect the person she cares for. Aka aventurine. I can also sorta see her either being an emanator of preservation or one the stronger stonehearts.

Hi anon :3 !! I love aventurine with my whole heart he’s just so squishy 😞 i had to go to the violet evergarden wiki for this one bcs i’ve never watched the anime so i’m sorry if stuff isn’t accurate this was kinda of difficult for me,, tysm for requesting <3 if you’re unsatisfied just tell me and i’ll redo it!!

notes 𐙚 fem! reader — "you" + "she/her" used to refer to the reader ,, reader as an older sibling ,, reader is based off of violet evergarden from violet evergarden anime ,, reader is an emanator of preservation but it isn’t mentioned much ,, reader is a stoneheart ,, aventurine is referred to as both "kakavasha" and "aventurine" ,, corundum’s are a type of gemstone that is ranked 9 on the toughness scale ,, of course you can change this to the stone of your desire !! this isn’t proofread ignore typos,,

"The hammer of preservation will fall on all beings, regardless of life or death, regardless of race, regardless of ideology, to uphold the basic rights we inherently posses."

The Rising Stars, the Stonehearts, the Gambler and the Soldier Maiden — all nicknames for two siblings who have seen it all. A handsome aventurine and a beautiful corundum. One blessed by HER, and another blessed by THEM.

To be an Emanator is to be seen as a piece of an Aeon — their will so strong that their abilities have been gifted to them by the Aeon. To be an Emanator in the IPC is to be seen as an asset that cannot be lost. And to be an Emanator of Preservation is to be seen as the biggest tool.

With THEIR blessing you have overcome all that life has thrown at you just for the sake of keeping your beloved brother save from harm. From the moment he was brought into this sad world, you have fought to protect him and your younger sister.

Only one of the two made it out alive.

Many people would call you a murderer, and while they technically aren’t wrong, they fail to see why you do it. Or perhaps they do not care. You killed and therefore you should be sent to your own death.

You remember the day when you and your brother were taken by the IPC. A woman clad in luxury, a smirk on her face, and her tone breathy and warm. "As a servant you should not resist your master." she had said, but you did not pay attention for her.

KAKAVASHA did most of the speaking for you. He was free to go — he had no blood on his hands. You were the one to be sent to the gallows. But you couldn’t and wouldn’t. Death was not an option. It never was and never would be until KAKAVASHA lets out his final breath from old age.

You didn’t see what was wrong — you never did. Yes, you killed the man and many more, but it was self defense. KAKAVASHA and you had always lived in a world where it was kill or be killed. Remorse was foreign to you.

And then came the offer. Join the IPC. Join the corporation that was the reason your kind fell and vanished off the map. Become the same as them. You could not care less. Should your brother join, you will, as well. And he did.

By the end of the day you both were clad in luxuries the same as her.

⭑ Missions were always a package deal. Where AVENTURINE goes, Corundum always follows. Where Corundum goes, AVENTURINE is most likely following. There is no separating the two.

⭑ AVENTURINE is very patient with his big sister. He knows that unlike him, she is not able to properly express what she feels. He’ll try to help explain why people feel the things they feel — he’s good at putting up a mask of emotions and to do so he needed to understand them first so he’s good at explaining.

⭑ If you have prosthetic limbs like Violet does and have room for drawings and doodles, AVENTURINE will definitely doodle on your arms during free time. Even if you hide them with your sleeves, it’s a nice pass-time activity. Nobody says anything about it because 1: he is a stoneheart and 2: you’re a stoneheart.

⭑ Will try to get you to be less hyper-independent. Ask him for help, it’s okay. He’ll even try to make you a bit reliant on him. He’s not a little kid anymore, he can definitely help you take out those guys. He’s good with a gun and it’ll finish the mission quicker, just let him do some fighting too,,

⭑ I feel like there could be some heavy angst potential here, especially with the entire aventurine boss fight. You’re so determined to protect him, and you aren’t against killing people to do so. He knows this, and so he tries his damn hardest to hide his plan from you but he’s your little brother your little KAKAVASHA so you know him. You’re not the best at emotions but you know he’s lying and hiding something.

⭑ He accepts death and welcomes it with open arms but he also doesn’t want to leave his big sister alone. His big sister, who has done everything and more to protect him. She had killed, she has been wounded, she has put up with his shenanigans, and she has done the impossible. He feels like he’s just throwing that all away,,,

⭑ You are lost without him when he 'dies'. He is your purpose in life. Helping the Astral Express fight against Sunday? Screw them! You need to find your little brother, there is no way he is dead. You pray to Mother Gaiathra, to Qlipoth, to any Aeon that will hear your prayers, that he is alive.

⭑ And when you find him alive and well in the real world, alone in his room in the reverie hotel, you feel like a dam inside you has bursted. You don’t cry, but you’re close to doing so and AVENTURINE doesn’t know whether to encourage you to let out your emotions and calm your through them or reassure you that he is alright and there is no need to cry.

⭑ On a lighter note: AVENTURINE doesn’t mind if you communicate with him via letters instead of messages when you’re on your own solo missions! He’ll get you the nicest envelopes and stamps to put on them. Maybe even some stickers! He loves when you use the silly ones. If you tell him it helps you understand emotions better, he’ll encourage you to write letters more and for other people. If you use an old typewriter, he’ll get you the nicest one on the market!

⭑ It said in the wiki that Violet feels guilt for killing the people she has killed, so if you also feel that, AVENTURINE will be by your side to reassure you that it’s okay. That it wasn’t your fault and it was needed for survival. He might use the "you were just trying to protect me" card to make you feel better since he knows he’s your weakness.

⭑ Sadly, to make a pledge to never kill anyone again like Violet did would be pretty much impossible. In the eyes of the IPC, violet evergarden! reader will always be a weapon, so it’ll kinda be forced upon her.

⭑ AVENTURINE loves the anxious expressions of the people he’s gambling with as his big sister stands behind him, intimidating the patrons of the casino. It also reassures him because if anyone tries to get violent he knows his big sis will be there to protect him so he can be as reckless and as infuriating as he wants.

⭑ Overall AVENTURINE would be a very good younger brother to a violet evergarden! reader because he fulfills her wish to protect and she fulfills his want to be cherished.